by Karen Tuft
“Good afternoon, Gibbs,” William said. “I am here to call on—”
“Farleigh! Is that you again?” Lord Anthony nearly pushed Gibbs aside in his rush to greet William and welcome him into the house. William had to give the butler credit, as the man didn’t even blink an eye at the rough handling; he merely closed the door and faded from sight. Butlers would make good gamblers, he thought. He suddenly hoped Gibbs had a nice wife waiting for him at the end of a long day.
Lord Anthony practically dragged William into one of the smaller drawing rooms. “Good to see you. Ah, it appears I left some damage in my wake yesterday,” he said, eyeing William’s swollen and purple jaw. “Sorry about that, old man. I spotted your poor nag out there—I must take you to Tattersall’s one of these days; we’ll get you set up with a nice piece of horseflesh. Perhaps we should go this afternoon. I was there just the other day, and—”
“He’s not a nag,” William managed to wedge into Lord Anthony’s flood of words. Apparently, the man had more in common with Louisa than William had originally thought. “He’s not of the highest of quality, perhaps, but he’s a decent chap, as horses go. I’m here once again, as you well know, to call upon your sister.”
“Drink, Farleigh?” Lord Anthony asked, picking up a decanter on a side table and pouring a small amount into a glass.
“No, thank you; it’s rather early for that. I’d prefer you simply inform Louisa that I am here.”
“Yes, well.” He took a sip. “As to that, I’m afraid she is still unavailable.”
Something was wrong. A sense of uneasiness began to coil inside William. “Perhaps later this evening would be better?” he asked.
“I don’t think she’s going to be available then, either.”
The unease congealed into a solid gray mass. “I see. Well. Perhaps tomorrow, then.” He turned to leave, having no more reason to stay and not being in a mood for further conversation about horses or, heaven forbid, receiving another invitation to box, when the drawing room door opened. “Lord Farleigh? I thought I heard your voice,” Lady Ashworth said as she entered, looking for all the world as if she was in shock. Lord Anthony, William noticed, downed the rest of his drink in one big gulp. “But how can it be?”
“Ah, Mother!” Lord Anthony said in an overly cheerful tone. “Look who has come to call! I must be going—”
“You stay right where you are,” she ordered, pointing a finger at her son, who immediately stopped in his tracks. “Why are you here, Lord Farleigh? I was distinctly given the impression”—she shot a fiery glare at Lord Anthony that should have singed the man’s eyebrows—“that you have been at Farleigh Manor the past two days playing host to my daughter and son.”
The gray mass in William’s stomach shot up into his throat. “I . . . what?” he choked out.
“Anthony, would you care to explain to Lord Farleigh and me what precisely is going on?” Lady Ashworth asked in a commanding voice, which meant it wasn’t a question.
“I think you must have figured it out for yourself, Mama,” Lord Anthony answered sheepishly.
William went cold all over and sought to steady himself. Louisa had gone to Farleigh Manor. She would know by now what a wretch she had agreed to marry. She would have seen how destitute the estate was. She would have met . . . devil take it!
In being less than forthcoming, he had deceived her horribly. How could someone as open and honest as Louisa think otherwise or ever forgive him?
There had been so much at stake that it had truly seemed the right approach, the only approach, with the situation intensified by the discovery of Miss Purnell and Peter and Daisy. He should have been forthright with Louisa from the beginning and trusted her honorable nature rather than hold everything tightly within himself.
“Lady Ashworth,” he said, “if you will excuse me, I must be on my way.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea, Lord Farleigh,” he heard her say as he swiftly took his leave. “And Ashworth and I will be right behind you.”
Chapter 14
A deep sorrow had welled up inside Louisa over the past two days and deepened further while they conversed with Jane Purnell—Louisa loathed referring to her as “miss” since the poor woman hadn’t known her marriage was bigamous.
It was midafternoon by the time she and Alex bade Jane Purnell farewell after their visit. They had learned about William’s father’s courtship of Jane and the little house in London that she had thought was where they would always live. They had spent time with the children, Peter and Daisy. Peter was a handsome little boy but had seemed overly cautious for one so young and had stayed close to his mother, assuming a protective stance. Little Daisy had presented flowers to Louisa and shown her her doll and had told her the doll’s name was Charlotte, like the princess. They were sweet, well-mannered children. They were William’s half brother and half sister.
When Alex and Louisa and Matthew eventually returned to the manor, Alex announced that he was going to continue on with Matthew to view more of the estate. “Lord Halford here has given me some fine suggestions about the farms already, milady,” Matthew said, “and I should like to hear more of what he has to say.”
Louisa looked at Alex in surprise, and he smirked. “You see, I was paying attention all those years when Father was droning on about such matters.”
Their decision was completely fine with her; at the moment, what she wanted was time alone to reflect upon everything she’d learned upon arriving at Farleigh Manor. Besides, there was one thing at Farleigh Manor she still wished to see—but she wanted to be alone when she saw it.
Matthew helped her dismount, and the two men left to return Louisa’s horse to the stable and continue on their way. Louisa went inside and sought out Mrs. Holly, eventually finding her in her little office tucked behind the dayroom, reviewing the household accounts.
The woman set her papers aside and stood.
“We met Jane Purnell,” Louisa said.
The woman sagged. “It was bound to happen sooner or later, I suppose,” she said, folding her hands in front of her.
“I imagine her arrival came as quite a shock.”
“When Master William arrived back here so soon with her and her two little chicks in tow, it was a bit of a shock. We never heard a peep about her over the years, you see, even though the viscount was briefly here at Farleigh Manor a few times each year. It wasn’t a shock, however, to learn that he had married the poor woman under such circumstances, I’m sorry to admit.”
“She’s a very nice person,” Louisa said. “Her children are sweet.”
“The viscount at least recognized quality in a woman when he saw it,” Mrs. Holly said. “Not that he knew how to respect and honor that quality. Selfish man—if you’ll pardon me for saying so.”
“No apology necessary, Mrs. Holly. I think I have figured out at least that much about him myself. And yet you all stayed.”
“For Master William, you see. We had to stay for Master William. His high and mighty lordship wasn’t here often. He could be especially cruel to Mary, poor duck, but Mary knew how to stay away from him; don’t you worry. She hated the man. We all did, and that’s the truth. But we stayed for her ladyship and, afterward, for Master William.”
Louisa’s heart was already sore, and she thought she could bear no more. “I understand there is a particularly fine oak tree on the estate,” she said. “I received a painting of it from Lord Farleigh—the current Lord Farleigh. I should dearly like to see it in person.”
“We’ve several oak trees on the property. But if you’re looking for a particular oak . . . hmm.” Mrs. Holly tapped her chin in thought. “There is one that comes to mind. It stands alone beside a pond just over the small hill on the east side of the house. It’s a lovely spot once you get there.”
“That sounds like the tree I’m interested in.” Mrs. Holly’s description matched the tree in the painting perfectly.
“It’s not difficult to find. Mary c
an give you the best directions to get there; she’s been there too many times to count, especially when she and Master—Lord Farleigh—were children.”
Louisa went with Mrs. Holly to the kitchen in search of Mary. It had been a thoroughly illuminating two days; her discoveries today, in particular, had been shocking and sad. She hoped time alone would help her sort through her thoughts before she and Alex returned to London tomorrow morning.
A wonderful aroma met them the closer they got to the kitchen, and Louisa’s stomach growled, reminding her it was well past time for luncheon.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Mrs. Holly said. “Have a nice afternoon at the oak tree, milady.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Holly.”
The housekeeper nodded and went on her way.
Louisa poked her head through the kitchen door and saw both Mrs. Brill and Mary busily preparing a variety of dishes. “Something smells heavenly in here, Mrs. Brill.”
“Thank you, m’lady. What with you and the earl here and all, I couldn’t resist cooking up some of Master Will’s favorite dishes to celebrate. Mary, slice them potatoes thinner, luv.”
Louisa wandered over to Mary, who was standing next to the table, slicing potatoes with admirable skill. “Excellent work, Mary. I can hardly wait for supper so I can taste what you and your mama have created for us.”
Mary grinned at her, then looked confused, unsure how to curtsy with a knife, then gave up. “Will loves potatoes,” she said. “And I love Will.”
“I’m sure he does, and I’m sure you do,” Louisa said, shooting an understanding glance at an embarrassed Mrs. Brill. “Mrs. Holly told me Mary here could give me the best directions to an oak tree Lord Farleigh was particularly fond of,” Louisa said.
“Lord Farleigh?” Mrs. Brill exclaimed, looking shocked. “Oh, right, our young Master Will.” She dabbed at her cheeks with her apron. “Goodness, what a start you gave me! I’m still gettin’ used to him bein’ the viscount now after so many years of t’other one. Them potatoes look much better, Mary.”
“I know the tree,” Mary said, continuing to slice the potatoes while she spoke. Her mother had trained her well; Louisa was impressed. “It’s Will’s tree. Mine and Will’s.”
“Aye, the one what you and Will was always sneakin’ off to when you shouldn’t ha’ been. Oh—now, don’t you worry, milady. Master Will was always a good one to our Mary,” Mrs. Brill added by way of clarification. “They went there hidin’ from the viscount a time or two. And teachin’ my girl her letters when his tutor were done with him.” She chuckled. “At least tryin’ to teach her, poor lass. Never could quite figure them out.”
The cook’s words conjured images of a lonely boy looking for friends, a boy who’d been willing to share what he knew with the cook’s slow-witted daughter.
“I can show you, milady. Here you go, Mama.” Mary set down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron, then took the bowl of potatoes over to her mother.
“There’s a good lass. Now, you go point out the way to that tree for Lady Louisa here and then come right back, mind.”
“Thank you so much, Mary,” Louisa said with a smile. “And then I’ll be on my way, so you both can get back to your work.” She really was hungry, however, and the aromas in the kitchen were unrelenting. “Perhaps I can beg a roll from you to take with me?”
Mrs. Brill looked chagrined. “Oh, what have I been thinkin’? O’ course you can, m’lady.” She set about putting together a basket with a generous supply of rolls, cheese, butter, jam, and a jar of lemonade. Louisa could get lost on the estate for days and not starve to death, she was certain.
After an elaborate and detailed description from Mary of every rock and plant Louisa would encounter along the way to the tree, and being sent off with a basket of food, Louisa started out through the herb garden, carefully maintained by Mrs. Brill and flourishing as a result, and then on past William’s mother’s rose garden. This garden hadn’t fared quite as well as the herbs had. The roses needed pruning, their beds choked with weeds.
Louisa also noticed that the grounds at the back of the manor weren’t as well maintained as those at the front, those in public view. Matthew had more than one man could do on an estate the size of Farleigh Manor; it made sense that he would put his efforts into the areas that mattered most. A small ornamental garden, regardless of how sentimental it might be, couldn’t afford to be a priority to him.
Her destination was not the garden, however, so she continued on across the lawns to the small hill at the east end of the property. She set the basket down so she could remove her bonnet and fan her face with it as she walked—it was quite a trek from the manor house, and she was hot. Hopefully her skin wouldn’t burn too severely in the afternoon sun.
She recognized the oak tree the moment it came into view. It looked nearly the same as the painting William had given her but from a slightly different viewpoint. It was a magical place, a world all its own, green and shady, and would be an idyllic refuge for any child. She set the basket and bonnet down next to the tree and then placed her hands on a massive trunk that attested to its longevity. She gazed up at sturdy, leafy branches perfect for climbing and even for sitting on that would offer a wonderful, woodsy view of the pond.
Rather than climb those branches today, however, Louisa retrieved the basket and bonnet and settled comfortably in the shade on the far side of the tree, away from the manor house and facing the water. She spread butter and jam on one of the rolls and ate, soaking up the serenity of the place while she did so.
A picture formed in her mind of a quiet boy who had tried to make sense of a mercurial and bewildering father and a mother who had eventually given up and withdrawn. Of faithful servants who had remained steadfast through the years, waiting for the boy they loved to become a man and take his rightful place, and doing everything they could in the meantime to guard his inheritance for him.
Farleigh Manor may have been sorely mistreated by its former viscount, but it had a small, loyal staff that had not abandoned it or its heir. It said much about William that this was the case. He had been loved as a boy, and he was loved still.
Such love and loyalty could only exist if they were reciprocated.
And then just mere days ago, William had learned of another woman—a genteel woman—who had trusted William’s father as William’s own mother had trusted him. Another woman who had borne the man children and been treated shabbily by him, and William, despite the added strain it would put on his meager resources—not to mention the public scandal it would potentially cause—had invited her and her children to live at Farleigh Manor.
Louisa rested against the tree trunk. Ducks flapped their wings and skidded across the pond, scolding each other and setting the water rippling. What a blessed life Louisa had lived. She knew nothing at all of hardship, absolutely nothing. The vowel William had presented to her father had created the first ripple of adversity she’d ever experienced.
Her eyes closed as the rigors of the past two days caught up with her, and soon the rustling of the leaves and gentle sound of water became too much to resist, and she slept.
* * *
William arrived at Farleigh Manor after a blistering ride, taking only enough time along the way to rest and water his horse. The poor beast was blown, its sides heaving from the strain of exertion. William dismounted and patted the horse’s neck in apology. “Sorry, my friend, but desperate times call for desperate measures, as the old saying goes. I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’ll make it up to him,” Samuel said as he walked over from the stable and took the reins from William. “S’pected ye’d show up sooner rather than later, son.”
“Tell me what’s been going on,” William said.
“His high and mighty lordship has been busy askin’ questions of all and sundry as if he owned the place, though he’s pleasant enough about it. Knows his business too, that’s for certain.”
The Marquess of Ashworth would hav
e made sure his heir was fully educated in the management of an estate, as William’s own father had not. “And?” William asked.
Samuel shrugged his shoulders and spat. “And nothin’, really, other than him being a lord and so the rest of us is bowin’ and scrapin’ and tuggin’ our forelocks and answerin’ all his questions about everything like a bunch o’ lackeys.”
“I was afraid of that once I realized he and Lady Louisa had come here. Unplanned, as it were.”
“Unplanned, eh? I wondered about that, what with ye not being here with ’em, but what was we to do?”
“You did precisely what I would have wanted you to do. They are guests, and Lady Louisa, God willing, is to be my wife. Their questions were valid ones, anyway.” He could only hope the answers they’d gotten so far didn’t amount to William’s undoing.
Samuel cleared his throat. “About the young lady . . .” he began.
“Yes?” William said.
“I wouldn’t wish to be speakin’ out of turn, melord—”
“Samuel, you used to call me ‘that cursed boy’ on occasion, including a time when you threatened to tan my backside.”
Samuel chuckled. “Mebbe I did, at that. But if I did, ’twas only ’cause ye deserved it. Only then, mind. Ye was always a good lad, in truth.”
And there it was again, the pang in William’s heart that inevitably came with the desire to save the people dearest to him, like Samuel. The people of Farleigh Manor didn’t know how dire its finances truly were and were in for a cruel shock when they learned of the debt that existed from his father’s mortgages. William’s mortgages now.
He realized he’d fallen silent and that Samuel was watching him with a keen eye, so he shook off the bleakness that had encroached upon him with his thoughts. “You mentioned something about Lady Louisa.”
“Aye.” Samuel was still studying him too closely. “She’s been doin’ the same as her lofty brother inside the house but with a lighter touch. And she met yer new guests . . .”
William moaned and covered his eyes with his hand.