by Eve Pendle
She licked her lips, all her annoyance seemingly replaced with uncertainty. “I don’t think it’s really necessary for me to intrude on your study.”
“We can hardly work on getting Henry back from two different rooms at opposite ends of the house.” He wanted her nearby, even if it meant he’d need to be a little covert about some of his tasks. “We will be forever going back and forth to discuss things. We would practically need duplicates of all the documents. If you’re here, we can make decisions quickly and understand things more easily by talking about them.”
“Oh.” She walked slowly to the bureau and sat, then drew out the supports and opened the lid. “Well. Given my bureau is here, we can try.”
“Excellent. Will you show me the essentials of the case?” He’d been thinking all night about what she’d told him and torturing himself about the justice of her protecting Anna and fighting for Henry when he needed that money to pay his feckless brother’s gambling debts.
Grace opened a drawer, extracted a sheath of letters, laying some on her desk, and held out another to him.
He regarded her, chagrined. “I rather hoped you would give me a lay introduction?”
“There’s not much to it.” Grace’s avoided meeting his gaze. She continued to hold the papers out to him.
For a second, he was tempted to call her out as a coward. He wanted to hear her tell him it would be too much proximity, them sitting together. Her bright eyes and the way he caught her looking away sometimes, pink staining her cheeks, made him sure she felt their attraction, too. When they were outside together, or God help him, on the little sailing boat, it was easier for her to deny. Here, a comfortable bed was only a staircase away, and he’d do everything he could to tempt her to it.
“Very well.” Everett raised one eyebrow as he took the papers.
She licked her lips then rushed the words out. “We’re hoping to get my father’s appointment overruled upon the basis of Rayner’s unsuitability.”
The immediate concentration with which she looked down at the papers on her desk had to be false. She was flustered by his closeness. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one.
They both settled down to their reading. Having set himself the task, Everett dedicated himself to understanding the dry legal papers. Soon he was immersed. Again and again in the documents, the issue of moral authority was raised. A guardian must have a good influence on the child. Just association with a person perceived to be of immoral or unsound mind could taint them. A person like his brother.
He hoped George’s past liaisons wouldn’t become public knowledge, and he hoped they were entirely in the past. Sodomy wouldn’t be well considered by Chancery. Married couples were viewed together, and his family was hers. His brother could accidently derail all of Grace’s efforts, just as Everett wanted to scupper her work with his need for money for Peter’s debt. It was a mess. How was he to manage to pay Mr. Lawson, underwrite the cattle, save Grace’s brother, and pay off the other debts of the estate?
“Everett?”
“Mmm?” He looked up to find Grace watching his desk. No, his hands. His fingertips were making a staccato rhythm on the desk.
He stopped tapping. “Sorry.”
There was a momentary silence. Her expression was nervous hope, less concealed than usual. And here he was, unwittingly destroying all her labor.
He’d misjudged her terribly. He should tell her. He should come clean and reveal the additional debts, his brother’s proclivities, and the whole sorry state. But her suddenly vulnerable face was more than he could bear to see shuttered in disappointment. Not when they’d just connected, while the trust was still developing.
“What was your father’s state of mind when he wrote this will?” Maybe they could avoid all the chaos he brought with him.
“You mean, was he in his right mind?” Grace fidgeted. She’d understood him.
He kept watching, her face revealing as little emotions slide through her. She was uncomfortable and didn’t want to speak ill of her father. Understandable. But if he was to help her, he must know more. If he knew her affairs as well as he knew his own, he might be able to find a way to rationalize them and make a tuppence worth of problems go away with a penny. And avoid any damaging scandal.
“He was… Agitated. It was just before I left for Geneva.”
“Ah. Just before your exile.” That made sense. He wanted to punish her for her disobedience. When she had returned, he probably would have changed the will again.
Her mouth pushed into a reluctant smile. “I told you. I was not exiled.”
“Banishing your daughter is not a rational response to her wanting to marry a man of her choosing. Even the queen married for love.” If her father had been reasonable, she’d be married to this coward, Brooker. The pang that went through him was unexpected and burned with jealousy and resentment.
Grace looked away and he realized what he’d said. He was as tactless as his mother had accused him of being when he had visited her at the dower house.
“Lord Rayner was close to him. During my season in London they became friends. I think Father saw Rayner as the son he ought to have had instead of me. My marrying him would have sorted the problem.” She turned back toward him with a sigh. “I think he thought I was like proud Lizzy Bennett refusing to marry Mr. Darcy.”
“Whereas you saw him as Mr. Collins?”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Jane Austen didn’t write characters like Lord Rayner.”
…
“I saw Mr. Evans, the owner of the small herd far to the south, on the way back from the dower house.” Everett entered their office two days after she had moved into it. Grace watched him strip off his gloves and toss them onto a side table, revealing strong, tanned wrists. Presumably he had discarded his hat in the hall, as his hair was spilling over his brow, a soft veil that invited her touch.
A drop of ink fell from the nib of her pen, spoiling the page she’d been writing. Cursing under her breath, she hastily blotted the paper.
“How is your mother?” she blurted out the first question that came into her head. She needed to rid herself of this rapidly developing bodily obsession with her husband. In the few days they’d been working together in the same room, he’d been distracting. His long legs, strong, masculine arms when he took off his coat, and the way he stroked the stubble on the side of his face were all fascinating.
Everett shook his head wearily. “Do not ask about the dowager. Evans is the point, and I want your advice.” He riffled through the letters on his desk.
Grace put down her pen and closed her ink, then rested her elbows on the upholstered chair arms, indulging in looking straight into his eyes. “What advice would you like?”
“He said he isn’t willing to have his good, healthy herd slaughtered just because I don’t know what else to do and need to feel busy.” He looked grim and paused. “And the worst is I fear he is right. Landowners across the country are killing cattle because it is the best plan we have, even if it is a poor one that appears to be failing thus far.”
“That’s a disturbingly accurate description of the situation.” The cull at Bridge Farm had been the first of several that Everett had returned from. She hadn’t seen him covered with blood again, but the shadows in his eyes told her well enough.
Everett ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “He’s concerned about his cattle. They’re the result of years of breeding. They give good meat and a reasonable milk yield, and are not too prone to foot rot. If we slaughter them to protect other farms, Evans points out that they will be gone forever, and what will we replace them with? The sort of foreign imports that reputedly started this whole problem in the first place.”
His expression was resigned, beaten almost, and Grace felt a twinge of longing to comfort him. But he’d asked for advice, not reassurance. “It makes you doubt your decision not to attempt inoculation?”
“No. The evidence isn’t there tha
t it works. But I wonder now about whether we ought to have tried something, anything, else. Even if it had not saved all the cattle, it would leave us something to start from again. I think we are too far down this road now. But convincing Mr. Evans…” He set his hands on his desk and leaned forward against it. It looked like the weight on him was unbearable.
There had to be a way to save some of the cows, just enough to start again. Her mind stretched toward a memory of something. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. “I read about mortality rates across the country. The lowest, just one in ten for some, were with crofters with smaller herds in the north.”
He looked up at her. “If we could save that one herd.”
“That result could be to do with the climate or the breed or something else.” She could see his mind racing forward in the same direction as hers. “But what if it was because in a smaller herd, the farmer has more time to look after each animal?” The glimmer of hope in his eyes made her heart feel too big for her chest. “As well as the expertise, since he’s a farmer. A child is more likely to pull through scarlet fever if she is tended by a nurse. Why should the same not be true for an animal?”
Everett rose up, only to sink back into his chair. “Evans is only one on his own, though. He is not a crofter.” There was resentment as well as sadness in his tone, perhaps at having had his hopes raised.
“Everett, you have at your disposal scores of experienced farmers with no herds to tend, because the herds are dead.”
His gaze snapped back up to her.
“You have the money to buy Evans’s cattle. Use it to buy the cows and gift them to the other farmers. Each farmer can then tend their few cows if they get ill. You are the earl. Insist upon it.”
“Yes.” Rising, he snatched up his gloves. “Will you come with me and propose the idea to Mr. Evans?” He pushed his fingers into the supple leather.
They’d be ensconced together in the carriage for at least half an hour traveling to see Mr. Evan. He would introduce her to Mr. Evans with that note of pride in his voice and make her heart spring. It would be pleasant to initiate a helpful scheme, too. But prior engagements must stand. “I am leaving in half an hour to meet with Mrs. Cooper and the other ladies from The Committee for the Widening Participation of Women in the Workforce.”
He smoothed the glove over his knuckles, taking out the wrinkles.
If she put her hands in his gloves, they would flop around, so big were his hands compared to hers. But her fingers would be warm, heated by his body. Even better would be to touch him.
“May I accompany you to your meeting?” He approached and offered his hand to help her up. “Afterward, we could go on to visit Mr. Evans.”
His eyes were knowing. It was as if they were familiar and he was confident in her affection. Then it struck her—she’d been staring at him. Again.
Casting her eyes down, she shook her head. “You ought to inform Thompson of the plan first. And write to the cattle club.” It was probably better he didn’t accompany her to the meeting. She couldn’t trust herself to keep all the numbers adding up when he was around.
“I’ll talk to him now, have him write to the club, and meet you out by the carriage. Don’t leave without me.” He winked, then turned and strode out of the room.
Grace looked after him.
She’d always known her husband was attractive. But now she knew he was kind, he was altogether more tempting. Reluctantly, she looked back at her page where she had been making notes and tried to concentrate on what she might say to the committee for women’s work outside the home.
It was odd. The ordering and decision making she’d done for Alnott Stores was like trying to decipher the legal cases and the checking of the Larksview accounts. Except with Everett beside her, any moment she might find her heart pounding, look up to see him looking at her, and all her thoughts would fly. She was finding that it was increasingly difficult to control the emotions he elicited. A tender, fuzzy sensation, along with a wish to laugh when he made bad jokes. It was a paradox of comfort and excitement. Every time she saw him, she wanted to touch him, to get closer.
But she’d been so wrong before. She’d believed her love for Samuel would eventually conquer every obstacle. Now, with a little more distance, she could see that all this was true, but maybe not in the way she had thought. Her love had been a compacted boulder of sandstone; it had been smoothed away by Samuel’s betrayal until it was just a yielding pile of sand.
The long-case clock in the hallway chimed the hour, and Grace was startled from her thoughts. She ought to leave. She fetched her bonnet and a shawl and left the house by the front door. Everett was waiting for her, examining the horses and talking with one of the grooms.
When they arrived at Mrs. Cooper’s house, he handed her down from the carriage and kept her hand in his and her traitorous, silly heart thudded.
“It will be frightfully dull. You don’t have to stay,” she said as they walked to the door.
“I’m staying. I promise to behave.” He shot her a satirical look.
Grace had to hide her smile behind her hand. She was beginning to think she liked him just as well when he didn’t behave.
There were a dozen or so ladies gathered in the good front room Mrs. Cooper ushered them into, sitting in lines of chairs that had been brought from other rooms and sipping tea and making quiet conversation. They stopped as Grace entered.
“Ladies, we are very much honored to have with us Lord and Lady Westbury,” said Mrs. Cooper, breaking the awkward pause in the room and ushering Grace to a seat in front of everyone.
Everett found a discreet place to stand in the corner of the room. Mrs. Cooper squawked about his being at the front with Grace, but in a low rumble, he firmly told her that he preferred to stand and had no knowledge that would be helpful in this instance.
Mrs. Cooper gave up the argument and introduced Grace. “Lady Westbury is the daughter of the late proprietor of Alnott Stores, the foremost dry goods grocers in the country, with over two hundred stores. Lady Westbury is going to help us better understand the role of a store attendant. I’m sure you will all enjoy what she has to say.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cooper. I’m pleased to be here.”
They were all looking at her, waiting for her to say something interesting. This was more difficult than she’d anticipated and for a moment she couldn’t speak, even if she’d known what she was supposed to say. Grasping into her reticule, she found the piece of paper she’d written notes on. It slipped in her fingers, but there was the beginning of her list of things to say. She hadn’t finished it. Her thoughts had gone off into contemplation of Everett.
“The advantages of shop work are fourfold,” she read. “Firstly, the work is usually not too arduous, not involving lifting of heavy coal up many flights of stairs as is expected of a maid-of-all-work. Secondly, the hours are relatively short, compared to most domestic service. Though they are often still long. The hours are not as short and intense as those worked in a factory, though the work may be considered more varied and therefore interesting and also less dangerous. Thirdly, shopgirls may attain a measure of independence, living in provided quarters away from home, but not usually as strictly overseen as they are in service and with the freedom to do as they wish during their evenings.
“Fourthly, shop work does not ruin a woman’s eyes like millenary or dressmaking.” Neither was it the oldest profession, or unobtainable for women without a genteel education like being a governess. But those did not seem like acceptable reasons, so Grace hadn’t added them. “Some objections.”
“I have an objection.” The interruption came from a lady in the middle of the seats. “It isn’t ladylike to work in a public place.”
Grace waited until the murmur of disquiet passed. “I think we need to redefine how we understand what a lady is.” She made her tone light and sweet. “A lady can no longer be an idle but virtuous adjunct to a gentleman. It is frequent now that a woman must take emplo
yment and be responsible for others beyond herself, as a widow often must or an unmarried orphan. Why should she not be a lady, too?” Bit close to the bone there. “If the world forces her out of the private realm, we must accept that the public sphere is an acceptable place for all women, because the domestic sphere is not large enough to encompass all women.”
“You talk about women in the public sphere, and that’s all very well.” A substantial woman near the back piped up. “But a woman cannot rise anywhere in such a profession. Your father ran Alnott Stores, did he not?”
Could she say this? She shouldn’t allow herself to glance at Everett, but she did. His expression was inquisitive. He was listening.
“That isn’t quite the case. My mother was the main guide of Alnott Stores. It was her business acumen that led to additional stores and greater economies, as well as new products. She understood what middle-class, aspiring wives wanted, you see.” The women stared at her, and she tried to fill the silence. “My parents used to joke he was the face and she was the brains.”
Now the hush was scandalized. A smile was tugging at the corners of Everett’s mouth. Why not surprise them a little more?
“My mother died almost five years ago, and my father was deeply affected. He went into a decline. For almost two years, it was left to me to ensure that the company sustained itself.”
Now he was smiling, pride radiating from him. His pride slipped through all her clothes, past her corset, and settled in her heart.
“Well.” Mrs. Cooper rallied. “It’s commendable that you took such a role in a time of need. Are there any shopgirls at Alnott Stores presently?”
Ah. Now this became uncomfortable, as though it wasn’t enough already. She sneaked a look at Everett. His expression hadn’t slipped and it was fortifying.
“I don’t rightly know. Alnott Stores is not currently in my care.” That hurt more than she liked to admit. But she had been born with the wrong set of physical characteristics to be responsible for business, in her father’s opinion. He’d always said she was too much like her mother and needed to learn from her mistakes that a woman’s place was in the home, looking after her health. He had never really seen her, and who she was. He’d just seen a doll who would marry a lord.