by Joan Wolf
“I’m getting fair sick of these poachers,” the squire complained to Liam. “These three aren’t even local lads - they’re from Bury St. Edmund’s. They shot at Evans when he and his men tried to arrest them. Someone could have been killed. This time these damn poachers are going to feel the full weight of the law. I’ll have them transported, I will. Perhaps that will keep the city bullies away from us.”
While the earl was away at the races, Richard Jarvis paid an unexpected visit to the abbey. Lady Welbourne had gone up to London for a few days, and Carstairs, usually so protective of Simon, confidently directed Jarvis to the stables. By now all the servants knew about Simon’s inheritance and who Richard Jarvis was.
As his carriage made its way toward the abbey’s lovely stone stable buildings, Jarvis wondered what to expect from this first meeting with his sister’s son.
A boy with silver fair hair and a dark-haired girl were standing in front of the stable, both of them staring at a pony’s lifted hoof, when Jarvis’ carriage drew up. The youngsters straightened up, and two young faces turned toward Jarvis as he descended and walked toward them. For the first time ever Richard Jarvis beheld his nephew, and his eyes widened with shock. Annabelle had been a lovely girl, but this boy…if an archangel ever came to earth he couldn’t be more beautiful than Simon.
Jarvis shook his head, as if to clear it, and said, “I am looking for Simon Radley, Lord Woodbridge.”
The boy replied in a pleasant voice, “You have found him, sir. I am Simon Radley.”
Jarvis looked into his sister’s crystal blue eyes and felt a pain in his heart. How proud Annabelle would have been of this boy, he thought. He stopped a few feet from them and said, “How do you do, Simon. I am your uncle, Richard Jarvis.”
All the color drained from Simon’s face. The girl put her hand on his arm and closed it tightly, as if for support, and answered for him. “We have been looking forward to meeting you, sir. I am Claire O’Rourke. I believe you have met my father.”
“I have indeed,” he replied, looking down into a pair of enormous brown eyes. “I am pleased to meet you, Claire O’Rourke.”
She had given the boy time to collect himself, and now Simon held out his hand. “How do you do, sir. Forgive my manners. You surprised me.”
“I’m sure I did. I learned at the house your father isn’t at home, which I think is extremely fortunate. I was hoping for the chance of meeting you alone. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Simon shot Claire a quick look. Jarvis made a shrewd guess the boy didn’t want to take him to the abbey and suggested, “Perhaps there is an office in the stables?”
Simon looked relieved. “Yes, of course there is.” He spoke to the groom who was holding the pony, “I think it’s an abscess, Toby. Soak the foot in a bucket of hot water and I’ll look at it again later.” Then, turning back to his uncle, “If you will follow us, sir, I’ll show you the way.”
Claire said, “Perhaps I should…”
Simon’s voice was uncompromising, “I want you to come with us.”
Jarvis noticed the way his nephew shortened his stride to accommodate the girl. He fell into step on Simon’s other side and obligingly shortened his own steps as well.
The stable office was oak paneled and large. A book lay on the desk open to an illustration of a horse’s skeleton. Simon gestured Jarvis to the big chair behind the desk and brought over two plain oak chairs for himself and Claire. They sat.
Jarvis spoke first. “May I ask you, Nephew, what has your father told you about my family?”
“My father has told me nothing,” Simon replied. He had collected himself and his face was guarded.
“Nothing?”
“I never even knew my mother’s family name.”
Jarvis narrowed his eyes in anger. “That bastard,” he said. Then, noticing Claire, he added hastily, “Excuse me, Miss O’Rourke.”
“No excuse needed,” Claire said. “I completely agree with your opinion.”
Jarvis looked at her in amusement, then moved his eyes back to Simon. “You must have wondered about us, though.”
“I did rather.”
Jarvis said, “I’m afraid it is not a story that redounds to anyone’s credit, Nephew.” He then repeated the events he had first recounted to Coke and Liam. When he finished, Simon was looking stunned.
Claire, on the other hand, was vibrating with fury. “What is wrong with Lord Welbourne?” she demanded, brown eyes glittering in her flushed face. “What kind of man behaves like that to his own son? I wish one of those poachers Mr. Weston is so concerned about would put a bullet through the earl instead of a deer! Then we’d be rid of him and could be happy!”
Simon looked at her and, very faintly, shook his head. His young face was set and grim. He turned back to Jarvis and said, “My father has never liked me.”
Guilt, an emotion he was not accustomed to, stirred in Jarvis’ conscience. “I am sorry, Simon. None of us had any idea of the situation here at Welbourne. We always assumed your father wanted to keep his wife’s filthy merchant family away from his noble heir. In the end we decided – I decided - it would not be to your advantage for us to disrupt your life. I first learned of Welbourne’s behavior toward you when Mr. Coke contacted my solicitor and I met with him and with Mr. O’Rourke.” His mouth set in a hard line. “I have failed you, and I failed Annabelle as well. She would have expected me to look after her son.”
Claire said fiercely, “My mother and father have been looking after Simon very well!”
A faint smile deepened the corners of Simon’s eyes as he turned to her. “That they have, Claire.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Jarvis said sincerely.
Claire folded her hands in her lap and held Jarvis’ eyes with a fearless intensity. She said, “Since you have deigned to visit Simon at last, Mr. Jarvis, perhaps you will be good enough to explain his inheritance to us.”
She said us with perfect naturalness. Jarvis’ eyes moved to his nephew. Those painfully familiar eyes were as steady and intense as Claire’s. Annabelle’s son said, “I understand it is a large amount of money. Can you explain to us how the money will come to me? Are there any conditions I must meet?”
There was that ‘us’ again. “Of course I will explain it, Simon,” he said, using his nephew’s name for the first time. “It’s quite simple, really. My father set aside one hundred thousand pounds of his fortune in a designated account to be invested for you until you turned eighteen. I invested it in the five percents, so your inheritance has grown quite nicely over the years.”
There was the sound of a sharply indrawn breath. Jarvis didn’t know if it had come from Simon or Claire. He paused a moment, then went on. “To be perfectly frank, the reason for the trust was that my father had little confidence in your father’s financial sense. I don’t know if you are aware of this, but when your parents married, your father was deeply in debt. My father, your grandfather, bailed him out of the debt as part of the marriage settlement. To be fair to Welbourne, part of the debt had been passed down to him from his ancestors, but my father had little use for the aristocratic class and the way they spend money. He didn’t want to see his good money go to pay for gambling debts and bad investments.”
Two pairs of eyes, blue and brown, were fixed on his face with breathless attention. He cleared his throat and went on. “The trust was added to the marriage settlement to make certain that you, the future earl, would have money available to you when you came of age. My father hoped the sound financial blood of the Jarvises would prevail in your nature and make you a more reliable investment than your father.”
A small silence fell as the youngsters digested what they had just heard. Then Claire said, “What seems strange to me, Mr. Jarvis, is that if your father had so little faith in Lord Welbourne, why would he allow his daughter to marry him?”
As he looked into that lovely, innocent face, Jarvis felt suddenly very weary. He said, “My father arranged th
e marriage because he wanted his daughter to be a countess. It’s as simple, and as foolish, as that.”
Claire looked even more bewildered. “But your father was tremendously rich. Why should he care about a title?”
“Money doesn’t buy entrance into the upper levels of society, Miss O’Rourke. The doors that were firmly closed to Miss Jarvis would open wide for the Countess of Welbourne. It was important to my father to have that kind of acceptance.”
Simon and Claire exchanged wondering looks.
“I’d rather have the money,” Claire said.
“So would I,” Simon agreed.
“Ah,” Jarvis said, looking at the beautiful boy in front of him. “You are so accustomed to being an earl’s son you don’t realize how differently you would be treated if you were simply Mr. Radley, a banker.”
Simon didn’t look convinced. He leaned a little forward and asked, “Can you explain to me how this money will be transferred to me? I know that the age of majority in England is twenty-one. Does that mean I won’t have control of the money until I am of legal age?”
“My father named me as trustee, and until you reach the age of twenty-one I will administer the trust funds for you.”
“Administer them how?” Simon’s expression was intent.
Jarvis smiled. “I have no intention of being a pinch purse, lad. I will give you a quarterly allowance and expect you to live within it. If you encounter any unusual expenses, you may come to me. But I tell you now, Nephew, I won’t pay any gambling debts.”
Simon’s quiet, “I don’t gamble,” clashed with Claire’s indignant, “Simon never gambles!”
“I am pleased to hear that,” Jarvis said.
“What if … what if I should need money for something personal?”
“You may come to me. I am a reasonable man, Simon, and I understand your father has kept you poor. Well, it’s not a bad thing to be poor. You appreciate money more when you do have it.”
“Yes, sir.” Simon said.
“Can you take away Simon’s allowance if he does something you don’t approve of?” Claire asked.
Jarvis had the distinct feeling that there was something behind all these questions, but he couldn’t quite see what it might be. “I could,” he answered. “But I’m certain the issue won’t arise.”
Silence from the two youngsters. Their faces gave away nothing of what they might be thinking.
Jarvis said pleasantly, “I understand you have completed school. Are you planning to go to university?”
“No,” Simon said.
Jarvis raised a surprised graying eyebrow. “No? What do you plan to do with yourself, then?”
The two youngsters looked at each other, then back to him. More silence.
Jarvis decided to try another subject. “What subject did you like most in school?”
“Maths. I liked maths. I did very well in them, sir.”
“Did you indeed?” Jarvis added humorously, “Perhaps you would like to come and work in our bank.”
There was a startled silence and the two youngsters exchanged another unreadable look. “Perhaps I could,” the boy said slowly. “Would you pay me a salary?”
Jarvis was nonplused. The future Earl of Welbourne could not possibly work in a bank. He managed to say, “Please, Simon, won’t you call me Uncle Richard?”
“Uncle Richard,” Simon repeated obediently.
Jarvis decided this was not the time to list all the reasons why it would be impossible for Simon to work in a bank. Instead he smiled and stood. “We’ll see how this all works out, eh?” His voice was genial. “In just a few weeks’ time you will turn eighteen; we can discuss your future then.”
Simon and Claire jumped to their feet as well. “Yes, sir,” Simon said. “I shall be looking forward to that.”
Simon held out his hand and Jarvis shook it. Then Claire held out hers, and her handshake was as firm as Simon’s. They both were suddenly radiant. Jarvis wished he knew what was going on here, but contented himself with the knowledge that the man who had the purse strings had the control, and he was that man.
Simon and Clare stood side by side and watched until the carriage was out of sight. Then Simon turned to her, a brilliant smile on his face. “I’m going to have an allowance. I may even have a job. We can get married, Claire! We can get married!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Welbourne filly won the Oaks. Liam was beaming as he came into the cottage and found Elise having tea in the parlor with two of her friends. She took one look at his face and clapped her hands.
“You won!”
“We did that. She’s not a big girl but she ran like a champion. I expect to get some grand foals out of her.”
The two ladies added their congratulations. The squire’s wife said, “My husband will be devastated he couldn’t make it. He’s so very grumpy about these poachers.”
“We’ll run her again,” Liam said. “At Ascot, perhaps. He’ll have a chance to watch her then.”
The two women tactfully made their goodbyes to Elise and left Liam alone with his wife. She smiled up at her tall husband and thought how little he had changed since she had fallen in love with him so many years ago. She had loved him almost from the first moment she saw him, and had married him against the wishes of her father, the exiled Comte de Sevigny. She had not ever regretted her choice.
He bent his head and kissed her. “I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you too.”
He kissed her again, and she put her arms around his waist and leaned into him. I am a happy woman, she thought. How good God was to me when he sent Liam into my life.
“Where is Claire?” he asked.
“Simon took Tim Tam for a ride and Claire went with him.”
“Good. I think I may have a buyer for the horse, someone I met at Epsom. I’ll have Simon school him over a few fences to make certain he’ll jump.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“I’m starving,” he said.
Their housemaid had come into the room to clear away the tea things and Elise said, “Leave the seed cake, Nancy. And can you bring a fresh pot of tea for Mr. O’Rourke?”
“Of course, Mrs. O’Rourke.” The girl put the seed cake back on the table and picked up the almost empty teapot instead.
Elise said, “Come, sit down and tell me about the race.”
Liam took a seat on the sofa beside his wife and described his week-long stay in Epsom, all the while eating the rest of the seed cake and drinking fresh tea. He had just finished the last drop when the parlor door opened and Simon and Claire came in. Nancy brought in some more teacakes and another pot, and Liam once more recounted the story of his filly’s victory in the Oaks. Then he told Simon about the possible buyer and the two of them discussed how they would try Tim Tam over fences.
While the men were talking, Elise stood and drew her daughter aside. Claire still rode astride when she went out with Simon, and Elise still sewed divided skirts for her. Claire owned a sidesaddle, and she rode in it when she went into the village or to pay calls on friends. She had protested at first, but when she saw how upset Elise would be if she persisted in riding astride outside the estate, she had given in.
Elise looked now at her daughter and repressed a sigh. Occasionally she reminded Liam that Claire was his daughter, not his son, but she felt guilty that she had never given him a son and so usually she let them do as they pleased. She treasured the closeness of her happy family and wanted nothing to disturb it. But Claire was almost seventeen and Elise knew it was her duty as a mother to look toward her daughter’s future.
“Ada Weston was here earlier,” Elise said to Claire. We were talking about the first assembly room ball of the summer. I have agreed to be one of the patronesses this year since you’re old enough to attend.”
“A ball?” Claire said in bewilderment.
“Yes, a ball.” Elise smiled. “You’re almost seventeen, the appropriate age for a girl’s first d
ance. You and Charlotte can go together. Mrs. Weston saw to it that you both learned to dance, and Geoffrey and his friends will be there to dance with you. You’ll have a wonderful time.”
Claire glanced toward Simon, who was still talking to Liam, then looked back at her mother. “When is this dance?”
“In two weeks.” Elise did not want Simon to attend and tried to think of a way she could prevent Claire from inviting him. “You’re not a child any longer, my love. You’re a young lady. You should be looking to the future, to your own husband, your own children, your own life. You cannot go on forever being your father’s daughter and Simon’s sister. We all have to grow up sometime, and your time has come.” Elise smiled and smoothed a finger along her daughter’s high cheekbone. “You’ve turned into a beautiful girl, ma petite. Mrs. Weston tells me Geoffrey is quite taken with you.”
Claire didn’t know what part of her mother’s speech surprised her more, the fact that Elise thought the relationship between her daughter and Simon was that of brother and sister, or her comment about Geoffrey.
“Why are you looking so surprised?” Elise asked gently.
Claire picked the lesser to two evils. “Geoffrey?”
Elise smiled encouragingly. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if you married Geoffrey? He’s a fine young man from an excellent family. And, just think, you would be living close to us.”
“I have never thought about Geoffrey that way,” Claire said flatly.
“Well maybe you should start.”
Liam finished his conversation with Simon and crossed the room to ask her a question. Elise judged she had said enough to plant an idea in her daughter’s mind.
# # #
The earl came back from Epsom brimming with good humor. He had bet heavily on his filly, and she had won for him. His Jockey Club friends were openly envious of his amazing string of winners. All in all, it had been a splendid week of racing. He had even won some money on other horses.
The only shadow on the earl’s horizon was, as usual, his eldest son. Woodbridge was going to inherit one hundred thousand pounds. Every time the earl thought of that large sum of money he wanted to throw something. He could make far better use of it than Woodbridge. Over the years the earl had won money on his own horses, but his bets on horses that were not his own had been disastrous. He had also lost a great deal of money at Watier’s. Honor demanded that those debts be paid immediately, which had put him in the position of having to borrow from a moneylender. The sad fact was, he had gone through both Annabelle’s and Helen’s fortunes, and here he was, in debt again. And now one hundred thousand pounds, which the earl desperately needed, would go to Woodbridge!