I had not been able to pin down Mrs. Barker in the morning as I had hoped. I was certain she was deliberately avoiding me. She’d even sent the daily in with my breakfast that morning, so I wouldn’t have the opportunity to quiz her.
So now, I was stuck with Mr. Hancock, the steward. I had deliberately asked him to meet me in the study since my mother taught me that a woman is more likely to be taken seriously in an intimidating setting. Otherwise, men tend to dismiss us. It’s entirely unfair and unjustified, but sadly, the way of the world.
I was, therefore, sitting behind the desk where there could be no doubt as to who was in charge. The wide expanse of wood between us was appropriately sprinkled with important-looking correspondence.
“My father is, naturally, very interested in the proper running of this estate, Mr. Hancock,” I answered with a smile. “That is why he sent me here.”
I didn’t think my little fib would make a difference to anyone, and it gave me so much more credence and authority. And besides, he did task me with making sure the estate was being properly run.
Mr. Hancock pursed his lips in thought at my statement. The expression didn’t help as I was already a little unnerved by his deep-set eyes and his large, sharp nose. Clearly, I wasn’t going to have an easy time of it with him. But this didn’t bother me. I had dealt with men who were not used to working with females.
“I ‘ave been running this estate for the past fifteen years, Miss.”
“Yes, so I understand from my father.” I wasn’t going to let him think that I wasn’t already knowledgeable about the situation.
He gave a little nod. “Before that, I assisted me father in the running of this estate,” he added for good measure.
“I am fully cognizant of your excellent qualifications, Mr. Hancock. Not only that, I appreciate your knowledge and look forward to learning as much as I possibly can from you.” I gave him another reassuring smile. “I have never had a hand in raising livestock before, although I do have quite a bit of experience in assisting my mother in the managing of archeological sites. Not the same thing, I am fully aware, but it is along similar lines.”
“Is it?” he asked. “I’m afraid I know nothing of archeology. Do ye have a number of people you must oversee? Crops? Livestock? Cottagers whose livelihoods need to be looked after?” He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. It was the first show of emotion from him, and I didn’t think I liked it.
“As you can imagine, there are no crops, although we did have livestock at one time—cows and goats for milk, chickens for eggs and so on. Instead of agriculture, we had priceless artifacts, which were exhumed from the ground with great care. They needed to be labeled, protected, studied, and then shipped to various locations for more study or put on display. For all of these tasks, we had a staff of 15-20 men who needed housing and food. So in a sense, we did have cottagers, yes.” I stared him down, daring him to tell me that I didn’t know what I was doing.
He, wisely, said nothing.
“Now,” I continued with a smile, “although I have already ridden the estate by myself, if you would be so kind as to show me around with your expert eye, I would appreciate it. And perhaps afterward, we go over the books. You’ll join me for dinner?”
A mix of business and hospitality always worked well in winning difficult people, my mother had said. Show them that you’re capable, and then win them with your charm. I’d done the first, now I was happy to move on to the second.
He pursed his lips again at that but nodded silently, acknowledging the honor if not his enthusiasm. That was all right. I’d have him eating out of my hand by the end of the day. He was a man, after all.
I stood and headed out the door with the steward following reluctantly behind me.
I had to admit, I hadn’t ever thought to be interested in animal husbandry, but once we got started, I found the topic to be quite interesting. Running an estate, that focused on raising animals was very different from running an archeological site. There was so much that one had to know about sheep and wool and markets and so on. I learned a great deal that morning. What was a relief—and I’m sure would be happily received by my father—was that while the grounds of the house were neglected, the farm itself looked to be very well cared for. It was obvious that Mr. Hancock took great pride in his work and did it well.
It was, however, rather disturbing to me when, while riding across the fields, my mind kept wandering away from the topic at hand, namely sheep, to the previous night’s, shall I say, meeting? Getting a response from what I was now certain was, in fact, a real ghost was thrilling in a nerve-wracking way. All the questions that had flooded my mind in the middle of the night, and kept me awake for quite some time afterward, ran through my mind as we toured the estate. I was still annoyed at Mrs. Barker for absenting herself that morning so that I couldn’t question her.
An idea struck me as we watched the sheep graze. I wondered if it was possible for me to help this ghost. If he was, in fact, here because of some unfinished business, then perhaps I could help him finish it. If he would talk to me, I could assist him to get to where he was supposed to be. It certainly couldn’t be pleasant being trapped here when one was dead. No wonder he moaned and groaned and cried all night.
I was truly beginning to feel for the poor thing. But how could I help?
Well, I supposed the first thing I had to do was to find out who he was, and then of course, I would need to know the circumstances of his death, something I’d already begun looking into. And then I needed to find out, if I could, what was keeping him here.
It certainly wasn’t going to be easy. But I had never been deterred from doing something important. And this was most certainly important. I was dealing with a man’s soul!
A plan was beginning to formulate in my mind when Mr. Hancock brought me back to the present by suggesting we return to his office to look over the books.
“Yes, yes, of course,” I said, reluctantly pulling myself back to the present.
I followed him to the stables, where he had his office, and spent a long, rather tedious afternoon looking through the past year’s books. I did manage to give due diligence to them, however, asking a great many questions, learning even more about how the wool was sold, and innumerable other things in which the estate was involved. In fact, by the time we retired for an informal dinner, I had learned a great deal. I felt nearly ready to begin overseeing the estate and was already forming a letter to my father in my mind, saying as much.
“May I ask, Miss, how long ye plan on staying here at Marshfield?” Mr. Hancock asked, after Mr. Barker had refilled his glass of wine for the third time.
“My father has asked me to stay for the next six months, until I am introduced into society,” I answered. “But it’s quite possible that he plans to include this estate in my dowry.”
All right, now I was just making things up out of whole cloth, but I needed him to see me not as a flighty young woman, but as someone with whom he could be working with for the foreseeable future.
“I see,” he said, taking a long drink from his glass. “In that case, Miss, I believe I will be writing ye my letter of resignation tomorrow.”
I nearly dropped my fork.” I beg your pardon?”
“My resignation. I will submit it to ye tomorrow,” he repeated.
“But why? I don’t understand. Is it because I’m a woman? Can you not work with a female, Mr. Hancock? Or is it my age? I assure you, even though I am only eighteen, I have a good deal of experience.”
“Only eighteen?” His eyes widened at that. Clearly, he hadn’t realized how young I was.
I cursed my tongue.
Luckily, he went on after taking another deep swallow of his wine. “No, Miss, it’s not that. It’s just that I don’t really want to work with anyone. I could have a position at any estate in Yorkshire, a good many in Scotland if I wanted. I’ve been courted by any number of gentlemen who want me to manage their estates.” He emptied his glass and sig
naled for Mr. Barker to refill it once more. I opened my mouth to argue with him, but he held up his hand asking me to wait. “When I started working, Lord Bolingbrook, er, the elder Lord Bolingbrook, hired me to take care of his estate because he couldn’t be bothered,” he began. “That worked very well for me. I knew what I was doing. I had watched me father manage this estate for just about my entire life.”
“Yes, we’ve already established that you are very well qualified for what you do,” I said, prompting him to go on.
He nodded and complied. “I had full reign over the estate, Miss. It was essentially mine to do with as I pleased. His lordship really didn’t care what I did, so long as he got his income.”
“I see.” And indeed, I was beginning to.
“When he died,” Mr. Hancock went on after another large sip of his wine, “Lord Peter was more than happy to continue with his father’s practices. He was very much like his father, Lord Peter. His younger brother, Lord Marcus, was sixteen at the time, but an earnest lad who had an interest in the estate and wanted to learn.” He shook his head and added softly, “It was the worst mistake I ever made, teaching that boy.”
He continued to empty his wine glass at an alarming rate as he went on with his story, “I taught him when he would come home from school on holiday. He learned fast and well, and if he hadn’t been in school, he would have taken over right then.” He paused to scowl at his wine glass that was empty again.
“Won’t you have some more to eat, Mr. Hancock?” I asked, holding out the plate of excellent beef prepared by Mrs. Barker, in the hopes that it would temper all the alcohol going into him and the honesty that was coming out.
He held up his hand, refusing the food, but signed for Mr. Barker to refill his glass. “Lord Marcus did try to take over a few summers back. I’ll tell ye, ma’am, it was only my loyalty to this family and the generous salary Lord Bolingbrook gave me that kept me here after that—as I said, I could have a job anywhere I please. Can’t say as I liked being shoved out of my job. We came to an agreement, Lord Marcus and I, and I was glad that I had kept on when Lord Marcus went off to America. He had the confidence to leave the estate without a thought and do what he felt he had to do. It’s a terrible shame that he never returned, and I shed as many tears as anyone during his memorial service. But, well...”
“But you had the estate back to run as you liked again,” I said, beginning to catch on to what he was saying.
He had the grace to look guilty at my words. “And you thought that Lord Pemberton-Howe would be the same sort of absentee landlord Lord Bolingbrook had been,” I added.
“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled into his glass.
“So now that I am here, and it looks like I might be here for the long-run and actually want to lend a hand at running the estate, you’re going to leave, is that it?” I couldn’t help it; I was becoming incensed. The thought that he was going to leave because he couldn’t run this estate entirely on his own, and in his own way, was just beyond... Well, beyond anything! “If that is the way you feel, Mr. Hancock, then I will certainly receive and accept your resignation tomorrow.”
Even as the hour grew late, I was still pacing, still wondering what I was going to do about Mr. Hancock’s resignation. I’d been through so many possibilities and had thrown out every one. I couldn’t very well write and tell my father about this. Clearly, someone who was mature would be able to handle the situation on their own. I should know what to do; only I really didn’t.
I could ask Mr. Hancock to stay, but then I would be admitting that I was weak and ineffective. The problem was, I had enjoyed touring the estate with him. It had reminded me of when my mother had taken me around our archeological site to see it from her perspective, from the point of view of the person who ran it.
She had explained to me what each person did and how their work contributed to the smooth operation of the whole endeavor, very much like the way Mr. Hancock had explained to me the various workings of the farm. My mother had had me sit with her as she went through the books explaining to me what each column was, how to add and subtract the expenditures and income, and even how to estimate what our expenses would be to ensure that we had the funds to cover them.
Going through the books with Mr. Hancock reminded me so forcefully of sitting with my mother, I could have sworn I smelled her perfume as I sat there in his office with him. Today, that familiar ache from my mother’s loss three years ago had grown into a dull throb at the base of my throat. I missed her so much.
I closed my eyes. I could still see her standing with her hands resting on her hips, elbows askew, wisps of hair dancing around her head in the light breeze, surveying our work site from up above. She would watch my father with such love as he worked. Her lips would twitch with a smile as Rose would try to contain our younger sister, Thalia, and keep her from running through the dig, where fragile shards of pottery were being carefully, slowly exhumed. We eventually had to create a special place where Thalia could dig on her own. The trick was keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn’t just run off, which she had a tendency to do. Thalia was always so busy, constantly on the move, and so was Mama, trying to keep up with her, manage the site, and care for everyone all at once.
It eventually wore her out. We still don’t know exactly what it was that killed her. All we know is that she grew more and more tired. Ate less and less... Until she stopped eating all together and could no longer rise from her bed. Papa buried her there, by the side of our archeological site. It was where she would have wanted to be forever. Even though we returned to England, she stayed in Greece.
I sat down on the green sofa in Lord Bolingbrook’s study and swiped a hand across my cheek, wiping away the tears that had slipped from my eyes. Maybe if I understood how to run this estate, my father would include it in my dowry as I’d told Mr. Hancock. It would be as if I were still with my mother.
I shook my head, laughing at how my mind worked, but managing this estate was very much like being with her. Surely, my father would see that. Understand my need for it. But even if my father did give me this estate, I would still have the same problem.
I had to stop Mr. Hancock from quitting. I didn’t actually want to be stuck here managing this estate indefinitely. I wanted to return to London as soon as I was allowed, join society, have fun, meet, dance and flirt with lots of men. How could I do any of that if this steward left the running of the estate to me? And I couldn’t just leave it to my father to deal with. That certainly wouldn’t make him happy.
No, I needed to figure out a way to stop Mr. Hancock from leaving.
Mama, what would you do? What should I do? How do I get this steward to stay? An idea slowly seeped into my mind as I glanced at the clock. Nearly eleven. It was nearly the time the ghost began his nightly wails.
There was only one thing I could do, but it was too crazy. No. I stood, dismissing the idea.
I took a turn about the room, trying to think this through. Did I really have a choice?
No, I told myself once again, as I walked the length of the room. It was stupid. It was ridiculous! And yet, there I was in the gallery, before the ghost could even begin his nightly ritual. If I could plead to my mother’s memory for help, why shouldn’t I seek the assistance of an actual ghost who I’d already spoken to once?
“Are you there?” I called out hesitantly. “I, I would like to speak to you.” Silence greeted me. “If you are, indeed, the ghost of Lord Marcus, I thought that perhaps, well, perhaps you wouldn’t mind helping me. Of course, if you’re the ghost of Lord Bolingbrook then you’re going to be of no use whatsoever,” I added in an under-voice I hoped he wouldn’t hear.
Yes, I know. This was probably the most preposterous thing I could have done, but honestly, I was at my wits’ end!
There was still no answer.
Well, even if he didn’t answer me, perhaps he was listening? And if he wasn’t doing that, at the very least, talking out the problem of the steward woul
d, hopefully, lead me to some sort of resolution.
“I met with Mr. Hancock today,” I said, ostensibly to no one. “He was very good and explained the running of the estate to me in great detail.”
I stopped to listen, but there was nothing, no response.
“Perhaps I asked too many questions,” I offered. “I’m afraid I do have that habit. I used to distract my mother to no end with my questions.”
Nothing.
“At the end of dinner, Mr. Hancock told me he was going to submit a letter of resignation to me tomorrow because he doesn’t want to work with anyone. He wants to run the estate entirely on his own, and clearly, he believes that I wouldn’t allow him to do that.”
“WHAT? HOW COULD YOU? HANCOCK HAS BEEN RUNNING THIS ESTATE FOR FIFTEEN YEARS! HE KNOWS WHAT HE IS DOING. YOU DON’T. YOU GET HIM TO STAY. DO WHATEVER YOU MUST, HE HAS GOT TO STAY!” The voice boomed out from all around me.
I nearly dropped to the ground in fright. Just barely, I managed to hold on to myself and my fear.
I took a deep breath and tried to control my sudden shaking, wrapping my arms around myself. “I know. I want him to stay. What can I tell him that will convince him to do so?”
“TELL HIM THE ESTATE IS HIS TO RUN AS HE SEES FIT!”
“But I can’t do that. I...”
“YES, YOU CAN.”
“But I do want a say in how it’s run. I want—”
“I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU WANT. I HAVE WORKED WITH HANCOCK TO MANAGE THIS ESTATE FOR YEARS. YOU WILL DO AS I TELL YOU!”
“Now, wait a minute! You may have been working with Mr. Hancock, but the last time I checked, you were dead,” I said, beginning to get angry at not only his booming voice but also the highhanded way he was treating me. I didn’t stand for such treatment, not from anyone! Although I was now certain that this was indeed the ghost of Lord Marcus and not his brother, Lord Bolingbrook, from the fact that he said he’d been working with the steward, just as Mr. Hancock had said during dinner.
My Lord Ghost Page 5