George’s answer was to tear the covers clean off Marcus’s body. “I don’t want to go to London, sir. And I’m not sure whether to believe the threat of firing squad or the promise of promotion.”
“The promotion, of course.”
Normally, six wouldn’t feel such a torture. The army got a man used to getting up early and sometimes functioning on very little sleep. He would have to rely on his training. But his army days were drifting to the past and he certainly hadn’t gotten much sleep, staying out late to visit every inn and tavern within a wide radius in an attempt to find the mysterious stranger in the black bowler hat, to no avail. He wasn’t as young as he used to be. He wished he had another hour to catch up on his sleep.
“I’m still not certain it wouldn’t be the firing squad. For my next move, I plan to upend the pitcher of water all over your bed. How would you like sleeping then, sir?”
“You are a taskmaster, young George. Finch has taught you well. He had better watch out, for that matter. Are you aiming to take over as butler?”
“One day perhaps. But not until Finch is well and done with it. The place wouldn’t be the same without Mr. Finch, sir.”
“I quite agree. I wish I could lure him to Averford House. Sutton is quite the stoic. Have you met Mr. Sutton?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure. I’ve never been to the London house.”
“No loss, really. It’s not as grand as Thornbrook Park. But it’s home. Well, not really home. It’s a place to stay. For now. One day, I suppose I will need a home of my own.”
“One day, sir.”
“One day,” he echoed, getting out of bed to prepare for the day ahead. One day very soon if he managed to succeed with Alice, he thought with a pang of regret.
“Be sure you look after Brandon for me, George. Let him sleep as he long as likes and then keep an eye out for him. He took a shine to the new litter of pointers, so I assume he will be off to the kennel for the afternoon. He should only be with us for a few more days.”
They had decided to ride out to the farm to see how Mrs. Dennehy felt about hiring new help before introducing Brandon. Marcus hurried through his bath and shave, and an hour later, was seated on the big brown stallion his brother had called Viking, but the stable lads referred to as “Crazy Legs.” Marcus had not ridden since the war. It didn’t bode well. His brother’s horse, the gentlest and most obedient of mares, Wilmadene, cantered along. “Viking” was certainly a more respectable name for a mount than “Wilmadene,” but “Crazy Legs” lurked ominously in the back of his mind.
“So, you’ve made some changes to the grounds, I take it?” Marcus opened conversation. “Any special alterations I should be aware of as we ride?”
“Nothing earth-shattering, I suppose,” Gabriel said. “Winthrop’s ordered a new fence to be built for the pasture past the cottage. The old one has rotted away.”
“Winthrop, the estate manager? How’s he working out?”
Gabriel shrugged. “He’s no trouble at all compared to what one might expect with his reputation. He likes to be left alone, but it’s not a surprise to find him pitching in with the groundskeepers. Perhaps hard work helps him forget his personal struggles.”
Logan Winthrop had grown up the younger brother to a baron, much like Marcus taking second to his brother, the earl. There were some rumors of Winthrop murdering a rival, but he’d been acquitted of the crime. The former estate manager had recommended Winthrop to Gabriel upon his own retirement. A good man, he’d said, under unfortunate circumstances. Give him a chance. And Gabriel had.
“Strong fences make good neighbors. Must keep out the cows,” Marcus said, getting back on the topic of the farm. “And sheep? Does Mrs. Dennehy still have sheep?”
“A few old girls and one or two rams. She hasn’t been mating them. It would break her heart if the sheep outlived her, she says. She wouldn’t leave the responsibility of their care to anyone else.”
“Perhaps I can convince her otherwise. The Coopers have farming in their blood.” That they had no actual experience with raising livestock or vegetation, Marcus left unsaid. He gently nudged his horse to keep up with Wilmadene.
As if sensing Marcus’s struggle to control Viking, Gabriel nudged Wilmadene to a brisk trot.
“Curious way you have of wooing Alice,” Gabriel looked back to Marcus. “By taking Eve Kendal out for a drive.”
“I thought my paying attention to another woman might intrigue Alice.”
“You believed you were making her jealous? Deuce it, man, have you courted a woman since Eton?”
Marcus almost made a retort about Gabriel having to court his own wife, but checked himself in time as it would have been needlessly cruel to point that out.
Instead, Marcus chose avoidance, urging his mount to step quicker, giving him an unintentional dig with his heel. Viking charged, full speed ahead. Worse even than being thrown from a wild horse would be needing his brother’s help to control one. He urged himself to keep a cool head and regain dominance over the beast. Until then, there was no sense in letting Gabriel believe he’d made a foolish mistake.
“Race you!” He called over his shoulder, even as he held on for dear life while Viking plundered the land.
Fortunately, of its own accord, the horse decided to slow to a stop at the edge of the meadow near the stream. Marcus wasted no time in getting down as soon as it was safe to dismount.
“There, there, boy.” He stroked the horse’s flanks as it leaned over to drink.
“Are you insane?” Gabriel said, once he caught up. “Race me? We’re not boys anymore, need I remind you. A gentleman doesn’t go tearing up the land willy-nilly.”
“A gentleman doesn’t say ‘willy-nilly,’” Marcus countered, feeling very childish indeed. “Shall we leave the horses to rest and walk the rest of the way to Tilly Meadow?”
Gabriel agreed. “We’ll send a lad over from the farm to tend them.”
They walked in silence until Marcus caught sight of the little barn, faded from red to brown from years in the rain and sun. “It looks as though it has seen better days, Gabriel. Are you sure Mrs. Dennehy is managing alone?”
Gabriel shrugged. “She says so. She’s very insistent. Her husband died here, and I believe she intends to as well.”
“But she’s not ready for that, certainly. She was younger than old man Dennehy, if I recall. By about twenty years?”
“True,” Gabriel nodded. “She’s sixty, sixty-five, not a day older. But the years are showing. Without the farm, she would be dead, she says. It keeps her going.”
“I can imagine, but working it alone might be taking a toll. A few hired hands can’t replace what she used to have with her husband. What’s become of her daughters?”
“They married. One of them moved to London with her husband, a railway man. The other is in Orkney. His family had land there. They come to visit now and again, but not often enough.”
“Probably as often as we attempt to see Mother.” Marcus laughed at that, and even Gabriel responded with a chuckle.
Even though Marcus had been Mother’s favorite, he’d never felt like more than a shiny toy to her, a temporary distraction from her endless social engagements, afternoon teas, formal dinners, and the glittering evening affairs she claimed to loathe but never canceled or turned down.
“Fair enough, I suppose. Shall we go and say hello?”
“Yes,” Marcus said. No one answered their knock, but they heard a faint “Come in” and entered to find Mrs. Dennehy bent over a full, heavy pot, pouring a mixture from it into another by way of a sieve.
“Separating the whey from the curd,” she said. “Be right with you.”
Both men stepped forward to assist her with her load, but she shrugged them off.
“I may be old, boys, but I’m still strong as an ox.” She finished and turned b
ack to them, wiping her hands on her apron. “Now, what can I do for you?”
Marcus removed his hat. “I’ve come to say hello, Mrs. Dennehy. I’ve been home for a visit.”
She squinted, then clearly recognized him. “Marcus Thorne! Here to steal my apples, are you? The barn’s full of them. The lads are pressing cider, but I’m sure you might make off with a bushel. How are you, dear?”
“Very well, Mrs. Dennehy. Better after having some of your famous cheese last night, the taste of home.”
She smiled with pride. “Ah, well, it takes some work, but I’m still making the cheddar, and some softer cheeses, too. A shame I have no one to pass the recipes on to with the girls so far away. It is good to see you all grown. I confess, I worried that you might not make it back.”
“No need to fear for me. I made up for my lack of experience with my quick wits.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes.
“Oh no.” She laughed her hearty laugh. “I knew you would make it back from the war. I just wasn’t sure to expect you would ever return to Thornbrook Park, once this one took charge of it all.” She gestured at Gabriel. “Oh, the way you two fought as lads!”
“We may still come to blows. I wouldn’t have come back to see him,” Marcus confessed honestly. “But he has a lovely wife who had the sense to write to me about your apples. How could I stay away?”
“Is that how she lured you?” said Gabriel, who seemed not at all surprised by the conversation. “I had wondered about it. She wrote you so many times without success.”
“I know you’ll refuse any help.” Marcus changed the subject back to Mrs. Dennehy’s work. “So I’m just going to lift this heavy vat and hold on to it until you tell me where you want me to put it down.”
With care not to spill the contents, he hoisted the pot from the floor, the one into which she had been draining her cheese mixture.
“Oh, very well,” she clucked. “Place it back on the stove top, please. And have a care. You’ll spoil me. Before you know it, I will put you to work harvesting the rest of my apples and chopping and stacking my wood.”
“I would be delighted,” Marcus said. “After being at war, leading the leisurely life of a landed gentleman holds very little appeal. I’m likely to be bored to death at Thornbrook Park if I lie about there much longer.”
“I see that it’s time I paid more attention to this place,” Gabriel admitted. “The barn could use a stain and maybe a few repairs.”
Traditionally, it was the landlord’s responsibility to maintain the buildings, though the equipment, maintenance, and farming fell to the tenant.
“Don’t trouble. We’ve always done for ourselves.”
“Before your husband’s passing, that might have been the case,” Marcus said. “But we could certainly live up to our responsibilities now that you’re on your own. In fact, I have a boy in mind who might help keep things in order…”
He launched into his proposal for Mrs. Dennehy to take Brandon on as a new hand around the farm and hoped that he would meet success in winning her over to the idea. And once Brandon proved himself indispensible on the farm, could the rest of the Coopers be far from acceptance?
Sixteen
The next morning, any hope Eve had of running into Marcus was dashed by Mrs. Hoyle, who informed her that the men had gone out together early and that Sophia hadn’t rung for her tray. It was just as well. Marcus had to start paying more attention to Alice, and Eve had best get back to her business of finding out what had become of her husband’s investments.
She’d stayed up late writing to Colonel Adams and Adela, and then turned her attention to crafting a new outline for her novel, newly inspired by Marcus’s war stories, a romance between a war widow and a soldier from the opposing side. With more time on her own that afternoon, she’d gotten a solid start on Chapter One when she was interrupted by a knock at her door.
“Get your coat,” Sophia said, all impatience. “Let’s go for a walk.”
The idea of spending a beautiful day out of doors appealed, but Sophia’s sudden determination to get out of the house seemed suspect.
“A walk would be welcome,” Eve agreed. The fresh air might spur her creativity.
“Such a good idea,” Sophia congratulated herself once they got outside. “Smell that autumn air.”
“It’s lovely.” Eve inhaled. Not as lovely as it been yesterday when she was in Marcus’s arms, even with the rain. Especially with the rain.
“I’m worried about how things are progressing between Marcus and Alice,” Sophia confided as they crossed the dusty path through the garden. “I mean to stop at the Dower House and encourage Alice to spend more time at Thornbrook Park.”
“More time? She’s with us most of the time as it is.” Having Alice around would no doubt aid Marcus in his quest to win her heart, so Eve couldn’t say why she felt such a sharp tug of disappointment at the idea. “She and Agatha would have been there last night, had you not decided to take dinner in your room alone. Were you unwell?”
“Of course not,” Sophia snapped, then softened her tone. “Gabriel and I were quarreling, to be honest. I wasn’t ready to face him again last night.”
“I’m so sorry, Sophia. Is there anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “We made up this morning. It’s just that Gabriel is unusually tense with his brother around, and his idea of a relaxing afternoon alone together and mine didn’t exactly mesh.”
The fishing, Eve thought to herself. “I’m glad you’ve made up.”
“Thank you for keeping Captain Thorne entertained. Mr. Finch said the two of you went out for a drive.”
Color rushed to Eve’s cheeks. “Yes, we did.”
“A pity that it rained on you.”
“I didn’t mind the rain.” The image of Marcus’s wet shirt clinging to his chest as he made love to her filled her mind so that she almost veered off the path into the shrubs.
“Careful.” Sophia took her arm. “Uneven ground.”
“Thank you. Clumsy me.” As they crested the hill, Eve caught sight of the Dower House at the edge of the green and the village beyond.
“I only wish you’d thought to include Alice on your adventure, to give her more time with Captain Thorne. It’s such a comfort for me to have her close.”
“But you said that Gabriel is tense with his brother around. Perhaps it’s for the best if Alice marries someone else? There must be plenty of eligible bachelors in Yorkshire.” Eve nibbled her lip.
“Someone else? No. Captain Thorne is perfect for her. And Gabriel’s mother would certainly quit the Dower House in favor of them. It’s the best of all worlds, my mother-in-law staying away and Alice close at hand. Gabriel and Marcus will get used to each other again in time.”
“Sophia, please.” Eve gripped her arm. “Stop a moment and tell me what’s wrong. Why is it so important to keep Alice close? To have her marry Captain Thorne? What if they don’t welcome the idea? Alice told me that she prefers not to marry, and Captain Thorne—”
“Yes?” Sophia arched a thin, dark brow. “What of Captain Thorne?”
It was her chance to confide in her friend, to tell her what had happened. But it wasn’t her secret alone to give away. What if it ruined Marcus’s chance to set up Brandon and bring the Coopers to the farm? She couldn’t say anything, not now. “He hasn’t singled Alice out for any particular favor yet. What if he doesn’t fancy Alice?”
Sophia waved off the concern. “He’s a man. He hasn’t yet recognized the fact that he needs a wife. But I’m sure I’ve seen them flirting, don’t you think? He must be lonely, all that time at war and then alone in London.”
Eve shrugged. “He has the Coopers, Brandon’s family. They’ve taken him in. And he has friends in London. He gets on rather well with Sutton.” She smiled, thinking of the two of them. Stoic Sutton and Marcus
always trying to get a reaction out of him. “He might not welcome the idea of moving back to Thornbrook Park for any length of time. And what then? If he marries Alice, she could end up going right back to London with him.”
“Not that.” Sophia’s cornflower eyes flashed with concern, or was it fear? “I want them both to love Thornbrook Park as much as I do, to raise their children here. They have to!” She turned her head away suddenly and leaned against the trunk of a large maple at the edge of the lawn as if in need of physical support.
Children. The way Sophia said the word, with a hint of envy in her tone, struck a note with Eve. Suddenly, she realized that Sophia’s need for Alice to marry Marcus and stay at Thornbrook Park might have more to do with the estate’s future than it had to do with simply keeping Alice nearby.
“Sophia?” Eve approached, put a reassuring hand on Sophia’s back, and found that her friend was sobbing. “I’ve never told you that I’m afraid I can’t have children, have I? Six years with Ben, and no pregnancies. Every month, I broke down in tears when I got my flow and knew it was another chance gone. It broke my heart at the time. Then I lost Ben and realized there were worse things.”
Sophia turned abruptly. “There are worse things, I assure you. Devastating things. All those letters back and forth, and you never told me about your heartbreak and your fears. Just as I never told you.”
“Never told me what, love?” Eve felt tears of sympathy in her own eyes, fearing what Sophia would reveal next.
“I had a baby. A son. Gabriel and I had a son, a beautiful boy with downy blond fuzz and the purest blue eyes you ever saw, like the midsummer sky. We named him Edward. He died on the very first night we had him, died sleeping in his own cradle. Delivering him wiped me out. The doctor said I’d nearly died myself. And when I was sleeping, trying to get my strength back so that I could be a good mother to my boy, I lost him. I didn’t even know for days. Days! What kind of mother doesn’t feel it when her child dies? I didn’t deserve him, Eve. God took him away.”
Thornbrook Park Page 16
