“You have nothing to apologize for, my dear. I am honored that you would come to my room. A warm, willing wife has to be every man’s dream come true. But I want our wedding night, our own celebration of our union, to be perfect for both of us when it finally occurs. That consummation is more fitting at Ardsley Keep. No one will bother us there, and we do not have to get ready to travel in the morning.”
“You are sure it is not me?”
He kissed her, long and tenderly. He could feel her melt against him. He could feel her softness against his… softness. He set her aside before she noticed. “I am sure. Now go to sleep. We will be at Ardsley Keep before you know it.”
“Soon,” she said, standing on tiptoes to brush a butterfly kiss against his lips. “Soon.” A plea and a promise.
Now all he had to do was hope his inefficacy ended before the journey did.
—
Ardeth timed the final leg of their trip so that they would spend the last night at an inn, with only a few hours to travel in the morning. That way they would arrive at his estate in daylight, fresh and tidy, and expected from the note sent round from the inn with one of his own grooms.
“Aren’t you worried that you might be alerting an enemy by giving your arrival time?” Genie wanted to know over breakfast before they set out. Miss Hadley was eating upstairs in her room, purposely and politely leaving them alone in the private parlor.
Genie was having plain toast, in hopes of reaching her new home in dignity and style, instead of in a green-complexioned fog.
Ardeth was tasting the inn’s specialty, steak and kidney pie. “An enemy at the Keep? I doubt it.”
“Tell me who will be there, then, so I am prepared.”
He wanted to know, too, so had the messenger speak to the butler there after delivering Ardeth’s note. The groom reported back that Miss Calverton and the schoolteacher had moved in, along with the vicar’s widow and her three daughters. They were awaiting the allocation of cottages until the earl’s arrival.
“I suppose they quickly discovered that the Keep is more comfortable than any empty house on the grounds,” Ardeth told Genie between bites, “but we shall see.”
Other than the visitors he had sent, the Keep’s caretakers were also in residence. Generations of Spotfords had been part of the Keep for ages, managing the properties. The first one had been his first wife’s younger brother, left in charge of defending the castle when Ardeth went to war. “They are very distant relations,” he explained, “who have always made their home at Ardsley.”
“But they are not in line to inherit it?” Genie was looking for motives under every rock.
“No, they are not in the direct line of succession for the lands or the title. Even if they were, the Keep and its holdings are not entailed. The title went into abeyance for a while when some ancient relative died without an immediate heir.” Coryn of Ardsley, to be exact. “All of the pertinent documents were unfortunately lost in a fire, and the parish records, too. When an heir was discovered, my great-grandfather, I believe, he was not living in England. Thinking he would return, he petitioned the Crown to reinstate the title, and to rewrite the letters of patent concerning the succession and inheritance. He never lived to see England, nor did my father, either, but the terms clearly remain: If there is no son, the last earl can dispose of the acquired lands as he will, but the original fortress and the title revert back to the Crown. Most of the property has been added to over the years by agents from abroad, with moneys from other sources. They belong to me, to bequeath as I wish. The fortune is mine also, not the earldom’s.”
Genie knew that rules of succession varied from title to title. Some could even devolve on the female line in lieu of direct male descendants. “So the Spotfords cannot benefit from your death?”
“Oh, I shall leave them a handsome bequest for their years of service, but they do not need it. They already receive a respectable competence and a percentage of the estate’s profits, which they could lose if I die. They also own a parcel of land of their own, although it always made more sense for them to live at the Keep. I suppose they grew to think of it as theirs, but I have sent enough messages and money to remind them of my existence. Our arrival will not be a shock to any of them.”
She gave up on the dry toast and tried not to breathe in the odors of the kippers Ardeth was eating now. “Tell me about them, please, as it appears we will all be living under one roof.”
He smiled, thinking she was imagining a crowded residence like her sister’s at Cormack Woods. He decided to let her see for herself. “I cannot tell you much, because I have never met any of them myself. My agents tell me Spotford is a typical countryman, wed to the earth like your father. He has two grown sons, neither married.”
“What of his wife? Will she be upset at losing the keys to the castle?”
“I believe she died in ch—” Ardeth recalled his audience and her pregnant state. “In her late twenties. That was the mother to Spotford’s second son. His first wife, mother to his older son, died of a smallpox epidemic. The younger boy manages the home farm and their own small estate. He studied agriculture and is a big help to his father, I understand. Likely Richard will take over the position when his father retires.”
Genie looked at the platter of sweet rolls near her plate, but decided against it, with regrets. “What of the other son?”
“Fernell is more of a charming wastrel, I am afraid. He is well liked in the neighborhood, from what I can gather. All the matchmaking mamas pursue him, at any rate. I assume they expect him to inherit Spotford Oaks. Mr. Spotford pays his expenses, so Fernell lives like a lord. He travels from house party to hunting box. He is visiting friends in Bath now, I understand. The butler did tell my messenger that Mr. Spotford sent for Fernell, to welcome us home.”
“He will not like being sent for, like a schoolboy.” She changed her mind. A bite or two of the pastry would not hurt her, no more than the carriage ride.
Ardeth passed her the jam to spread on her roll. “Since it is my money supporting him and his profligacy all these years, I daresay he will hide any discontent. Especially since I have the power to tighten his purse strings. There is also an aunt, Spotford’s sister, but no, before you work yourself into a fidget, she has never acted as mistress or hostess. An accident in her youth or something keeps her to her rooms.”
“How sad. Will they stay on, do you think?”
“That depends on them, and you.”
“Me?”
“If you do not like them, they are dismissed. It is you who shall have to deal with them when I am not available.”
Genie lost her appetite. “Not available” in his lexicon did not mean busy elsewhere. It meant gone altogether. She refused to think about that. She had enough to worry about now.
He seemed to have had enough breakfast also, eager to be on the road. “I am hoping they will stay now to advise me and manage day-to-day operations. I know nothing about that, as I told your father.”
Once they were on their way, Miss Hadley settled with her sewing, Ardeth staring out the window of the carriage, Genie asked, “How soon before we reach Ardsley Keep?”
“We have been on our land since leaving the inn, I believe. There should be a rise soon, overlooking the house.”
He directed the driver to pull up at that hill, off the road, so the other vehicles could pass. The baggage carts, the servants’ coach, and most of the grooms were sent on ahead to prepare the house and start unloading. They all thought Lady Ardeth was having another of her spells.
She was not. She was too busy having spasms to have an upset stomach.
Ardeth had helped Genie out of the coach and stood, pointing her in the right direction.
“That is your house? That… that castle?” She clutched at his arm, not caring if she wrinkled his sleeve.
The magnificent building, all four stories with numerous wings, scads of chimneys, and two dozen turrets, looked like a palace for a king, no, a
n emperor. It was huge and sprawling, with windows gleaming, set in vast gardens and wide lawns and elegant stands of trees. Honey-colored stones glowed in the sunshine, with ivy permitted to soften the edges in places.
Genie almost ran back into the coach. What did a squire’s daughter, a soldier’s widow, have to do with a place like this? Kings and queens ought to live there, or visit, at least. Would she be expected to invite the prince? And how did one keep such a mammoth-sized mansion clean? “Please tell me that is not Ardsley Keep.”
“Very well, it is not. That pile of rubble on the hill behind it is the Keep. This building has been built out of the old stones. Do you see that terraced garden? The moat used to be there. And over there, where those cottages are, an entire village once stood to serve the fortress.” He pointed east. “They moved the village over there after the fire, just beyond those trees, but the shopkeepers and such still depend on the Keep for most of their trade. Few travelers come so far north, away from populous cities.”
“It is lovely.”
It was, truly.
This was not the place where Ardeth had been born, not even where he had died. He had never seen the new structures except in sketches from his messengers, and he could not discern anything familiar in the jumble of rocks in the distance. But the lands were his, as far as he could see. He had wedded a stranger to possess this place, then fought to keep it. Ardeth looked over his domain now, the grand residence, the fields filled with crops, the green hills dotted with sheep, and felt his chest swell with pride and a sense of belonging. This was what he had worked for during all those years of stolen moments. This was where he could watch things grow, instead of waiting for them to die.
With Genie beside him, this was home.
Chapter 24
“Come, wife,” Ardeth said, leading her back to the waiting carriage. “Let us start our new life together.”
Genie kept looking back. “Are you sure it will not disappear when we get closer, like some mirage?”
“We are not in the desert.”
“And you swear you did not simply conjure it all up out of moonshine when we arrived?”
“Your estimation of my abilities never ceases to amaze me. I do not know whether to be honored or insulted.” He waved an imaginary wand in the air. Nothing happened. “No, I might produce the occasional coin from an ear or a dove from a hat, if Olive is willing to be powdered, but a castle in an instant? Not likely.”
Not by half. Building that edifice, establishing the earldom and all it represented, had taken centuries, document by document in dying solicitors’ offices, brick by brick at ailing architects’ heart attacks, pound by pound at bankers’ bedsides. Making investments, sending messages, having one’s wishes known, were deuced difficult for a being who did not actually exist in this world. He had done it. And lived again to see it.
He looked back, too, before closing the carriage door. “Ardsley Keep is permanent now, and it is yours.”
“Mine?” Genie repeated with a gasp.
“I told you. It is mine to leave where I wish. You and the child can decide its fate. Stay and be countess, or make it into a university, or an asylum for the insane. It will be yours.”
Stay without Coryn? She would have to be insane herself. “Ours,” she said. “Yours and mine.”
When they got closer to the castle, Genie was reminded of pictures she’d seen of feudal times, all the serfs and vassals come out to welcome their knightly lord back from some feat of derring-do. Men and women lined the roadway, waving and cheering. Children with their faces freshly scrubbed were tossing flowers in the path of the coach. She half expected trumpets to blare, banners to be unfurled in the breeze, great warhorses with pounding hooves to ride ahead of them.
The crowds acted as if they were greeting a fairy-tale princess. All they were getting was Genie.
She smiled and waved out the window, even though she’d rather hide under Ardeth’s cape. All of these people were looking to her as their lady? “I feel as if I should be wearing ermine and a crown,” she whispered to Miss Hadley.
Ardeth reached across the seats and touched her hair, the strands that curled beneath a tiny black lace bonnet. “This is glory enough. You are perfect.”
And so she was, because he told her she could be. Head held high, she properly greeted the army of servants lined up at the castle doors—so that was how the place was kept clean—and even thanked them all for their gracious welcome. She tried to memorize the upper servants’ names, and befriended the housekeeper by begging her assistance in finding her way around.
Then they were up the steps and at the door. Ardeth said, “I wish I could carry you over the threshold, my dear, but I doubt that would be wise. What if I dropped you in front of all the staff? They would be so disappointed, we would have to move to China.”
She smiled at that, taking his arm to walk through the door of her new home.
“Welcome, welcome,” a gentleman of late middle years called out. He was bald except for a fringe of white hair, with white eyebrows and a wide smile. “I am Angus Spotford, and I am delighted to meet you, my lady, my lord. An earl and countess at Ardsley, at last! Come in, come in!”
Genie found herself enveloped in a hug, with a buss on the cheek. Ardeth received a firm handshake and a pat on the back. Then Spotford wiped a tear from his eye. “Forgive me, I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
Ardeth was wrong, Genie thought. Mr. Spotford was not at all like her father, more like the father she wished she had. He was open and emotional, and she adored him already, regretting she had suspected this kindly gentleman of harboring ill will toward her husband. He was beaming and bowing, blowing his nose. No one could be that good an actor.
The vicar’s widow also adored him, it seemed. Mrs. Newberry hovered at Spotford’s right elbow, adding her welcomes. Her daughters appeared to have laid claim to Richard Spotford, for they circled him like bees on a flower.
Miss Calverton, the former companion, was effusive in her greeting, and her appreciation of the opportunity to be of service, whatever her ladyship needed. Of course she was not trying to displace Miss Hadley, she said with a curtsy in that lady’s direction. And a tiny cottage would be delightful, if Lady Ardeth found that Miss Calverton was in the way. Genie doubted she could find the woman in this colossus of a house, much less trip over her.
The retired schoolteacher, Mr. Jordan, thanked Ardeth for the use of his magnificent library, the opportunity of a lifetime for a scholar and an admirer of rare books. He had taken the liberty of beginning to catalog the collection in gratitude, and would like to continue, with his lordship’s permission, of course. Now that he had the lottery money, he had no need to work, but this would be a labor of love. He had also been looking over likely sites for a school with Spotty.
Genie looked around for a dog.
“That’s what everyone calls me, Lady Ardeth, Spotty. But you might prefer ‘Cousin Spotford.’”
“And you must call me Cousin Genie. I find the title is too new to identify me and too ponderous to be comfortable, especially at home.”
He wiped his eyes again when she called the castle home. “Then you do intend to stay? I am so glad. As much as I love the old pile, I cannot add those special touches that make it shine. I think of the Keep as a great painting, my life’s work, if you will, and my father’s before me. But a woman’s touch can make it into a masterpiece. We’ve never had a countess, you see, not that anyone can remember, and my sister’s been bedridden these many years. My wives did their bit, but their hearts were not in it.”
Most likely because they knew it was not theirs, Genie thought. “I am sure you have done remarkably. From what I have seen, everything is perfect.”
“That’s because we had the help of Mrs. Newberry and Miss Calverton. I do not know how we would have managed to get ready for you and Lord Ardeth without them. But Ardsley Keep needs a countess and children and company. Not that we have not been merry as g
rigs since the lucky ladies arrived and our Mr. Jordan. Ah, but I suppose I should not call them lucky despite the lottery, not with them being in mourning, don’t you know? Of course you do, my dear.” He patted her hand, but a moment of silence was all he seemed to manage. “The village is hoping you’ll take a hand in the parish council and the ladies’ guild, all that kind of nonsense females take such stock in.” He turned toward Ardeth. “And Cousin Coryn—I may call you that, may I not?”
“I would be pleased. It is more like family.”
Spotford laughed. “You’ll wish for a few less kin soon enough. Be warned that the church needs a new roof, the poorhouse does not have enough firewood for the winter, and the village is without a fire bell, a physician, and a posting inn. I must say everyone but the children is delighted we will have a real school soon, and everyone, including the children, has an opinion on how it should be run and where it should be located. I told them not to bother you your first day here, but I would not be surprised to find the drawing room full of petitioners, all with good cause, naturally, tomorrow. I have been putting them off the last month or so, thinking the decisions should be yours to make. It is your money, after all. Oh, and whenever you wish to inspect the estate books, I am at your service.”
“There is no hurry. I know you have done an exemplary job.”
Spotford grinned with pride. “Born to it, don’t you know? And my boy takes after me.”
“Your elder son?”
His smile faded a little. “No, Richard. My firstborn goes his own merry path. He means no disrespect by being late. Nor does my sister. She seldom leaves her rooms.”
“None taken. After all, we were not sure when we would arrive.”
“We expect Fernell any minute. He’s riding hell for leather right now if I know the boy, but he must have stopped off at a mill or a cockfight, unless he met with an accident. He sent his valet on ahead with the baggage yesterday.”
Richard Spotford stepped out of his bevy of young girls rather than let his father fret about the absent Fernell. “But I am eager to show you the farms, sir. Whenever you wish.”
The Hourglass Page 24
