"That would be nice," Louisa agreed, looking thoughtful. "Is it too late to plant wheat, or will we have to forgo this year's harvest?"
Matty hid her surprise at the question. For years she'd tried interesting her employer in the day-to-day running of the estate, and until now she had thought her efforts had fallen upon deaf ears. "It is rather late in the season," she conceded slowly, "but if the weather continues moderate and we are able to get the planting done by the end of next week, there is every hope we can still bring in a decent harvest."
They continued discussing the matter until the gentlemen rejoined them. Because of all of the excitement, it was decided they would make an early evening of it, and after enjoying a glass of sherry the men excused themselves to seek their beds. Joss had reached the door when he paused, his expression determined as he turned back to Matty.
"Miss Stone, I should like to have a private word with you," he said, his tone formal. "It will take but a few minutes."
Matty's eyebrows climbed at the stiff request. "Certainly, my lord," she said, putting her glass aside and rising to her feet. After excusing herself to Lady Louisa and Mr. Fitzsimmons she guided the marquess to her study, her brain racing as she tried to determine what was going on. He seemed rather somber, and she wondered if he was going to ask her to leave. The scene in the study earlier that day was still fresh in her memory, and she winced to remember the blunt way she had blurted out her feelings. Given her outrageous behavior, she supposed she couldn't blame him if he were to dismiss her, although she very much hoped he did not. She didn't know what she would do if she was forced to leave Kirkswood.
The moment the door closed behind them she swung about to face him. "What is it you would like to say, sir?" she asked, her chin held at a proud angle. Even though she was prepared to apologize, that didn't mean she meant to abase herself, and she prayed she would make it through the next few minutes with as much dignity as possible.
Despite the grim nature of his thoughts, Joss couldn't help but smile at the arrogant tilt of her chin. She looked like a proud Boadicea about to go into battle, he thought, admiring the defiant sparkle in her dark brown eyes. It was obvious she was accustomed to doing as she wished, with little or no supervision, and he only hoped they could learn to rub along together without daggers being drawn at every turn. He would have to make sure she understood precisely who was in control, but first there was something he needed to get out of the way.
"I should like to apologize for my childish conduct this morning," he said without preamble, his eyes meeting hers. "I know there is no excuse for such churlish behavior, but in my own defense I should like to say that I was taken aback by the news that Frederick had had a son. I had no idea, you see, and I didn't quite know how to react."
His earnest apology made Matty stare in surprise. "But it wasn't your fault!" she protested, feeling both ashamed and relieved. "I had no business blurting it out in anger, and it is I who ought to be begging your pardon. I — I had planned to break the news to you, of course, but not like that. Not without some kind of warning. I am sorry."
Joss was equally surprised by her words. Granted, he wasn't well-acquainted with Miss Stone, but he thought he knew her well enough to know that apologizing didn't come easily to her. That she felt compelled to do so made him admire her all the more, and he gave her a low bow.
"We shall have to forgive each other," he said, with a gracious smile. "In the meanwhile, I was wondering if you might do something for me."
"Of course, my lord," Matty replied, relieved that the awkward moment was behind them. "What is it?"
"Have you a list of the people to whom Lady Louisa sold her jewels?"
The odd request made Matty frown. "Yes, my lord, I have," she answered, wondering what he would want with such a thing.
"Excellent." Joss gave a pleased nod. "Will you please have it ready for my inspection tomorrow?"
"Certainly, but what — "
"Also, I would like to see a list of all your outstanding debts," he continued, ignoring her protest. "And I'll need to know the names of those servants in most urgent need of pay."
"As you wish," she agreed, dazed at the swift way he was taking charge of the situation. "Will there be anything else?"
"That should suffice for now," Joss said, his mind working rapidly. "Although you might have the account ledgers and estate books made available as well. I'll need to examine them before deciding what's to be done."
"I'll have everything ready for you by tomorrow," Matty promised, feeling rather like Pandora after she had opened the box. And to think she had originally dismissed him as a care-for-nothing dandy, she mused, ruefully shaking her head.
"Thank you, Miss Stone." Joss gave her a polite nod. "I shall look forward to tomorrow, then." It was only after she'd taken her leave that he realized he'd spoken the truth, and the realization left him vaguely troubled.
Over the next two days Joss spent every waking hour immersing himself in the estate. He rode over every inch of ground during the day, and poured over the account books at night. It quickly became obvious that Miss Stone hadn't exaggerated conditions, if anything she had understated them. Hedgerton was a fool to allow what remained of Frederick's fortune to molder in the bank while the estate fell into ruin, and he made a mental note to dismiss him. Incompetence was one sin he refused to overlook, and it was plain as a pikestaff that the prim little solicitor was as incompetent as they came.
It was equally plain that Miss Stone was as efficient as she was argumentive. The condition of the land, as well as the meticulously kept books, gave testimony to her heroic efforts, and he shuddered to think what might have become of Kirkswood had it not been for her diligence. However much Lady Louisa paid her, it wasn't enough, and acting on impulse he decided to see just how much that amount was.
At first it was easy tracking in the ledgers what seemed to him the inadequate salary she received, but as the quarters progressed he found fewer and fewer indications of her receiving her wages. He checked again, his frown increasing as he ran his finger down the row of carefully entered figures. There was no mistake, he realized grimly, checking the figures one final time. It had been more than a year since she had been paid. Not only had she single-handedly saved the estate from ruin, but she had done so without compensation of any kind.
He slammed the ledger shut, a blistering oath forming on his lips. Now her anger against Frederick was understood and, he admitted with another furious oath, more than justified. No wonder she had railed against his brother's excesses, he thought, drumming his fingers on the polished surface of his desk. Frederick had squandered money hand over fist while she'd scraped and sacrificed to save what she could. Well, no more, he decided, leaping to his feet. It was about time she learned that the new master of Kirkswood was nothing like his predecessor. With that thought in mind he scooped up the ledger and went in search of Miss Stone.
He found her in her study, her mob cap sitting slightly askew as she bent her head over her work. She glanced up in surprise at his entrance, but before she could say anything he stalked over and threw the book on her desk.
"What the devil is the meaning of this?" he demanded, hands on hips as he glared down at her. "I want an explanation, and I want it now."
Matty gaped up at him, her cheeks turning crimson as she realized he'd somehow learned of her plans. She'd spent two days studying Debrett's, and she'd narrowed her search to the top five most likely candidates. She was mulling over ways to lure them to Kirkswood when he'd burst in, and she swallowed uneasily at the anger she saw shimmering in his eyes.
"An explanation, my lord?" she asked, feigning innocence while she scrambled for some way of placating his temper.
Joss gave an impatient snort, annoyed at her obvious ploy. "An explanation, Miss Stone," he said, his tone cutting as he continued glaring at her. "You must have known I would never tolerate this situation once I became aware of it. I am not Frederick, you know."
"In
deed, I do, my lord," she said, wondering what the late marquess had to do with anything. "But please believe I meant no offense. I only had the best interests of Kirkswood at heart, I assure you."
"Of that, Miss Stone, I have no doubt," Joss responded curtly, "but it changes nothing. You will cease this foolishness at once, do you hear me?"
Matty's heart sank with disappointment. She'd worked very hard on her scheme, and the thought of abandoning it was not at all to her liking. Lady Pamela Ferrell in particular had looked most promising: a viscount's daughter, and worth a fortune. She peeked up at the marquess through her lashes. "Are you quite certain you will not rethink the situation, my lord?" she asked, hoping she could persuade him to see the light. "It is for your own good, you know."
Joss's head jerked back. "And how would it be for my own good for you to impoverish yourself?" he demanded, outraged that she should think he meant to exploit her as his brother had obviously done.
"Impoverish myself?" she repeated, the confusion in her voice no act. Perhaps he was hinting that once he wed she'd be without a position, she thought, struggling to understand his reasoning. That made little sense, however, for she was Lady Louisa's companion, not his. In the event of his marriage, she and Lady Louisa would retire to the dowager's house on the other side of the estate.
"You know fully well what I mean!" He picked up the ledger book and flipped to the proper page. "Perhaps you would care to explain this," he added, jabbing an accusing finger at the column of figures.
Matty gazed at the offending entry. "It is an account ledger, my lord," she replied helpfully, wondering if perhaps the marquess was having a relapse of fever. He'd been working very hard these past two days, and —
"I know it's a ledger, blast it," he snapped, his clipped words interrupting her musings. "What I want to know is why you haven't received a single farthing in salary for the past four quarters!"
So that was what he meant, Matty realized, sinking back in her chair with a relieved sigh. Feeling slightly foolish at the way she had leapt to such an erroneous conclusion, she offered his lordship a tentative smile. "There is a simple explanation, actually," she said in her most placating manner. "I didn't need the money, and the estate did."
"You call that a simple explanation?"
His sarcasm diluted some of her relief. "Yes, my lord, I do," she said, her lips thinning in impatience. "I had a roof over my head and food on my plate. These are hard times, and there are many on this very estate who didn't even have that. My salary wasn't as important as providing for them."
If possible he grew even angrier. "Was Lady Louisa aware of what you were doing?" he demanded, shocked that his sister-in-law would allow her companion to make so great a sacrifice.
Matty shifted guiltily in her seat. "No, she wasn't," she admitted gruffly, "and I would greatly appreciate it if you wouldn't tell her. It would only upset her, and the poor lady has had enough upsets over this past year as it is."
Thinking of the deaths of his brother and nephew, Joss nodded his head in mute agreement. The last thing he wanted was to cause Louisa any more pain — but that didn't mean he intended letting Miss Stone slave for nothing. He gave her a sharp look.
"I'll maintain my silence, providing you allow me to reimburse you for your lost salary," he said, his tone implacable. "Also, you'll be paid for your efforts as estate manager, since you've taken on those tasks as well. How long has Kirkswood been without a bailiff, by the way? It seems an important position to remain unfilled for so long."
For some reason his words stung. "We have been without a manager since Mr. Truborrow left to take another post," she said, her tone cool. "As for hiring someone to take his place, that is a task usually given to the master of the estate. Lord Frederick seemed singularly uninterested in remedying the situation, and after his death there were no funds available to hire one. We had to make do as best we could. My apologies, sir, if our efforts have proven unsatisfactory."
Joss's lips twitched at her icy tones. He realized she'd taken umbrage at his comments, and hastened to smooth her obviously ruffled pride. "Your efforts have been more than satisfactory, as I am sure you know," he said, settling in one of the leather chairs facing her desk. "In fact, they have been exemplary, and I am indebted to you for all you have done. It must have been quite difficult."
His graciousness surprised Matty, and she gave him a wary look. "It wasn't easy," she conceded, tucking a strand of curly hair back beneath her cap. "Lady Louisa helped all she could, but after the babe's birth she was quite ill. His death was difficult for her, of course."
The mention of his nephew brought another shaft of pain. "I can imagine," he said softly, trying to imagine what a son of Frederick's might have looked like. He gave Miss Stone a curious look. "You always refer to him as the babe', " he said, recalling their previous conversation. "Was he not christened?"
"Certainly, sir," she assured him, "although the ceremony was held here rather than at the church."
He found it painfully easy to envision the tragic scene, and forced himself to ask another question. "What was his name?"
Matty's eyes grew bright as she remembered the little boy she'd held in her arms. "Frederick Richard Jocelyn," she said gently, the tears spilling over. "We called him Dickie."
Joss felt as if he'd been kicked in the chest. "You . . . you gave him my name as well?"
"It was Lady Louisa's idea," she said, swiping at her cheek with a shaking hand. "When she was increasing she spent hours pouring over the family records, and she learned it was something of a tradition to name the uncle as the child's godfather. Even though you were so far away, it was a tradition she wished to respect. You don't mind . . . do you?" She gave him an anxious look, the stunned expression on his face puzzling her.
"Mind?" He found it almost impossible to speak. "God, no."
"I am so sorry we didn't write you sooner," she continued, seeing the shattered pain in his eyes. "We were wrong to have delayed, I see that now, but at the time we just didn't think about it. That is a poor excuse, I know, but it is the truth. We never meant to hurt you."
Joss glanced away, unable to meet her eyes. He blinked rapidly, praying he wouldn't disgrace himself in front of her. "I wish . . ." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wish I could have seen him. I would have moved earth and heaven to be here, had I known."
"I know," Matty said, wishing she could wipe the suffering from his face. Aware of his tenuous hold on his emotions, she decided it was time to inject some levity into the conversation, and while she was casting about in her mind for a suitable topic her eyes fell on the list of prospective brides.
"I was thinking, my lord, that it is time we were introducing you to your neighbors," she said, her tone determinedly bright. "You have been gone for a number of years, and I am sure you will wish to reacquaint yourself with the local gentry."
Joss, aware of what she was doing, gave her a slow smile. "I have already had the dubious pleasure of meeting His Grace," he said sardonically. "If he is an example of what I might expect, I fear I must decline your kind offer."
The knowledge that he shared her opinion of the duke brought a genuine smile of delight to Matty's face. "You needn't have any fears on that score, my lord," she told him, making no attempt to hide her true feelings. "The rest of your neighbors are quite nice, and I know they would enjoy seeing you again," she said, warming to her theme. "It is the height of season, so most of them are in town, but with your permission I should like to invite them to a small dinner party so that they could renew the acquaintance."
"A dinner party?" Joss queried, frowning as he remembered the lavish affairs he had endured in London.
"Just a small one," Matty assured him, thinking he was concerned over costs. "No more than ten or so people, and as we are just coming out of mourning no one will expect us to entertain in high style."
He was quick to tumble to her meaning. "I wasn't thinking about the expense, Miss Stone," he said, deciding
it was time he acquainted her with the truth of his circumstances. "In fact, you can invite however many people you wish. I can afford it."
She blushed at his acuity. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise, sir," she said, mortified that she may have offended him.
"Didn't you?" He gave her a sagacious look, "Well, no matter. I haven't spent the past decade rotting in Calcutta, whatever you may have been led to believe. Raj and I are partners in a very profitable shipping business, and I have more than enough brass to see me through the next several years without ever touching a farthing of Frederick's money."
"Do you mean you are a nabob?" she asked slowly, absorbing the implications of this startling development with shock.
"Well, not a nabob, perhaps," Joss corrected, having had firsthand experience of how much wealth a nabob commanded. "But I have done rather well for myself. We are even speaking of expanding our business, now that this blasted war is finally over. Raj has friends in Plymouth who are said to build the fastest packets in the world, and — "
"But this is beyond wonderful!" Matty cried, clapping her hands together as she leapt to her feet. "This will make everything so much easier!"
"So I should hope," Joss said, amused by her obvious glee. "Did you think I meant to bleed the estate dry and then slip off?"
"Oh no! Such a possibility never crossed my mind. At least not once I got to know you," she amended, with candid honesty. "But that you actually have a fortune . . . this is something I hadn't counted upon. I see I shall have to adjust my original plans."
"And what plans might those be?" Joss asked indulgently.
Matty gave him an innocent smile. "Why, the plans to choose your bride for you, of course," she said as if to a child. "Do you think you might arrange for the ceremony to take place before August? It will make it so much easier for everyone if we can have you safely shackled by harvest time."
A Matchmaking Miss Page 7