The American Earl

by Joan Wolf

  Aunt Barbara and I went back and forth for another half an hour on this topic, but, since she couldn’t tie me up and carry me out of the house, I won. As she swept out in high dudgeon to return to her own respectable household, her final words were: “When you’re hungry enough, send me word and I’ll come and get you.”

  “She doesn’t really want me,” I said to Maria. “She’d take you happily, but she and I dislike each other intensely.”

  “I didn’t want to go either,” Maria said.

  “Are you certain?” I asked, looking intently into her eyes.

  “Yes.” Maria grinned. “You’re much more fun than Aunt Barbara, Julia.”

  I laughed and hugged her, but the thought of Aunt Barbara’s last words was chilling. Where was I to find enough money for us to live on?

  Chapter Three

  I imposed an even stricter regimen than we had been following. We cut further back on coal consumption and went to bed early to save on candles.

  Sir William Hartly, our Master of Fox Hounds and my best friend, sent us hams and haunches of venison. Maria kept chickens so we could have eggs. We were cold and often hungry, but we were still at Stoverton.

  Then, two months after my father died, I received a visit from Mr. Shields. We sat in the library and he told me he had thought further about our situation and decided it would be appropriate to advance me an allowance from what was left in Papa’s personal account.

  I was hugely surprised. He had made such a point of not being able to do anything until he heard from the new earl. When I queried him on this, he looked uncomfortable.

  “I…er…decided that the earl would not like it if his cousins were left penniless and the house was not attended to. Isn’t a munificent amount, Lady Julia, but it will enable you to remain here at Stoverton with a degree of comfort.”

  “How much?” I asked baldly.

  When he told me, I blinked. “That’s much more money than the allowance I received from my father. Are you certain about this, Mr. Shields?”

  He got that uncomfortable look on his face again and said that yes, he was certain. And he gave me the allowance money for the last two months as well as the next one!

  When I imparted this news to Maria and Flora, they were ecstatic. Truthfully, I had been afraid that Flora wasn’t going to stick it out with us, and if she left I didn’t know what would happen. Without Flora, Aunt Barbara would have legal cause to remove us – and I knew she would use it.

  But now I could buy enough coal to heat several rooms in the house and Mrs. Pierce, our cook, could order food from the grocer in town. Maria and Flora were happy and I was ecstatic. I hoped the new earl would never come.

  * * * *

  On April 11 Napoleon abdicated and the war with France was over. The war with America dragged on, however, and still we didn’t hear from Evan Marshall. In August, we learned that negotiations for a peace treaty between Great Britain and the United States had begun in Ghent. Part of me was happy that no more men would be killed, but I must admit that part of me regretted the ending of a war that suited my purposes so well.

  In November, the negotiators in Ghent announced they were close to an agreement. Shortly after this notice appeared in the papers, Mr. Shields drove out to Stoverton bringing with him the inevitable but unwelcome news.

  I had just come back from a most satisfactory hunt and was still in my riding clothes when the solicitor’s coach pulled up at our front door. I invited him into the library, which was warm and comfortable thanks to the allowance he sent me faithfully every month. Maria and Cousin Flora were sitting at one of the two big desks doing schoolwork when we came in; I couldn’t see the point of heating the schoolroom when they could work in here. I used the other desk to keep the household accounts.

  “Come and sit by the fire,” I invited the solicitor. It was a cold, damp day and the poor man looked frozen.

  “Goodness,” Cousin Flora said, coming to greet the visitor. “What brings you here on such an ugly day, Mr. Shields?”

  “I have received a letter from the new earl,” he said, going to stand in front of the fire and hold out his hands out to the heat.

  I offered Mr. Shields some tea, delaying the dread moment for as long as I could. He accepted gratefully and I dashed off to the kitchen. Mrs. Pierce and Lucy, our only remaining maid, were sitting in front of the fire sewing when I came in. Lucy jumped up to put the tea on and Mrs. Pierce opened the cupboards to see what she might offer a guest.

  “Will you bring it, Lucy, when it’s ready?” I asked.

  “Of course, Lady Julia.”

  Lucy was Mrs. Pierce’s granddaughter and I had taken her in when her mother ran off with a man from the village leaving the child behind. Lucy had been only nine when it happened, but I had told Mrs. Pierce that she could live at Stoverton. I solved the problem of my mother’s certain disapproval by simply not telling her. My good deed had been rewarded because Mrs. Pierce was fiercely loyal to me and wouldn’t think of leaving. Nor would Lucy. That’s why we still had a cook and a maid.

  I went back upstairs and announced that the tea was coming. Mr. Shields peeled himself away from the fire and came to sit on one of the sofas that flanked it. I sat next to him and gestured for Maria and Cousin Flora to join us.

  We talked about the weather, always a favorite topic of the English, until Lucy came in with the tea tray.

  Cousin Flora poured the tea and we all sat back, teacups in hand, and stared at Mr. Shields.

  “Well?” I asked. “What did this Evan Marshall have to say?”

  “He acknowledged that he had received my second letter and was planning to take ship from Boston. He expects to reach us sometime in February.”

  I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until I let it out. “Well, I suppose it’s inevitable,” I said glumly. “He has to come sometime.”

  Mr. Shields put his teacup on the table and looked at me. “There is something else I need to speak to you about, Lady Julia. I have been going over the late earl’s finances, and I think that I should put you in possession of some information before the new earl arrives.”

  This sounded ominous.

  Next Mr. Shields looked meaningfully at Maria then back to me. “Perhaps we could be private?”

  I said, “Maria can listen to what you have to say, Mr. Shields.”

  “Are you sure, Julia?” Cousin Flora said nervously. Clearly she thought the report was ominous too.

  “Do you want to stay?” I asked my sister. “It’s obviously not good news.”

  She nodded definitively. “Yes. Whatever Mr. Shields has to say, it will affect me too.”

  I turned back to Mr. Shields and lifted an eyebrow.

  The solicitor sighed. “Very well. First let me give you some information about the new earl. Evan Marshall is, as you know, the son of your father’s younger brother, Thomas. Thomas went to America when he was quite young and did very well for himself. He settled first in Boston and then moved to Salem, a city on the Atlantic coast just north of Boston.”

  He took another sip of his tea.

  Cousin Flora said, “I remember Tommy very well. A delightful boy.”

  Too bad it wasn’t Tommy we were dealing with.

  Mr. Shields said, “He did so well that when he died he left a shipping business worth millions of dollars to his two children, his son Evan and his daughter Frances.”

  My eyes nearly popped from my head. “Millions?”

  “Yes, Lady Julia.”

  This was the first good news I had heard since finding my father.

  Maria said, “Do you think he will want to live here, in England?”

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Shields replied. “His letter was rather terse. I must say he didn’t sound happy about his new title and responsibilities. These Americans, you know, are an independent lot.”

  These words cheered me immensely. If he didn’t want to be an earl, then he’d go home, I thought. Perfect.

 
; Mr. Shields cleared this throat. “Lady Julia, I regret that I must also tell you that your father’s personal debts are far greater than any of us anticipated. In fact, he has left debts that – as far as I have calculated – amount to almost half a million pounds.”

  Maria gasped. Cousin Flora almost dropped her teacup. The three of us stared in horror at Mr. Shields.

  He went on, his bulldog face looking immensely sad. “There is no money left in the estate account and very little in the earl’s private banking account.”

  “Then where are you getting the money you have been sending me?” I demanded.

  That peculiar look came over his face again. “I have taken it from what was left in his personal account.”

  Something about this didn’t sound right, but I didn’t want the allowance to stop so I dropped the subject.

  Maria asked, her voice sounding breathless, “What is going to happen to us, Mr. Shields?”

  He said, “That will be up to the new earl, Lady Maria. You and your sister are now under his guardianship.”

  “His guardianship?” I glared at the solicitor. “I’m eighteen years of age. I don’t need a guardian.”

  He looked at me steadily. “Under the law, you do, Lady Julia. The earl will take the place of your father until you marry.”

  I was so agitated that I jumped to my feet and began to pace up and down the big room. “Did my father lose all this money gambling? How could that be possible? Why would people gamble with him when they must have known he was a pauper?”

  “I don’t know, Lady Julia.” Poor Mr. Shields looked wretched. “I am going to suggest that the new earl get an accountant to go through all the accounts and credit demands to see if he can make sense of what has happened.”

  The new earl. He probably thinks he’s walking into another fortune. What will he do when he discovers the truth?

  Cousin Flora said, “The art in this house is worth a fortune, Mr. Shields. Could not some of it be sold?”

  My immediate reaction was negative. Sell off our art? The fabulous collection of paintings my ancestors had acquired over the centuries? It was part of Stoverton, part of what made Stoverton the treasure it was.

  I pinched my lips together to keep from protesting. I certainly hadn’t any other suggestions to make.

  Mr. Shields said, “The entail includes all of the house furnishings, Miss Remington. Stoverton and everything in it does not really belong to the earl, as you must know. He is only holding it in trust for the next generation. Even if he wanted to, the new earl could not sell any of the art or furniture or beautiful objects that belong to the house. He must keep them in trust for his son.”

  Relief surged through me that my home wasn’t going to be denuded and I returned to the sofa. “So we must just wait for this American to arrive and see what he will do?”

  “I am afraid so, Lady Julia,” Mr. Shields agreed. He pulled at the roll of flesh on his chin and sighed. “I am afraid so.”

  Chapter Four

  On December 24, 1814, the Treaty of Ghent was signed, officially ending the war between Great Britain and the United States. Six weeks later, I received a letter from Mr. Shields informing me that the new earl had arrived in London. The solicitor planned to bring him out to Stoverton in a week’s time, so he suggested we prepare to receive him.

  I read between the lines of this missive and realized I had better open up some more rooms before the earl arrived. The entire castle wing of the house had been shut up for years, but in the family wing I decided to open the drawing room, the large dining room, and the earl’s bedroom. We had been living mainly in the morning room, the library and the small dining room since my allowance had started.

  I delegated the cleaning, assigning one room to myself, one to Maria and one to Lucy. Mrs. Pierce cleaned all the precious dishes and silverware that hadn’t been used since my mother’s death, and she and I consulted on menus so she could order the proper food from the village. Cousin Flora tried to do something about our clothes.

  I started in the drawing room by pulling the holland covers off the furniture and piling them in a corner. I had a dust rag in my hand but before I went to work I stopped to regard the picture that hung over the marble mantelpiece. It was a portrait of the first earl, Philip Marshall, who had been my hero since I was a child. He was one of Queen Elizabeth’s favored courtiers, a soldier, a statesman and a poet. Looking at him now, with the Elizabethan ruff framing his handsome blond head and clear blue eyes, I smiled. In truth, I adored Philip Marshall. There was a book of his poetry in the library, and I knew it all by heart. It was he who had first turned Stoverton from a fortified manor into a magnificent country house.

  It had always annoyed me that I hadn’t inherited his coloring. Maria was a perfect Marshall: blue eyes, golden hair, tall and slender. I wasn’t tall, my hair was black and my eyes gray. My mother always said I got my looks from her side of the family, and I had always thought it horribly unfair that I, who loved Stoverton more than anyone else, was the one who didn’t look like a Marshall.

  We worked like slaves and by the time the new earl was due to arrive I thought the rooms looked impressive enough to humble an American millionaire. The drawing room was particularly beautiful, with its marble fireplace, tall windows and magnificent gilt-framed mirror hanging over an Italian sideboard. I had dusted the painted ceiling, climbing a very high ladder to reach it. I had also dusted and polished all the furniture and arranged the chairs, which usually stood against the wall, in a circle before the fireplace, making the picture of the first earl the centerpiece of the room.

  On the day the new earl and Mr. Shields were to arrive, Maria and I dressed in our best frocks. I had refused to spend the precious allowance money on clothes when there was so much else that needed work in the house and on the farms, so we didn’t exactly present a picture of elegance. In fact, the only presentable dresses we owned were the ones that Aunt Barbara had ordered for Papa’s funeral. We might have looked gloomy, but at least the dresses fit.

  Mr. Shields and his companion arrived at Stoverton’s front door a few minutes before noon. Lucy, dressed in a maid’s uniform Mrs. Pierce had unearthed from somewhere, answered the door and brought them to the drawing room, where Maria, Cousin Flora and I had arranged ourselves to greet them.

  My heart was hammering as the wide door opened and Lucy said, as she had been instructed, “His Lordship, the Earl of Althorpe and Mr. John Shields.”

  The American walked into the room and stopped in a shaft of sunlight from the window. I stared, utterly stunned by what I was seeing.

  He was tall and broad-shouldered, his hair was a thick, silvery blond, his features were chiseled and his eyes a clear, absolute blue. He was the living image of the first earl, Philip Marshall, whose portrait hung over the mantelpiece. The only difference between them was that Philip’s hair was a slightly darker blond.

  We stood and he came forward to shake hands. I offered mine, looked up into those intensely blue eyes, and managed to mutter something I hoped was polite. My heart was racing. How could this be? How could this American be the living embodiment of my Philip?

  He next offered his hand to Maria, who said, “But you’re the image of the first earl! Look – his picture is hanging right over the fireplace.”

  She pointed and his eyes followed her finger. “See.” Maria said. “The resemblance is amazing.”

  “It certainly is,” he said slowly, staring at the picture. His voice was deep and crisp, his accent different from ours. “This was the first earl, you say?”

  “Yes, Maria said. “He was a famous Elizabethan soldier and courtier. Queen Elizabeth loved him so much she made him an earl.”

  “It certainly is extraordinary,” he said, not looking overly happy about the resemblance.

  Cousin Flora said comfortably, “Come and sit down, my lord. I have sent for tea.”

  He seated himself on one of the elegant gilt chairs I had arranged. He was a big man and s
hifted a little on the seat, trying to make himself comfortable. His eyes were still on the portrait.

  “It’s like looking in a mirror.” His thick silvery brows were drawn together. “It’s a little unnerving, actually.”

  Cousin Flora said, “There has always been a strong likeness among the Marshalls. I remember that your father was blond and blue-eyed too.”

  “Yes, he was. And my sister is as well.”

  The American pulled his eyes away from the portrait and looked at Maria and me. His face was grave as he said, “I deeply regret the tragedy that has brought me to England, but I am pleased to meet my new cousins.”

  Maria smiled eagerly. “Thank you, my lord. We are happy to meet you as well.”

  He smiled back. The smile made him look even more spectacular. “My name is Evan, Maria.” His eyes passed over the three of us, and his smile deepened. “Please, I beg of you, don’t call me by a title. We don’t believe in aristocracy at home and it makes me extremely uncomfortable.”

  This could be good news. If he didn’t like aristocracy he wouldn’t want to remain in England for very long.

  “Would you gentlemen care for a light luncheon?” Cousin Flora asked the earl and solicitor. “We are ready to serve if it pleases you.”

  “It pleases me very much. I’m starving,” the earl said, gracing us once more with a smile. I suspected he got a lot of use out of that smile, but it didn’t impress me. He was still an American, a citizen of the country that had killed my brother – who should be the one inheriting Stoverton instead of this interloper.

  I led everyone into the small dining room where the table had been set with the two hundred year old silver, and the Sevres china a countess had brought back from France during the reign of Louis the Fifteenth. I had ordered the best we had quite deliberately. I wanted this American to know what it was like to have such beautiful old things.

  Lucy brought out a fish soup and we all lifted our spoons.

  The meal was pleasant enough. I couldn’t be openly rude and call the American by his title since he had asked us not to, so I didn’t call him anything. Maria, on the other hand, chattered away, using his Christian name with as much freedom as if she had known him forever.