“Of course,” said their mother. “I’ll ring for Mrs. Willows, and she can show you to your rooms.”
Abby dipped into a quick curtsy. “Thank you, Lady Brigston, for welcoming us with such kindness. You as well, Lord—er, Brigston.”
Morgan propped his elbow on the mantle until the housekeeper led them from the room. He would have returned to his study if not for the anxious look on his mother’s face. She sat down on a chair near him and fretted over her lower lip.
The ledgers would have to wait a bit longer. “What is troubling you, Mother?”
She clasped her hands together and furrowed her brow. “I only wonder if Abby is prepared to be a wife. Jasper will expect her to host hunting parties, soirées, picnics, and balls. You know him. He is a sociable creature. Does she know how to manage a house and servants? Does she know how to compose invitations or plan a menu? Does she know anything about finances or the proper way to hire and train servants? Does she know what charitable acts and contributions are expected of her? Good heavens, does she even attend church services? What sort of woman has my son married? One cannot whip an insubordinate servant like one would a cow.”
“I’m sure she knows that, Mother,” said Morgan, but she didn’t seem to hear him.
“How could her father allow her to be raised in that way, and why would he relegate such an important responsibility as her come out to a newly married friend instead of overseeing it himself? He didn’t even trouble himself to attend her marriage ball!”
She grew more irate by the moment, so Morgan took a seat across from her and captured her hands. “He’s on the continent, and don’t forget he’s a widower. A man can only do so much without a wife at his side.”
“I know, but that is no excuse to neglect her in such a fashion. At the very least, he should have employed a proper governess, kept her away from cattle, and educated her on the foolishness of elopement.”
Morgan couldn’t argue those points, but he wouldn’t agree with them either, not when it would exacerbate his mother’s anxiety. “Abby has not been blessed with a mother like you, but from what I have observed thus far, she carries herself well, she seems to know what is expected of her in public, and she speaks intelligently. Perhaps she doesn’t know her way around a household as you do, but she is now your daughter-in-law, is she not? There is no one better equipped to instruct her than you.”
His mother’s distress eventually gave way to something resembling determination. She sat up straighter, and her brow cleared. “You are right, Morgan. Like it or not, Abby is my daughter-in-law, and if she is brazen enough to whip cows to do her bidding, with the right tutelage, perhaps she can bring Jasper around.”
Morgan leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Don’t expect a miracle, Mother.”
“Don’t you underestimate the power of a woman’s influence. Your father was somewhat of a rascal when we met.”
“Yet you married him anyway.”
“Only because I saw a man with a great deal of potential. That, and his smile made me go weak at the knees.” She smiled. It was a rare thing to see these days, and Morgan was happy to be a witness. It made him glad he’d set his ledgers aside for a time.
“The truth is,” his mother continued, “your father influenced me as much as I did him. I may have been raised by more attentive parents than Abby, but when I married, I was still young, naive, and unprepared in many ways. I need to remember that and not judge her too harshly. Time and experience is all she requires.”
“She needs you as well,” he added.
“I shall be glad to help however I can.”
With that settled, Morgan stood and adjusted the sleeves of his coat. “You’ll have to excuse me as well. I have some matters to attend to.”
She waved a dismissive hand at him. “Go. Attend to your business for now. But I expect you to be on time for dinner and not disappear afterwards. I am glad Jasper and Abby have come. With you as busy as you have been of late, Oakley Grange has become far too quiet. We could use some liveliness.”
As Morgan returned to his study, he thought over his mother’s words, wondering if his obsession with his estate had made him too self-absorbed. He had to concede that he hadn’t given much thought to his mother since their return from town. She always seemed in good spirits and had a small circle of friends in the vicinity. But was she truly happy? It seemed she missed her husband and children more than she let on.
Perhaps it was time to put his concerns about his brother aside and be grateful for his arrival as well. No one could ever feel lonely with Jasper around.
LESS THAN A week later, gulls chirped outside the study’s window, providing a cheerful accompaniment to Morgan’s less-than-cheerful discussion with his bailiff. Apparently, one of the parcels of land they were attempting to enclose was not draining as they hoped it would. A ditch would be needed to keep the southernmost part free from muck, but that meant dissecting another field or redesigning parcels—both of which Morgan was loathe to do. They were already behind schedule and didn’t have time to reconfigure anything.
Blast, blast, blast.
A rap on the door interrupted them, and Morgan swallowed another curse. Not now.
The door opened without permission, and Jasper walked in, raising a brow. “Business again, brother? Do you never let it rest? Only look out the window and see the beautiful morning that awaits.”
Morgan leaned back in his chair and glanced at the clock on the mantle, raising a brow. “You mean afternoon, don’t you?”
Jasper settled himself into a large chair near the fireplace and interlocked his fingers across his waistcoat. He was dressed as though he were still in town. Gray pantaloons, slightly darker coat, black Hessians, crisp white shirt, and a blue waistcoat. At least he didn’t appear flamboyant. Jasper might surround himself with dandies, but he never dressed like one. Still, Morgan wondered if he owned a pair of buckskins or even some comfortable trousers.
“I have never understood country hours,” said Jasper in a bored fashion. “Why rise early when it is so much colder inside and out? I find it’s best to stay buried in my bed clothes until the sun has warmed things up a bit.”
“We have fireplaces in every room,” said Morgan.
“Yes, but a small fire in the grate has no effect on the outside air, does it? I require a morning ride to get my heart beating, and I prefer warmer air.”
“You mean an afternoon ride.”
Jasper sighed and examined his fingers. “We are back to that, are we? How tiring you can be at times.”
Morgan dropped his quill on the enclosure plans and folded his arms. He and Mr. Decker would not reach any sort of consensus on the matter of the ditch until they had rid themselves of Jasper. “Do you need something, brother, or are you merely seeking refuge in one of the warmer rooms in the house?”
“Now that you mention it, the temperature is pleasing in here,” Jasper said.
“You’ll find the library just as pleasing, if not more so.”
Jasper grimaced. “And surround myself with all those dusty books? Thank you, no. I’d as lief spend the day in a mausoleum.”
Morgan glanced pointedly at the bookcase stuffed with books not far from where Jasper sat. “You find the study more to your liking?”
Another grimace. “Gads no. But I knew you were shut away again and probably wouldn’t surface until dinner. Since I’d like a private word with you before then, I had no other recourse than to seek you out.” He sniffed the air and frowned. “It smells so old in here.”
Morgan rolled his eyes and looked at his bailiff. “I do apologize, Mr. Decker, but it seems we’ll need to postpone yet another meeting.” This was becoming a habit—one Morgan could do without.
“Very good, my lord. I will be at my desk when you are ready to continue.” His bailiff slid the quill aside and rolled up the plans, taking them with him.
Morgan had to remind himself that his mother had been a gre
at deal happier of late, due mostly to Jasper’s presence. If his brother required a private word, Morgan would comply.
“What is it you wish to speak with me about?”
Jasper examined his shirt cuffs with a frown, as though he’d found a smudge. He brushed at the spot. “I am hoping you will look after Lady Jasper for a week or so. A fortnight at the most.”
Morgan’s jaw clenched. He should have expected this. His brother could never stay at Oakley for long. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Just a short jaunt to Oxfordshire. My friend is hosting a grouse hunt at the beginning of September and has asked that I help scout out the best locations.”
Which meant a fortnight would turn into a month or more. Jasper wouldn’t be content to leave before the hunt began.
“Is there a reason you aren’t taking Abby with you? Surely there will be other women present.”
“Lady Jasper is… indisposed and would prefer to remain here.” Even though Abby had repeatedly asked her husband to call her by her given name, he persisted in referring to her as Lady Jasper, probably because he liked hearing his own name spoken. It irked Morgan. He wanted to respect his sister-in-law’s wishes, but it felt increasingly intimate to call her Abby while her husband used her title.
Jasper had always been annoyingly stubborn.
“Is she ill?” Morgan asked, not sure he believed it. Abby had seemed in perfect health only last evening when she had played a lovely sonata on the pianoforte. She had struggled through a few measures, and Morgan noticed his mother wincing at times, but overall, she’d performed admirably.
“Er… not exactly,” Jasper said.
Morgan was quickly losing patience with his brother. “How can a person be not exactly indisposed? Either she is or she isn’t.”
“She’s breeding,” Jasper blurted. He jumped up from the chair and walked to the window, gripping his beaver hat tightly in his hands as he stared into the distance, his jaw taut.
Morgan opened his mouth to respond but he had no idea what to say. It was a rare occurrence to see his brother shaken. Morgan could remember only a handful of times that Jasper had discarded flippancy for something more serious. Their father’s funeral had been one of those times. Jasper hadn’t said a word, he’d merely stood still, watching the casket disappear beneath mounds of earth. When the last shovelful had been thrown, he’d turned around and walked away. Morgan hadn’t seen him again until the following morning when Jasper’s usual levity had returned.
He’d never forget his brother’s parting words that day. “Pray you never die before you sire a son, brother. Should this property ever fall into my hands, I would sell it and purchase Newmarket instead.”
“It’s entailed,” said Morgan. “You cannot sell it. Why not turn it into a racetrack instead?”
Jasper brightened. “Now there’s a thought, not that I am wishing you to the grave, of course. Funerals are far too tedious. But if it should ever come to that, a racetrack might be just the thing. I might suggest that you take the initiative if I didn’t already know that you would never consider it.”
“You seem to know me better than I know you these days. Try as I might, I can’t understand why you are so repulsed by a home you used to love.”
“I wouldn’t say repulsed,” Jasper said as he tugged on his gloves. “I’ve simply outgrown it.”
Morgan nearly asked how a person outgrew a large estate, but what good would it do when his brother had no vested interest in the property? Entails went from father to the eldest son. Younger sons were expected to find their way elsewhere. Perhaps if the birth order had been reversed, Morgan would feel the same. He couldn’t fault his brother for not caring about Oakley when he had no reason to do so.
Perhaps that’s why he stayed away, why he now felt the need to go off on some hunting excursion and leave his wife behind—his expectant wife.
Morgan could hardly believe it. Jasper had actually fathered a child, a feat Morgan and his mother never thought would happen, at least not a legitimate child. It seemed his younger brother had surpassed him in both height and duty.
Gads, his mother would have something to say about that.
“Has she seen a doctor?” Morgan asked.
Jasper shook his head. “She refused to let me summon anyone until you and Mother had been informed of the situation.”
“Does Mother know?”
Jasper cleared his throat and turned away from the window. “I have decided to let you do the honors. Mother will be ecstatic.”
“Which begs the question: Why not tell her yourself? You have always enjoyed crowing to a captive audience.”
“I don’t have the time. The carriage is being loaded as we speak, and Mother is off making morning calls or tending to a sick tenant somewhere.”
“You are leaving now?” Morgan rose and leaned over his desk, planting his palms on the wooden surface. “You will not even wait for the doctor to arrive?”
Jasper swallowed. “I told you. I am not at liberty to summon him until Mother has been informed.”
Morgan stared at his brother, trying to piece together this latest news along with everything else. “In other words, you would like me to summon the doctor and see to your wife’s health while you go gallivanting across the country to shoot some birds.”
Jasper had the grace to appear rueful. His shoulders drooped as he turned away. “Abby understands. She knows I have reached my limit and cannot remain in this silent house any longer. I feel as though I’m going mad.”
Morgan closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his rising anger. He had only just assumed his brother stayed away because Oakley didn’t belong to him, but maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe his brother needed more than Oakley could offer. If so, what did that mean for Morgan and Abby and their mother? Was this how the next year would unfold? Jasper leaving every chance he could and returning only when absolutely necessary? Would Morgan be expected to oversee the raising of Jasper’s child as well?
And what of Abby? Did she really understand why her husband was leaving her in the hands of near strangers? They were family, yes, but the relationship was too recent to really claim any sort of bond or kinship.
“I know what you must think of me,” said Jasper, in a rare moment of contrition.
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
“You think I’m shirking my responsibilities, but you don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?”
Jasper shook his head and ran his fingers through his short crop of curls. Morgan wondered if he would finally get an honest answer from his brother—one not laced with sarcasm or flippancy. But when his brother locked gazes with him once more, the cloak of distance had returned. “It’s not something I can explain to you. I… need to go.”
He started towards the door until Morgan’s voice stopped him. “When do you expect to return? And I mean truly return?”
A pause and then, “I can’t say for certain, only that I will. I do care for Abby, you know.”
The door opened, and Jasper disappeared through it. Morgan had the greatest urge to chase him down and accuse him of being the coward of all cowards, but it would do no good to throw out accusations. His brother had already made up his mind, and no ranting about would change it. He could only hope Jasper would follow through on his promise to return and that Abby would not be made to suffer as a result.
With a sigh, Morgan dropped to his chair and ran his hands over his face, thinking the problem with the ditch was simple in comparison.
If only one could choose one’s relatives.
ABBY PAUSED WHERE seawater met pebbly sand and tilted her face to the sunny sky above. She breathed in the salty air, feeling the breeze whip at her skirts and cool her neck. It had been unusually warm the past few weeks, ever since Jasper had gone. When she had first come to Oakley, she would rise early and wander through the gardens and surrounding woods, but gradually, her feet ha
d carried her towards the ocean breezes, and she ended up on the beach. Since that time, she’d returned every day.
Having lived most of her life in Oxfordshire, Abby had never seen the ocean before. It entranced her. The humid air, the sound of water lapping at the shoreline, the rocky sand beneath her feet. She’d removed her boots and stockings and now squished her toes through the larger pebbles to the softer sand beneath. It felt liberating, like directing cows or cantering through the woods on the back of a horse.
Abby took several steps closer to the sea and smiled when the cool water washed over her feet. What would it feel like to continue walking forward until the water reached her waist? How would it be to pick up her feet and let it carry her along? Was it difficult to swim?
If only she’d learned.
She lifted her skirts, but only a little. She didn’t mind them somewhat damp. It served to cool her on the long trek back to the house, although her maid, Evie, would click her tongue in that disapproving way as soon as she spied the dirt. Abby might feel the same if she was required to wash and mend her own clothes, but for now, she luxuriated in the feel of the cool, wet fabric. It added extra weight, to be sure, but that was a feeling she would need to get used to eventually.
She placed her hand over her belly and thought of the small life growing inside of her. Everything felt surreal. Marriage. Jasper. A babe. Could this truly be her life? A little over six months ago, she’d arrived in London with breathless anticipation. She had dreamed of dancing with scores of handsome men, attending the theater, learning to waltz, enlarging her wardrobe with the latest fashions, and tasting the famous ices at Gunter’s. She’d even experienced that life for a while, but in the span of one night, everything had changed.
Careless decisions came back to haunt her, stealing her fantasies and landing her squarely in a changed reality of her own making. It wasn’t that her life was dreadful, by any means, but she felt cheated, as though she’d been forced to take a step she hadn’t been ready to take. She hadn’t wanted this, not yet, and she knew Jasper hadn’t either. He would never admit as much, but every so often, she could see loss in his eyes.
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