I clenched my jaw and flipped to the next bookmark, almost dreading what I would find.
“The perfect woman, you see, is a working-woman; not an idler; not a fine lady; but one who uses her hands and her head and her heart for the good of others.”
A swift rebuttal rose in my mind, but as I thought back over my time here, reality cooled my anger. I looked down at my slender white hands grasping the edges of the book. What had they done since coming here? They had touched fine imported silk and faille, shaken the hand of many a gentleman and lady, and lifted silver forks laden with the tenderest meat. My poised reflection stared back at me, unrecognizable. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but Sully was right. Perfecting my appearance had consumed me, and even though it had noble reasons, important ones, I had lost sight of my bigger role in this house—that of Queen Esther.
After flipping through the Hardy novel some more, I placed it on the tea tray with one new notation, a single scrap of paper marking the passage, and rang for the second footman to fetch the tray. The underlined passage read, “Don’t suppose, because I’m a woman, I don’t know the difference between bad goings-on and good. I shall be up before you’re awake. I shall be a-field before you are up. It is my intention to astonish you all.”
And I would.
18
All beauty fades, unless it has seeped into the core of your nature and changed something there as well.
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
Within the hour I hoisted the hem of my skirt above the grass as I trod out toward the lane that would, I supposed, lead me to the tenants’ homes. As the steady spring breeze whipped my skirt about my legs, I saw a figure moving toward me from the other side of the house, and he broke into a light jog to meet me.
“Cousin Philip.” I didn’t even bother to force a smile.
“What on earth are you doing?”
I gripped the cloak of my confidence with a firm hand, straightening beside him. “Paying a call to my tenants. It’s time I see for myself that they’re well cared for.”
He jammed his hands into his pockets and frowned, his stride slowing. “You do not trust me.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is I, your estate manager, who is tasked with seeing to your tenants. Besides, you can never make such a journey by foot. Have you any idea how spread out these homes are? Come, we’ll ride together if you insist on going. I can make my rounds now, I suppose.”
I followed him with hesitation toward the stable, wondering if riding lessons would ever be part of my training. I’d simply have to make do—how hard could it be? Yet when we entered the musty-smelling place and the gigantic animals snorted and huffed in greeting, I grimaced, staying back and staring at the beasts. How did one ever control such a large animal? And what happened if one sat astride it who did not possess that secret?
Cousin Philip turned back and started as he glimpsed my face. “You’ve not ridden before, have you?” His frown deepened as his gaze stayed upon me. “What sort of lady has never been astride a horse?”
I straightened. “One who has been afraid of them since a childhood accident.” That much was true, at least, for I’d been nearly trampled by a man on his horse as he’d charged after a pack of young thieves running through my alley.
“Come, I’ll help you. Normally you’d wear a riding habit, but I haven’t time for the rigors of womanhood and fashion. If you’ll select a horse, I shall guide you through the details of riding.” He still eyed me with suspicion.
Soon I found myself propped sidesaddle on a brown horse trotting down a path and to the east, where the sun was still burning in its ascent, and found the horse did more controlling than I did, for he seemed to know he was meant to follow Cousin Philip’s mount.
Little houses lay scattered about the open fields beyond the estate and rows of crops filled the landscape. When the horses slowed to a walk, my companion breathed in deeply and exhaled the fresh air. “Rothburne is quite a special place, you know. I hope you care for it well.”
“I intend to. I’ve already begun inside the house, and I won’t stop there.”
He watched me with a critical stare, not smiling or frowning, as if he wouldn’t believe my words until he saw proof of them.
I was reminded of what Lady Remington had said concerning Cousin Philip’s deep love of this place and saw for myself the truth of it. “You care about Rothburne a great deal, don’t you?”
There was a long silence as he shifted with his horse, eyes to the horizon. Finally he said, “It’s home to me.”
“I didn’t know you’d ever lived here.”
He hesitated. “I haven’t. Not outside of my dreams, that is. I’ve only ever been a guest. But what do you know of home? You’ve never desired one.” And with those words he jerked his heels into his horse’s sides and galloped across the golden field.
With an exasperated sigh, I leaned forward into my horse’s neck, and he lurched forward, easily catching Cousin Philip’s horse as I clung to him.
There were about twenty houses on the sprawling acres of property, and we visited each one. I asked Cousin Philip for a page from his ledger and a pencil so I could record the needs of each household. The awe and excitement on their faces at the sight of their mistress at their door warmed right through that hard ball of guilt, making it feel lighter and easier to bear. At least I was doing some good in all my deception. I hope it pleases you, God. I did not bother to phrase this as a question, for I could not alter my course now. I would not risk Sully’s life for my mistakes.
At the third house, we met an elderly widow who housed two neighbor girls after the death of their parents and was now prepared to send them to a foundling home. “I cannot care for them anymore. Much as my heart wishes it, my coin jar is empty.” The pair hid behind her, and she reached back as she spoke to lay one hand on each of their blonde heads, idly fingering the girls’ long braids. They were neat and clean even in their patched clothing, and the two pairs of large blue eyes watched me with solemn fear that was far too adult for their little faces.
Philip explained that the widow had been granted lifelong tenancy of her cottage upon the death of her husband, per his contract with Rothburne’s former owner, and a very meager pittance of income by her son.
“’Tain’t enough to keep ’em, though.” Her aged hands rested on the girls beside her.
“How much would it take?” I asked.
She blinked at me. “Take?”
“How much would it take to keep them with you?”
She named a sum that was even less than I’d earned selling rags in London.
“Done. A sovereign will be brought to you posthaste, and you will be given a weekly stipend from here on out. I wish to reward your generosity toward these orphans whom I consider wards of Rothburne.”
“You’ll pay me to keep them?”
I gave one nod.
She stared at me endlessly—just stared—her lined face brimming with surprise. Her mouth contorted in all shapes with emotion as she worked through what she wished to say. Finally she stepped forward and took my hand in both of hers. I could feel every knobby knuckle as her hand grasped mine with the strength of much work. Her hands were solid and sure despite her age.
“Bless you, my lady. Bless your heart.” And then she bowed her head and wept onto our clasped hands.
I’d never seen such happiness expressed at something I was able to do, and the sight forever imprinted itself on my heart. I returned her spontaneous embrace, patting her curved back and feeling the weight of my own sins lift. Beyond her, Cousin Philip watched with many thoughts darkening his features.
As we journeyed to more houses, I found this part of my new role to be wholly satisfying and I could not convince myself to stop. I was throwing about money and promises like a queen bestowing gifts, and it felt even finer than the compliments I’d received at the reception.
That morning I cast aside another layer of Ragna’s rags
and became even more like the countess, sure and decisive in another way, enjoying life and not thinking of the cost until the bill was presented. I would have to explain the expenses to Prendergast, and likely to the earl, but hadn’t he told me to go and be Lady Enderly? Well, I was doing exactly that. More so every day.
New seeds were promised to one farmer who had lost half his crops to some risky yet ill-advised planting decisions, and books to a surprisingly intelligent young girl who wished to study herbal medicine. I even arranged to transfer a whole host of flowers from my own new gardens to the wrung-out mother of five who had lost the pitiful rows of daffodils before her house.
“What exactly are you doing?” Philip spoke the words as we paused on the trail toward home that dipped toward a creek. An odd expression distorted his features. The sun was now firmly overhead, warming my face and lighting my little corner of the world.
“Caring for my tenants.”
“By giving them seeds and books?”
“The seeds cost very little and will mean a great deal to the man and his family. If they have no crop, they cannot pay us, now can they? And the books will only improve their little community. An herbalist will be a valuable asset to Rothburne’s tenants in the future, if she continues her study, and anything that helps the tenants and their health is profitable for the abbey.”
He glanced toward Rothburne in the distance, frowning into the sun. “And the flowers?”
I licked my lips. “Those cost me nothing.” In my eagerness to be an Esther to these people, I would betray myself, wouldn’t I? Yet I couldn’t resist doing such things. If I was going to be in this position, I would make use of it. He’d been the first to call me self-important, and now he would be the first to witness the changes in me.
After a long frown, he swung his leg around, jumped down from his mount, and took hold of the bridle as the horse jerked his head. He helped me dismount, then he placed the reins of my horse into my gloved hands, returning to his own steed. As we walked, I looked ahead toward the abbey lit up in its full glory by the sun, the flowers dotting the landscape with color, and caught my breath in wonder. I’d seen it up close and in small pieces, but I hadn’t yet seen it from a distance as a stunning whole, since I’d had the staff working on the gardens. Yes, Rothburne truly was magnificent. And its new mistress was beginning to reflect a little of that beauty.
Cousin Philip watched the abbey as well, and I detected the pride of ownership in his bearing. Watching my companion’s face heavy with emotion, I braved a question. “Why is it that you feel such an attachment to this estate, Philip? Why is a place you’ve never lived home to you?”
He kept his gaze on the distant house. “I’m a part of Rothburne and it’s a part of me. Uncle Wells brought me here when he owned it and taught me to run it in the off-season.”
“Then perhaps you should have inherited it.”
He fell silent for a moment, staring at the abbey. A muscle jerked in his shallow cheeks. I began to regret my words, but then he spoke. “I used to be dear old Uncle Wells’s favorite. Then I grew up, life became hard, and I made foolish mistakes like my father. Uncle Wells found out, and suddenly I was like this . . . this old broken-down chair. It’s useless to everyone, but you cannot be rid of it, so there it sits, in the middle of the hall to be tripped over.”
I gulped, unable to look at the man as he said such things about himself.
“Uncle rarely came here, so this empty old place was my refuge when Mother died, and then again when Father was killed beneath a trolley just a year later. So many things in my life changed, but Rothburne didn’t. It couldn’t. For hundreds of years it’s been here, and it’ll be here well after I’m dead and gone.”
I squinted at the great tower, picturing the monks that had lived here so many years ago contrasted with the wealthy owners who had come after them. The great fortress was the backdrop for hundreds of lives and all their stories. Interesting how the costumes and the characters all changed, but the setting always remained the same. “I can see why you’re attached.”
This drew an even darker frown from Cousin Philip, yet he continued in silence into the stables where we handed our horses over to stable boys. I followed him unconsciously around a corner into an unoccupied portion of the stables, and suddenly he turned on me, his face dark and angry as he strode closer. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
I backed into the wall, breath coming in panicked gasps. It felt as though he was about to name me a fraud and call out my deception. What could I say to that? “Wh-what do you mean?”
“You’re no lady, prancing about and throwing out favors like a fairy waving her wand. What lady cannot ride? What lady would ever venture into the noonday sun without guarding her precious complexion with a parasol or at the very least, a ridiculous-looking hat?”
I tensed, suddenly aware of the tightness of my sun-warmed face that would soon be showing freckles and perhaps a little color.
“You fooled my cousin into marrying you, but I always suspected it was a farce of a marriage. I’ve not been blind to the way you carry on with Prendergast, how you cast aside your husband to travel the world on the coin of this estate.”
I tried to force strength into my voice. “Your understanding is far from the truth.” But was it? I hadn’t any idea what the truth was.
“You think you can fool me with your grand promises to these people and your charming manner, but I know you.” He snarled these last words. “I know the real you. How many times did you tell me to cut back expenses, to let people find their own way rather than helping them? I know who you are under that façade, and I refuse to bow to your charm as everyone else has. I’ll continue hating you with great delight for what you’ve done and who you’ve been all this time, no matter what I see before me.”
“You’re being irrational.” I tried in vain to stand tall, but his menacing posture made me shrink away as he moved closer.
A commanding voice nearby cut the mounting tension. “Hello there!”
Philip growled and moved back and I heaved a great sigh of relief. I stiffened my back against my stays and clammy chemise and breathed deeply to restore my poise.
Victor Prendergast strode into our section of the stables, looking back and forth between us. “Ah, here she is. I was hoping to have a private word with you, Lady Enderly, if Mr. Scatchard would excuse us.”
I stepped back, away from these two men watching me so intently, and indecision gnawed at me. I had so many questions to put to Victor just now, almost as a challenge: Why was Philip not given the estate? And why hadn’t Prendergast bothered to tell me that the great and mysterious earl, of whom everyone seemed afraid, was my husband?
Yet Philip’s words concerning this very man, the impropriety he’d insinuated between us, rang in my ears, and I shook my head. “We needn’t be alone, Mr. Prendergast. Cousin Philip is as much a part of this estate as I am, for it is his hands that have shaped it all these years. I insist that any discussions we have include him.”
The flash of anger on Prendergast’s face told me I’d made the wrong choice, but Cousin Philip’s look of shock assured me I hadn’t.
“Very well, then. I’m afraid I must steal your husband away for a time. It’s a matter of the crown and we must see to it immediately. I hope you will not be too lonesome without us.” He raised his eyebrows, his look heavy with silent questions: Would I manage alone at the abbey? Could he trust me?
Philip’s eyes blazed in the shadows, no doubt at what Prendergast’s must have insinuated concerning us.
I stiffened and kept my eyes on Prendergast. “I’ll look forward to Lord Enderly’s speedy return.”
So it was that the earl and his solicitor departed in Rothburne’s carriage, leaving me in blessed peace, and soon after, Philip left to post orders for needed materials. I entered the silent abbey where all the life and noise had been sucked down to the kitchen to attend dinner preparations and slipped into the study for a moment
of peace. Somehow the house seemed even grander when it was quiet, and I loved it.
It was the opportunity I’d been waiting for to poke about unobserved, explore hidden parts of the abbey. It struck me then that my busy schedule had kept me from several nights of praying in the window bay, and this would be the perfect time to remedy that, but my utter exhaustion had me clamoring for an escape from my life, not an analysis of it.
Curling into a large settee by the window with a Nathaniel Hawthorne novel in my lap, I sank into the imaginary world he’d created for me. Soon tiredness pulled at my poor mind. I laid my head on my arm and rested, the sun coming through the window, warming my face into utter relaxation. Drowsiness rose like the tide, and I happily gave in to it. My sleep had been so troubled since arriving, and my body craved rest. I was vaguely aware of footsteps drawing near, but I ignored them. It would only be a servant, for everyone else was gone. How delicious to simply drift off to sleep for a while.
19
True beauty is not the absence of flaws, merely the parts of us that can outshine them.
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
Sully spotted her across the study the moment he entered the hushed space, and he paused to consider what to do. He’d sought her out the moment the carriage had departed, eager for the chance to speak with her alone, yet now he couldn’t bring himself to wake her, to have her watching and listening as he said what needed to be said.
In the silence he studied her sleeping form draped over the plush red settee as if she were a part of it. How well she fit into this place of great beauty and fine things, with her golden curls and delicate features, her long, willowy frame. Yet she was his Raina, his plucky and loyal childhood chum.
The kitchen was busy and he should return, but as he looked upon the silent face of the girl who’d become a permanent fixture in his mind and heart, with no one to disturb them, he couldn’t resist drawing near. The girl always slept like a rock, which emboldened him further. He strode over and knelt beside her, gazing down at her pure face, so peaceful amidst the chaos of the situation.
Finding Lady Enderly Page 16