Against the Magic

by Donna K. Weaver

  “Do you believe that Clarisse could be forced to do anything she does not wish?”

  “There are different kinds of persuasion, some I’d call coercion. That’s exactly what it is if you make her feel guilty about how many lives are depending on her in this time.”

  “I believe she has a task that has the potential for far-reaching consequences.”

  “That’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Jem said. “Isn’t it dangerous, changing something in the past?”

  “Remember, time is a fuzzball.” Nellie shrugged. “If something takes place in the past, it did take place.”

  Jem played with the edges of the envelope. If he couldn’t convince Nellie, how was he ever to convince Reese? His stomach knotted, and he closed his eyes against the picture his mind insisted on showing him—of Reese staying here with another man.

  “Young Jem,” Nellie said sympathetically, “the choice belongs to Clarisse. Not you. Not me. And not the magic.”

  “I can’t go back if Reese stays here,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Perhaps you must decide if your own happiness is more important than the health and happiness of generations of people.”

  “Now you’re trying to guilt me into giving up. Well, I won’t.” He stood.

  Nellie arched a brow and, with a wave of her hand, signaled him to leave.

  Jem paused outside the door. If what the faerie claimed was true, the magic was pushing for Reese to stay in this time. Well, he was determined to make sure she really did have a choice, and he meant to be one of them.

  ***

  That night with the others, Reese sat trying to read A Christmas Carol that the housekeeper had found for her. The conversation around her made it difficult to follow the formal writing.

  The Earl sat at a table with a pen and paper. It reminded her of the scene in Pride and Prejudice, except for Ellen’s presence. Reese didn’t want to be there, but Ellen had pleaded with her not to retire yet. So much for the promise of being able to go to bed early.

  Reese glanced up and caught the other young man watching her with a measuring kind of look, not quite lecherous, but it made her feel like a slab of meat being considered for a meal. She met his gaze with a hard glare of her own, and he looked away. Strange interactions these people had here. She wondered as she had so many times before how this culture had survived.

  She let out a breath, wishing she had a pen and some paper. During tea, she had thought of some things she wanted to take to the village tomorrow. She missed Ellen’s involvement and being able to bounce ideas off each other. Instead, her ladyship had to play hostess, even if the lazy guests didn’t rise until late. Reese sat fretting about her project.

  “Miss Hamilton,” a deep voice said.

  She glanced up with a start. The Earl was watching her. He still sat at the desk, but he had one leg crossed over the other and leaned back in his chair, one elbow on the table as he played with the pen in his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Reese said. “Did you say something?”

  “We were just discussing what book you are reading that you find so thrilling.”

  “It is quite thrilling.” She glanced at the book, an idea beginning to take shape in the back of her mind. “It’s a ghost story.”

  “Oh, a ghost?” One of the women guests tittered. “Do you have ghosts at Kellworth, my lord?”

  “Do you find that a ghost story enlightens your mind?” Ned asked.

  “I find anything written by Charles Dickens to be enlightening,” she said. “Are you familiar with him?”

  “I’m no bluestocking,” Ned said with a snort.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing. A wise man back home once said that people who don’t bother to read aren’t any better off than people who can’t read.” Reese said. “I find it ironic that you would mock people who try to improve their minds because it’s so much better to be ignorant.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I have heard of Dickens.” The Earl arched a brow. “Tell us how your ghost story has enlightened your mind.”

  “Have you read anything by him?”

  “No, but please edify me.” The Earl’s tone and body language weren’t quite as condescending as Ned’s had been but were close enough.

  Reese glanced at Ellen and mouthed I told you so. The girl sent her a pleading look.

  “All right.” Reese turned back to the beginning of the book. “The story is called A Christmas Carol, and it’s a tale about an old man named Scrooge who earned a fortune lending money. He’s not well liked and is so miserly he refuses to spend any of his fortune even for his own comfort.”

  “Sounds a bit like my uncle,” Ned said with a laugh.

  “One Christmas Eve,” Reese continued, “Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his old business partner.” She then explained what came before the famous encounter. “Scrooge doesn’t understand Marley’s warning. Here, let me read you this part.” Reese added emphasis on certain words to push her point.

  “But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,” faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.

  “Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”

  It held up its chain at arm’s length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.

  “At this time of the rolling year,” the spectre said, “I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me!”

  Reese glanced up to find the others staring at her. Ellen, of course, wore an admiring expression. The guests looked unsure, while the Earl’s eyes had tightened.

  “Do I detect censure in your choice of reading, Miss Hamilton?” he asked.

  “If the shoe fits, my lord, wear it. For me, any reading that lets me walk a mile in the shoes of another human being enriches my mind.” Before he could say anything else, she rose. “I have an early morning appointment and need to retire.” She curtsied and strode from the room.

  When Reese had reached the stairs, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She turned to find the Earl closing the door behind him, his gaze on her.

  “I fear I have offended you, Miss Hamilton.” He approached the stairs. “If so, it was in fair response to your perceived accusation.”

  “You invited me to share what I thought was enlightening and then found fault with it. You may think it entertaining to mock a guest in your house. I don’t.” She turned, but he caught her hand.

  “Do not leave while you are angry with me.” The Earl’s voice had turned soft. “Please accept my apology, and not merely for my sister’s sake.”

  Reese stared up into his dark eyes. He looked and sounded sincere.

  “All right.” She pulled back her hand, and he let it go.

  At that moment, she almost mentioned his tenants. Then worry shut down the impulse. He was a man used to people doing whatever he told them to do. She doubted he would appreciate the way she had just swept in and changed how he was doing things. Not even Ellen’s participation would be enough if he took it wrong. Reese had to get done as much as she could, in case the Earl pulled the plug on the project.

  “Do you wish to say something more?” Gareth was watching her closely.

  “No.”

  “Good night, then.” He bowed and turned back to the drawing room and his guests.

  When Reese got up to her bedroom, she felt a little better. Somehow, she didn’t think Ellen’s brother was one to apologize often. That was progress. She hoped she had given him something to think about in that recitation. It was a shame Jem hadn’t been there to read it. When he had done it
in the past, he’d given her chills. If the Earl’s heart could be softened, maybe he would let her continue to work with his tenants.

  Chapter 17

  WHEN LULU CAME TO WAKE her the next morning, Reese didn’t jump from the bed like she usually did. She’d found it difficult to fall asleep after her interaction with the Earl. Her mind had buzzed with the possibilities for change if she could get him to buy into her ideas. Someone like him would have the power to influence others.

  She had read once that it took a life-changing event for adults to shift behaviors or mindsets permanently. That seemed even less likely if most people were comfortable with the way things were. But there might be more people like Ellen who just needed to be made aware of the plight of the poor, of a chance to see that they were real people with feelings.

  Reese entered the kitchen and found the wagon ready to go, with the still-frazzled cook giving final orders to the servants who would be coming.

  “You are a dear.” Reese gave the woman a quick hug. “I believe the heavens will open for you with blessings for helping with this. I know it’s added to your burden, and I thank you with all my heart.”

  “Get on with you.” The woman waved them on, but her face had flushed with pleasure.

  “All right, people,” Reese said as she climbed onto the wagon. “Let’s do some good today.”

  The servants exchanged glances, and she wondered what they thought of the crazy American heiress. She knew that not all of them agreed with her project, thinking, like their masters, that the people deserved what they had. How they could look at those children and believe that was beyond her.

  The groom had raised his whip when a tall figure stepped in front of the wagon. “My lord,” the man exclaimed.

  “And where might you be going, Miss Hamilton?” The Earl surveyed the items stacked behind her.

  “To your tenant village, my lord.” When his gaze darted to hers, she arched a brow, daring him to stop her.

  “My tenants are none of your business.” His voice had turned hard, unrelenting.

  “One visit there showed me they have been none of your business either,” she said sharply before remembering he could stop her efforts right now. “My lord.”

  The Earl shot her another of his hard glances. “I shall accompany you then.” He waved to the groom. “In the back.” When the young man had vacated the seat beside her, Gareth took his place. He snapped the whip and the horse surged forward. “I have not visited there in years.”

  “That was obvious,” Reese muttered. “Do you have someone handle the management of your estate for you?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “My man of business.”

  “You might want to consider hiring a new one then,” she said, “because I’m underwhelmed.”

  “Underwhelmed,” the Earl repeated. “I don’t believe I have heard that word before. Is it something you Americans invented?”

  “Yankee ingenuity,” she said.

  “Yankee arrogance, I would say.”

  “Americans don’t have a monopoly on arrogance.” Reese kept her face forward. “At least we’re not generally as full of ourselves as you Brits . . . you English are. What is it you people call it? High in the instep.”

  “You think me high in the instep?” the Earl asked, surprised.

  “I think noblesse oblige is taught to you nobles from the cradle, as is a complete disregard of we lower creatures,” Reese said.

  “You?” He darted a glance at her with a dark chuckle. “A lower creature?”

  “Oh, please.” She shifted in her seat to glare at him. “Like you didn’t bring Ellen to me in the garden yesterday to give me a set-down with that horrid look of yours. If she hadn’t been there, I’d have slapped you.”

  He arched a brow. “Do you think you could have laid a hand on me?”

  “I absolutely would have marked you.” Reese smirked and faced forward again.

  He gave a soft grunt but said nothing more, and they rode in silence.

  When the breeze shifted and a whiff of the village hit them both, she bit back a smile. Now he would see what his neglect had created.

  “What is that foul stench?” The Earl looked around, his face scrunched with distaste.

  “Your tenant village, my lord,” she said.

  They had reached the curve, and the first cottage came into view.

  He pulled the horse to a stop. “We will go no further.”

  “Then you can get off here. The rest of us have work to do.” Reese waved to the groom to take the Earl’s place. “Off you go. As Ellen says, ‘make haste’.”

  Gareth scowled but cracked his whip again. “Every estate has ne’er-do-wells.” His words came out tight and brooked no argument.

  “With wealth and status comes an equal share of responsibility to the people in your care.” Her words were equally tight.

  “You, a newcomer, dare to judge me and how I choose to manage my people?”

  “Your people? Don’t you mean your slaves?” she spat out.

  The Earl’s jaw muscles worked. “Unlike in America, we no longer allow slavery.”

  Reese had to bite back her retort, remembering just in time. “I don’t live in a state where slaves are allowed,” she said, her jaw muscles working. “And I am absolutely opposed to it. It’s appalling. No forward-thinking, responsible individual would sanction it.”

  People flowed from their houses, but they came up short when they recognized the Earl. He stood and tossed the reins to the groom. He made quite a figure, standing there surveying the village. A few people did quick bows or curtsies, but everyone backed up. He jumped from the wagon.

  “What do you know of these people?” Reese stood and prepared to jump down.

  The Earl was already there. He put his hands to her waist and lifted her with ease. Her breath caught in surprise. Like Jem had before the picnic, the Earl took his time setting her down.

  “There are always people with special needs,” Reese said, flustered. His gaze unnerved her, and she struggled to put her thoughts back in order. “They cannot always carry their own weight, and they need society to help make up the difference. Did you know there’s an elderly woman who used to be a seamstress? She supported herself and her five children after her husband died, but then she went blind and couldn’t sew anymore. She lost her home and was forced to move into this village and lives in abject poverty.” Her words came out faster. “How is that being a proper caretaker? You have so much, but you couldn’t be bothered to offer a little help.”

  “You judge me most severely.” The Earl finally let her go and stepped back, scanning the homes and the people again, though his expression had softened. “I confess I did not know about the dressmaker.”

  “When people are injured,” she said, “they may not be able to continue in their old trades, but they can learn to do something else. Another one of your tenants is a woman who has always wanted to learn to be a seamstress, but no one would take her on. I’ve arranged for the blind dressmaker to teach her that craft. She will now have the skills to help support her family.”

  “You cannot save them all, Miss Hamilton,” he said.

  “No, I can’t. But I can make a difference in the lives of these people.” She pointed to the cottiers but looked at him. “And so can you. There’s more to real life than parties and other mindless activities to distract you because you’re bored stupid with your life.”

  “Bored stupid?” His brows knit in a way she was quickly becoming familiar with.

  “Miss Clarisse!” Walter strode over. He bowed to the Earl but said to her, “I have people and tools. Where would you have us go to work first?”

  “We need to provide these people with a better sewage system. This way.” She headed toward the back of the cottages, surprised that the Earl came too. “They need to have places to take care of their business, away from their homes. Human waste is the worst for spreading diseases like cholera and t
yphoid. A latrine is a good option, but they fill up eventually and new ones must be dug. I wrote Nellie about it after the first visit here.”

  “I believe I am here to help with that, miss.” An old man in a simple suit and a bowler hat approached. “I will take it from here.”

  “May I ask what your credentials are, sir?” Reese asked.

  “I was an engineer in my day.” The little man pulled out a card from his pocket.

  The Earl looked over her shoulder and gave a grunt of approval. “You worked under Wellington?”

  “Yes, my lord, in my youth. I learned my trade there, if you will. Made a good career of it after the war and retired two years ago.”

  “You won’t be digging, surely,” the Earl said.

  “No, my lord. That is what Aunt Nellie’s lads will be doing.”

  Reese laughed. “He’ll be directing traffic. Very good then.” Without thinking about it, she took the Earl’s arm. “We can leave him to do this. It’s important for that cesspool to be filled. Would you oversee that while I check on some of the people?” She realized then that she was holding his arm and blinked. When she tried to pull back her hand, he covered it with his own.

  “You are a most unusual woman, Miss Hamilton.” Once again, he gave her that intense look. Then he scanned the homes. “If you have been working here for a few days, I cannot imagine what it must have looked like when you first saw it.”

  “The misery in the people was horrible to see.” Reese pulled him with her to the front of a little cottage. “Look at them now.”

  “What do you see?” he asked, his voice soft.

  “Hope, my lord.” She looked up and met his gaze. “We have given them hope.”

  The Earl glanced down at her with another of his intense gazes, and she wondered what he really thought of all this. Then he released her and bowed. “As you have requested, I will oversee the work on that disgusting ditch.”