“Of course I do.” Clare wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“I don’t believe Trevor’s telling or not telling you has anything to do with his affections. He was keeping his friend’s confidence. He made that promise to Freddie long before he even met you. You couldn’t expect him to go back on his word to his best friend, could you?”
“I suppose not,” she replied and even defended him. “He’s not that kind of man.”
“No, he isn’t. I think Trevor Rutherford is most honorable. I’m certain that he felt very conflicted about it all.”
“I believe he was.” Clare got to her feet and it appeared the waterworks had ended. “Rosalind, how are we going to face our friends when they arrive on Epiphany for dinner? They’ll all know what’s happened. It’s such a horrid scandal. Do you think they will run us out of the village?”
“How could they blame the two of us? Have we not cared for them all these many years, long before the Earl of Brent ever came along? Do you really think they can reject us?” Rosalind stroked her sister’s hair to calm her.
“I don’t know. They might.” But she, too, sounded doubtful about the matter.
“If that is how they are to treat us, we should leave,” Rosalind stated.
“Do you really think so?” Clare sounded shocked at her sister’s bold suggestion.
“I do not wish to remain in a place I am no longer welcome.” She pushed herself off the bed. “I’m going to go pack my bags right now so I can be ready to leave in the morning.”
“Oh no, Rosalind, you’re being silly.” Now it was Clare’s turn to be the voice of reason. There would be no more tears, no more feeling sorry for herself.
“Really?” Rosalind was glad to see the change in her sister.
“What if it’s not you they dislike but His Lordship? What if they want him to leave?”
“They cannot dislike him, Clare.” Rosalind felt her tears well in her eyes. “Because I know he is not the man any of us thought he was. I fell in love with Mr. Freddie’s heart long before I knew he was the earl.”
Rosalind accompanied Clare belowstairs where they met Mr. Trevor. He and Clare ended up going off together but not before he relayed to Rosalind that Freddie was helping in the kitchen.
Had Rosalind heard that correctly?
That would not be the first time he had done so, and it did not exactly come as a shock but she would never become accustomed to the idea. It was of no matter; she took herself off to the parlor where, she imagined, he would eventually find her. Their music sat near the keyboard. It occurred to her they really ought to practice together if they were to play publicly.
She played for a good hour before he arrived. Freddie entered, dressed in the simple but well-fitting garb of a country gentleman. Rosalind stood from the pianoforte and, again, her reaction was to curtsy when he entered. She knew he would chide her for it, so she resisted.
“We have not been private in quite some time,” he said and strolled to the window to glance outside. “If the weather were nicer I would ask you to walk with me. As it is”—he faced her again—“perhaps you would like to take a turn about the room?”
“As you wish.” Rosalind accepted his arm and they began their progression slowly around the parlor.
“I am surprised Mrs. Harris is not here to chaperone.” Freddie wondered if she thought him ineligible parti for her daughter and had refused to tolerate his presence.
“She has taken to bed ill with a severe fit of the vapors.” Rosalind’s tone indicated she did not believe it.
“I did not know one could have a severe case.” Freddie widened his eyes to show his disbelief. “I hope she is feeling more the thing soon.” They took a few steps in silence and he broached the sensitive topic. He had to know. “I understand it has only been since last night. But last we spoke, you were conflicted as to how you regard me. Have you made any progress in that quarter?”
“Ah, as to that. I believe last night my choices were: hate, anger, or an embrace.”
Oh, how Freddie wished there were a fourth option, another that would be more favorable to him, because there was only one choice for which he cared and one out of three were not good odds.
“I’ve spent some time with Clare this morning. She has been devastated by these turns of events.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Is she recovered?”
“Yes, finally after I regaled her with my limited wisdom on the matter.”
“Which is?” Freddie was interested to hear any hint as to Rosalind’s thoughts.
“As far as I am concerned, it is far too tiresome to keep track of who has done the most wrong.” They turned the corner and now moved toward the hearth. “I simply do not have that amount of energy, sir, and quite frankly I am exhausted. It is the holiday season and we have been most inconvenienced by a poor harvest before winter set in, an early snow with unforgiving cold, and lastly, a pair of uninvited guests whom we had to house.”
How could Freddie not feel a twinge of guilt when she listed him as one of the burdens? And he hardly considered his presence in this tableau to be a minor one.
“Clare and I had decorated the house, as usual, in anticipation of Christmas, Boxing Day, and Twelfth Night festivities that our family would host. We so looked forward to the gatherings.” She paused. “Are you certain you wish to hear all this?”
“Yes, please go on.”
“Very well.” And she continued, “As a result of the severe weather we were unable to procure a yule log, play hostess to any holiday parties, nor attend any of the Christmas services.
“However, Twelfth Night will soon be upon us and we will finally have our chance to welcome friends, family, and guests into our home to celebrate the new year. Instead of sounding wretched as I play on an old, out-of-tune pianoforte, I will be performing a duet with a most handsome, extraordinarily talented man, who has tuned said instrument, and I have lost my heart to him, even though he holds the unfortunate title of earl.”
“Am I fated with the embrace?” Freddie delighted at hearing her words. He feared that his smile may have been so large, it might have frightened her.
“Yes, you are, sir.” Rosalind allowed him to take her in his arms.
“I am more than willing to have banns read when the time comes,” he told her while holding her close. “I am afraid it may be too long for you to wait.” Freddie stepped away from her but kept hold of her hand. “I love you dearly, my sweet, and yet I cannot, in my present penniless condition, offer for you.”
“Are you telling me we will not be together?” She tried to pull her hand from his.
“Although I am in possession of Penshaw Manor, I cannot provide an adequate home for you to reside. I am appalled that I would come to you with my heart filled with love and have so little to my name. It would be such an insult.”
“Fie, sir! You have already insulted me. You accept my embrace, tell me you wish to marry me then, in the next breath, tell me you cannot?” She tried to pull her hand from him again without success.
“The worst of it is I cannot even begin my renovations with the manor house. I have debts to pay and my priorities are homes for the tenants, not for me. I cannot in all good conscience ask you to wait.”
“Is the decision to wait not mine to make?” Rosalind was finally able to pull free and she rubbed her hands together. “Who do you expect will wish to marry an old spinster who is in love with another man?”
He had no answer for her and added, “It breaks my heart to say this but it might take years. Many years. I don’t know.”
“Then I shall be a very old spinster when we wed.” At those words she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and Freddie smiled back.
Chapter Twenty-One
The weather could not have been better for their party. It was cold and the fallen snow covered the landscape but there was no threat of more on the way. People began to arrive just before noon. The Lowthers, the Surteeses, and the Walshes e
ntered Thistles through the front door. The Renfields and the Neelys, who had brought extra food for the table, came in through the kitchen. Both the dining room and the breakfast room had been set up to seat guests. Today would see Thistles bursting with people. Every tenant and many neighbors living outside the estate had come.
Vicar Strevens, who, because of the weather, was unable to hold regular holiday services, arrived a bit late because his donkey, pulling the transport, proved as stubborn as ever. As Freddie discovered upon the vicar’s arrival, “Gabriel don’t like the cold above half.”
The Morleys arrived by foot. Mrs. Morley had their sled burdened with biscuits and breads she had made. Jacob Morley had a wink and a nod at his coat, indicating a bottle of the manor’s finest he had brought to share. Looking very fine in Freddie’s old silk embroidered vest and jacket, Drew pushed the sled behind his parents.
“Fits you like they were made special,” Freddie commented with a smile.
“Mum took it in a bit here and here.” The lad indicated both side seams of the jacket. “She’ll let ’em out when I get bigger.”
The young men remained outdoors to help with those who arrived and had to stable their animals, such as the vicar’s Gabriel, while avoiding the rambunctious youths dashing about dispelling their pent-up energy after being kept indoors for so long.
The younger children ran up and down the corridors inside the house, making a nuisance of themselves. Some of the women, along with Mrs. Morley, went to the kitchen to lend Cook and her staff a hand. There was plenty of work for all to help.
The weather had been so bad this past month, keeping most people housebound, that everyone was so pleased to see one another. That was a celebration in itself. People were even pleased to see Freddie and renew his acquaintance.
At the risk of spoiling their day, he had wished to make the announcement before the festivities got started. Best the truth give them a bit of indigestion now than endure the slow poisonous venom of rumor if he took the coward’s way and waited until after their meal.
Mr. Harris did the honor of calling for everyone’s attention after Vicar Strevens said grace and before the arrival of the food.
“Thank you, Vicar. I would like to take a moment before our meal arrives, my dear friends and neighbors,” Mr. Harris began. “We have had the misfortune of a bad harvest, bad weather, and simply a bad situation all the way around.”
The moans of discontent were low and mostly emanating from the children urged on by their hunger, not the discontent of the adults.
“We can endure those times that are unfavorable because we hold strong to our family, our neighbors, and friends. We have always been a community who watches out for those around us. We are caring and compassionate, and even welcoming visitors into our fold. We have had such visitors arrive as recently as Christmas day.”
Now grumblings for the horrid weather sounded from everyone.
“I know, I know. The weather was terrible. How many of us could not step out of our homes? Not even for services? It was horrible, all right.” Mr. Harris continued on with his story. “These two lads, here, fell victim to the weather, crashing their rig on the western road, there, just the other side of the manor. But they had the good fortune to come upon the manor house and the Morleys.”
Cheers of encouragement sounded.
“Thar’s no one better than good ole Jacob!” someone shouted.
“That’s right.” Mr. Harris nodded. “Jacob and Hetta Morley, and their son, Drew. That family took them in, gave them a place to stay and fed them. One, Mr. Trevor Rutherford, was bad off. When he was able to move he came here to Thistles, and we welcomed them. Now he is fully recovered and we have had the great pleasure of his acquaintance.”
Trevor waved at the group, displaying his good health, and received a nice applause.
“Mr. Trevor’s friend, known as Mr. Freddie to some of you, contributed to the various households where he and Mr. Trevor stayed. It was the very same while he’s been here. He’s lent a hand with Harry and Gordon with the heavy work as well as tuned our sorrowful pianoforte, which most of you will hear him play later. It’s sounding better than it has in years!”
There was much applause and upraised voices at this bit of good news.
“I’ve also heard that he’s been busy in the kitchen.” Mr. Harris chuckled with most of the group. “Cook had him help with the cake we’ll all be enjoying later.”
Oohs and aahs came from mostly women, in disbelief. There were many more whose laughter could be heard.
“I believe he has even helped deliver food baskets and met many of you over the past few days.”
There was a resounding agreement among the crowd of those who had already made his acquaintance.
“He has been saddened by our circumstance, impressed by our fortitude, and humbled by our acceptance. And he would like the chance to say a few words.” Mr. Harris held out his hands to stay their protest. “I know everyone is hungry and you would like this speech to end now but I would take it as a personal favor if you would kindly spare another moment or two of your time, and listen to what our guest has to say.”
Freddie stood, moved to the head of the room, and shook Mr. Harris’s hand when they exchanged places. Mr. Harris sat to Freddie’s right.
The cheers of encouragement gave Freddie the confidence to face them but he was not certain how long it would last. Those same people who sided with him now may not show the same support in a few minutes. He took a deep breath to steady himself, tamped down his nervousness, and hoped they could not see him tremble.
“I have no idea how to thank all of you for welcoming me,” Freddie began. “I do not wish to take up any more of your time since Mr. Harris has, so completely, covered my arrival and stay at Penshaw. I do wish to confirm that I have tuned the piano, which was in dire need of attention. It has also been my pleasure to meet a great many of you over these last few days. I have also lent a hand in the kitchen, believe it or not, but had nothing to do with cooking itself so your meal should taste just fine.” There were many who chuckled, relieved that the food would be edible.
“Go on, tell them,” Mr. Harris whispered, urging from his seat. “Best get it over with.”
“What Mr. Harris did not inform you of is my past.” A hush fell over the room. These people must have known, intuitively, that unpleasant words were to follow. “I must tell you that although I am a stranger in these parts, I do have a very strong connection to all of you.”
Freddie made it a point of looking at each person in the room. He hoped he could somehow relay his sincerity and, by making his admission before them all, his bravery. “I am owner of the land and estate of Penshaw Manor.” Freddie paused and drew in a breath. He did not wish them to misunderstand and stated the following very slowly and clearly: “I am . . . the Earl of . . . Brent.”
There were several gasps and a few shrieks followed by a very long, eerie silence. No one made a sound.
Rosalind held her breath waiting for the crowd’s reaction.
The low murmuring began. It was discussion among the people, coming to a consensus: Would there be an uprising or would he be welcomed?
“Don’t matter, Yur Lordship, we knows ye ta be a fine man before we knows ye ta be an earl,” one man called out.
“That’d be the truth!” a second voice agreed.
“’Oo hasn’t made mistakes in ’ere youth?” a third shouted.
“But we was starvin’. My youngins went hungry ’cause of you!” A woman’s angry wail made Rosalind’s heart ache. She chanced a glance at Freddie, who had closed his eyes for an extended period. She noticed the slight wavering of his head as he concentrated on keeping his chin up.
“’E’s ’ere now ta ’elp us an’ that’s all that counts.” This statement garnered cheers, then more support. Another round of discussion among the people before the sentiment was accepted by all. “All right, all right!”
“There is no reason that will
excuse my behavior and for that I am profoundly sorry.” He laid his hand upon his chest over his heart. “I want you all to know that my priority is you, my tenants. Repairs on your homes will be started as soon as the weather allows. We will open a farming common on the estate grounds to be shared by everyone. There will be no need for food baskets in the future, although you still may expect me to call.”
“It’s ’bout time!” a voice from the back of the room yelled.
“We’s gonna call ye Yer Lordship from now ons,” a man in the front shouted.
“That will be just fine, thank you.” Freddie smiled and nodded. “Thank—” Emotion cut off his ability to speak and Rosalind felt a lump in her throat as well.
“Dinner’s just about to be served,” Mr. Harris stood and announced. He moved next to Freddie. “Some of you go to the breakfast room and the rest in the dining room. There’s a place for everyone. Mrs. Harris, Clare, will you not show these good people to their seats?”
Clare engaged Trevor’s help. They and Mrs. Harris led the way. People filed out of the room to find a place to sit for the meal. The children scampered; their mothers tried to herd them without much success.
When the room had cleared Freddie spotted Rosalind standing in the corner. She covered her mouth, containing her sobs. Freddie stood there as if he could not move from that spot. He must have been frightened to death.
“Oh, Freddie!” Rosalind gasped and crossed the room in a hurry. “It all turned out so well. I was so very terrified for you.” She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close.
“I was terrified for myself.” He draped his arm around her. Freddie drew his handkerchief from an inside pocket and handed it to her. “Dry your tears, there is no need to cry.”
“It could have been so awful!” Rosalind’s tears began to flow freely once she’d taken the embroidered silk square. “I am so sorry to be such a watering pot.”
“Let’s go into the dining room, shall we?” Mr. Harris suggested. “Mrs. Harris will be waiting for us.”
A Rake Reformed (A Gentleman of Worth Book 6) Page 18