She clapped her hands, her grin widening. "Exactly!"
"What?"
She pushed out of her chair, pacing in front of him with sudden enthusiasm. "I think we should start a school. Once we've got the children enrolled, then we can focus on the women. We should give them pigs or goats or something."
"The children?” he managed. "You want to give goats and pigs to children?"
She spun back toward him, her loose hair spilling over her shoulders. "No, silly. The women. But first we should handle the kids."
James shook his head, knowing her madness a direct result of his attentions. And yet, he did not know how to address the situation. The best he could do was ride out her spell and hope she returned to lucidity soon. He reached for his brandy as she resumed pacing.
"Do you know those people actually blame Margaret for losing their jobs?"
"Yes, I know." He'd tried to explain it to them. The timing was the merest coincidence. But somehow Margaret's arrival and the changes at the mines were inextricably mixed in the villagers' minds.
"James! How can you let them think that?"
He sighed. "It is not a question of me allowing them to think anything. They chose who they wish to blame, and nothing I say changes that."
Carolly shook her head. "But she's just a child."
"I realize that."
"How can they be so stupid?”
He merely shrugged. He had no answers for the oddities of the human mind, as evidenced by his spectacular blunders with her. She was speaking so quickly, he doubted even she fully understood what she was saying.
"Well, you've got to do something. This can't go on."
James let his brandy glass dangle from his fingertips and stared out the window. "Things were awkward, but not untenable until recently. Two years of bad crops have escalated the tension."
She tugged at her hair, clearly deep in thought. "Mining's horrible, but it's still a job. What we need to do is find the women and children something else, some way to replace their lost income. Something like farming."
He shook his head. "They are farming. But the yields have been poor."
She pursed her lips. "Okay, something for the children. The boys could apprentice with the blacksmith or as stable hands. The girls could learn sewing or become maids."
"I have already hired a blacksmith I do not need. The maids are so plentiful I trip over them, and I have more stable boys than I do horses."
She turned to him, her face aglow with an odd sort of joy. "And here I thought you were being ostentatious."
He shifted, lifting his chin. "I am merely ensuring a well-run household."
"So much so you can't stand it."
He sifted, knowing she could read the truth in his face. "I do prefer a less crowded household."
She smiled. "Can you send any of them off to other homes? Sort of farm them out to your friends?”
He shook his head. "My friends have all the servants they need."
"Hmmm." She frowned as she resumed pacing. "Guess we're back to pigs and school."
"I beg your pardon?”
"All those people you fired, you need to train them, right? Teach them another trade that will earn a living."
"We ate speaking of women and children."
She waved that thought aside as if it had no bearing on the situation. "Well, the children ought to be in school. As for the women, there must be lots of things they can do. That's what I meant about pigs or goats. Raising animals is something they can handle at home, at least until we can set up a working day-care."
"Working day what?" He stared at her, unsure whether she jested or was merely insane. Either way, he could not process her bizarre comments. "Pigs?"
"Never mind that," she said, her movements becoming more animated. "The first thing we should do is start a school."
He sighed. Truth be told, he had thought of that. "But it will not recompense anyone for lost income."
Carolly turned and stared at him. "We pay them to go to school."
"We what?"
"Well, that's the only way."
He gaped at her, knowing she was completely mad. "I should pay children for the privilege of going to school?”
"Well, of course. Eventually, people will see the value of an education all on their own. In my time, people will end up paying exorbitant sums to go to school. But we've got to get the first couple generations there first."
"Generations? You want me to pay for generations of schooling?"
She nodded, then gave him a mischievous wink. "Just look at it as an investment. A long, long, long-term investment."
He folded his arms over his chest, the first glimmerings of amusement stirring within him. "And just where am I supposed to get all this money to pay people to educate themselves?”
She shrugged. "You're an earl, aren't you? Rich enough to buy a good portion of the world, I shouldn't wonder.
His gaze shifted to the fire. "But I certainly do not intend to squander it—"
"It's not squandering. It's—"
"Investing," he interrupted grimly. "A long-term investment with no expected return."
"An investment in the future."
He threw up his hands, amazed by her audacity. "I should have made you my mistress," he commented ruefully. "At least a mistress only demands a few baubles every month or so. You want to beggar me for generations."
She grinned. "Yes, but think of the happy, non-violent children you'll be raising."
"I certainly do not—"
"Now, as for the women . . ." Carolly continued, tapping her finger on her lips as she thought. "Is pig farming truly feasible? What we need is a high-yield animal that requires little space." She glanced over at him. "I assume there's no way to find them all a small plot of land."
"You assume correctly."
She suddenly brightened. "What about rabbits?"
"Rabbits?"
“Yes! They breed like . . . well, rabbits. And they're cute. Maybe you could import some Angora bunnies." She trailed a finger across her cheek, her expression dreamy. "It's the softest material this side of heaven."
He frowned, trying not to be distracted by the enchanting sight she presented. "Carolly, we eat rabbits."
She grimaced. "Well, of course you do. But not if you're breeding them for their hair."
He shook his head. "Carolly, can you not strive to return to lucidity? Please?"
"All right, so maybe rabbits aren't a good idea. But you didn't like pigs. Sheep and cows require a lot of room. . . What about bees?"
"Bees?"
"Nah, too dangerous. Hard to be a good beekeeper with a toddler running around. Guess that makes it rabbits." She plopped down on the arm of her chair and leaned toward him. "So, how do you go about getting a bunch of Angora bunnies?”
"I think I need another brandy," James muttered, standing abruptly. Then he looked at her, seeing not only her beauty, but also her madness. There were times he truly believed her sane, her angel nonsense nothing more than an active imagination.
Then came times like this. Bees and pigs and bunny hair, indeed. Obviously, he was not helping her, and his defeat weighed on him all the more painfully because of the echo to Danny. He could not bear to lose another soul to madness, and certainly not Carolly. The very thought cut him to the core.
His best option was a strategic retreat. Perhaps alone, away from his disturbing presence, Carolly would return to a more rational state. And, hopefully, with distance, James would be able to view her more objectively, more rationally, without the constant temptation to touch her.
With a sigh that came from his soul, he bowed deeply to her. "My most sincere apologies for upsetting you. Good night."
Chapter Ten
"She's the oddest woman I have ever met. I honestly do not know what to make of her." James paced the confines of his library, walking first to the cold fire grate, then back to his desk. He barely spared a glance for his cousin and heir, Garrett, who watched h
im placidly, his lean form folded elegantly into the leather chair.
"You have no idea," continued James. "Her conversation hops around from topic to topic in the most hurry-scurry manner." He spun on his heel. "And she has this insane idea about rabbits."
Garrett arched a slightly ragged red eyebrow. "What about them?"
James shook his head. "She wants to breed them for their hair."
"I beg your pardon?"
"That is exactly what I said!" James stopped to pour himself a sherry that he did not drink. "But she is prepared to write to Turkey for these . . . these bunnies, as she calk them."
Garrett dropped his quizzing glass into his lap and stared at James. "Bunnies?"
"It must be some odd expression from the Colonies."
"Then she is from America?"
"I had thought so," confirmed James as he stared into his full glass. "She had an accent when she first arrived, but she seems to be losing it." He took one more turn about the room. "She also wishes me to pay the village children to go to school."
Garrett frowned. "She cannot be serious."
"She certainly is. She claims it will quell their anger over losing their jobs at the mines."
"Ah yes, the mines." Garrett stretched his legs out, forcing James to step over them to continue pacing. "How is the peasantry feeling these days? I understand there was a nasty scene the other day involving Margaret."
James stopped moving to stare at Garrett. "How did you hear about that?"
The younger man shrugged and picked up his quizzing glass, only to toy with the ribbon. "It is only natural that I should keep a close eye on the land I shall one day inherit."
James set his sherry on the mantel with a click, his irritation getting the better of him. "I have not cocked up my toes yet, my boy," he snapped.
Garrett was quick to reassure him, his smile conciliatory. "Of course not. And, with luck, you shall live a long and happy life. I am only taking an interest in my inheritance. Nothing more." He glanced up significantly. "Tell me more about this woman."
James frowned and turned away. "There is little more to say, except that she is determined to find me a wife."
"What presumption!"
"Quite so." He neatly snatched up his sherry and drained the glass. "She wishes to throw me a ball and invite all the eligible women in the area."
Garrett leaned forward, his opinion plain. "Good God, man, you cannot seriously consider it."
"Of course not!" James turned again, only to stare holes in the thick rug. "You know I do not wish leg-shackles. What I want is . . ." His voice trailed away. "I want . . ."
"Her." Garrett's voice was heavy with dread.
"What?"
"Good lord, you want her." Outrage pinched the man's face. Even his red hair seemed to curl in on itself, and his freckles suddenly appeared dark in his pale face. "This madwoman from the Colonies has turned your life upside down, and yet you want her!"
"Do not be ridiculous," James snapped.
"Bed her, man, and be done with it. But for God's sake, do not rivet yourself to her."
"I never said anything about marriage," James exclaimed, as he once again stomped across the room. "I do not even know the woman's family name. I know nothing about her."
"She is clearly not fit to be a countess."
James stopped dead, his body suddenly tense with affront. "Do not be impertinent. You have not even met the woman. She has a fire and a dignity that would make a king proud."
Garrett's response was to bow his head slightly, but his expression was anything but contrite. James cursed silently.
"Perhaps," Garrett began, "I should meet this strange woman of yours."
James shook his head. "She and Margaret are out hunting insects again."
Garrett raised a hand in a foppish gesture of disdain. "Insects? Is that an appropriate pastime for a young girl?"
James shrugged, ignoring his cousin's town mannerisms. "Carolly thinks so, and in truth the girl seems much happier of late. Why, she even laughed at table yesterday."
Garrett's hand dropped to his knee. "Table? Why James, never say you are eating in the nursery."
James looked up from a deep contemplation of his empty glass. "Hmmm? No. We all dine en famille now. Even Miss Hornswallow. Carolly finds it cozier."
"I see."
James glanced at his heir, noting the wealth of meaning instilled in those two words. "You believe she has too much influence in my household." His words were dry, but they had the ring of challenge to them.
"I?” cried Garrett, his expression too innocent. "I can hardly say. I have only just arrived." He smiled as he ran his fingers over his silk waistcoat. "But you seem to believe she does. Why else would you mention it?"
James frowned at the mantel, unsure what he felt or believed. He never seemed capable of straight thinking when it came to Carolly, which is why he'd begun this discussion in the first place. He needed an objective viewpoint. Coming to a quick decision, he turned to his cousin with rare eagerness. "Garrett, do say you shall stay for a few days and meet Carolly."
His heir smiled quickly, the expression warm and genuine. "Why, James, it would be my greatest honor."
***
Carolly felt happy. She wasn't exactly sure why; nothing seemed to be going as it ought. James and Miss Hornswallow were showing absolutely no interest in each other. James still refused to even consider a ball or rabbits or pigs, though she was making some progress toward convincing his steward. She felt practically jailed on the near lands, unable to go anywhere alone, and she couldn't yet start plans for a school.
But at least she and Margaret were getting along. James let them go on excursions whenever they wished, as long as they stayed on the near fields. Margaret laughed much more and together, they had tossed out Miss Hornswallow's idea of an appropriate wardrobe. New clothes arrived daily from the local seamstress. They'd even talked a little about woman things, about marriage and men and the future. But other topics, most notably Mags's parents, were still strictly forbidden. Whenever Carolly even touched on that area, Margaret clammed up, disappearing into a stony silence that reminded Carolly of James in high dudgeon.
In short, nothing was working according to plan. And yet, Carolly felt immensely happy. So happy, in fact, that she and Margaret were singing. Too bad neither of them could carry a tune.
They were halfway through their own peculiar version of "Greensleeves," renamed to "Green slop," when they burst in the back door, almost bowling over a frowning James. His presence was so unexpected Carolly nearly choked on the word "gangrene" while Margaret blushed a fiery red and tried to shrink into the background.
James simply checked his watch, his expression stern. "You are late."
"Late? For a very important date," Carolly quipped, feeling too good to be cowed by his dark countenance.
His frown deepened. "Madame—"
"Guess what. I remembered my last name today."
He stopped, his mouth half open. "Truly? What is it?"
She grinned. "It's Hans . . ." She frowned. "It's Han . . ."
"Hands?"
"No, no. Two syllables. I just had it. Criminy," she said, stomping her foot in irritation. "I can't believe it's gone again."
"Hanson," piped up Margaret from beside her. "Remember? We were talking about the carriages in London."
"Hansom?” James asked.
Margaret shook her head. "H-a-n-s-o-n. She spelled it for me."
Carolly frowned, frustrated beyond words. Why couldn't she remember the simplest thing?
"Ah," said someone from further down the hallway. "I thought I heard voices."
"I believe they thought they were singing," joked James.
"And such lovely songbirds they are," returned a tall red-haired man as he sauntered amiably over to join them.
"Cousin Garrett," breathed Margaret, shy awe infusing her voice.
Carolly turned slightly, her thoughts distracted as she heard the clear note o
f hero worship. Sure enough, Mags's eyes were wide with that desperate adoration peculiar to young girls on the verge of their first puppy love, and Carolly smiled fondly at the sight.
Then she shifted her attention to the object of Margaret's affections. Cousin Garrett was tall and angular, with the stub nose and freckles James had once mentioned. Fortunately for his looks, his face was already softening with the fat of good living. It gave him a boyish appeal that women of all centuries would appreciate—especially impressionable young girls. No wonder Margaret was practically swooning.
"Good evening, sir," Carolly said, giving the gentleman her best curtsy. "I hope our merriment did not disturb you."
"Of course not," Garrett responded, his hazel eyes twinkling. "The sound of a woman's laughter can never offend."
"You are most kind," Carolly responded with a demure nod. But as she moved, she noticed James's stunned expression. He obviously had not thought she could act so mannerly. Come to think of it, she hadn't realized she could either. Still, she was unable to resist teasing just a little. She turned and gave him an impudent wink. "I cannot be crass and boorish all the time, my lord. And certainly not around such a charming guest."
James stiffened slightly, and Carolly could see the beginnings of a frown, but Garrett was speaking, demanding her attention.
"As no one here seems willing to do so, I fear I must introduce myself. I cannot wait a moment longer to greet you. Garrett Northram, ma'am." The man executed a dashing bow, then lifted her hand to his lips.
Carolly flushed as his fingers caressed her palm, flustered by such elegance. "I'm Carolly H-something," she returned, forgetting to retrieve her hand. "And you, sir, are a flirt."
"Ah, you have found me out." His gaze was warm as he studied her face. "But I can hardly resist when presented with such a vision of loveliness."
Carolly laughed. She couldn't help it. His compliments were so effusive, so blatant, he reminded her of an old movie of the king's court where gentlemen were the epitome of charm and elegance even as they hatched nefarious plots. Still, she found him hard to resist when he made her the focus of such overwhelming attention. She responded in kind, taking his arm as he escorted her into the front salon, chatting away as if they were old friends.
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