The American Earl

by Joan Wolf

  “They belong to the estate, like the land. The tenants pay us to rent them.”

  “Who is responsible for the upkeep of the tenant farms? The tenant or the landlord?”

  I looked straight ahead, between Isabella’s pointed ears. “The landlord,” I said in a small voice.

  “Those cottages are in wretched condition. I wouldn’t house animals in them at home. How was this allowed to happen?”

  “My father never put any money into the estate. He just took the rent money and gambled it away. Surely you got that picture from our meeting with Mr. Shields this morning.”

  He was silent. Finally I looked at him. “I haven’t been collecting rents since my father died. The tenants need what they grow to feed their families.”

  “I know it’s not your fault,” he said. His profile looked set and stern and I thought he would be a hard man to cross.” He glanced at me then went back to looking straight ahead. “I’m going to be honest with you, Julia. This inheritance is a burden I don’t want. I tried to get out of it, but I can’t. Under your law, I am the Earl of Althorpe and am responsible for the lives of people whom a few months ago I never knew existed.”

  “Dear Christ,” he said, “The looks on the faces of those people! Those dreadful cottages!”

  “I know.” My voice was muffled. I was mortified but there was no excuse I could offer.

  “Neglect like that must have started well before your father took over.”

  I looked between Isabella’s ears and didn’t reply.

  The path narrowed and the horses splashed across a stream and scrambled up a small hillside. When we were again able to ride side by side he said, “Those cottages must be completely rebuilt. I can’t have people who work for me living in squalor.”

  “It’s hardly squalor,” I protested weakly.

  He shot me a scornful look. “American workers would never consent to live in such conditions. But American workers have choices about their employment. It seems this is not the case in England.”

  I hated this. I hated the way he kept comparing us to America. It was true that Papa, and my grandfather as well, had been poor custodians of their heritage, but the heritage was still here. Beautiful Stoverton, with its history and its magnificent collection of art, was still here. The spirit of Philip Marshall lived on in every golden stone, every part of the beautiful landscape he had created for his family and his heirs. I had to make Evan understand that beautiful things are worth preserving for their own sake.

  I squared my shoulders and Isabella, anticipating being asked to trot, began to prance. I quieted her and asked, “What do you do with all the money that you make from your ships, Evan?”

  He quirked an eyebrow, as if he didn’t understand me, but he kept facing forward.

  “Do you have a collection of beautiful paintings in your home? A library full of wonderful books? Do you have rooms that are filled with beautiful furniture?” I waved my hand indicating our surroundings. “Do you live in the midst of great natural beauty?”

  He still hadn’t turned to look at me and I continued to stare at his profile. “What do you spend your money on, Evan?”

  I thought I saw a muscle jump in his jaw. “My father bought paintings and books,” he said. But he sounded defensive.

  “And what have you bought?”

  “Ships.”

  “So you can earn more money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look around you,” I said. We had come out of the woods onto the lawn and a small herd of deer was grazing under a clump of oak trees. The sun, which had gone under a cloud, slid once more into the deep blue sky and glinted on the spraying water of the fountain. In the distance the golden stone of Stoverton looked as much a part of the landscape as the deer and the trees and the stretching turf lawns.

  I said, “Do you have vistas like this in Massachusetts?”

  “We have the ocean at our door, and that is beauty enough for me,” he returned.

  He is a cit through and through, I thought, with a mixture of anger and frustration.

  “Stoverton needs someone who loves it,” I said.

  “Like you?”

  I lifted my chin. “Yes, like me.”

  He shook his head. “Even if the estate had been left to you, you wouldn’t have the resources to save it, Julia. I didn’t want this house, or these acres. I didn’t want the responsibility of two young girls. But I’ve got it and I must do the best I can under the circumstances.”

  I said carefully, “You may be responsible for Maria, but I am eighteen and old enough to be my own mistress.”

  He turned to look at me. “Of course I’m responsible for you. You’re my cousin, you’re unmarried, and you have no money. What is to become of you if I don’t make some arrangements for your future?”

  “I will be perfectly happy to remain here at Stoverton to keep an eye on things for you.” A brilliant thought struck me. “I could be your agent, Evan!” I rose a little in my stirrups to look taller. “There’s the perfect solution for the both of us! You can order what repairs you feel are necessary and I will be here to make certain your orders are carried out!”

  “You can’t live by yourself in this huge house,” he protested.

  I could, of course, but I needed to sound cooperative. “I can always get someone to stay with me. That’s not a problem.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that would pass muster with the rest of your family.”

  It wouldn’t, of course. But I had another thought. “You just told me your sister has been running your own business for years. If she can do that, why can’t I run Stoverton?”

  “Frances is married.”

  “What difference can that make?”

  “A big difference, I’m afraid,” he replied.

  “But don’t you see? It’s a perfect solution to both our problems. You don’t want to remain here and I do. We each are the answer to the other’s desire.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Evan said.

  He sounded doubtful but I knew I could convince him. The idea of Evan back in America and me in charge of Stoverton – after Evan had paid off all the debts, of course – was the perfect solution to my future. I was quite in charity with him as we rode our horses into the stable yard.

  Chapter Eight

  Evan was feeling grim as he walked to the house, leaving Julia behind at the stables to help Toby. It appeared that, along with her other responsibilities, Julia was also a groom.

  The household here at Stoverton was impossible, Evan thought. How on earth could Julia believe he would leave her by herself to run this massive museum? She was eighteen years old, for God’s sake. And Maria was fourteen. Not only did he have his uncle’s debts to deal with, now he had to come up with a solution for his uncle’s daughters!

  He let himself into the house and headed for the library, where Maria and Flora were supposed to be doing schoolwork. He found them sitting together at one of the big desks, with books and paper spread out before them.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but might I speak to you for a moment, Cousin Flora?”

  “Certainly.” Flora stood up. “Keep working on those French verbs Maria and I’ll test you on them when I return.”

  Maria sighed. “Yes, Cousin Flora.”

  Flora followed Evan into the hallway. “Why don’t we go into the morning room?” she suggested.

  Evan followed her into the pretty room that looked out on the south lawn. A fire was burning in the fireplace and the chintz-covered furniture looked comfortable, if a bit worn. A few lesser masterpieces adorned the walls.

  “Would you like tea?” Flora asked.

  Evan would have liked some, but he didn’t want to wait until Lucy had been sent for, and the tea made and brought up to them. So he shook his head and said quietly, “Flora, what can I do to help Julia and Maria?”

  Flora’s pale blue eyes filled with tears. “Their situation is so appalling, Evan. How their father co
uld have left them like this is something I will never understand.”

  “I agree. But they have been left destitute and clearly I must do something. I just don’t know what it is. I will restore their dowries, of course. But will that fix the problem?”

  Flora’s face lit. “Will you really do that? Oh, bless you, Evan. It will help a great deal. If Julia has a decent dowry she can be presented to society and hope to catch a husband. That’s the answer to the problem of Julia and Maria. Get Julia married and her husband can provide a home for Maria until she is old enough to find a husband for herself.”

  Evan sighed. “I don’t think Julia wants a husband, Flora. In fact, she asked me if she could stay here and be my agent for Stoverton.”

  Flora threw up her hands. “Julia and Stoverton! Most young girls dream of marrying, but all Julia has ever wanted was to stay at Stoverton! She should be making her come out in society, like other girls of her age and station in life. Unfortunately, it was never talked about because there wasn’t the money for it.”

  Evan frowned. “I don’t understand why other members of the family haven’t stepped in to help these girls. It’s outrageous that they should have been abandoned like this.”

  “Your aunt, Lady Barbara Lewis, wanted them to live with her after their mother died, but Julia refused. She is completely undisciplined, Evan. She spends her time reading inappropriate books and hanging around the stables with that groom. Do you know who her best friend is, besides Toby?”

  “Who?”

  “The local squire, a man of almost sixty! The two of them spend hours together, working with the hounds and hobnobbing in the stable. It’s disgraceful. She can’t be allowed to go on this way.”

  “How could her mother have allowed this?”

  “Her mother was rarely at Stoverton. Helen was a … worldly … woman, Evan. As soon as she married the late earl she established herself in the family mansion in Piccadilly and, over the years, she became one of the most influential hostesses in the ton. My sister and I were forever reading about her in the gossip sections of the London newspapers.”

  “The ton?” Evan raised one blond eyebrow in inquiry.

  “That’s the name given to the most fashionable level of English society.”

  “You don’t sound as if you liked my aunt much.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I didn’t know her well enough to like or dislike her. Helen carried her head far too high to notice those of us who were beneath the distinction of her own elevated position in the world.”

  “I see,” Evan said slowly. “What about my uncle? What did he do with himself, aside from gambling? It sure doesn’t look as if he devoted much of his time to the estate.”

  “He had a position in the government to make him look important. Helen got it for him through one of her … connections.”

  This last word was spoken with a distinctly ironic tone. Evan decided it would be wiser not to ask any more questions about Julia’s mother.

  “I think you’re right about getting Julia married. Do you have any suggestions as to how we can introduce her to some eligible young men?”

  Flora replied decisively, “You must take her to London and give her a Season. That is how all the young girls of Julia’s class meet husbands. She will go to balls, the theatre, the opera. Most important of all, she will go to Almack’s. That is where young men and young women in search of a spouse go to meet each other.”

  A lock of hair had fallen over Evan’s forehead and he pushed it back. “I can’t take her to London, Flora. I don’t know anyone here in England. That is something a mother should do.”

  Flora sighed again. “If Julia was a normal girl, we could find a well-connected woman to present her and take her around to all the parties. But Julia isn’t a normal girl, Evan, and she would intimidate and dominate any poor woman you might hire to chaperone her.”

  “She’s certainly different from the American girls I know,” Evan said with a grin.

  “She’s different from other English girls too,” Flora said. “If I might make a suggestion, I think should you speak to your aunt, Lady Barbara Lewis. She is bringing out her youngest daughter this year and hopefully you can persuade her to bring Julia out along with Elizabeth.”

  Evan brightened at the idea of having someone else take charge. “I’ve never met my aunt. In fact, I never knew I had an aunt until Mr. Shields told me. How should I go about contacting her?”

  “She doesn’t live far from here. You can easily drive over to Mereton.”

  “I’ll do that.” Evan frowned slightly. “Do you know, Cousin Flora, I’m finding it more and more strange that my father never mentioned his family in England. Did something happen to estrange him from them?”

  Flora’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t know why he emigrated to America?”

  Evan shrugged, his big shoulders moving easily under his too-loose coat. “He always said that England was stifling, that there wasn’t room to grow there. He said that the English judged people by their class, not by their character or abilities. He loved America because it wasn’t like that.”

  “Did you know that your mother was also English?”

  “Of course. She and my father came to America together when they were very young. My grandmother came with them. My father always said it was the money she inherited from her father that enabled him to start his business.”

  “How very interesting.” Flora tilted her head and regarded him. “You deserve to know the truth. Your mother is the reason why Tommy emigrated. She was the daughter of Stoverton’s housekeeper, your grandmother. Emma and Tommy grew up together, but of course there was a huge class gap between them. When Tommy told your grandfather that he wanted to marry Emma, your grandfather threw Emma and Emma’s mother out of the house. Tommy followed them, married Emma, and took ship for America. The estrangement between his father and Tommy was permanent, and it seems to have extended to his brother and sister as well.”

  Evan was dumbfounded. He shook his head as if to clear it. “I never knew anything about my parents’ life in England. I never knew my father was the son of an earl. It was as if life started for them when they landed in Boston. Both of them were staunch Americans.”

  “They had reason to be. Apparently America was very good to them.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “How did your father die, Evan? I was fond of Tommy and I would like to know what happened to him.”

  A scene flashed through Evan’s mind, himself standing in front of a roaring fire in the house on Chestnut Street, and Frank Hickey coming into the parlor to speak to him.

  “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, lad, but your mother ran out on Lacy’s Pond to catch a dog the Webster children had let get loose, and she fell through the ice. Your Pa tried to save her and he went under too. We can’t even get to the place where it happened; the ice is too thin.”

  For a brief moment pain knifed through him. His parents had been in their forties and in excellent health. The news had been devastating for him and Frances. He had been eighteen and Frances two years older and all of a sudden they were orphans and the owners of a large business.

  He said in an expressionless voice, “Both my parents fell through the ice on one of our ponds and were drowned.”

  “Oh dear.” Flora reached out to put a hand on his arm. “I am so sorry. That must have been very painful for you, Evan.”

  “Yes.”

  She patted his arm and sat back.

  He said, “So you think I should pay a visit to my Aunt Barbara?”

  “Yes. As I said, she is bringing out her own daughter this season, so she is perfectly placed to bring Julia out as well.” Flora sighed. “However, you will have your work cut out in order to convince your aunt to do that for Julia.”

  He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

  “Lady Barbara does not like Julia. Nor does Julia like her aunt. That is the biggest problem. Another one is that the Lewis
’ will not wish to pay for Julia’s expenses. They are well off, but the cost of presenting Elizabeth will be high. They will have to rent a house for the season, which is expensive.” Flora leaned forward. “I think this will be your most potent bargaining point, Evan. Offer to let Lady Barbara use the Picadilly mansion in London to present both Elizabeth and Julia. She’ll jump at the chance.”

  “Ah, yes. I’ve been told I have a London townhouse. Is it enormous and filled with priceless art, which I can’t sell?”

  Flora smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Evan. The girls are very lucky that you are their father’s heir.”

  Chapter Nine

  The following morning Evan left Stoverton to pay a visit to his father’s sister. He drove an old curricle from Stoverton hitched to two of the old carriage horses. Toby’s nephew Sammy went along as his groom.

  The roads in England were markedly better than the roads in America, and Evan accomplished the two-hour drive with little difficulty. He turned in through iron gates and drove up the winding drive. When the house came into view the midday sun was reflecting off its lovely old mellow stone and high windows. To complete the picture, the house was surrounded by a wide sweep of perfectly tended lawn.

  Evan left Sammy holding the reins, advanced up the walkway to the front door, and rapped the knocker.

  It was a disorienting feeling, this business of meeting a whole new family he had not known existed. Evan was beginning to feel as if his parents’ life had been an iceberg, with a great portion of it kept hidden from their children.

  A butler garbed in formal attire answered the door. Evan introduced himself and the butler took his hat and coat and escorted him to a formal drawing room. “Her ladyship will be with you shortly, my lord,” the servant said.

  Evan inquired about his groom and horse and was told they would be taken care of. The butler departed, leaving Evan alone in the coldly formal room. He looked around automatically for the paintings; the few that hung upon the walls were mostly landscapes. He wondered what Julia would say about them – were they good or were they mediocre? He himself had no idea.