by Joan Wolf
His blue eyes held mine steadily. “Yes, I did. I had my own ship, the Bonny Jean.”
“So you were a privateer then, not in your country’s navy?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever sail in the Channel?”
He replied in a level voice, “No. Most of my prizes came from the Caribbean.”
My back was ramrod straight as I glared at him. “Those ‘prizes’ you speak of were non-combatant merchant ships, not ships of war. It was an act of cowardice to attack them.”
“Julia!” I heard Flora say warningly.
Evan glared back at me.
“There wouldn’t have been a war if your government had not continuously stopped American merchant ships and impressed our seaman – most of whom were American citizens – into your navy.”
I opened my mouth to reply but he wasn’t finished. “You may be upset that American ships were in the Channel, but your troops marched into Washington City - our country’s capital - and burned it to the ground!”
I kept on glaring, furious that I couldn’t think of anything to say. Then the fire in his eyes went out and he looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Julia. I’m sorry about your brother. Believe me, I would much rather it was he who was responsible for Stoverton than I.”
I nodded and mumbled something indistinguishable in reply.
Cousin Flora said hurriedly, “What does your wife think about all this, Evan?”
“Not much, I’m afraid; I don’t have a wife. I haven’t been home long enough in the past few years to impress any girl.”
I didn’t believe him for a minute. He was a stunning looking man. The girls must have been all over him.
Cousin Flora’s eyes widened. “Perhaps you will meet a girl in England who will take your fancy.”
She shot a quick look at me.
Evan said, “I don’t think so, ma’am.”
I didn’t think so either. What girl in her right mind would want to go and live in America?
Chapter Six
The following morning, Mr. Shields, Evan and I sat around the library desk where I kept the estate’s accounts. Evan was dressed casually in a riding jacket and trousers while I wore my usual house garb, an old blue wool dress that was both comfortable and warm. Mr. Shields was by far the best-dressed person in the room.
Mr. Shields opened the meeting. “I didn’t get a chance to go over very much with you while you were in London, my lord, so I am afraid you will be unpleasantly surprised at what you are about to hear.”
Evan said, “I’m sorry I was so short of time, but I was tied up with Mr. Adams, the American Minister. However, I’ve only to look around this house to guess that the earl didn’t leave much in the way of money.”
“You guess correctly, my lord. Let me apprise you of the situation.”
Mr. Shields began to talk. I knew most of what he was going to say, but it was news to Evan. He was looking stunned by the time Mr. Shields finished.
He said, “Could no one have stopped my uncle from this destructive course?”
“Once his agent left, he was able to keep the amount of his debts a secret. My firm knew he was in trouble, but we never suspected anything as bad as this.”
Disbelief was stark on Evan’s face. “It’s almost inconceivable to me that one man could go through so much money.”
He was sitting directly in the shaft of thin winter sunlight coming through the window and I noticed how his hair shone like spun silver.
I still got a jolt when I looked at him, he was so like my Philip: the strong sculpted cheekbones, the straight nose, the firm mouth, the blue Marshall eyes. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
I dragged my attention back to the conversation. Evan was saying, “To sum up, the estate account, which should support the earl and his family, is empty, and my uncle has left personal debts of half a million pounds.”
“Yes, my lord,” Mr. Shields said. “I am sorry to break this news to you, but that is how your finances stand at the moment.”
Evan turned to me, a thin line between his brows. “Julia, how have you been able to keep this house going if there were no funds available?”
“Mr. Shields has been sending me a monthly allowance from what was left in my father’s personal account, which enabled me to pay for coal and groceries and give a salary to Mrs. Pierce, our cook, our maid, Lucy, and Toby, our groom. I was also able to buy hay and grain for the horses.”
“Was there no one else in the Marshall family to come to your rescue? To take in you and Maria?”
This was a delicate question. Ignoring Aunt Barbara’s offer, I said, “I’m afraid not. My father had borrowed from everyone, you see, and was exceedingly unpopular with the family.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why should your father’s behavior reflect upon you?”
Fortunately, Mr Shields was anxious to get back to the main topic of our meeting. “In addition to his late lordship’s personal debts there are several other demands on the estate I must mention, my lord.”
“More debts?” Evan asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
Mr. Shields looked unhappy. “It’s more like a failure of responsibility, my lord. The retired servants have not been receiving their pensions.”
I felt stabbed to the heart. “Dear God, Mr. Shields. Nanny? William Coachman? Mrs. Henley, our old housekeeper? They haven’t been getting their pensions?”
“I’m afraid not, Lady Julia.”
Evan said, “You will have to explain this to me, Mr. Shields. The earl pays pensions to his servants when they retire?”
“All the great aristocratic families do so, my lord. Not every servant, of course, but people who have been with the family for almost an entire life-time receive a pension.”
“So that is an additional cost upon the estate?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Why are they not able to save for their own old age?” Evan’s voice was reasonable.
“They don’t make enough money, my lord.” Shields said.
Evan turned to me. “How much do you pay your servants, Julia?”
“Do you mean how much I am paying Cook and Lucy now, or how much should they be paid?
“How much is the usual sum to pay a servant in this country?”
I told him.
His eyes shot sapphire sparks. “I pay my cook and housekeeper three times that amount. And they get a quarter of a year’s salary at Christmas. No wonder your servants can’t save any money. They’re paid like paupers!”
I flushed with anger. Who was this colonial to criticize us? “I can assure you that English servants are treated very well. They have their own rooms, new uniforms every year, and a half-day off a week!”
“If this was America you wouldn’t be able to hire anyone under those conditions,” he retorted.
“At least we pay them something! And they’re free to leave when they want. We don’t have slaves here, my lord, like you do in your precious country.”
His face grew very grim. “Slavery exists mostly in the south, and we are working to get rid of it. I personally would never own a slave.”
“Good for you,” I said nastily.
Mr. Shields cleared his throat, and after a few seconds we broke eye contact and looked back at the solicitor. He said, “There is more than just the pensions to worry about, my lord.”
Evan’s jaw set. “Go on.”
“I regret to tell you, my lord, that your late uncle also took the money that had been set aside for his daughter’s dowries. Lady Julia and Lady Maria have been left with nothing.”
Mr. Shields hadn’t told me this. I looked down at the table and a chill ran down my spine. Maria and I had been ‘left with nothing?’ My father had killed himself and thrown us on the mercy of this American he had never even met. If my father wasn’t already dead, I would have killed him myself right there and then.
Evan avoided looking at me, which I appreciated. It’s not easy to realize you are totally dependent
on someone you don’t even know. I put my hands in my lap and clenched them together.
Evan said, “So my uncle committed suicide because he couldn’t see a way out of his financial problems and decided to dump them on me.”
Neither Mr. Shields nor I said anything. The answer was obvious to us all.
“And I can’t sell Stoverton because of this entail?”
“That is right my lord.”
“Wonderful,” Evan muttered. “What about all the paintings and the other priceless statues and stuff that Julia showed me. Can I sell them?”
“I am afraid not, my lord,” Shields answered regretfully. “The entail includes the house and all its contents.”
“What about selling off some of the land?”
I was almost breathless with terror as I answered, “The land is our only source of income, Evan! Any business shares Papa might have had are long gone. The money that comes in from the home farm as well as the tenants is what we have always lived on.”
Mr. Shields backed me up. “Lady Julia is correct, my lord. The Marshalls have always been richer in land than in money, but the land has always enabled them to live comfortably up to the standards of their class.”
Evan’s frustration let itself out in a long release of air. “Is there nothing I can do to raise money?”
Mr. Shields’ mouth curved in a thin smile. “There is some good news, my lord. The late earl never mortgaged Stoverton. I suggest you raise money by taking out a mortgage on the estate.”
“A mortgage!” My voice squeaked in horror. “No Marshall would ever mortgage Stoverton! Not even Papa stooped as low as that.”
Blue eyes bored into mine. “Then how do you suggest I find the money to pay off your father’s debts, Julia?”
I stuck up my chin and said boldly, “You have a lot of money, Evan. Think of all those Caribbean prizes you stole from English merchants. You could use them to save Stoverton.”
His eyes hardened. “I am rich, but when I invest my money, I expect to get a good return on it. I don’t think that Stoverton will do that for me.”
“Stoverton will be the best return you could ever get for your money!” I spoke with all the passion that was in me. “It’s ancient, historic and beautiful. It’s filled with the civilization of centuries. And it has been your family’s home for five long centuries. Your roots are here, Evan. Surely that is worth more than an accumulation of money in the bank?”
“My roots aren’t here, Julia,” said this American usurper. “My roots are in Salem, Massachusetts. And when I spend money on a beautiful ship, I expect to earn money from that ship. And I do. I earn a great deal of money. Stoverton isn’t going to earn me any money, it’s only going to cost me.”
He sounded like a cit, I thought disdainfully. A middle-class, money-grubbing cit.
I said, “Making money for it’s own sake is worth nothing. Money is only valuable if it gives you a quality of life worth living.”
“I think my life is worth living, thank you,” he said between his teeth.
“My lord, Lady Julia,” Mr. Shields bleated. “Can we turn our thoughts back to the subject of our meeting?”
“Yes.” Evan pushed back his chair as if he was about to rise. “I have opened an account at Barings Bank in London. I will authorize you to draw on it, Mr. Shields, to see that all of the pensions to retired servants are paid. Back to when they were stopped, of course. And hire some more servants. This enormous building needs more attention than it has been getting. Oh, and double the servants’ usual wages. I am not the sort of man who takes advantage of the people who work for me.”
He stood up and looked down at me. “I believe you were going to show me around the estate, Julia.”
I looked at him standing there in all his male beauty, a perfect Marshall come to life, and I wished he would go back to America and never return to England again.
Chapter Seven
I changed clothes for my ride with Evan and told Toby to saddle up Baron with my father’s old saddle. I threw my sidesaddle on Isabella and had just finished tightening the girth when Evan walked into the stable yard. He was dressed in the coat he had worn for the meeting and fawn colored riding breeches. The breeches were cut too loosely, and his boots were too short. He was a man who traveled on boats and was probably not much of a rider. I thought it was a good thing that Baron was old and quiet.
My own riding clothes weren’t fashionable either, but I wasn’t a millionaire. I wore a warm red wool jacket over the riding skirt that had seen me through many a hunt. My boots were old, but I kept them polished.
I introduced Toby to Evan and to Toby’s great surprise, Evan shook his hand. Toby said, “This here is your horse, my lord. He’s a good lad. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
Clearly Toby had summed up Evan’s riding ability the same way I had.
Evan walked up to Baron, patted his nose and said, “Hello there, fellow.” Then he offered Baron some sugar.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
“I stopped by the kitchen and asked for it. Mrs. Pierce unearthed some from a back cupboard.” He smiled at Toby. “And you are in charge of the stables?”
“Taught Lady Julia to ride, I did,” Toby replied proudly. “But don’t let her tell you I’m in charge of the stable, my lord. Lady Julia runs things here. She has since she was just a mite.”
“I can believe that,” Evan said.
I gave him a suspicious look.
He walked around Baron and put his foot in the stirrup.
“Here, my lord, we have a mounting block,” Toby said.
“That’s all right,” Evan replied and swung easily up into the saddle.
It was immediately apparent that the stirrups were too short and he took his feet out of them and began to lengthen the leathers. Toby hurried to assist him.
I swung up into my own saddle and waited until Evan’s stirrups had been adjusted to suit him. Then I nudged Isabella and began to walk away from the stable. As Evan joined me, I was surprised to see how comfortable he looked in the saddle. Perhaps he wasn’t such a bad rider after all. I decided to take him first through the park, which stretched for miles behind the house.
“What a beautiful mare,” Evan said, his eyes running over Isabella’s satiny bay coat. “A Thoroughbred?”
“Yes.” I adjusted the reins with my gloved fingers. “She was bred to race but wasn’t fast enough. That’s the reason I was able to get her. She’s a wonderful hunter, though. She’ll go over any jump no matter how wide or high it may be.”
He looked surprised “You hunt?”
“Yes.” I glanced at him. “How about you? Do you hunt, Evan?”
He gave me an easy smile. “We don’t do much hunting in Massachusetts. We use horses to get us where we want to go. I did ride out with a hunt once, though, in Virginia. They’re great horse lovers down there. They breed and race thoroughbreds, like you do over here.”
“I love hunting more than anything,” I confessed. “Did you like it?”
He shot me a rueful look. “I have never been so terrified in my life.”
My eyes widened. The men I knew would never admit to being frightened. “Did you fall off?”
He laughed. “I was far too frightened to fall off. I just hung onto my horse’s mane and prayed.”
I pictured the scene in my mind and smiled.
He said, “My sister has hunted though. My brother in law is originally from Virginia and she’s spent some time down there visiting. They don’t usually let women hunt, but Frances is a determined woman. She loved it.”
“Women don’t usually hunt here either. Not seriously, at least. They dress up in riding habits and ride along for a mile or so. Then they go back home.”
“But you’re not like that,” he said.
“No.”
We had entered the park by now, with its rolling acres of grass and trees and bridle paths. We even had an ornamental lake.
I was curious
about this sister of Evan’s and asked, “Is your sister older than you or younger?”
“She’s two years older. We were always close as children and now she’s my partner in the shipping business.”
“Partner? You mean she owns it with you?”
“Yes. And because I’ve been away so much, she’s the one who runs it.”
“By herself?”
“Her husband works with her. He’s a smart man, John. I like him, even though he’s from Virginia.”
I look up at him, squinting a little in the sun. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“Not at all. I’m twenty-seven.”
“Will you take up the business when you go home again?” I asked. “Or do you plan to remain in England?”
He looked horrified. “Let us be clear on this, Julia. I do not plan to remain in England. I’ll do my best to straighten things out for you here, but then I’m going home.”
To disguise my glee at this response, I said, “Let’s give the horses a gallop to shake the stiffness out of them,” and took off. I heard Baron’s hoof beats right behind me and we galloped full out along the winding bridle path under the bare winter trees.
* * * *
I took Evan over every inch of the twenty-eight thousand acres that comprise Stoverton. We went through the Home Woods and around the lake. We rode around the extensive farmlands and I introduced him to our tenant farmers and their families. I knew them all, knew the names of their children and the names of their cows and pigs as well. I had been visiting them since I first learned to ride and they all knew how much I wished I could do something to help them.
Evan was friendly and courteous. Most of our tenants were polite but subdued. They didn’t know what to expect from this strange American who now held the power of their livelihoods in his hands.
I explained to Evan as we rode back toward the house that most of our tenants had been farming Stoverton land for a long time. Some of the families had been here for centuries. It was the income from the farms that made up the bulk of our family’s income.
He was quiet for a while, riding Baron on a loose rein as we walked along one of the bridle paths in the woods. I was just going to ask him what he was thinking when he spoke. “Those cottages. Do they belong to the tenants or to the estate?”