by Cheryl Bolen
He nodded.
“My niece Margaret was the third of four children. She had two elder sisters who are now married. Her prospects of attracting a husband of her own, unfortunately, are limited due to her plumpness.”
“She is fat?” Carlotta asked.
Mrs. MacGinnis shook her head. “I wouldn't say fat. It's just that she's a bit too round.”
The girl must bear a resemblance to her aunt, Carlotta thought. “How old is she?” Carlotta asked.
“She's nineteen and has a strong desire to secure a post as a nurse or governess.”
James's brows shot up. “A governess? Then she is educated?”
Mrs. MacGinnis nodded. “Oh, yes, milord. And you should see her penmanship! 'Tis like a work of art.”
“She's in Middlesex now?”
She nodded.
“Thank you, Mrs. MacGinnis,” James said in a dismissive voice. “My wife and I shall give serious consideration to engaging your niece.”
Once the door was closed behind the housekeeper, James's and Carlotta's eyes locked.
“What think you?” he asked.
“She sounds perfect!”
“I agree. Should you like to engage her, sight unseen?”
“You've spoken so highly of her aunt, the girl obviously comes from good stock.”
“And the fact that she's educated should move her to the top of our list.”
Carlotta nodded. “Go ahead, dearest. Engage the girl.”
“Very well.”
* * *
Carlotta's tour of the house was delayed for half an hour as the housekeeper drafted and posted a letter to her niece. While Carlotta waited, she went to fetch Stevie from Peggy.
“Perhaps now that I'm relieving you of Stevie,” Carlotta said to her maid, “you'll have time to unpack your own things. I know you didn't arrive until quite late last night.”
“I'll unpack and press yer things as well, milady.”
Carlotta nodded and gave her hand to Stevie. “Come, lamb, we shall go take a tour of our new house.”
As they descended the stairs, Stevie said, “Yarmouth doesn't seem like a house, Mama. It seems like a palace. It's so big!”
“That it is. I pray we don't get lost.”
But once she saw the house, Carlotta realized its perfect symmetry should keep her from getting lost. Thank goodness, she thought, there weren't haphazard additions jutting out at all angles, as there were in many old houses belonging to the nobility.
During the tour and the seemingly endless procession of bed chambers, Stevie asked Mrs. MacGinnis how many bed chambers there were.
“Three and forty,” the housekeeper replied with a pride equal to that of an owner.
“But I thought the old earl had no children,” Stevie said.
“You must understand, lamb,” Carlotta said, “earls are very important people who have many guests who come stay with them.”
“King George I himself came to Yarmouth in 1719,” the housekeeper boasted. “He liked to hunt in the nearby wood.”
Stevie's eyes rounded. “Think you our king will come here?”
“Our king's very sick—and besides, Lord Rutledge is not acquainted with him,” Carlotta said. She stopped to examine a portrait of a wigged and powdered gentleman.
“That was the old earl,” Mrs. MacGinnis said.
Carlotta studied the portrait carefully but decided he bore no resemblance to her husband.
“Were there children here when the other king came?” Stevie asked Mrs. MacGinnis.
“Indeed. The third earl had fourteen children.”
“I wish my mama—and papa—had fourteen children.”
Carlotta set a hand to his shoulder, silently pleased at the ease with which Stevie had accepted James as his father. “I daresay you'll find children here to be your friends.”
Mrs. MacGinnis nodded. “This place is going to come alive now. It's has been far too dreary for far too many years. Very few of the bed chambers have even been used since I came here.” She began to mount the stairs to the top floor. “When I first came, the old countess was alive, and she was happiest when all the rooms were filled. Then the poor lady took a fever and died suddenly.” Mrs. MacGinnis shook her head sadly. “The old earl was never the same after she died.”
Carlotta paused in front of a window near the stairwell and gazed first at the parterre garden to the rear of the house, then the magnificence of the land north of the estate arrested her attention. Patches of farmland in varying shades of green gave way further north to smooth hills lush with vegetation.
“I should think,” Carlotta said to the housekeeper, “the lack of residents here, though, has surely made your position easier,” Carlotta said to Mrs. MacGinnis.
The housekeeper shrugged. “I would prefer to be worked ragged. I take great pleasure in setting a full table and in having the guest rooms bursting with people. Perhaps his lordship, now that he is married, will bring life back to Yarmouth.”
“Perhaps,” Carlotta said, though she did not wish to open up Yarmouth and jeopardize her secure position as the wife James valued. Were others to converge on the house, James would be certain to learn about Gregory.
Mrs. MacGinnis led the way to the top floor.
“Has my husband made many changes since coming here?” Carlotta asked.
“Most of us believe he's saved Yarmouth.”
Carlotta's brows drew together. “How?”
“As I said, the old earl lost interest in everything, including Yarmouth, after the countess died. He reduced the staff because he did not wish to keep three-and-forty chambers cleaned and dusted for guests who would never come, never be invited. He allowed the house to begin to fall to ruin.”
Carlotta glanced around her. “It seems well maintained to me.”
“That's because the new Lord Rutledge has worked tirelessly to restore the house to what it should be. He's put much of his fortune back into it—and into the mines.” Mrs. MacGinnis chuckled. “When we heard the new Lord Rutledge was a young bachelor, many of us expected he would drain the estates to feed his lavish ways in town.”
Carlotta burst into laughter. “So you expected him to be the absentee earl! That is too funny. To know my husband is to know of his acute sense of duty.”
The housekeeper nodded her agreement. “Nearly every person here in Exmoor owes his livelihood to Lord Rutledge, and all of them think he likely hung the stars in the sky.”
So it's not just me who owes him so much. “Pray tell, why is he so highly regarded?”
“Even though the old earl did not choose to spend money, he was obsessed with making it. The mines were unsafe, but he refused to put money into making them safer and would not hear of shutting down the unsafe ones.”
Stevie looked up at her. “Did anyone die in the mines?”
“Aye, lad,” Mrs. MacGinnis said, nodding mournfully. “There have been three tragedies in recent years. A total of one and twenty lives lost.”
Carlotta winced. “You're saying these are losses that could have been prevented?”
Mrs. MacGinnis shrugged. “That's what I've been told. As soon as your husband learned the details, he called all the miners together and told them he would do whatever it took to make the mines safe. He told them one life lost was one too many. They cheered him mightily.”
Carlotta was filled with pride. “He told me he's had to close some of the mines that were unsafe.”
“At a great financial loss to himself, I am told.” Mrs. MacGinnis stopped, took a key from her pocket and opened a chamber door. “This is one of the maid's rooms—actually it's not occupied at present because Kate, the one who formerly lived here, married and took a post in Minehead.”
Stevie ran into the room and glanced all around. “It's not nearly as big as my chamber.”
“But it's a comfortable looking room,” Carlotta defended.
“Aye,” Mrs. MacGinnis said, exiting the room, waiting with key in hand to relock
it. “All the rooms on this floor are occupied by the staff.”
They started back down the stairs.
“Where is Mr. Fordyce's study?” Carlotta asked.
“Forgive me, my lady, for neglecting to show it you. When you see it, you'll understand how easy it would be to forget it. Mr. Fordyce's office is almost like a secret room off the library. Come, I'll take you there now.”
They walked down to the first floor and into the library. Carlotta's glance flicked to her husband's desk, but he was no longer there or anywhere in the room. Mrs. MacGinnis slid her hand along a shelf of Latin books, and then a twelve-foot tall section of the shelves swung inward into Mr. Fordyce's brightly lit study.
He was sitting at his desk by the window when he looked up and saw them. “Good day, my lady,” he said as he stood up. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I thought to get acquainted with you.” Carlotta glanced at Mrs. MacGinnis, “Please take Stevie to my maid, if you will, Mrs. MacGinnis. He'll be needing to get some sunshine.”
When Mrs. MacGinnis went to the leave the room, she began to close off its entry.
“That's not necessary, Mrs. MacGinnis,” Carlotta said. “You can leave it open.” Carlotta must endeavor to keep any kind of scandal from further tarnishing her name.
Alone with Mr. Fordyce, Carlotta said, “So this is where you work.” She strolled about the chamber, then came to stand in front of him. “May I sit down?”
“Please do.” He waited until she sat before he did likewise.
The exceedingly fair secretary looked to be slightly younger than James, yet a seriousness about him—and the fact he wore spectacles—made him seem older. Although his clothing and his voice were that of a gentleman, his unstylishly slicked hair was completely at odds with a man of fashion.
“How long have you been at Yarmouth, Mr. Fordyce?”
“I was with the old earl for a year, and I've now been nearly another year with the new earl.”
“And my husband is an agreeable employer?” She was puzzled over the way James had snapped at him the night before.
“Most agreeable.”
“Would you describe him as a difficult taskmaster?”
He pursed his lips. “He demands much of me, but he tempers his demands with consideration. It would not be difficult for me to understand what an outstanding soldier he was while in India.”
Since James had come to Yarmouth straight from India, Mr. Fordyce must not be acquainted with the fact that James had also served in Spain, Portugal and at Waterloo. She was unaccountably proud of him, and had to fight the urge to enlighten the secretary on her husband's military accomplishments.
“Tell me, how does one go about becoming a secretary?” she asked.
He gave a shy laugh. “One doesn't set about to become a secretary. In my case, when I left Cambridge—after an undistinguished two years there—a friend recommended me to the previous Earl Rutledge, who at the time was seeking a new secretary.”
“And the position suits you?”
He thought for a moment before replying. “My own capabilities, it would seem, are perfectly suited to this position. It's rather simpatico, actually.”
Simpatico. 'Twas the very word she had used to describe how well suited James was to her.
Smiling, she stood up. “I've taken enough of your time. I wished to get to know you, as his lordship tells me I will have the liberty of using your services when needed.”
He hastened to his feet. “Services it will be my pleasure to give.”
“Oh, there you are,” James's voice thundered from behind her.
Carlotta spun around to face her husband, who directed an angry gaze at her.
Chapter 16
James's angry gaze upset Carlotta. This brooding man bore little resemblance to the man whose kindnesses had won her favor and secured her hand in marriage. Meeting his flashing eyes with only bare civility, she brushed past him and spoke icily. “You wanted me, my lord?” Knowing how greatly he disliked her addressing him as my lord, she had thrown in the title to spite him.
A sudden, painful grip on her arm stopped her in mid-stride. She spun around to see his hand coiled around her arm and the fury in his eyes. He closed the hidden doorway behind him, then spoke to her in a guttural voice. “You are never to address me as your lord, Carlotta.”
The corners of her mouth lifted with false mirth. “But you're acting so very lordly, dearest.”
He released her arm and began to move further into the library. “I'm out of charity with you, if you must know.”
She stopped abruptly and shot him a scorching gaze. “Pray, what could I possibly have done to draw your wrath?” she asked, her voice quivering. “I honestly have no clue.”
He indicated a seat on the sopha nearest the fire. She narrowed her gaze and flung herself down into the silk cushions. James was treating her as if she were a servant.
“I've been looking all over for you,” he said. “You could have shown the courtesy of allowing me to know your direction.”
Her eyes blazed with anger. “You had only to ask Mrs. MacGinnis. She knew very well where I was.” She glared at him and spoke coolly. “Furthermore, it was not my understanding that I was to inform you of my every move. Am I to be treated only as your chattel?”
He winced and ran a hand through his sandy hair. “Forgive me,” he said in a gentle voice, coming to sit beside her and take her hand.
Unaccountably, her stomach fluttered when he did so, undoubtedly due to the combination of so gentle a voice and the warmth of his big hand. “You must confess, James, since we have arrived at Yarmouth, you've been a veritable bear.”
He nodded remorsefully. “While you, on the other hand, my love, have behaved in such a manner as to make me swell with pride.”
She looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “I have?”
“You will make a fine countess, Carlotta.”
She agonized over her own unworthiness, yet beamed over his compliment. “I meant it when I told your staff last night I would learn each and every one of them. I started with Mr. Fordyce, but I perceive you do not care for him.”
James shook his head. “But I do! He's extremely competent.”
“If awfully shy.”
“The shyness is merely a barrier he erects with women. Fordyce has had little intercourse with the fairer sex.”
“Then he is more congenial with you?”
“Not at first, but we get on well together now.”
“It's my ardent wish that your ill humor with him doesn't send him running to a new employer.”
“I've been that bad?”
“You have been a positive ogre. I pray Stevie never sees that side of you. The child is far too young and too sensitive to understand the shifting moods of a stepfather.”
His eyes went cold. “I beg that you not refer to me as Stevie's stepfather. It's my greatest wish that the Yarmouth staff come to think of him as my own son—though I vow I shall never let the boy forget the fine man who was his real father.”
She squeezed his hand. “Being treated as your own child, I believe, is what will make Stevie happiest, too.”
“Speaking of Stevie, I thought you and I could walk with him to the stables he's so keen to see.”
“It's a fine day to explore your lands.”
“Our lands,” he said.
“Oh dear, I don't know if I shall ever become accustomed to all of this.”
“A year ago I felt the same.” He glanced at the window.”You've been out today?” he asked.
“No, but I gazed out at the wonderful parterre garden and saw how brightly the sun is shining. I shall be pleased to accompany you and Stevie. He's already outdoors because it's his mother's belief that sunshine is good for children, provided the air is free from chilling winds, that is.”
“I agree with you. I was an exceedingly healthy lad and was rarely indoors.”
Her glance swept over him, over his lightly bronz
ed face and well muscled body. He looked to enjoy extraordinarily good health. “You still spend a great deal of time outdoors?”
He laughed. “Nothing when compared to the hours I was outdoors as a child, but if the sun's out, I'm out. I don't like it when Ebony does not get exercised.”
“I take it Ebony is your mount.”
He nodded. “You'll see him today. Do you ride?”
“I do, but not well. My grandmother could never afford to keep a stable. Stephen presented me with a horse when we lived in Portugal and insisted I become proficient at handling her. Keeping a mount in Portugal, as you know, was less expensive than in England.”
“Everything was less expensive in Portugal! And in India.”
“You had a batman?”
“He's with me still. Mannington, my valet, is my former batman.”
“It seems I learn something new about you every day.”
He grinned. “Enough of me. The sun is wasting. Shall we go find Stevie?”
* * *
If James had swelled with pride over his bride the night before, then today his pride was increasing tenfold as he and the wife and son walked over the land that had come to mean so much to him. Though he had not been born to Yarmouth, it had become as vital to him as breathing. He had walked every inch of the estates, had inspected every dark crevice in the mines, had learned every servant and employee by name.
It was difficult to believe he had not spent his entire life here. During the past year he had rectified that shortcoming by becoming an astute student of the Rutledge family. He had learned the first earl's title had been bestowed upon him by Queen Elizabeth, and the second earl had been the first to reap riches from the mines located between the Hall and the Bristol Channel. He had discovered his great-grandfather was the earl who had fathered fourteen children.
As he and his new family covered the velvet-like expanse of green park land, he found himself wondering if his children would ever succeed to the earldom, or—he wondered morosely—would his title pass to one of the Moore cousins he had never met?
“Is Bwownie here yet, Papa?” Stevie asked.
Papa. It was the first time the lad had addressed him thus. Nothing purchased with mere money could have meant so much to James. “Not yet, but today I shall allow you to ride on my mount with me.”
