Michael

Brighton in early autumn was everything Michael hoped it would be. The bustling seaside resort town was full of concerts, balls, and other amusements. Together with Mattie, he enjoyed their holiday there immensely. They bathed during the day, enjoying the sunny days. They took walks along the beach, collecting shells and smooth pebbles. They went to dinners and soirees almost every night.

The delights of high society could be fatiguing, however, so he planned a different pastime for the last day before they departed. ’Twas still unseasonably warm even though it was late September, and Michael made the most of it, surprising Mattie with a picnic in a secluded cove. As the carriage left the town of Brighton behind, Mattie gave him a wide-eyed look of excitement. They drove out along the coast for an hour, and at last, stopped by some craggy outcroppings. The footmen he had hired in Brighton assisted in setting up the area but left to spend the day in a nearby village as soon as the earl and countess were situated comfortably. Michael and Mattie had the little hidden beach all to themselves.

There was a blanket to sit on and a basket with cheese, bread, wine, and fruit. Michael and Mattie nibbled and chatted, looking out at the surf. Gulls pinwheeled overhead, intrigued by the food. As Michael gazed up at them, he noticed that clouds were gathering, however.

Sure enough, just as they were finishing their luncheon, the first drops of rain began to fall. ’Twas an hour until the carriage would return for them, and Michael hastened to his feet, scooping up their things, taking Mattie by the hand, and rushing into a sea cave nearby.

‘Two weeks of sun, and it rains today!’ he grouched as he deposited the rumpled blanket and the basket within.

Mattie’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘Never mind, my love, we had a very nice meal.’

Michael beamed at her, wrapping his arms around her. ‘Did you like it, dearest Mattie?’

‘Like it? I shall treasure this memory.’

Michael kissed her then, and she melted against him.

The sea cave was somewhat dim, especially because of the clouds outside, but Michael could see well enough to enjoy his wife’s graceful beauty. Even in this light, he could admire her large eyes, the spot in the right a treasured reminder of the mystery they had solved together. He kissed her again.

‘Another hour before they retrieve us, you said?’ she whispered when their lips parted.

‘Indeed.’ Michael smiled. He kissed her more, then stopped to arrange the blanket. They lay down together on it, side by side. They could see the beach from where they were, the light rain falling into the wet sand.

Michael tugged the ribbon of her bonnet, and she obliged him by removing the hat. He played with the curls of her hair, then stroked the soft skin of Mattie’s decolletage, running his fingers with desire along the swells of her breasts. He pressed a kiss in the cleavage and felt her breathing quicken.

‘Dearest,’ he murmured against her and cupped a breast in his hand.

‘Oh, Michael,’ she replied, burying her fingers in his hair and kissing his forehead.

He wanted her with sudden urgency.

‘I shall have you right here,’ he breathed, and she let out a whimper that quite undid him.

With one hand, he pushed up her skirts, and with the other, he unbuttoned the front flap of his trousers, freeing himself. He was already hard and straining.

‘Michael,’ she said, and her dark eyes were black with arousal.

He positioned himself between her thighs, delaying to savour the moment. The sound of the surf crashing rhythmically and the smell of the salt air gave him a heady rush of pleasure as he stroked her most secret place. Mattie sighed and parted her legs, inviting him. He could not resist. He bunched up her skirts and plunged into her hot core once, twice. He withdrew, and she writhed with frustration, giving him an imploring look.

Smiling, he sank into her again, the bliss mounting within him. She tightened around him as her body convulsed. She arched her back, gasping and clawing his chest. Rocking his hips, he went deeper, and their rhythm accelerated.

They moved together, delighting in their joining, their ecstasy growing.

Michael could feel his crest nearing and kissed her mouth, tasting her—the wine had flavoured her lips and tongue. He stroked a hand over her cheek and throat, adoring her, happiness overflowing his heart.

He climaxed, and she followed, and together they spun through eternity and washed through each other, all boundaries gone and separations of body and mind forgotten.

As he held her tightly, the pleasure broke over them like the ocean waves beyond.

When they returned to themselves, they remained as they were for a time: tangled together, lying on the blanket, grains of sand pressed to bared skin, hair mussed.

‘Are you happy to be going home?’ Michael asked, breaking the silence at last. ‘I do hope you feel that Stanwick is your home now.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Mattie said, smoothing her hands over her skirt. ‘I have developed a great deal of affection for Stanwick. And I should like to see how Cavanaugh’s Jerseys are getting on.’

‘Capital. After Stanwick, shall we go to London for the season?’

‘With pleasure. I’ve a few months before I should like to return to Gildunley for my seclusion and lying in,’ Mattie said.

Michael blinked at her. ‘Come again?’

Mattie was toying with the hem of her skirt; her eyebrows arched as she gazed at it. ‘Indeed, I have given it some thought, and I do prefer to have the baby at Gildunley.’

‘Have the—’ Michael sat up and took her chin in his hand, gently turning her face so she would look at him. Her eyes were alight with mirth. ‘Are you teasing me, dear Mattie?’

Her smile was warm. ‘Oh, no, my love. I would never tease you about something so important.’

‘Are you saying—can it be true—?’

With a nod, she gave him a little kiss on the mouth. ‘’Tis true, my love. We shall have a baby at the end of spring, I think. In early June, I daresay.’

Joy burst in Michael’s heart the like of which he had never known.

His hands grasped her arms, his eyes wide. ‘A baby? In June?!’

Mattie laughed. ‘Yes, Michael, you shall soon be a father.’

‘Oh, Mattie! You delightful minx!’ he exclaimed and planted a kiss on her mouth. Then the happiness was too much to bear, and he had to stand. He began to pace and gesture as he spoke.

‘Gildunley! Well, of course. But I must speak to Cavanaugh at once. We shall need to redecorate one of the bedchambers and make it a nursery! I’ve some things at Stanwick I should like brought over.’

Mattie laughed joyfully.

‘Have I ever shown you the collection of fairytales in the library at Stanwick? And Aesop’s fables. And there are my old toy soldiers! Do you think it shall be a boy?’

With another laugh, Mattie shook her head. ‘I cannot say, my love.’

Michael beamed at her. ‘I shall adore a son or a daughter. Oh, we shall have to find a good pony!’

‘Michael, ’twill be years before the child can ride!’

‘A puppy, as well,’ Michael continued, undeterred. ‘A puppy just for him. Or her. And how she’ll love Grandmama’s aviary!’

‘I daresay you’re right about that,’ Mattie agreed with a grin.

Michael took both her hands in his, pulling her up to stand.

‘How can one person have so much happiness, dear Mattie?’ he asked.

She stroked his cheek. ‘Well, in your case, you deserve it, my love.’

When the carriage at last returned, Michael was all solicitous concern, steadying Mattie’s arm as she climbed the path to the road and holding her at the waist as she ascended into the landau’s cabin.

They held hands all the way back to Brighton, and also when they rode home the next day, their heads together as they made plans.

Mattie

‘Lady Stanwick, how delightful,’ Miss Newell said at Lord Tatham’s winter ball in January of 1809.

Mattie was still unused to the title and flushed a little, smoothing a lacy-gloved hand over the plumed turban she wore. ‘Good evening, Miss Newell, how are you?’ she asked.

She had not forgotten how unkind the Newell sisters and Lord Raines and Lord Devin had been to her, however, and she found a reason to move on as soon as possible. Miss Newell’s expression of disappointment was plain to see.

‘She would have pretended she was always my great friend,’ Mattie said to Michael, who moved with her through the glittering crowd.

‘There are many who would court your friendship now, my dear Mattie, and you may be as selective as you like. Bestow your favour only onto those you deem worthy,’ Michael said.

Mattie smiled at him, admiring what a fine figure he cut in his dashing umber coat of velvet and brocade neckcloth.

‘May I have this dance?’ he asked, making a show of bowing over her hand.

Mattie smirked. ‘’Twould be my pleasure,’ she said and allowed him to guide her to the ballroom.

There the guests were finishing up a country reel. They waited to join in on the next round: an allemande. Mattie felt light and happy as she faced her husband. Knowing many onlookers watched them, speculating about them because of the summer’s scandals, did not dampen her enjoyment. She cared not a whit for what anyone thought. She had faced the dire fate of a servant cast out, a criminal hiding from discovery, and a mistress with no hope of marriage. The idle gossip of shallow society held little menace by comparison.

Michael beamed at her as the music prompted them to prance around each other. He passed her under his arm with expert grace. She gazed at him with adoration. Chatting, as one so often felt compelled to do when dancing, was unnecessary with Michael. They had come to know each other so well that she knew just what he was thinking as he glanced at some baroness or viscount and looked back at her with a twinkle in his eye. A giggle escaped her at his wit.

Her insecure condition was hardly a discomfort, but it did lead her to become fatigued more quickly, so after the end of the dance, Michael escorted her to a sofa in the grand drawing room neighbouring the ballroom. He brought her a cup of punch, and they sat together, conversing with whoever happened to stop as they were passing by.

‘Why, Lord Stanwick,’ a gentleman Michael’s age with bushy brown hair and sideburns said.

‘Good evening, Lord Petty,’ Michael replied. ‘May I introduce you to my wife, Lady Stanwick?’

‘Ah yes, the famous daughter of Lord Gildunley, is it not?’ Lord Petty said.

‘The very same,’ Mattie said, giving him a nod from where she sat.

‘Lord Petty is the Chancellor of the Exchequer,’ Michael said.

Petty smiled. ‘Yes. I had the good fortune of housing a pair of Lord Stanwick’s dogs over the summer,’ he said. ‘Good old Cavall and Argos.’

Mattie raised her eyebrows. She knew that Michael had, in fact, sold Cavall and Argos to Lord Petty, and she recalled that Petty had been so upset when Michael retrieved them that he endeavoured to oversee the trial of Michael’s brother, Jonathan, personally.

‘Were you very angry with my husband, Lord Petty, when he sought to buy them back?’ she asked.

Lord Petty gave her a sharp look of surprise, and then his features softened. ‘I could hardly blame him, My Lady. By the time he came to see me in July, I confess I had grown inordinately fond of the beasts, so I well understood his need to reclaim them. Still, I was most put out, and I should have preferred never to have known them at all!’

‘So you punished the one responsible for pushing Lord Stanwick to sell them in the first place,’ Mattie nodded.

‘Indeed,’ Lord Petty said pensively. ‘Although I had no intention of harming the Stanwick name with any excessive sentence, you know. I do hope that you agree that the consequences were fair.’

‘I’ve had a letter from my brother,’ Michael said. ‘He had no useful skills, as you might imagine, and they’ve put him on a farm as a labourer. He complains of it most wretchedly.’

Mattie detected a note of satisfaction in Michael’s voice. She was glad for him that he felt no ill-placed regret over the fate of his brother, as she did for Louisa. They had read the announcement in the paper of the executions of Louisa and Renaud some weeks before, and it still troubled her. But she had come to accept that it would always be so.

‘I still feel indebted to you, I declare,’ Michael went on to Lord Petty. ‘Your willingness to buy Cavall and Argos was a great boon at the time, and I feared you might not sell them back to me when my fortunes changed. But you did. And as for my brother … well. Is there anything I can do to repay you for it all?’

‘I say, I was hoping that perhaps you might have Cavall or Argos sire some pups,’ Petty said.

‘If you haven’t any objection to their offspring’s mother being a spitz, you shall have one in six weeks, I daresay,’ Mattie put in.

‘So soon?’ Petty exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up.

‘Indeed, Lady Stanwick’s beloved Fancy had a litter,’ Michael said. ‘It must already have been a fortnight since.’

‘’Pon my soul, what luck,’ Petty said. ‘Will you give me one? I should be most pleased.’

‘Consider it done, old chap,’ Michael said, and Mattie nodded.

Michael

In the end, it took Lord Petty four months to make his way out to Gildunley for a visit. They kept several of the pups from the litter, so when he did, he was happy to see that he had not missed his opportunity to claim one.

It was a Friday in late May. The weather was so cold and rainy, Michael ordered the fires lit. The weather previously had been quite fine, and they had not needed the fires, but today seemed determined to remind everyone of winter. They spent the afternoon in the drawing room, and Michael’s grandmother took up her embroidery with a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Mattie told her father’s valet to cover the baron’s legs with a blanket.

‘What of you, my dear?’ Michael asked her with concern, for she was big with child, and he had developed a relentless sense of anxiety about her well-being.

‘Oh, by heaven, no!’ Mattie said. ‘I feel as though I’m baking where I sit.’

Mattie’s condition had kept her unusually warm for some time. Still Michael would have preferred it if she had worn a spencer, at least. But Mattie would have none of it.

Soon, a carriage pulled into the park. Lord Petty alighted from it and hurried within. When Mattie tried to rise to welcome him, Michael scolded her and threatened to have Annie escort her back to her room.

‘Welcome, do come in,’ Michael said to Lord Petty as Mr Fletcher, the butler, announced him. Michael hastened to make the introductions between Lord Petty and Lord Gildunley and the elder Lady Stanwick.

‘I must apologise, Lord Petty, Lord Stanwick will insist that I not rise,’ Mattie complained when Michael was finished.

‘Heaven forbid!’ Lord Petty said gruffly and hurriedly took a seat so that no more could be said on the matter.

Soon they were enjoying tea and playing with the dogs—all eight canines, including the parents and Argos, the patriarch grandfather. It pleased Michael a great deal to see the usually poised Lord Petty crouching and rubbing furry bellies. His attention was drawn away, however, when Mattie made a pained noise.

‘My Lady, are you unwell?’ he asked at once.

Mattie shifted in her armchair. ‘I am perfectly fine, Lord Stanwick, you mustn’t fuss.’

But he eyed her suspiciously. The way she was sitting …

‘Shall I ring for Annie? She can help you to your room …’ he suggested.

‘Piffle,’ Mattie said. ‘You behave as though I am ill.’

‘Quite so,’ said Grandmama. ‘I shall remind you, Michael, we have no more invalids under this roof. Lord Gildunley and I have both fully regained our health, and I daresay Lady Stanwick shan’t like to take on the role of invalid in our place.’

Lord Gildunley nodded with an air of amusement at this.

‘You see, My Lord,’ Mattie said with triumph.

‘But my dear …’

‘No another word, My Lord,’ she said firmly.

Michael was most discomfited, but he pretended to be cheerful for Lord Petty’s sake.

‘’Tis time to dress for dinner in any case,’ Mattie said, and she attempted to rise.

Michael hastened to her side, slipping a hand under her arm.

‘Oh!’ Mattie cried and gave him a look of naked alarm.

‘What is it?’ he demanded.

‘Oh, perdition,’ Mattie murmured.

Michael looked about him in panic, his mind a blank.

‘Fletcher!’ barked Lord Gildunley. ‘Fletcher, send for the physician!’

Mattie winced. ‘Oh, no, Papa, I am certain I needn’t—’ but in that instant, she paled and grimaced, clutching Michael’s arm.

‘Let’s assist Lady Stanwick to her room,’ Grandmama said with enviable calm.

Michael clung to this instruction like a lifeline. Putting an arm around her waist to support her, he ushered her up the stairs, nearly carrying her by the end.

As it happened, Mattie’s labour was so swift the doctor arrived only at the end. Annie acted as midwife, and the elder Lady Stanwick remained at Mattie’s side, as well. Michael waited, beside himself, hardly able to remain seated for longer than a few minutes at a time—instead, he paced and attempted to listen to what Cavanaugh, Lord Petty, and Lord Gildunley said in an effort to comfort him. He could never recall, after that day, even the slightest word of it, however.

At last, in the middle of the night between that Friday and Saturday, a healthy baby boy was born.

Michael crept into Mattie’s bedchamber, fearful lest he disturb her, but he found she was awake. She held the baby tucked against her breast and reached out to him with her free arm.

Michael hurried over, gazing in wonder at the small head and tiny clenched fist of the newborn.

‘Oh, Mattie,’ he breathed, and she gave him a rapturous smile.

‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ she murmured. ‘And the fragrance of his head, why Michael, I never knew a baby could smell so delightful.’

Michael let out a laugh, joy overflowing his heart once more.

‘I should like to name him after my father,’ he said after a moment. ‘Patrick Berth. What do you say, dearest Mattie?’

‘It suits him,’ Mattie said, gazing with love at her son.

And so began the new life of Michael and Mattie and their beloved son, Patrick. They had several more children and several more dogs, and everyone lived happily ever after.

THE END

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