by Lee Rowan
“Of course. A little older and browner, but as excessively solicitous as ever!”
“Mother?” Will asked.
“Our head groom,” Lady Amelia explained. “He is married to our housekeeper. Hubbard taught us all to ride—and taught my brother how to train his horse, Dancer. We call him ‘mother’ because he is like a broody hen when I or my sisters go out riding. He keeps us much safer than we need to be.”
“What has become of Mrs. Hubbard?” Davy asked. “I’d expected to see her by now.”
“Gone to Tavistock,” Jane said. “The Countess gave her leave to go home at Christmas, and she found her mother dreadfully ill, not expected to live. Your mother told her to stay as long as she was needed. But it seems her presence has cheered the old lady up, and she is beginning to recover.”
“That was before the accident,” Lady Amelia added. “And after the bustle of Christmas, so we found she could be spared for a while.”
Davy frowned. “And now Mother’s on the sick list and I can guess who’s shouldered the burden. It’s no wonder you wanted to get out of the house!”
She shook her head. “It has not been the chore you may think—I’ve found it easier to have something to occupy my mind. But speaking of burdens reminds me that there is something I meant to ask you yesterday evening. This may not be the best time—and no, Captain Marshall,” she said, her gloved hand moving quickly to his wrist, “please do not feel you need to absent yourself. I do not mind your hearing this.”
“What is it, then?” Davy asked. “By heaven, I charge thee, speak!”
“Hamlet,” she said. “And far too close to the mark, don’t you think? Ronald is behaving exactly as I’d thought he would, and I am fearfully reminded that, God forbid, should anything happen to Father, he would be my legal guardian… and Genie’s, as well as Jane’s.”
Davy winced. “Heaven protect Father! What would you have me do?”
“I know that you will most likely go back to sea, and soon,” she said. “But—would you permit me to ask Father to make you our guardian, instead of Ronald? I hope that Genie will have married before you would ever need worry about her—”
“And so will you both, I imagine,” Davy said.
“Oh no,” she said lightly. “We shall be the maiden aunts and dote on our nieces and nephews—or cousins, in Jane’s case. I thought that perhaps I might keep house for you, at least until you marry.”
“There’s no likelihood of that in the near future.” Davy laughed. “Or the distant future either, so far as I can see.” He gazed thoughtfully across the fields, toward a far-off wood. “Yes, ask him, if you like, though I despair of keeping you firebrands in order if it were to come to that. But I would not hold out much hope of Father’s consent.”
“A year or two ago, you would have been correct. After Ronald’s recent misadventures—and that troubling silence about Lenore—I think Father will be less trusting of his judgment. And the burden would not be yours alone; I mean to ask that you and Mama be joint guardians. In that way, we would have a responsible gentleman making decisions, but she would have the authority to act if you happened to be at sea.”
“So you girls and Mama might remove to the Dower House if Ronald became unreasonable, or if he were to find an uncongenial bride.”
“The Dower House at the very least,” she said. “Or perhaps the town house. I should prefer as much distance as possible, since I do not trust our brother any more than you do.”
Davy gave Will a wry grin. “Did I ever explain that the Archer men tend to action, and the ladies to strategy?”
“You did not,” Will said, “but I begin to think it a pity that the Admiralty has no positions open for members of the gentle sex.”
“When gentlemen have all the power, Cousin,” Jane said, “ladies have no recourse but strategy.” Although her tone was light, Will did not think she was joking. There was an edge to her, somehow, that the Archer ladies did not have, and he wondered what lay behind her quiet countenance.
“I think our mother has more power than meets the eye,” Davy said. “I cannot recall ever seeing her quarrel with our father, or him lay down the law to her the way he always has to us. Of course, there are areas outside her interest—she knows nothing of financial matters beyond the household, and little about farming—but in nearly everything to do with the house, her will prevails.”
“Of course it does—so long as the house is comfortable and we dine on schedule, he is content!” Amelia cocked an eyebrow at her brother. “Can you imagine Father having the slightest interest in new draperies—or selecting the menu for a dinner party? He would dine on chops every night and think nothing of it, if it were left to him. I think our parents do so well together because they each have their own spheres of influence and little interest in meddling outside them. And, of course, they adore one another.”
“They are the best-suited couple I have ever met,” Davy agreed. “I hope Mother is feeling better today. Enough, at least, to come down and dine with the family. Have things been as somber lately as they were last night?”
“Not often,” she said. “With no other gentlemen at the table, Papa has been eating very little, then going off to his study, or to sit with Mama in her room. I expect dinner will be interesting this evening.”
“Yes, so do I,” he agreed. “And I think it might be a little less interesting and a bit more comfortable if our mother is present.”
They followed the road a little while longer, driving past a few cottages where Will volunteered to hold the reins while the Archers stopped to look in on their tenants.
“Oh, no,” Davy said. “You’ll not get out of meeting people that easily! We shan’t stay long. It’s too cold to leave the horses standing for more than a few minutes.”
Will gave in with as much grace as he could, and the visit was brief enough; most of the men were out working, and the cottagers’ wives were busy with their own chores. But the look of awe on one little boy’s face convinced Will that allowing himself to be exhibited as a Famous Naval Commander was perhaps not such a bad thing, after all. If the youngster had had his way, they might have stayed at that cottage the rest of the afternoon and beguiled the time with sea stories, but his mother sent him off to fetch his father and brothers when the sky began to darken.
Amelia decided that the strengthening wind and heavier clouds were reason enough for them to head homeward as well, and Will found himself with food for thought as they turned the horses around and retraced their path.
The long list of servants and tenants he’d met thus far was more than Will could keep in his memory. Even bearing in mind that, as the younger son, Davy had no claim here, he was nonetheless daunted at the difference between their positions, the lands and people that were a natural part of Davy’s life. Had it not been for the Navy’s system, which gave as much credit to ability as to birth, he would never have met David Archer under any circumstances that would have allowed them to speak as friends or equals. He’d never have earned a rank superior to Davy’s—in fact, he’d have had no chance at all to become an officer. And it was probably best to keep that in mind while he was here.
He put those thoughts aside when they reached the house. After they had helped the ladies down, Davy invited him to visit the stables. “We shall have to change for tea, of course,” he said, “but I thought you might like to see if any of the horses strike you as agreeable.”
“If you like,” Will said. “Not that I would know one from another, but since you’ve offered me the chance to learn, I shall be happy to take you up on the offer.”
Davy handed his hack off to a waiting groom, who also took the reins of Jane’s horse, and climbed into the gig with Will. As soon as the groom was out of earshot, he said, “Oh, Will, you’re going all stiff and mannerly on me. I know you too well to believe that! But while you needn’t be happy, I do think the practice will be of some use to you.”
Will sighed. “I hadn’t meant to be d
istant, Davy. I just thought it best to maintain… a sort of quarterdeck formality. Particularly after that remark about ‘closer than brothers.’”
“I expect you’re right.” Davy let his hand slip over to Will’s thigh and gave it a quick squeeze. “But only as a precaution. Ronald’s been making that sort of remark about me ever since he realized I would rather sit indoors and read than chase some benighted fox to its death—I generally felt more kinship with the quarry than with my dear brother.” He smiled wistfully. “I wish, now, that we had traveled by post chaise from Portsmouth and been able to spend a few more evenings in quiet inns along the way.”
“As do I. But you’re needed here, I can see that—at least by your mother and your sister. Lady Amelia, I mean; your other sisters—”
“Anne is closest in age to Ronald,” Davy said. “I think she feels some sympathy for him. Though I do not believe she knows him well; she married while he was off at school. She barely knows me at all. When Anne was presented in Society, I was crawling around the nursery. And when I went off to sea, Genie was a sweet child whose life had very little to do with mine. I suppose it is often so in large families when the children are born so far apart.”
“I feel like a visitor in a different country,” Will said. “Before I met you, I was so often alone that I used to wish I had had brothers and sisters.”
“I could say the experience is overrated,” Davy said, “but it most likely depends on the brother or sister. I love Amelia dearly, and I do wish you had been able to meet Mark. We were so far apart in age and interests that we were never very close, but he was kind enough, and he never tormented me the way Ronald did. Both of them were mad for any form of sport, though, and to me anything but riding always seemed a waste of time. I wish now that I had spent more time with Mark, even though I suspect he found me rather dull.”
“I cannot see why he would,” Will said. “And to my untutored eye, you ride very well.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. All Archers ride, by my father’s decree—except for my mother, who gave it up after Anne was born. For me, it was mainly a means of taking myself out of harm’s way—to be elsewhere when Ronald was spoiling for a fight.”
Will felt he needed to ask the uncomfortable question. “What ails him, Davy? Is there a reason for his animosity, or has he always been so distempered?”
Davy shrugged. “Partly disposition, I think, and partly spoiling. My maternal grandmother lived with us for some years. She made a pet of Ronald, taking his part and making excuses for him, giving him money from her own allowance so he never had to learn to make do with what Father provided. She always supported him in the quarrels he picked with us, even lied for him, and in turn, he spied for her.”
“I’m sorry,” Will said, sorry he’d asked.
“It’s a complicated story, Will, and I doubt I know all of it. She was a discontented old woman, and I think she had reason to be; her marriage had not been a pleasant one. But I never did understand why she seemed determined to make everyone else as unhappy as she was. She disliked my father too, though I never understood that either—perhaps it was only that he treated my mother so well and proved Grandmother wrong. I suppose he tolerated her for my mother’s sake.”
“What are you going to do now? This must affect all our plans—” He caught himself. Back on the Mermaid, at Christmastime, he and Davy had exchanged promises that to Will could have served as marriage vows, but it was his own fault, and his alone, that Davy could not go back to the service with him. “Your plans, I should say. I don’t mean to intrude.”
“This changes everything,” Davy said somberly. “Mark was a good man, steady and responsible. With him at the head of the family, I would have been able to range as I liked, knowing that everyone was safe in his care. Now….”
“Now you have responsibilities. It would be wrong for me to try to interfere.”
Davy turned on him suddenly, the hurt plain on his face. “No! How can you call what we have between us ‘interference’? Will, I mean to keep our plans, even if we must adjust them to some degree. I cannot bear to think that you’ll vanish from my life. I may someday wind up as my sisters’ guardian, but you heard Amelia—the girls would be in Mother’s care, not mine. There must still be a way for us to salvage something.” He kicked at the edge of the gig, dislodging a bit of mud from his boot. “Or perhaps there is no way, and I’m a fool to think there might be. You’ll be off to sea before long, and I had better get used to the idea.”
He looked so sad that Will made a clumsy attempt at levity. “Well, Lady Amelia seems to have set her own course. We can but hope that your mother makes a quick and lasting match for your sister Eugenie.”
“Oh, I do,” Davy said. “Fervently. I hope she falls in love with the perfect man at her very first ball.”
“And vice versa, of course.”
“Lord, yes.” He smiled. “But knowing Genie, I pity the gentleman who tries to ignore her!”
AS DAVID might have expected, Will made polite noises when shown the various horses in the stable, but showed no sign that he saw any difference, other than size, between the Earl’s prize hunter and the dappled pony that would soon be bearing Anne’s little girls around in careful circles.
David enjoyed the warmth and scent of the stables, one of the places he’d always felt comfortable as a child. He hoped he’d be able to find Will a mount that would let him learn how to enjoy riding. Odd, he thought, that a man who could walk on a yardarm a hundred feet above a hard and unforgiving deck would be nervous sitting atop a horse, a mere five feet off the ground. But Will was so confident at sea that the small weakness was all the more endearing. And it could be cured, David was sure of that.
They were halfway down the line of stalls when a spare, gray-thatched man called down from the hayloft. “Master David! Good to see you, sir!”
“Afternoon, Hubbard! That’s Hubbard,” David said, unnecessarily. “We’ll need to find a good teacher for Captain Marshall,” he said after introducing Will. “He’s death to the French on a quarterdeck, but went to sea too young to learn horsemanship.”
“Fair enough,” Hubbard said. “I’ve no sea horses just at the moment, but I think Pennant will do. My lady Anne found him a very biddable mount.”
“If he’s patient enough for my sister, he’ll do for you,” David assured Will. “She fidgets, and you don’t. I think we shall go out tomorrow, Hubbard, in the late morning or early afternoon, if the weather’s fair. Just for a short while.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll be sure to let out the stirrups for him.” He seemed about to fidget himself, then blurted, “Master David, about Dancer….”
David brushed it away. “No need to apologize. My sister told me what happened. There was nothing you could have done, and it’s all worked out for the best. Perhaps I’ll ride over to Patterson Hall tomorrow and sort things out.”
Hubbard nodded his thanks and returned to his work.
David watched him go. “It’s going to be hard on our people when Ronald takes over,” he said. “My father is a stern taskmaster, but he’s always looked after them—made sure the cottages are kept in repair, brought in the doctor if they fall ill…. Ronald seldom thinks of anyone but himself. I wish there were something I could do, but anything I might attempt would only make things worse.”
Will said nothing, only put a hand on David’s shoulder as they turned to leave the stable. He let it drop as a shadow moved across the doorway.
Chapter 6
RONALD WAS standing outside. Had he been waiting for them? Or only trying to eavesdrop? He fell into step with them as they headed back toward the house, the wind blowing cold in their faces. “Did you enjoy your ride, ‘Captain’?” he asked blandly.
“Indeed,” Will said neutrally.
“I was sure you would. My sister is a very pleasant young lady, is she not?”
“Indeed she is.”
“Yes, indeed,” Ronald mimicked. “I hope you are not getting ide
as above your station,” he said, after Will made no further comment. “I have plans for my sister’s future, and they do not include her being leg-shackled to a common sailor.”
Will gave the insult the response it deserved—an indifferent silence.
“Have you consulted our sister about your plans?” David put in. “I recommend you do so before posting any banns. Of all the people she might consult on the matter of choosing a bridegroom, I doubt your name would be first on the list. In fact, I doubt it would appear at all.”
“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” Ronald said without looking at him.
“When did you ever seek an opinion that was not an echo of your own?” He expected no answer, and got none. “Nonetheless, you might bear in mind that though you are heir to Grenbrook, our father is still alive and in full possession of his faculties.” Some evil impulse prompted him to add, “Or do you have some reason to think that might cease to be the case?”
His brother whirled, his face ugly. “What did you say?”
“I think you heard me,” David said levelly. “It appears to me that you’ve had a very profitable year, Ronald. First Lenore—so soon after she inherited her grandfather’s wealth, and before she could bear a child who might take some of it away from you. Did you ever tell anyone precisely what became of her?”
“That’s none of your concern!”
“And now Mark is gone, and you stand poised to take his place. I know that Society sees you as one who is deserving of sympathy, but you hardly strike me as a man bereaved. On the contrary—” He blocked the blow his brother aimed at him and took a step to one side, out of arm’s reach. “I shouldn’t try that sort of thing anymore. You don’t have me outnumbered the way you did at school, and I’ve killed better men than you in battle.”
Ronald started to speak, then glanced at Will and visibly restrained himself. “So have I, little brother.”
Will spoke suddenly. “And out of battle?”