by Patty Deans
"You will never need to, my dear. The earl asked me to be his wife. As his wife I can persuade him to keep us together at Hawkthorn. My dear Robert, you will grow up here and learn many languages."
"Will I learn to translate these funny lines to words?"
Julia grabbed Robert and kissed him. "Greek will be one of your languages for sure. You can grow up to be like your Papa and Mama. I'll be with you every day. Unless the earl expects me to visit London with him." She laughed lightly and added, "I doubt he will ever do that." She wasn't the sort of woman the rogue would escort around the ton.
"Miss Harper and Aunt Shredda want you to fall in love with the earl and marry him. Did you fall in love?"
James held a special place in Julia's heart. Unless he expressed his love, she would keep her sentiments locked away forever. With a shake to her long hair, she steered Robert away from the truth. "No! And he is not in love with me either. It's an arrangement. The best way for me to remain at the manor."
"I must thank him for the arrangement."
"Never! Just be happy that we will be together. No worries of him marrying someone that could throw us out. This is better than living in the dowager house with Aunt Shredda. This is perfect."
"I like it here."
Then Julia opened the book written in Greek. "Let us start you lesson, shall we? This is a story of a princess."
"Oh, another girl. I like stories about knights best."
"There are not many Greek books on the market. Girls are people, too."
His head bent and he began to copy the Greek letters.
Watching Robert, he was the brother she never had and one of the most important persons left in her life. She loved the little fellow and wished to keep him close to her. Nothing she loved most belonged to her. Robert, Hawkthorn, the tenants, the servants belonged to James. She wiped a tear from her eye, and continued the enjoyment of teaching Robert.
In an hour Miss Harper rapped on the door and came in.
Julia leaned over and whispered into Robert's ear, "This is our secret, darling. Say nothing to anyone."
Robert nodded after he looked at her with his big blue eyes twinkling. Julia tousled his eBoney hair, and strolled from the room. For the first time she wondered what it would be like married to James. She liked his kiss. It was only the second kiss of her life, but she had not wanted that warm feeling inside her to stop. On occasion she had witnessed Robert's mother and father share long kisses in the garden when they thought they were alone. She wondered what a lengthy kiss with James would be like. Mostly her aunt and step-uncle spent their hours together translating books. Kisses or no kisses, her prayers had been answered. It was preposterous, insupportable, that she should leave Hawkthorn when Robert needed her to properly raise him.
She smiled. James would surely have sent her away if the Old Earl had not advised her. Even now it seemed impossible to believe she actually listened to a ghostly voice and followed his commands.
Shaking her head, she willed those mischievous thoughts to go away. The memory had to be just a figment of her imagination. It couldn't have been a ghost. Had Robert's belief conjured up the Old Earl in her mind to excuse her actions? She pushed all negative thoughts aside for the deed had been done and the results were positive.
Never would she leave Hawkthorn! James could not force her to leave and hold his head up in the ton. She had fought the battle of a season in London long ago with Aunt Shredda. The idea of dressing up to meet and marry a stranger turned her stomach. She didn't need a husband, unless it was James. A biddable and ingratiating fiancé was her goal, though she doubted she could ever be a biddable wife. Would it be too deceitful not to warn the new Earl? Would he warn her of any trickery? Of course not. He would grow tired of the country, and be off to London. And she would have everything she loved around her, except for him.
Robert needed her. And she could continue to run the estate. With her thoughts carefully set aside, she raised her chin and headed for the kitchen. The cook would need to be consulted on the menu while James stayed at Hawkthorn.
***
James marched from the library. What he needed was a vigorous ride to dispel his irritation at Aunt Shredda and her ridiculous ideas as well as himself for being cornered like a fresh schoolboy. He dismissed the notion of actually marrying Julia, much too innocent and young for the likes of him. Preposterous thought. No harm had been done. He'd only kissed her. Not to mention, that she had been in his bed the night before.
Julia would be presented at court and introduced to the gentlemen of the ton. Once she acquired a taste for ornate ball gowns and dancing through the night, her attitude about society and London would change her life for the better. A large dowry would secure enough beaus, but anyone as beautiful as Julia would have no need for a dowry. She would quickly fall in love with a young man that flattered her and begged her to marry him. Papa probably never took her beyond the village. Julia probably knew nothing of life outside this estate. James, now pleased with his decision, vowed to see her married well. He would be doing her a huge favor.
As he entered the stables, the head groom, Frank, approached him and squeezed his arm, much like he did when James was a lad. "My lord, you've become a man." Then he stepped back and snatched his battered hat from his head and bowed. "And now, an earl." Gently leading James' horse from his stall, still holding the reins, he grinned. "See you still have Bevans. Been a fine mount for you?"
"Frank, surely I'm grown enough -- you need not hold Bevans."
A big man himself, Frank chuckled heartily. "It don't hurt your reputation a mite if I steady your mount, young man."
James laughed and gave the old man a salute. There was many a scrap Frank had handled without Papa's interference.
In good spirits James rode out to see his bailiff. He remembered Fogel as brusque, to all, including Papa, but never to the Old Earl.
Sitting tall in the saddle and ready to hear the worst about the condition of the fields and the tenant's housing, James galloped down the lane to Fogel's cottage where he quickly dismounted and knocked on the bailiff's door. No answer; where could the man be?
Frustrated that the bailiff wasn't about, he set out to visit his favorite tenant. It took him less than twenty minutes to reach Martha and Martin Richards' cottage. Before he could slip from the saddle, robust Martin bolted from the cottage door.
"'Tis good to see you, my lord. Martha near worried to death about you. Prayed you would come home soon and not be butchered by Boney."
James refrained from grinning and patted Martin on the back. "And what are you about this morning?"
"Enjoying some tea with Martha. Come boy...my lord. She's been expecting you. Has blackberry jam waiting for you."
"That I'll enjoy. Have you seen Fogel?"
"Fogel's in town." Martin hesitated. "Is there anything you need? I often tend to the business."
"Who sends reports to the solicitor?"
"I do." Martin admitted and then hurried to open the cottage door.
James bit his tongue, stunned by Martin's quick, almost bashful admission. Martin could neither read nor write when James departed for the Peninsular War.
"Come in." Martin waved James to precede him. "Martha will serve you a hot cup of coffee. Or tea if you have changed your ways."
Shaking his head, James stepped inside the familiar cottage. It no longer looked drab and cluttered. The curtains were clean. The walls painted. He was certain that old sofa and those two chairs used to be in the manor's main drawing room. What were they doing in a tenant's cottage? What was going on out here? Who had given them furniture from the manor? And why?
Martha grinned upon entering the room and seeing him. "Dear God, thank you, thank you." She grabbed James' hand. "I worried so for you. It has been onto ten months since the tragedy. I expected you to hurry home." Martha patted her lips. James had long ago grown accustomed to the sign that Martha feared she'd said too much, but only a moment later, she added, "Th
e mourning period is over. Not that Lady Loretta allowed it to linger. She so detests black."
Martha pulled out a chair at the table and indicated to the earl to sit. "I'll brew you a bit of coffee. I have a few blackberry scones."
Humming, she scampered around readying the repast.
Martin swiftly proceeded to a handsome desk in the corner of the small room. that desk looked vaguely familiar. Claiming his attention, Martin proudly handed him the monthly report.
"We rotate crops." Placing his chair at a right angle to James', Martin added, "Lady Julia read about it. Your father agreed. Said it had merit. She insisted we learn new ways." He pointed to the figures. "You can see the profit. Lady Julia shows us how to take a portion of the profit to enlarge our yield." Martin's voice filled with pride. "It took a dash of sacrifice but we now own a few sheep. Ah, and that, too, is proving profitable."
A bit astounded, James asked, "Lady Julia reads about farming?"
Martin nodded. "Let me show you." He turned and picked up a dog-eared, small volume on agriculture. "I read it many times. Lady Julia claims she learns more each time she reads it."
Martha poured the steaming coffee into a cup. Nodding his thanks, James turned to accept the book from Martin. He opened it for a quick perusal. After a sip of coffee, he turned to his host. "Martin, when did you learn to read and write?"
"About four years ago." Martin sat back in his chair. "Lady Julia insisted on teaching my Betsy, a full three years older than herself. It wouldn't do but for Lady Julia to encourage me to listen in on the lessons. Betsy didn't want me to look dumb so she taught me every night. I worked hard keeping up with my daughter."
James sat speechless, looking from Martin to Martha.
Martha smiled proudly at her husband and placed her hand over his. "It's true. Lady Julia, barely twelve years old, knew she was teachin' Martin. Betsy helps her teach the tenants' children. It's been over three years, now. Lady Julia is as strict as the Old Earl was, but in different ways. No child works in the fields in the mornin'. Their lessons must be completed first." Martha raised her eyes to meet his. "Your tenants learn to read to help the children complete their lessons quickly durin' the spring plantin'."
"Even during planting, she excuses no one," Martin grinned obviously approving of Julia, though he felt it his duty to complain.
"So Julia has helped you make a profit?" James asked in a shocked tone.
Martin sat back. "She is making Hawkthorn grow by investing in livestock and seed. We have a prime bull and ram."
"Do you still hold it against her for callin' you the Dragon of Hawkthorn?" Martha asked with a trace of trepidation.
James chuckled to put her at ease. "It seems everyone still remembers the grand title she foisted on me."
She nodded. "Lady Julia spent time around many children before her aunt married your father. I fear they were all boys. She knows more about ridin' than stitchin'." Martha, always cheerful and sympathetic, added, "The poor child thrown into a household without any children missed her playmates and sought out all the children of your tenants. Her aunt, as true a bluestockin' as your father, was readin' those foreign books and took no notice of her niece."
James smiled. "Another lonely child. You took her under your wing much as you did me."
"Oh, my! Now look at you. Big and important, and an earl!" Embarrassed, Martha patted her lips and passed him another scone. The kindhearted woman never liked exposing her sentimental nature. "'Tis nice to see you back where you belong."
The earl looked around. "I see your cottage has a new roof. Are the other tenants living comfortably?"
"Yes." Martin stared at the tabletop.
"There's not that much profit." James realized he sounded irritated and it made him aware he would not get information that way.
Martin's thick bushy eyebrows rose, he spoke quietly, "You need to talk with Lady Julia about that."
James brushed back his hair. "How does Julia do it?" he demanded.
"I do not know, my lord, but we do have better profits. We work harder but not longer hours...our children play...and learn to read and write. It is better than when the Old Earl lived."
"Lady Julia is a saint. Our homes are comfortable and warm," Martha added. "She would be a good wife for the new Earl of Hawkthorn."
James straightened his back at her words but then he smiled. "You, too, Martha?" He supposed she had some rights to tell him her thoughts when he remembered the numerous times she and Martin had hidden him for hours after he unthinkingly galloped across the freshly seeded fields. The Old Earl, even in his dotage, brought his cane, and though he stumbled across the fields, he used it on his grandson. That is if he could find the boy before his fiery temper burned down.
"Ah, Lady Loretta believes Lady Julia a fitting wife for an earl?" Martha grinned, in satisfaction that her betters shared her sentiments.
"I'll not be pushed into marriage," James protested.
"I'd not want you to be, my lord," Martha said with an air of indifference.
"I want to visit other tenants today." James stood, halting the discussion with action as well as words. "I shall be off."
The pride that Martin and Martha expressed toward the good works of Julia surprised him. It made him wonder how such a ragamuffin could transform Hawkthorn tenants into showing pride and profit.
When he discovered Julia was no longer a child, the sense of loss he felt was a bitter pill to swallow. Yet he failed to realize a young woman at seventeen could be responsible. Julia needed a husband! He consoled himself by remembering six-year-old Robert. The boy needed his guidance and love.
James rode amongst the cottages only stopping now and then. Every cottage he entered appeared tidy, clean and endowed with a piece of furniture that used to be somewhere in Hawkthorn Manor. Every household had several dog-eared books displayed in a prominent place. He was impressed with the pride they showed, and each mentioned their children could read. So Julia administers to all Hawkthorn's tenants. Better to bide his time and find out exactly how and what she did. His mind roiled with questions. Surely she never told the tenants what seeds to plant or what cattle to buy? Forcing them to read the latest agricultural reports was one thing, but old man Fogel would never allow Julia to determine where the profits were spent. Who is behind this? What in the devil is that gruff old man Fogel doing in town?
I will let it be known the Earl of Hawkthorn is back and I will run the estate my way. A snip of a girl is not going to tell me what to do.
CHAPTER 5
James dismounted at the stable. When he noticed the stable hands cleaning his traveling carriage and tending his new cattle, he walked over to Frank. "What do you think of the Landaulet?"
"Well-sprung. Lady Loretta will enjoy riding in it to London."
Walking over to the matched pair of blacks being rubbed down, James gazed at the horses. "Bought them at Tattersall's. First time without you, Frank."
"I checked them over. Sweet goers they are. Don't suspect you will need me to choose a horse again." Frank smiled and raised his brows.
"Thank you." Frank only complimented the best horseflesh. It gave James a spring to his walk thinking of himself as having a sharp eye for horseflesh.
Frank nodded, then shifted his weight, self-consciously. "Your valet took his time unloading your clothes. Wasn't too friendly. Bold as brass ordering everyone about."
"Casper stood beside me at every battle. He took good care of me but he feels a bit more comfortable on a battlefield than he does in England. He just sounds gruff. I hope you will all help him adjust." James grinned at Frank. "I owe the man a lot, Casper saved my life a few times."
"'Tis our blessing Casper will receive. Hawkthorn needs you. Master Robert and Lady Julia need you, too. They have taken care of things best they could."
Frank is another admirer of Julia's. They're all blinded by her beauty. James took the backstairs two at a time, anxious to look presentable for tea.
In very
little time, Casper had James dressed. Surveying himself in the long mirror, he said, "I'm not sure this is me."
"You will have no difficulty becoming used to the style."
James with skeptical eyes inspected the tight-fitting double-breasted claret jacket. The snug gray unmentionables and the gold tasseled black boots."
"I shined your boots with champagne."
"Nice tough, Casper. I'm just used to seeing myself in the scarlet and gold uniform. This high neck cloth is uncomfortable. Stiff as a board."
"Perhaps I can find a better way to tie your cravat."
James sighed. "I miss my uniform and more specifically, my command. Women are difficult. Robert -- "
"Have you seen the young boy?" Casper raised a brow.
"That's where I'm headed. I want to see Robert by himself." James grabbed the package that had been placed on his desk and dashed to the nursery.
Without hesitation he knocked twice, and entered the room. He found Robert, on his knees, and his governess busy picking up toys.
The governess stood and bowed. "Good afternoon, my lord." She yanked on the child's hand, and had him up on his feet in a thrice. "Greet your brother properly."
"My lord," Robert whispered, lowered his gaze toward his shoes.
James stooped and handed Robert the package. "I've brought you something, and thought we might play while we share tea."
Robert raised his head. With eyes large as saucers, he looked directly at the earl without speaking a word.
James motioned to the governess. "Miss?"
"Miss Harper, my lord," Robert solemnly answered.
"Miss Harper," James smiled, "would you mind going to the kitchen and ordering tea be sent up to the nursery?"
With a curtsy, Miss Harper nodded before she scurried out of the room. Did she also believe him a dragon? Surely the old nurse could not believe the fairy tale his grandmother had written before he was born.
Robert hesitated before opening the package. Seeing the tin soldiers, his blue eyes twinkled with surprise. Completely absorbed, he studied the soldiers one by one, turning the tiny miniatures around with admiration and examining the minutest detail. "Is this one Napoleon?"
