Christmas Bequest

by Barbara Miller

  If she had been engaged in battle, she wasn’t sure if this recent turn of affairs meant she had lost or won.

  The Whartons drove away in the gig they had come in. Stuart reappeared to bid her to lunch, to which he had been invited or had invited himself.

  “Does our task still seem so daunting?” he asked as he conducted her across the hall.

  “You should have been a diplomat instead of a soldier.”

  “I don’t take your meaning.”

  “You knew I would take umbrage at you interfering in the accounts but also knew I would take any criticism better from someone other than you.” It was the kindest thing she had said to him since his return and for it she got one of his dazzling smiles. Yes, his face bore lines of worry and weariness that had never been there before, but underneath was it possible he was the same person as before?

  He patted her hand. “And there was no criticism, was there? Wharton told me you had done very well.”

  “So he wasn’t just trying to make me feel adequate.” She peeked up at Stuart to see if he was fabricating.

  “No, he meant it. The man is incapable of lying.” Stuart said this as he seated her in the breakfast parlor. “And his son is eager to prove himself.”

  Lucinda looked up at them and almost snarled. “I won’t have my son’s inheritance wasted on yet another lazy employee.”

  Patience’s mother frowned. “I must say I am forced to agree with Lucy in this case. How are we to pay the young Mr. Wharton?”

  “You aren’t.” Stuart seated himself and waited while the footman ladled soup. “Since he is after some training, I am going to pay him. He can work here under his father’s watchful eye, of course. Once James is of age then the younger Wharton will replace his retiring father at my farm. James can manage for himself by then or hire someone of his choosing.”

  “What’s to keep young Wharton from cheating us?” Lucinda demanded.

  Stuart waited for the footman to leave. “Me and his father, but there is no need to cast a watchful eye over his bookkeeping, and I take exception to your assumption that a man handpicked by me is dishonest. I will thank you to keep that opinion folded between your lips, for if I hear of it spoken outside this room there will be dire consequences.”

  Patience held her breath for the storm she was expecting. She had never heard Stuart speak so sternly to anyone before. Clearly he was angry but just as certainly he was restraining himself.

  “Are you threatening me?” Lucinda asked.

  Stuart dropped his spoon into his bowl with a clatter. “In a word, yes. I do not wish Jack’s family reputation besmirched by wanton words from someone who does not know whereof she speaks. If you imagine I would let anyone cheat the son or widow of my best friend then you have no very good idea of my character and I resent that.”

  Lucinda looked pale. “I’m sorry. I never meant to cast aspersions on you.”

  “But you did, so I advise you to have a care what you say and to whom. We want James to grow up in this county well-liked and well-thought-of.”

  Lucinda made no reply but ate in silence as the others did.

  Patience tried not to look at Stuart, with his finely combed blond hair and perfect scarlet uniform, but she could not help herself. He didn’t smile as much as before and when his mouth was firm he looked almost distinguished. The army had changed him and she thought it was for the better. He had always been quieter than Jack, holding her brother back from some of the worst escapades he thought of. This new Stuart was not a follower but a leader. He was decisive and dismissive and said all he needed to say without anger or apology. Patience could grow to like him.

  Lucinda finally rose, excused herself and left the room.

  Jack’s mother followed her with her gaze and finally said, “She did just lose her husband, Stuart.”

  Patience threw her fork down. “Lucinda was like this before Jack died. In fact, I think she drove him away.”

  “Patience!”

  “Well, it’s true.”

  “That doesn’t mean a person has to say so.” Her mother sniffed her way out of the room and Stuart looked at Patience.

  This time he did smile. “Thank you for supporting me.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” Patience knotted the ends of her shawl together. “I didn’t realize myself the truth of it until I blurted it out.”

  Stuart nodded. “Jack spoke of it once with great regret.”

  “And I drove you away.”

  He reached for her hand and cradled it in his. “Never. I am drawn back to you like a magnet to true north. You will never get rid of me now.”

  The enchantment of his statement gave her a delightful moment of the old dizziness and she wondered if she should say something equally romantic to him but then she recalled the war and everything else between them. “I’m glad someone put Lucinda in her place. She never listens to reason from me. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”

  “Only until her relatives arrive.”

  “What? Are they coming this Christmas? I’d hoped they would cry off because we are in deep mourning. I like Uncle William to visit, and Uncle Percy I can tolerate, but Lucinda’s family depresses me. Nothing is good enough for them.”

  “One of your servants informed one of mine that her parents and brother are arriving tomorrow.”

  “Pardon me while I beat my head against the table,” Patience requested. “What did we do to deserve this?”

  “Fear not, fair lady. The staff from Greenways has volunteered to help out in your hour of need. Actually it will be days of need, if you permit, that is.”

  “I can’t let you lend us your servants. What will you do?”

  “Be here. It’s not as though there is anyone at home for me. Besides, they volunteered their services and to refuse…”

  “Would be a slap in their faces. I accept them and gladly, for we no longer employ enough people to take care of even a few guests.”

  “Now I ask a favor of you—a tour of the estate. John Wharton has seen it firsthand, of course, but I have been away and wish to get a sense of what needs doing first.”

  “I’ll get my cloak.”

  * * * * *

  As they walked to the carriage, she began to pull on a pair of worn mittens.

  “Here, wear these.” He handed her some gloves he drew out of his coat pocket.

  “Oh, they are beautiful. Spanish leather, no doubt, and they just fit. But they are too small for you. Whose are they?”

  “Yours, of course. I had the measure of your hand from holding it in mine so often in the past.”

  In the midst of the cold day, hot tears burned her eyes and her voice shook. “I should not accept them.”

  “If we are nothing more, we are still friends. Please wear them and think of Jack.”

  “I shouldn’t keep them, and I can’t stop thinking of Jack.”

  “I really recommend you wear them since you are driving. I must make notes.”

  She hurried to put them on before she changed her mind. They warmed her hands and her heart, as though Stuart were holding her in his arms. “You’re letting me drive your team?”

  “They will listen to you.” Stuart told his groom he could remain behind as he helped her into the carriage and she took the reins.

  “What do you want to see?” She held the team steady but lightly as he got in.

  “Mostly the buildings, unless something else needs attention more.”

  “Very well, the cottages first.” She took the team down the drive and turned them right onto the lane that ran along the row of cottages.

  “Heatherfield has the same number of tenant cottages as I do but yours all need repair, judging by the roofs. We must put those first, then the new roof for the barn as Wharton suggested.” He did some calculations in his notebook.

  “We cannot afford all that in one year. We can’t afford to fix even one roof at the moment.”

  “The only thing that separates Heatherfield from
prosperity is time. I will lend the money.”

  “I can’t accept. I know what you are going to say. It’s your decision, not mine.”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “That would cheapen all your sacrifices, all you have done here. If you refuse, I will think of another way but it will take longer. As it is, your tenants have little to do this time of year so they can be given the materials and accomplish most of the repairs themselves, which I’m guessing they would rather do anyway. Then we can pay them for their work on the barn roof. It will be warmer by the time we get to that.”

  “You persuade me against my inclination. I know it is for James and his mother.”

  “You agree then. Let’s drive up to the woods and see how the timber fares. Is the lane still passable in that direction?”

  “In this light carriage, of course, unless a limb has fallen across it.” She began to wonder what this drive was for—her to show him the estate, him to get her compliance in lending money, or something else on the agenda. This hill was where they used to end their rides before parting to go to their separate homes.

  The last leave-taking had been difficult. She had not dismounted that time, had not hugged him or kissed him or cried over him as women were supposed to do. She’d known that once the dam of her emotions broke, she would be swept away and utterly destroyed.

  To her surprise, all that regret and remorse were still penned up inside her, in danger of being unleashed now.

  When they gained the brow of the hill, she stopped the team and looked out over Heatherfield. This was the spot where they had usually dismounted to rest the horses. They had made a lot of silly promises in those days before the war. One of them was that they would marry when they were both of age.

  It was only five years ago but seemed like ancient history and they could never go back to the place they were then. Too much had happened. Their lives had taken separate wrong turns and even though they sat side by side, they were different people and as distant as though he were still in Spain.

  “It’s still beautiful,” he said, “even in this fog and with the threat of rain. This is my favorite spot.”

  “Stuart, I don’t know if I can bear for you to help so much. It should not be your responsibility just because of Jack’s stupid bequest.”

  “I want to help, as we always helped each other in the past. My tenants are idle part of the winter and would be glad of the work to help with your barn and the succession house.”

  “If they were paid. And you would be paying them. It’s not right.”

  “Jack’s estate will pay me back in time, once the succession house is fixed and the place is running up to its potential.”

  “Still, you should not be doing it. I know. If you were less diplomatic, you could say I cannot stop you.” Patience stroked the reins to remind the horses she was still there but did it lightly as though she were petting them.

  “It should be more up to Lady Heatherfield than either of us. But after my loss of control at luncheon, I doubt she will even speak to me let alone accept help.”

  “So you plan to do all this without asking her permission?”

  “I feel badly enough about losing Jack to that river. Help me do what bits I can to make his family safer. I don’t care if she hates and resents me. Maybe that’s what I’m here for. She needs a close target for her anger at her loss. Please help me help her, even if we get no thanks at all. Do it for Jack and little James.”

  He reached for her but stopped himself, probably remembering where they were—the top of a hill where a loss of contact with the horses might be disastrous if they bolted.

  Patience swallowed and calmed her breathing. This had been a place for romance but today would change it in her mind forever into a spot for confrontation. She kept her hands steady on the reins in spite of what she had to say next. “You never told us exactly what happened.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear it?” His eyes pleaded with her to say no.

  “I think I had better. Otherwise I will imagine much worse. I had thought that once you told us, the nightmares would stop, but they go on and on. You see, when I’m asleep part of me doesn’t remember or can’t quite believe that Jack is dead.”

  “I am so sorry.” Stuart shook his head. “I spend a deal of time trying to remember who we lost and who is still alive. After a while, a certain numbness sets in and you don’t want to remember.”

  “I had not thought it would be worse for you than for me.” She bit her lip. “The Battle of Nivelle, wasn’t it? What happened?”

  “We don’t know, really. Only that he was in the fighting near the Nivelle River. I was caught behind the French lines for a time so I wasn’t able to look for him until the end of the day. We found his horse after the battle, drenched as though it had pulled itself out of the water. There was blood on the saddle and saber cuts. It was wounded in the withers but survived. Ralph was his favorite horse.”

  “Where is it now?” It was a stupid question, but after losing Jack she wanted anything that was close to him. She would take care of Ralph forever and probably in odd moments ask him if Jack had forgiven her before he died. Silly to interrogate a horse, but she knew she would.

  “I brought his horses home on the ship with mine. Our grooms are bringing them by easy stages from Weymouth. Jack’s groom is with them. If you have no need of him, I shall employ him until you have more horses.”

  “We’ve only the two teams for plowing. If you can employ him, that would be a kindness since his sister is one of our maids. They would not be far apart.”

  Stuart turned to her. “Jeffers blames himself as well.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. It was getting colder and the air bit at her lungs. Her agitation must have conveyed itself to the team for they stamped their feet and she realized they should not keep them standing here. “Please tell him not to,” she said as she took a firmer grip on the reins.

  “I have and I shall.”

  She backed the team away from the edge and took them along the lane toward the border with Greenways, looking for a place to turn them. “Please do not blame yourself either. When I said, ‘Stop him, Stuart. Keep him safe’, I never meant for you to follow him.”

  He gave a weak laugh. “I surmised that later from your letters. I failed you in both respects, choosing to go with him rather than staying to protect you.”

  “I am well able to take care of myself. Jack was the impulsive one. He needed you more.” That was the most horrible guilt she’d had to bear in the time Stuart had been away. She had sent him.

  Had she secretly hoped Stuart would go to war to protect Jack? If so it had been silly of her to think anyone could be made safe during a war. She could, at this moment, be mourning Stuart’s death as well.

  “But I failed to protect him also. If you forgive me his death, can the rift between us ever be mended?”

  She refused to look at him lest her stern resolve vanish. “There is more than Jack’s death and a war between us. There is all that time we cannot get back.”

  “Less than three years,” he whispered.

  “But I am a different person.” She struggled to explain why they could not go back to what they were. “I have not been happy in so long, I have forgotten how. I don’t want to drag you down with me. I have expected and generally gotten nothing but bad news. The crops have been abysmal, the hay not enough for the cattle and sheep.” She tried not to squeeze out any tears for she did not want them to freeze.

  “Did Wharton not help with that?”

  “Yes, another favor I owe you.”

  “You owe me nothing. We did it for Jack’s sake. Look on the brighter side. Wool prices have been up. All our uniforms.” He looked down at the scarlet coat he still wore.

  “Yes, and the new factories, but once the war is over prices may drop.”

  “When did you become such a pessimist? Actually, I know why. Things were put on you that should never have been.”

  And no
w he was taking those responsibilities away. No matter how much she’d hated all she had to do these past three years, she had needed to work so as not to think about Stuart.

  One of the team neighed and she glanced toward Stuart’s stable yard. “Look, there are your battle horses coming up the road through the fog. They are almost to your house. Are they not beautiful and so glad to be home?”

  “Shall we stop and see them? There is one of special interest to you.”

  “Ralph?”

  “No, another one.”

  Stuart observed her on the drive down the hill. She was thinner than before and smiled less but her essential quality, that fire he recalled, was still there. He could tell by the collected way she drove the team.

  Patience had not been beaten by all this. Just beneath her shield wall of fatigue hid the girl who laughed at his jokes. She was almost within reach if he could only break through her reserve without hurting her more. If only she could forget his failures and forgive his mistakes.

  When they got to the stable yard at Greenways, the grooms were already leading the horses into the stalls.

  “Hallo, miss,” Jeffers said, touching his cap. “I’m sorry about the captain. We never found him.”

  Stuart saw Patience bite her lip and hoped she did not wound Jeffers with her response.

  “Don’t blame yourself, Jeffers. You kept him safe a long time. Please stay here with his horses for now. Seeing them might be too much for Lucinda.”

  “I understand, miss.”

  Stuart blew out a breath of relief. Why had he been worried? Patience cared so much more for others, even servants, than for herself. That had not changed. “Here she is,” Stuart said as he took the lead line of a delicate gray mare. “Small, even for a mare, but she’ll throw fine colts.”

  “I’d admire to have one someday when I can afford it.”

  “Alita is yours. I bought her for you.” He feared her rejection of this gift so he added, “She was about to be drafted into the cavalry and would not have fared well with a hard-riding soldier on her back.”