When he saw the crested Haverford travelling carriage with a driver in Haverford livery coming down the carriage way as Toad's carriage approached the house, Toad brushed off his coat as best he could, ran a hand through his hair, thankful the style was meant to look windswept, then shook Franks awake on the facing seat to straighten his cravat.
That coach would have been sent from Margate to provide the Haverfords with transport. The question was, was it heading for Bristol station, and if so, who was it going to collect?
Haverford, probably. He had been in no state to travel from London when Toad saw him, and besides, both dukes often stayed in London longer than their families at the holidays, flogging for votes for their preferred legislation when the Houses of Parliament returned in the new year.
If history held true, Aunt Cherry and Sally; Jonny, too, most likely, would be here already. Sally might even be in the carriage coming towards him!
His mother was recreating the most beloved Christmas tradition of the two families—sharing Christmas wherever they were—at Margate or Brixton Hall, or the palace in Erzherzog, the Wellbridges' Paris apartments or Venetian palazzo. Or Wellstone. Bless the duchess for being a meddling baggage. He had been surprised she had decided to open the house while still in mourning, even for family. But he hadn't guessed at this reason.
The only one missing would be Toad's father. The duke would not be missing, of course; Wellbridge would be at Wellstone, as he always was. The man who had been the duke for thirty years would be the huge, gaping hole in everyone's Christmas, and his successor would be forced to try to fill his place inadequately—with naught but the title, an elusive duchess, and still-raw grief.
He flagged the approaching driver to a stop, and leaned forward eagerly to see inside the carriage. Jonny opened the door and poked his head out. "Wellbridge! How famous! You're here!"
"Hello, Aldridge." Toad craned to see behind him.
Jonny grinned. "She isn't here. In the carriage, I mean. I am off to Bristol to collect Papa, and Sally and Mama had things they wanted to do."
Toad forced himself to politeness, wishing his young friend a pleasant trip, when what he wanted was to set the team to take the rest of a drive at a gallop and search Wellstone for his love. "You'll be back later this afternoon, then, I expect."
"Certainly. Go on, Wellbridge. You know you want to." Jonny grinned, and called to his driver, "Bristol, Sam. We do not wish to keep the duke waiting." He winked at Toad. "Either duke," he said, as he shut the carriage door.
A pair of grooms came from the stables to take the horses, but no one appeared at the front door, so Toad let himself in, leaving Franks to manage the luggage. As soon as he shut the door behind him, he stilled. The slightest trace of lavender and lilac overlaid pine and applewood and cinnamon and ginger. It smelled like Christmas at Wellstone—with Sally Grenford in attendance.
She is here. Sally is here. Toad had to stop, close his eyes, and breathe deeply before he could go on.
"Hello! Is anyone about?"
The elder Blakeley came from one side of the foyer.
"Have you not accepted the late duke's pension yet, Blakeley?"
No judgement showed on Blakeley's face, but Toad heard it in his words and in the too-familiar hand to Toad's shoulder. "There must be someone about to take care of Her Grace properly, m'boy. Without a duke in residence to see to her needs, I feel it my duty to stay."
"I see. The duchess is quite a young woman, comparatively speaking." Toad removed his coat and muffler.
"I take your meaning, Your Grace."
"We needn't think of making any changes right away, Blakeley; do not mistake me. Her Grace is still in mourning. I only hope another man can be trained to her likes and dislikes, do you not think? We can speak of it before I return to London."
Toad would have to insist Blakeley retire, for he was too thin for his own good. But for now, he wouldn't wish another loss on his mother, even of a trusted servant. As Blakeley took his hat and cane, the dowager duchess came out of a door on the other side of the foyer. The butler stepped back when Bella stepped forward.
"David! You are here!" Toad leaned down to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. "Piero has only been here an hour, so of course, no one has yet been able to say a word to him but Almyra. None of us were sure when you would come."
"Where is she, Mother? Where is Sal? I know she is here; I can smell her."
With a cluck of her tongue, the duchess admonished, "You needn't be vulgar. She is in the village with her mother, shopping for last-minute gifts. I expect them back for dinner. I did not expect you so soon. I thought you would put it off as long as you could, if not invent a shipping crisis to stay in London."
With a flush, Toad looked away. "Whyever would I do that?"
"Your father avoided Wellstone, too, after his brother died. He never lived here until after we married, once he came back from the Continent and gave up London for me."
"You've told me that story, Your Grace. I am here without being harried to it, am I not?" Toad punctuated his sentence with a quick bow and said, "If Sally is in the village, then that is where I must be, posthaste. If you will excuse me, Mother."
Blakeley cleared his throat. "Your Grace, if you will permit, I can arrange a room and bath and your valet in short order, so you will look your best when you see La—the rest of the guests of the house."
Looking down at his travel-stained jacket, he agreed. "Yes, you are right. I will clean up and await her return. No need to act in haste after all these years. Send Franks to my rooms immediately. Mother, if you will excuse me, I will make myself handsome for my prospective bride and expect to see you for dinner."
"Wellbridge, will you not join me for tea when you are feeling more the thing?"
He employed the ducal mask to slide past her request. "I have work waiting between now and dinnertime. You know I cannot read in a moving carriage."
She smiled gently and touched his cheek. "Will you never forgive me?"
He patted her on the shoulder and stepped away. "There is nothing to forgive, Mother. I have taken two extra days from work after Christmas, so I must make up some time now. I will see you at dinner."
***
Sally and Mama had not been long in the village before it became obvious that everyone assumed she had come to stay. They all knew her, of course. She and David had spent many hours of holiday fishing in the local streams, visiting the local fairs, shopping at the village shops, and calling on village matrons known for their baking or their orchards. One villager after another reminded her of those childhood adventures, all ending with some version of, "and I knew then that you were meant for the young lord, bless him. Thanks be to God, I lived to see the day."
Mama was no help, just smiling and nodding, but then what could either of them say? Sally assumed, too, that David still wanted to marry her. At least, she hoped he did.
"I did not know what to say," Sally told her mother as they made their way to the next stop on their list. "Everyone seems to assume that David intends us to wed. But where is he, Mama? I have been back in England more than a week." I told Maddox to send him here, and that was days ago. Where is he? She had not told her mother of that message, and didn't do so now.
"It seems they expect him here soon," Mama answered. "Bella worries that he'll find an excuse to stay in London, but surely he will want to join his mother for Christmas."
Surely he wants to be with me? Then where is he?
Sally took comfort that the news of her supposed betrothal to Lord Maddox had not travelled this far east, since no one mentioned any barrier to their vision of Sally and their young duke, together at last. Then Mrs Alsop, keeper of the village haberdashery, grown even more small and bent since Sally's last visit three Christmases ago, disabused her of that notion.
"I knew that notice in the London paper was a lie," she said. "I told the girls. Girls, I said, our Lady Sarah won't marry anyone but our own dear boy. That's what I said, isn't it, girls?" Her daughters, tall thin women both in their early fifties, chorused, "Yes, mama," which was all they ever said in their mother's presence, though they were more forthcoming outside it. Sally had fond memories of Miss Cora, after a jug of the local cider, telling her and David stories of fairs gone by, dancing with a lover whom her mother rejected. Gone forever, off to sea, leaving Miss Cora to serve silently in the village shop alongside Miss Agnes.
"That Lord Maddox," said Mrs Alsop, "A nice enough lad, no doubt. But not our dear Lord Abersham, the duke as he is now, and a fine duke he will be."
***
From his dressing room window, across the gardens, Toad could see the shortcut everyone always took to the village, so Franks was stationed at the window to report any sign of the gig Sally had driven there with Aunt Cherry. By the time his valet had him suitably ducally attired twenty minutes later, there was still no sign of her.
Rather than involving himself with the family house party when he felt like water on a hot skillet, he did, in fact, take his work to the duke's private study. He had never brought work into this room at Wellstone before, though its counterpart in London had grown comfortable, once he changed out his father's desk for his great-grandfather's, which had been in the library.
He didn't do much work, in any case. He sipped a glass of brandy and stared out the window that also overlooked the gardens. When he could stand the frozen landscape no longer, he paced between his father's desk, where he flipped through paperwork without reading it, and the fireplace, to poke at the logs and encourage sparks. He was always in sight of one of the two windows.
After half an hour or so of no traffic on the road to the village, the regular traffic to the ducal presence began with a knock at the door.
"Enter." Toad flipped a page in the ledger he hadn't been working on. "Ah, Piero. Is not the first day you visit belong entirely to my sister? She lectured me soundly last time we were here. I had not thought to disengage you until at least tomorrow."
"Ah, but today is different, is it not, with your Sal a short walk away? Almyra and your mother sent me to see if you needed calming." Piero crossed to the brandy and poured himself one, then refilled Toad's before putting the decanter back and taking a seat. "Do you need calming?"
"I do, but there is only one person on the planet who can perform the function, and you are not she."
"I understand. If you'd like, I can report on our encounter with Maddox in London?" Piero pulled some folded papers from inside his jacket and handed them to Toad. "As requested, Gills sent the special license; I've docked your frigate in Bristol; and I alerted the vicar to await your summons when I passed through the village."
"Thank you. Thank you for every part you've played in this tragic farce all these years. My mother and sister still do not know?"
"They know you have been meant for Lady Sarah since the cradle, and soon you will meet again. They both expect a wedding in short order, but I do not believe they know how short."
"I will not believe anything until the vows are said. You needn't report on Maddox, as he came to Margate while I was there. He has not yet conceded his claim." As he had a dozen times before, Toad just barely kept from losing his temper at the injustice of Maddox having any say about his marriage at all. "So, I've decided his claim does not matter. Sally and I are here, and he is not, and I'll not have him in between me and my wife."
Piero sat back in silence. They sat there for another quarter-hour without a word between them, and it was, in unexpected ways, calming. Which did not mean Toad was not still ferociously enervated, even sitting still.
Another knock, and Toad jumped, sloshing his brandy. "Yes?"
"It's your mother, David. May I come in?"
With a deep sigh, Toad answered, "Yes, please come in, duchess." He put down his drink, and they both stood when Bella came in.
"David, I know you are waiting for Sally, and I do not wish to disturb. But it's... well... Haverford has sent word he will be here for dinner tonight. I thought you should be made aware in plenty of time to remember your... your Yuletide spirit before he arrives."
"I do not believe you need to be fearful of my reaction to Haverford, but I cannot guarantee his reaction to me. And after all this time and all of his acts against me, I find I cannot trust he will not try to stop my marriage at the eleventh hour, for some ridiculous reason yet to become known."
"I understand that, but he will be here in a matter of hours."
"Then we shall just keep him away from me and from Sally until I've asked for her hand. I should talk to him first, if I can. Mother, would you ask Blakeley to bring His Grace to me when he arrives?"
"Yes. Would you like me to join? It might be... awkward."
"No, that won't be necessary."
With a troubled look, the duchess took her leave.
"I would offer more brandy, Wellbridge, but we both know less will serve you better this day."
"Yes." Toad didn't pick up his glass again but crossed the room to the bell pull.
***
The vicar was in his garden as Sally and Mama walked past.
Like the other villagers, he greeted them both with great enthusiasm, especially Sally.
"We are so happy you are here at last, Lady Sarah, he said, extending his hand then noticing the dirt from his weeding and wiping both hands on his trousers instead. "I know I speak for the entire village when I say we have been praying for your safe return."
Sally smiled as best she could. "How very nice of you." She prepared to retain her smile through more assumptions about her and David.
The vicar gave up the hopeless task of cleaning his hands, and leaned forward over the fence, suddenly serious. "I wish to assure you, my lady, that all shall be just as you wish. As I told the nice young Italian gentleman, it shall be a privilege and a pleasure to officiate at the wedding of my Duke and Duchess."
Which Italian gentleman? And why was he organizing Sally's wedding?
"I am ready to come up to the manor at any time," the vicar continued, oblivious to Sally's frown. "You have only to send for me."
Sally looked at Mama, who gave the tiniest of shrugs. No. She did not know what the vicar was talking about, either. "You are very kind," she said.
The vicar turned his hands over, his brow furrowing as he examined them. "Do you think it will be today, my lady? It could be, if you and the groom wish. Lord Piero showed me the special license, of course. It allows the wedding to take place at any time, and in any venue. Perhaps I should wash my hands and change into something more suitable, but Lord Piero said he did not know when I might be required, and I was only part way through planting out the new roses. But, no, how silly of me. Ladies do not shop in the village on the day they expect to marry."
Satisfied with his own answer, he smiled again. "Perhaps tomorrow, then. Yes. Tomorrow, I am sure. I know the young duke has arrived — my housekeeper saw his carriage not one hour since. And Lord Piero assured me that you and the Duke are anxious to plight your troth as soon as may be organized. So understandable after your long separation. I can only say how pleased and proud I am to be part of your special day. God bless you, my lady. God bless you both."
"Thank you for your kind wishes and your blessings," Mama said. Sally could not manage a word. It seemed obvious that David was planning to marry her out of hand without consulting her, without considering her wishes, without even seeing her first.
She allowed Mama to make their farewells to the vicar and hurry her away.
"Well." That was Mama's only comment.
'Well", indeed. Sally was torn, three separate passions fighting for dominance. Part of her was clinging to the bewilderment of the first few seconds of the vicar's conversation. Part exulted that she had the answer to all of her fears. David still wanted to wed her. He must still love her, as she still loved him though she had not seen him for years and years. It mattered not at all. She knew him; she knew him to the bone. Yes, he would be older, as she was. She had grown up, but underneath it all, she was still the person she had always been. More confident, wiser, but not fundamentally different.
"We had better get back, I suppose," Mama said. "If David is home at long last, you'll be wanting to see him."
Sally's third emotion was taking over, rising from deep within, fuelled by every time one of the men who claimed to love her, tried to force, bully or manipulate her into a course of action. Yes, this marriage had been something she had dreamed of since she was a child of ten. Yes, she wanted it now as much as ever. But he should have asked. He damn well should have asked.
Organise my wedding without a word to me? We will see about that.
"We still have things on our list, Mama," she said. "Let us see to those, first."