“What is bio-chemistry?”
“Biological chemistry,” she elaborated. “It’s basically the study of the chemical processes of living things. Like metabolism, carbohydrates, lipids, nucleic acids and that kind of thing.”
“I have no idea what any of those things are,” he admitted after a long moment.
“Well, it covers a lot of different fields. Biochemists do everything from study hormone deficiencies and genetic diseases to those who determine the nutritional value of food. Others like me study disease and immunity disorders and work to develop cures for them,” Kate explained. The unfamiliar words coming so easily from her lips astounded him. “So basically that’s what I do. I research cures for diseases.”
“Such as?” he recovered enough to ask.
“Well, our main project is in looking for a cure for Cryptococcal Meningitis,” she told him. “Have you heard of it?” Harrowby managed a slight shake of his head. “No? Well, let’s just say it’s a really bad fungal disease that kills a lot of people every year.”
“Oh.” Harrowby didn’t even know what to make of her explanation, her tone had changed to that of an adult simplifying the matter for a child. Perhaps, in that moment, he was a simpleton. While she had clearly sounded confident and well-informed on her topic, she had spoken of things he had never heard of before. But if she were fabricating it all, she was proving herself to be an excellent actress. There was nothing for it, he supposed, but to take her word for it.
Clearly, it was a field that one would be hard put to find active employment in. There was truth in that if in nothing else.
“Sorry,” she offered at length. “I didn’t mean to blow your mind or anything. It’s just that I felt really good about what I was doing, you know? I was actively helping people and I miss it already. Haven’t you ever done something you were really passionate about?”
He did, but the earl didn’t answer with such an admission. His passions were his own. To the world, he was noble. That was his duty now. His responsibility. The business of running the earldom was new to him and he was still taking instruction from the stewards of his many properties. He studied the account books and ledgers to catch up on all that it entailed, but before that, to the world at large, he’d been a gentleman of leisure. While ten minutes ago he would have admitted as much without embarrassment – for truly, it was what most young men of his station did – he realized that he didn’t want to confess as much to this woman who, it seemed, worked passionately for an admirable cause. “I studied land and business management at Oxford once it was determined that I would inherit the earldom. It is a huge responsibility.”
“I’m sure it is,” she readily agreed without condescension. “I would imagine just looking at everyone you employ in this one house that a great many people rely on you for their livelihood and I’ve heard that this is only one of many houses that you own.”
Feeling bolstered by her sincere appreciation for his responsibility, Harrowby nodded. “The earldom owns almost a dozen estates across Great Britain, many with farms or herds or production facilities attached to them. There is the coal mine in Liverpool, a shipyard near Portsmouth and an arms manufacturing plant as well as investments in the railroads and banking.”
Kate nodded with sincere appreciation. “Wow. Impressive. It must keep you very busy.”
“It does,” he agreed, then from nowhere felt compelled for the first time in his life to add, “Sometimes I hate it.” It was an admission that he’d barely acknowledged to himself and he was shocked to hear the words aloud, especially given the company he was in, but it was the truth. This new responsibility had taken from him the time to indulge in the one thing he did truly care about. At times, he resented it.
Harrowby stole a glance at Kate expecting her disdain for his confession but to his further surprise found her nodding along sympathetically.
“I bet you do. Who wouldn’t?” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s a pretty major inheritance you got there. It would be like Warren Buffet finding a long-lost son and handing it all over to him saying, ‘Here you go, deal with it’. You take it seriously though and that’s good. Good for you and good for everyone who’s out there working for you and praying you don’t fuck it up. Oops, sorry for the potty mouth,” she added when his jaw dropped in astonishment. “Didn’t mean that…how about mess it up?”
Clearing his throat, Harrowby stifled a delayed chuckle. “Not at all, I rather think you were more accurate regarding my dependants’ expectations with your initial assessment.”
He laughed aloud then and Kate’s breath caught. Damn, she had known that he would be gorgeous if he smiled and he was. His lips parted revealing straight white teeth that flashed in contrast against his tanned skin. The dimples appeared and the crow’s feet deepened around eyes that danced with humor. Oh, Lordy, she thought. He is a hotty.
Catching herself before she began to sigh dramatically and ogle the earl, Kate pushed herself from the chair. “Well, I will leave you laughing then. I better go find the others and let them know I’m not in trouble. It was nice talking to you, Mr.… my… err, Harrowby. May I just call you Brand?”
With brows raised, Harrowby meant to sound a denial but instead felt himself nod.
“Thanks, Brand. You have a nice day, okay?”
Her name escaped her lips easily as if formality and titles meant nothing to her. Perhaps they didn’t, he realized. The Americans had a very diverse perspective on England’s nobility. Either they fawned over the nobility in a most piteous way or they treated them as if they were just another person. While his experience with American women had always been those of the former inclination, perhaps Kate was simply one of those rare few who dismissed a noble’s title as unimportant. She simply didn’t care.
Liking that idea more than he should, Harrowby watched Kate stroll to the door, her bustle and skirts swishing behind her. She had a very nice figure. He had noticed as much the night before. Nicely rounded in all the right places without seeming plump. Tall enough not to make his height awkward in comparison, she had fit just right in his arms allowing him to kiss her without bending his neck too far.
Her dark brown hair was like mahogany though there were dozens of lighter streaks running through it creating a cacophony of color he had never seen on a woman. He could make out each and every one of them, too, for unlike all the other women he knew, she wore her hair simply bound at the back of her head. No complex knots or braids, just a tail of hair about a foot long that swung behind as she walked like a pendulum.
Why did she wear it that way? Why did she walk and talk and move like she did? They were questions he wanted answers to though he couldn’t say why. She roused a curiosity in him, an intrigue that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. But Harrowby knew in his position as master of this house, that he couldn’t continue fraternizing with the help. It would cause talk and gossip among the staff and bring speculation down upon Kate that could make her life very uncomfortable here and if he had understood her well enough, she had nowhere else to go.
Therefore, he should leave her alone, the earl told himself once again. Let her lose herself into the bowels of this mausoleum of a house and he wouldn’t have to see her again. It was what he should do, what he knew he should do, but still…
“Miss Kallastad?” A pause. “Kate?”
“Yes, Brand?” She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, her cat-like green eyes reflecting the sunlight from the windows as she stared at him in that disconcertingly direct fashion she had.
A thousand questions swam through his mind. Things he wanted to ask. Answers he desperately wanted to know. He wanted to know her. It was inappropriate given his role as her employer. Wrong, given the expectations that were facing him.
Shaking himself back into the role of earl, Harrowby simply said, “It was nice talking to you, as well.”
Kate flashed him a rueful smile and left, shaking her head….
…as if, she knew tho
se were not the words he wanted to say.
Chapter Twelve
A week later
After another week, Kate was finally feeling as if she had her new position firmly under control. She took her duties seriously, completing her work so industriously that Hendricks had finally given her a nod of satisfaction. Kate felt the gesture as the greatest praise of her life. She was also making friends among the staff, Marta in particular.
Sunday rolled around again and Kate rarely saw Brand again in all that time – usually from a distance and only a time or two in passing. They didn’t speak again, but all the girls explained that that was simply how it was supposed to be. They were meant to be unseen unless called upon to perform a duty. Brand did not call upon her or anyone else.
Rumors abounded though. There was speculation regarding Harrowby’s abilities to command the earldom as it should be. Solicitors and estate managers spent hours at a time locked in the earl’s office with him. To Kate it all sounded like the typical workplace chatter, gossiping about the state of the business and the boss. She tried not to take part in it but couldn’t stop herself from occasionally defending the earl, saying that she was sure that Harrowby was just being shown the ropes and would do fine.
He would, too. She’d seen it in his eyes, that fortitude against failure. She recognized it because she’d seen that same look in the mirror every morning on her own face. Kate liked that about him. Even disliking his ‘job’ so to speak, he was still determined to do it well.
While the others went off to church that Sunday morning, Kate lingered around the house wondering if Brand might seek her out again. She’d been insanely hoping all week for some sign from him that he liked her as much as she’d liked him. That he was as irresistibly drawn as she was. But as she had been for days, Kate was disappointed.
Her morning remained quietly uninterrupted.
It was for the best, Kate supposed. It wasn’t good in any time period to have the hots for your boss. She should be thanking Brand for maintaining a distance between them…but she wasn’t. She wanted to see him again, talk to him. Kate wagered the earl was a pretty interesting guy once you got to know him.
Shaking her head, Kate left the service entrance of the mansion turning back to look up at the old place. It was really very stunning, she thought. She could feel the ancient romance of the mansion just weeping out of the mortar. She stroked an ivy leaf between her fingers. That age and authenticity was something that homeowners in Edina tried to duplicate when creating a new house that looked like an English country manor but this was the real deal.
When asked at the dinner table, one of the older footmen had told Kate that Christopher Wren had designed the original portion of the house and it had been built in the late 1600s during the time of William and Mary. It had been added to several times since then, the Earls of Harrowby had always done their utmost to maintain the original styling of the building. Ramble House was aptly named since those additions spread so freely from the center.
Tuning away from the red brick building, Kate took in the view that had so caught her attention that first day. Summertime in southern England set the rolling hills and trees into a landscape from a storybook. For all the structured formality in the front of Ramble House with its pristine lawns, reflecting pool and neat gravel drive, the rear gardens and lawns looked like Mother Nature had been set willfully free. With its willows, flowering scrubs and rolling lawns, it was a fairytale wilderness. However, those almost two hundred acres, she found out to her dismay, had been carefully thought out by some landscape architect a hundred years before.
Well, he’d done a good job whoever he was, Kate admitted as she wandered down the terrace steps to a balustrade that marked a steep decline in the lawns and more fully overlooked the vista there which included a lovely and surprisingly man-made lake and beyond the slow, sleepy wind of the Thames.
It was a warm summer morning, perfect for Kate to stretch her legs. Taking a path to the right, she strode along, her shoes crunching against the gravel until she was lost within the enchanted wood.
***
An hour later, Kate emerged from the paths onto the lawns once more. Though she was still on the rear side of Ramble House, the mansion was a fair distance off now, perched high on the slope, the sun beginning to fall lower in the sky behind it. She was on the far side of the lake now and closer to the river. To her left, a small arched bridge allowed a shorter return over a narrowed neck in the lake, but Kate turned to the right to take the longer route back.
It had been a nice walk. The silence of the wood had been soothing allowing Kate some time to think on things that the business of her day and constant company of her roommates had pushed to the rear of her mind. She thought again of home; her parents, her ambitions. She missed it still, perhaps more than ever. As hard as she worked here, there was little to challenge Kate beyond the physical. She had grown up with high expectations from her parents and, while at one point those expectations seemed a terrible burden to bear, she had come to appreciate being held to a higher standard. She’d learned to strive to do more, be more.
Now there wasn’t a goal to aim for and Kate felt drained by the possibility that this might be it for her. And, if that were the case, what could she do to feel as if she served some real purpose in the world? Kate knew she couldn’t be aimlessly content, not because a person couldn’t be happy that way but because she wasn’t raised that way.
Whether her parents had done her a favor or disservice could be debated. In 2012 – no. In 1876 – maybe so.
If only they had known! Kate chuckled aloud with a shake of her head.
She continued to stroll the perimeter of the large lake enjoying the silence and warm breeze of summer as it wove through her loose hair, sans bonnet or binding. Occasionally, she stooped to pick up a couple of rocks and toss them into the water breaking the smooth surface with the expanding ripples each stone produced. She watched the ripples wave outward until they melted away all the while thinking about how time was lapsing just as quickly.
A month.
Logically, it was difficult to believe that she’d been here so long when it also seemed as if she’d been here forever. She was melding into the life she found here as if she knew her future was here. She’d almost lost the will to hope.
Was everyone back in 2012 as unaware as David claimed or were her parents frantic over her disappearance? She certainly wished for the latter. Nothing would give her greater pain than causing such anguish for the people who loved her. Still she missed them terribly.
Kate gave a little snort. Funny how, when she could see them any time she wanted, she didn’t think about missing them often, but now that she was a lifetime away, the longing to see them dug its talons deeply into her. She swore that the moment she got back to her own time, if she ever did, she would hop the next flight back home and make sure they all knew how much she loved them.
But she wasn’t going back, the more realistic part of her mind argued. David’s idea of fashioning new cables wasn’t working, the parts in this time simply weren’t viable for it. He wasn’t going to be able to do it. She needed to face that undeniable fact.
And even if he did get it working, right now he didn’t even know where to find her. She would need to write him a letter – at this, Kate chuckled again – it had been a decade at least since she had actually put pen to paper to write a letter to someone.
But she should write… just in case.
Her chuckle became a snort. Who was she kidding? She had spent two weeks watching failure after failure build up on David’s workbench and he hadn’t even yet begun to think about recreating the metal panels the siphon needed to be attached to. Was there really any point fantasizing about what might be? She’d always been one to accept what was given to her and work with it. That part of her was saying that the nineteenth century was where she was and where she was going to stay. Kate needed to learn to live with that now.
Her reality was
that she was a working class woman in Victorian England with few prospects for a better future…unless she was inclined some day to take after the other girls and seek out a husband to support her through the winter of her life. It was a concept that rubbed Kate’s independent streak the wrong way. She couldn’t think about what she had lost. Would not! She refused to dwell in the past and wallow in her misery.
Kate refused to admit that doing so terrified her and broke her heart for the loss of all that once was. It was a bad habit she had, that denial. It was one thing she’d never been able to confront openly in her life – disappointment. It was easy to say she was a realist, to be one when everything went her way. Disappointment was rare. She’d gotten into the habit when she failed at something or things didn’t go her way to just push it aside as if it never happened.
Logic told her that if she couldn’t reject the truth of where and when she was, that there was no reason to deny her fears and misgivings.
They were human feelings.
Natural. Understandable.
No, her mind argued irrationally. In this case, denial was working out pretty good for her so far.
Chapter Thirteen
Kicking a stone out of her path, Kate heard a plop into the water that had nothing to do with her actions and looked up to find a young boy standing at the side of the lake with a fishing rod in hand. A look at the gear at his feet told Kate that either he hadn’t been there long or he wasn’t having much luck. As she watched him awkwardly reeling in his line, Kate figured it had to have been the latter.
“Hey, there,” Kate called softly to catch the boy’s attention. “Whatcha doing?”
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