Lilith remembered vividly her confessions to the clergyman of her brother’s wealth and the sizable donation he gave to the orphanage earlier that year. There had been little doubt of the rector’s intentions when persistent offers of marriage began within days of her confessions about a promised inheritance, a dowry, even an estate to do with as she pleased. Such generosity of coin could not be ignored by a rector.
Her stomach lurched at the thought of her spiritual advisor and the pillar of the community being so conniving. He wanted her for the titled affiliation and for the promise of wealth beyond measure at the behest of her brother.
Straightening her spine and freeing her arm from his grasp, she looked into his beady eyes. “Your offer is kindness itself, Mr. Sands, but I must decline. If your offer is sincere, you will give me time to accustom myself to my family.”
She wanted to throw the tea in his face.
Her better judgement won. Unless she truly wished to anger the parish rector, an act that would ostracize her from the community, she was obligated to show kindness and consideration.
They sat in lingering silence, the rector tracing a finger around the edge of his cup, steam encircling his hand. All sounds were magnified in the silence, even the clomping of a horse moving past the cottage, wafting in the scent of sweaty horseflesh. Lilith wrinkled her nose, finding it an appropriate aroma for the conversation. After all, his offer reeked.
Finally, he broke the silence with a cheerful smile and change of subject. “Who is covering your position at the orphanage while you’re away?”
Lilith favored his question with a return smile to reassure him of her good spirits and friendship. “Miss Tolkey will serve as both the orphanage’s teacher and the parish’s midwife in my absence. I believe she’s looking forward to both tasks. She even pressed me to extend my stay.” Lilith forced a chuckle.
“Good. Miss Tolkey is a perfect substitute.” He paused before adding, “If they treat you with disdain, send me word, and I will renew my offer.”
“Thank you. You are too kind, Harry.” She emphasized his name, hoping to smooth over any earlier displays of irritation. Her livelihood in Allshire depended on him. “My brother has made ample effort to get to know me. I look forward to this opportunity to be part of a family and piece together the memories of my childhood.” She spoke truthfully albeit understatedly.
“Well, then, there is nothing more to be said.” The Reverend Sands stood to leave, his tea untasted and his currant cake untouched. “I wish you all the best and will count the days until your return. I promise to check on the orphanage daily.”
He took her hand between both of his before turning to the door and departing, leaving Lilith to wonder which would be more unpleasant—spending time with Harold Sands or spending over a month in a house with aristocrats who, despite her brother’s best efforts, may refuse to acknowledge the presence of a bastard.
Even this far inland, the two gentlemen could hear the cries of the gulls along the coast. The site for the new coal mine was busy with construction, the laborers taking advantage of the good weather after several days of hard rain, which fortunately left the earth soggy for easy digging. Soon, this area would teem with the bustle of mining.
It was astounding how much his cousin’s husband had accomplished. Granted, the man had a good decade’s head start on Walter in terms of running an estate and lands, but if he were to be fully honest, he knew even with a decade’s practice, he could not possibly live up to the standard this man set.
Walter’s companion broke his reverie with a single raised eyebrow of inquisition when the two reached the horses on the outskirts of the mine site.
“I think you’ve made a fine decision,” said Walter Hobbs, Baron Collingwood, as if he knew anything about mining.
He mounted his horse for the ride back to his cousin’s home.
Sebastian Lancaster, Earl of Roddam, nodded, mounting his own horse. “Thank you for coming to see the site, Collingwood. I’m convinced that with the brewing troubles in France and the threat of war, a coal mine will prove a profitable investment.”
“I envy your head for business, Roddam. I hope to learn a thing or two from you this summer,” Walter admitted, indeed envious of everything he had seen of Lord Roddam’s properties.
He did not so much envy what Roddam had as much as his savvy and dedication, neither trait Walter could claim for himself.
“My struggle is with the air circulation. After all the research I’ve conducted in the drift mine method, I’m positive a deep pit is the best choice, but I refuse to send down men until I’ve resolved the problem.” Roddam led his horse onto the path for home. “My father-in-law promises to offer advice on safety measures from his tin mining experience.”
For the opening stretch back to the castle, Walter listened to Roddam explain his plans for the mine, responding with questions that showed an appropriate amount of curiosity, despite his ignorance on the topic.
The time he spent with the Earl of Roddam could not have come at a more opportune moment, for Walter admired the man, learning from him what should have been learned years prior from his father, if he had bothered to listen instead of being wayward. That Roddam was younger than Walter did not bother him. The man was a genius in Walter’s opinion.
Walter, his mother Hazel, and his uncle Cuthbert had all been in Northumberland for the past month visiting Cuthbert’s two daughters, Lizbeth and Charlotte. The family could not be prouder of the marriages of the two sisters, Charlotte to the Duke of Annick and Lizbeth to the duke’s cousin, the Earl of Roddam. After spending a month with the duke and duchess, Walter and his family relocated fifteen miles to stay with Lizbeth and her husband.
It had taken Walter the past year to get used to the idea that his two cousins were wives of peers instead of the Cornish country girls he knew and loved, and now he had to get used to Lizbeth’s upcoming motherhood.
While the trip had been planned the previous year for only the summer months, they all agreed to extend their stay through Lizbeth’s confinement and the first few months after the baby’s arrival, at least until late autumn when they would head home to Devon, or in Uncle Cuthbert’s case, to Cornwall. Walter knew Uncle Cuthbert would be in no hurry to leave since all he could talk about was becoming a grandpapa.
The visit, thus far, had proved a hearty family reunion full of joy and happiness.
Walter could not remember a time when he had been happier, at least not since his father died. There had been so much emptiness, so much restlessness since his father passed that Walter relished having the family together.
His companion turned to him, their horses trotting side-by-side. “Given any more consideration to the Sierra Leon Company or the slave abolition bill since our conversation?” Roddam inquired.
Walter’s smile faltered. He had. He did not want to turn down an opportunity to work closely with his uncle or Roddam, but Walter did not think these endeavors were for him. These were projects close to his uncle’s heart, not his own.
“Don’t think me ungrateful for the offer or disinterested in helping. You know I’m a philanthropist at heart, but I don’t see either as my legacy,” Walter said.
“I understand. Say no more. Our invitation stands, as we could use your insight.” Roddam paused to consider him. “Only you can decide where your heart lies, but have you thought on the satisfaction to be had in running your estate? The people need you.”
Walter slumped in his saddle.
When he made no reply, Roddam continued. “You’re not wrong in wanting to enterprise outside the home. Never base your stability on agrarian and tenant management alone. I’ve seen firsthand how a poor season can destroy lives. Personally, I’ve invested the profits of my lands in industry. Peers may thumb their nose at new money while living off their family coffers, but they’re fools. I don’t wish to overstep my bounds, Col
lingwood, but have you studied your ledgers to see how the money is being spent?”
“It’s not about the money. I know I need to understand the accounts, but I’ve never been good with figures. I’d prefer to let the steward run the estate so I can funnel my efforts into making my mark. I simply haven’t decided how. Build a shipping company? Patron a hospital? Create a pleasure garden? The ideas are plentiful. The logistics, however, are daunting.”
“Ah, I see,” Roddam replied. “And you don’t find the people dependent on you for their livelihood a worthy enough cause?”
Walter grimaced, chagrined. “I can’t fill my father’s shoes, but I do want to make a difference.” How could he explain himself without sounding listless? “I never wanted this title, at least not until my fiftieth birthday. I’m not ready, no readier than I was last year or the year before. Mama isn’t helping matters with her determination to get me leg-shackled. It is her belief that with the right woman, I will stop dreaming of causes and settle into taking over estate business.”
“I take that to mean no marriage prospects on the horizon.”
“I told myself after Papa died that once I felt secure enough with the barony, I’d search for a bride, but it’s dashed unpleasant. I’m getting to be an embarrassing age for a bachelor. And now, Mama is hell-bent on finding me a bride. She has thrown me at every eligible lady, or more to the point every able-bodied young person with a matchmaking mama on friendly terms with her. All the girls are addlebrained, simpering, and attached at the hip to their mothers.”
Roddam nodded sympathetically but failed to suppress his mirth. “And now you understand why, for years, I declined all invitations until my cousin had to take a bride. If you hadn’t introduced us to your cousins, I suspect we’d both still be bachelors, or at least I know I would.”
“Well, I’m not getting any younger, as Mama points out.” Walter harrumphed. “Each year it is more awkward, for while I get older, the girls stay the same age. It’s unsettling trying to carry on conversations with them, all fresh out of the schoolroom. Bleak, I tell you. Maybe if I wait another ten years, I’ll change my tune and find their youth refreshing.”
“No sense in rushing marriage, Collingwood.” Roddam led his horse around a long and muddy rut in the road. “If you’ve no pressing reason to marry, wait for the right woman. I can tell you from experience, she is worth the wait.”
“You’re fortunate to have found her. And now you’ll have an heir on top of matrimonial bliss.”
Roddam laughed. “You assume the baby will be a boy, I see.”
“Don’t you hope for a boy?”
“I couldn’t give two snaps if the children are all girls, all boys, or wild urchins. Lizbeth and I only hope to fill the nursery.” Pressing his hat more firmly on his head to shield against the strong gusts of wind, Roddam added, “I have never known happiness, Collingwood, not until I met Lizbeth. I want to give our children all the love I never had. And I most assuredly want to give our firstborn a sibling, something I myself was robbed of at an early age. The more siblings the better, I say.”
They lapsed into momentary silence. Walter took in the rolling hills of browning heather and the sparse copses of trees in the dale rustling in the gusty breeze.
His cousin could not have made a more perfect match, Walter knew. They were both untamed, both too intelligent for their own good, and both full of enough love to make a herd of children very happy indeed. He wondered what his own perfect match would be like.
Roddam leaned towards Walter and said sotto voce, “I’ll be honest, and don’t you dare tell my son if the baby is a boy, but I’m secretly hoping our first is a girl.” He righted himself in the saddle, smiling conspiratorially.
“If your wish comes true and she even remotely resembles Lizbeth as a baby, she’ll have her papa wrapped around her fingers,” Walter ribbed.
“I hope all our girls take after their mother. Heaven forbid they inherit my nose.” Roddam bellowed a hearty laugh, his aquiline nose prominent above a wide smile.
The pair continued to ride to the castle in mixed silence and polite conversation until the terrain flattened, transforming the hilly countryside into moors and then marshland as they reached the coast.
A fierce wind whipped around the riders, pushing against them before circling back to tug them forward. Walter burrowed into his coat. Although the air was warm with no signs of autumn, the wind off the North Sea stung with a sharp chill.
The stone walls of Dunstanburgh Castle came into sight. Much of the castle was still in rubble from a bygone age, but the earl had restored the keep into a home, a combination of its former glory and his own personal preferences. While Walter preferred his own humble estate in Exeter to this formidable castle, he was awed at Roddam’s devotion to rebuilding the ruins.
As the horses followed the path around the meres and to the outer gatehouse, Roddam announced without preamble, “Lilith should arrive tomorrow.”
“I look forward to learning more about your sister.”
And indeed, he did. Who would not want to learn about a long-lost sister who had only recently been reunited with her brother? The estrangement and reunion were enough to make anyone insatiably curious, but what truly piqued curiosity were the stories Roddam had regaled the family with since their arrival.
Although Lord Roddam had not seen his sister since he was a child, he clearly cherished those memories. For over two decades, Roddam had thought his sister dead, he had told them, only to discover that his father had lied to cover up sending the child to an orphanage around the same time as their mother’s death. The cruelty was astonishing.
“Lizbeth has been practicing her argument for why Lilith should move in with us permanently,” Roddam said, laughter in his voice. “You’ll love her, Collingwood. Everyone will.”
“Lizbeth says your sister is a midwife?”
“Yes, she’s quite adept it would seem. Have I mentioned she also teaches at the orphanage? Earlier this year, before the London Season, we made a week’s trip for the talent show and concert, all sponsored by the orphanage. Nothing makes Liz feel maternal like a room full of children singing, I tell you.”
“She also directs the choir, then?” he asked.
“Oh, no, actually, she teaches mathematics, but I believe since there are so few teachers, she may teach additional classes. You’ll have to ask her when she arrives. Don’t laugh, but she’s promised to look over my figures for the coal mine. Not what you’d expect to see two siblings doing, is it?” Roddam dismounted his horse at the front gate.
A groom jogged to them to take the horses back to the stable.
“Nothing about you surprises me anymore, Roddam, so I imagine not much will surprise me about your sister,” Walter confessed before dismounting and handing the reins to the groom.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, my good man.” He patted Walter’s back and headed for the wicket door his butler held open.
Walter found it humbling that he was three years older than Lord Roddam, he five and thirty and the other man two and thirty, yet he felt at least a decade younger in experience.
Roddam had lived a hard life before gaining his title at a relatively young age. He had then spent much of his adulthood rebuilding the depleted coffers of his estates and repairing the poverty-stricken lands he had inherited from a tyrannical father. Walter, on the other hand, had only ever known a happy family with a small, but prosperous barony.
He wondered what it must be like to find happiness after so much pain. Even Roddam’s sister had suffered gravely. At least, he assumed she had, for being raised in an orphanage apart from one’s family and station in life sounded like misery to Walter. Nothing could be more life changing than discovering one was not a homeless orphan, but a Lady Lilith, daughter of the deceased Earl and Countess of Roddam, sister to the sixteenth Earl of Roddam. It must be quite a r
elief for her, he mused, to have a relation to support her at last. No lady should be forced into employment.
All his own troubles diminished in comparison. Perhaps it really was time to take responsibility for his barony instead of whiling away the days dreaming up lost causes. But he could worry about that another day.
Chapter 2
The air crackled with anticipation. To pass the morning before Lady Lilith’s arrival, the family gathered in the gazebo on the cliffside of the castle grounds, picnicking in the shade.
Walter sat on a stone bench with his mother, Hazel. He wore his finest tailored walking attire, aiming to make a welcoming impression on Lady Lilith. His mother wore a silk day dress with matching parasol and bonnet. They were both dressed to impress. Normally, he would not have noticed what his mother was wearing, but today the two of them could not have stood out more if they tried.
Roddam, Lizbeth, and Uncle Cuthbert were not dressed to impress, to say the least.
Although Walter had accustomed himself to the unusual ways of Roddam and Lizbeth, their daily nose-thumbing at decorum never ceased to amaze him. The two had situated themselves on the floor of the gazebo to enjoy the picnic and were in various stages of undress.
Lord Roddam wore breeches, shirt, waistcoat, and stockings, noticeably devoid of cravat, coat, and shoes. Lizbeth was not much better dressed in a simple cotton gown without shoes or adornments. Uncle Cuthbert, at least, was fully dressed but in an outmoded country fashion that had not seen London streets in over a decade, if indeed such country fare had ever seen the likes of London.
Their state of dress, or undress rather, was enough to cause a scandal among the beau monde. Walter should not be the least bit surprised since Liz had always been a bit wild and had married a man as wild, if not wilder, but it still made for a strange sight. Even after decades of marriage, most would not have seen each other in such a state and yet, here, the family gathered, incongruous in dress and behavior.
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