by Eliza Lloyd
Maybe Nora was quiet because she did not want to air her emotions in front of strangers.
Gabriel glanced around the kitchen. They’d done an astounding job bringing it back to life. Well, the whole house, really. The roof was the first thing they had replaced, and then they had tackled the masonry. Water was the enemy and had already taken a toll on the structure’s second floor, where the roof had leaked.
The cracks in the chimney had been repaired with new mortar. They’d leveled the flooring in the kitchen and added a modern commode at the side of the scullery. They’d even solved the rank odor problem with an s-shape pipe for the waste discharge. Gabriel had read about a raised cistern to expel the waste with the water, but he hadn’t had the time to investigate that particular invention yet. A bowl and pitcher were kept full for use.
Mayhap he could cheer Nora by assuring her the house would have the most modern conveniences one day soon. Or perhaps he just needed to show her the practical amenity so she could experience the ease for herself. He was quite proud of the advancement, base as it was.
Yet the rest of the house was still a disaster, which was likely all Nora saw. The workers cleaned every bowl and plate before they departed for the evening, leaving Gabriel and Nora some privacy with only the cook cleaning up the dirty wares and storing the uneaten portions in the pantry.
Nora set her cutlery aside, an unspoken statement that she was done with the dinner. “Gabriel, where am I to sleep tonight? I would like to retire soon. Or are we traveling back to the Red Lion to sleep?”
“No, we’ll stay here. Would you like to stroll before you turn in? Or I could show you the few things we have repaired at the house?” He tread lightly. The questions would come, and he would have to explain more about his father’s inexplicable madness. He would have to tell her why he could do nothing about it at the time. And he would have to tell her the strange and utterly impossible reason why anyone would believe there was hidden treasure. At least it had nothing to do with her father’s betrayal of his children’s legacy. He did not want to add more to that steaming pile of manure.
“Maybe tomorrow. I am rather tired,” she said.
“Are you sure? There is much to see.”
“You have won, Carlow. I am defeated. We can leave for London at your convenience.”
He braced his elbows on the table. Nora’s defeat wasn’t wide or deep; she would recover once she found new footing. Once she saw the possibilities for Henbury Hall and the estates, she would find new life to sustain her. “There is no hurry.”
“It was all for naught,” she said, lifting her linen napkin to her face and dabbing at her eyes.
“You got a husband and the property you’d hope for. That seems some reason to celebrate.”
“Celebrate? You have a jaded sense of humor. What do you want me to say, Carlow? That I am happy my childhood home is dilapidated and nothing like I remember?”
He stood. “Come with me. I have a few things to show you.”
Gabriel led her to the back of the kitchen through the scullery. One door led outside, another to the new commode. He opened the door. “What do you think of this?”
“What is it?” She stepped into the room, of a generous size considering the basic use for the space.
“An indoor commode. In the style of Marie Antoinette.” He lifted the mahogany lid. “For your convenience and privacy.”
Nora laughed and came to stand beside him, looking into the bowl. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”
“You will be once you use it. Go ahead. I can wait.”
“I’m not going to use it now. Not while you’re waiting outside.”
“Well, when you do, I want your opinion. I have some other ideas how to make it better.”
“When we’ve been married twenty years, then I might discuss such privacies with you.”
Twenty years? That sounded much better than their negotiated three months. Was she even aware she’d said it?
Gabriel did have a surprise for her. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her tonight or give her some joy tomorrow. He’d made a simple inquiry, one he had not thought to ask before, but the laborers had an answer for him which he would soon share with Nora.
“It’s here when you need it. The earl’s room upstairs is nearly done. Would you like to see it?”
“Of course, if you wish.”
They walked up the stairs and toward the one room on this floor that was livable. “Do you remember much?” he asked.
“Some, now that I see it. Most of it was an eight-year-old’s chimera. Whimsy propped up by the unwillingness to believe my father could do wrong. I remember my room, though.” They stepped into the earl’s room. “Oh my!” she said.
Gabriel was very pleased with the work. Aside from some final painting of the trim and one last wall that needed paper placed, it was a room made for comfort. He’d ordered the bed sight unseen, or his man-of-affairs had. Three Aubusson carpets were rolled in the corner. He hadn’t seen those either, but they attracted Nora’s attention and she strolled over to caress the plush pile. All of them were pastoral scenes with matching borders, which wouldn’t be known until there was a final cleaning and the rugs were rolled out near the bed.
The background color was manilla, a light brown that was offset by the intense puce of the curtains, bed covering and the carpet trim. The wallpaper was an apple-esque theme with branches in green, blossoms in light yellow and two puce-colored apples in each segment.
An armoire was set up against one wall, bedside tables were positioned on each side of the bed. The floor gleamed with the new linseed oil varnish. Drop cloths were still in place on the one side of the room. There were two chaise lounges, a large cheval mirror and a trifold screen all stuffed into one corner, while a table, with four chairs stacked on the surface, were crammed into the other corner.
Still plenty to do, but the vision was complete. More importantly, Nora caught the vision.
Gabriel had asked the laborers to devote much of their time finishing this room and the library. Aside from the last month in London, he had spent about six months here, sleeping downstairs in the slowly renovated rooms. He’d become quite handy with a hammer and saw, but it was hell on his hands. And he quite enjoyed the effort, a catharsis from his father’s destruction.
They weren’t able to work on one project at a time as, on a daily basis, small emergencies popped up that required urgent attention.
Nora sat on the bed and glanced around. “I’m glad Timothy is not here to see this.”
“You surprise me, Nora.”
“Oh? Why?”
“You don’t wonder how it all happened?”
“Wall by wall, I would imagine. Time is as much a destroyer of dreams as the weather.”
He pulled a chair from the tabletop and sat across from her. “Even time couldn’t do this much damage. My father was creatively destructive.”
“Why didn’t your father let the property? Or sell it? If it were mine, I would at least try to make money with tenants and rents. Even my father was smart enough to know that. But to just disregard it this way, makes no sense.”
“So, is that the only way this place yields a treasure? To rent it to someone else?”
“There is no such thing as a buried or hidden treasure. But you do know the parable of the talents. Every child in Sabbath school learned it. If you have five talents, you don’t bury them in the ground. You put them to work to make more.”
“Because you know not when the master cometh?”
“That is the moral of that story. I have no idea what the moral of the Henbury Hall story is. A solicitor could have managed the property—”
Gabriel clucked his tongue. “That’s a side issue. Your father sold the property to my father. Now, what is the moral of my father’s story? He had every means at his disposal to care for the property but did not.”
“I don’t understand. You are saying he just let a valuable asset deteriorate for no rea
son? It’s one thing to tear apart the house. It’s another to allow grounds to fallow. Tenants to drift off or suffer without financial support.”
“It’s worse than that, Nora. My father was looking for the famed Blasington hoard.”
He watched her. She didn’t react except to raise her brows. “What are you talking about?”
“I told you about the treasure for which my father searched. It was called Blasington’s Hoard. Supposedly, all his ill-gotten gains, preserved for the man clever enough to find it.”
“Blasington’s hoard? That is just so far-fetched. When you told me your father looked for treasure, I thought it was just part of your father’s imagination. His delusions.”
“Would you have known about it at such a young age, if it had been true?”
“Hmm, you’re serious,” she said, smiling suddenly. “A treasure of some sort? You think my father had a real treasure?” She burst out laughing. “My father?” she said again, and then fell back on the bed, laughing uncontrollably. “My father the thief?” She wiped at her eyes before pushing to her elbow. “If my father had a treasure, we would not be married. I would be swanning about London on the arm of a duke and with three children who called me Mu-ther. Oh, Carlow, tell me another tale while you are at it.”
“My father believed the stories were true.”
Nora stopped laughing. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because my father tore Henbury Hall to pieces looking for it. During one argument over his behavior, he gave me this token.” He touched the scar down the side of his face.
She sighed, rubbing her temple. “Oh my God! When is it going to stop? Feed me some small kernel of normalcy and I will grab onto it with all my strength.”
“So, you don’t believe the rumors?”
“Do you? Did your father find anything?”
“No. He didn’t find anything, but I did.” Nora still didn’t suspect he had developed strong emotions for her and certainly wouldn’t attribute his comment to the treasure he found in her.
“What are you saying?”
“That Henbury Hall had treasure that didn’t involve gold and silver. And it was well hidden.”
“How much?” she asked, curiosity in her gaze. “It must have been substantial. You have a very smug look right now.”
“I can’t put a price on it. Suffice it to say, I think the value is incalculable.”
“And your poor father died not knowing. How long will it take to repair the manor house?”
“Several months yet. The outbuildings also need work but not to the same degree.”
“So, we can’t stay while the repairs are happening?”
“We can. It won’t be comfortable, and I don’t have any domestics hired, other than the cook, and that was to make sure I kept my day laborers happy.”
Nora glanced around the room again. “Will it be a grand house again, one day?”
“That is my plan.”
“Well then, while you are rebuilding, do you want me to help spend your treasure? I am sure I could find a bonnet or two that would please me. Along with some furniture, books, paintings, a piano, and a few other items.”
“Was I not clear enough? The treasure wasn’t monetary.”
“I’ve really had enough mystery, Carlow. Tell me plainly or don’t tell me at all.”
“I’ll tell you if you come walk with me in the back. Aside from keeping the repairs on track, I’ve spent the last six months designing a small pleasure garden. It’s one of my new passions.” There had been numerous holes where Gabriel’s father had dug in search of the hoard. Something had to be done and a garden seemed most logical.
“Like Ranelagh?”
“Nothing so magnificent. I didn’t have the room, but there were two indentations in the back that seemed to hold water for several months, which gave me the idea for the fountains and holding ponds.” As they headed down the stairs, Gabriel glanced toward the windows. “I hope it won’t be too dark to see everything,” he said. “It really is magnificent.”
“There’s always tomorrow.”
Chapter Twelve
The Henbury Hall pleasure garden was a welcome surprise. Nora’s despair had rebounded to the level of acute sorrow. She was naïve to think the property hadn’t changed, that every detail from her childhood was exactly as she remembered it. Carlow had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. Hadn’t really believed.
But seeing the groomed bowling green, the two water fountains feeding the terraced ponds and the rock bridge were a delight. Even the tinkling water was a special joy.
“Oh, Carlow! It is marvelous.” She took in a deep breath, unable to identify all the scents, but it was a lovely combination of fragrant flowers and aromatic herbs.
She glanced at Carlow beside her. He strolled with his hands behind his back, the light wind shifting his hair with each turn in the trail.
“There’s more,” he said. They continued on a stone path that wound through the garden with loops and turns. They came to the entrance of a private arbor, two of them actually, facing each other. Sticks and long, slender tree limbs formed an arch, and inside the alcove was a bench with a rounded back. Two potted plants, sage by the smell, decorated the interior. There was also a selection of flowers planted in a circle around the alcove edges, a snow carpet of allysum.
Gabriel led her inside and they sat next to each other, their knees touching. Maybe it was the closest they had been in the last few days, since leaving Whitmarsh anyway.
“I love it, Gabriel. I know you didn’t make it for me, but it feels very personal.”
“Had I known you when I started the project, I would have found a way to make it even more grand.”
“Now you are just trying to make me feel better about the manor house.”
“Yes. Did it work?”
“It’s such a shame. That is all. I know a house isn’t really a home unless there is love and family present, like Timothy and I had with Lord and Lady Fortenay, but it seemed all so perfect to me. I couldn’t help but want it all back. Did your father ever tell you about it? Why he thought my father had this secret hoard of wealth?”
“Aside from the rumors, no. Considering your father was a very fine thief, I’m sure people speculated about all the things he’d stolen. We’ll just have to add it to the heap of things we will never know. All I saw was that Father deteriorated as he searched. He must have believed it was a wildly lavish hoard. Surely, no man would do what he did for a few hundred pounds, not when the estate itself could have been rented for two hundred pounds a year. He didn’t even do that.”
“Maybe he thought someone else would find the treasure,” she said.
“Or maybe someone did find it.”
“Or maybe it never was.” That seemed more likely. “I suppose we’ll be telling our grandchildren about the great rumors of treasure in the barn walls and they will only want to visit Nana and Grandpapa so they can find it,” she said. It was a lovely thought—their progeny running free at Henbury, enjoying all aspects of life in the country. Enjoying the home that had belonged to their great-grandfathers.
“We’ll have to bury something for them on occasion to keep the rumors and enthusiasm alive. Anything to encourage their return to see us.”
Their gazes caught. Nora felt the strong pull of attraction that had been growing for him. She took his hand and held it with both of hers. “Gabriel, you said once, all those years ago…” She smiled as she said it, thinking about how long ago it seemed that she and Carlow had made their bargain. A little over a month now. “You said that if I didn’t love you in three months, Henbury Hall would be mine.”
“About that—”
“No. Let me finish. You’ve been true to your word throughout and I find myself in an awkward place. In three months, my feelings aren’t going to change from what they are now.”
“You can’t mean that. I still have several weeks to convince you our marriage is worthwhile.”
&
nbsp; Oh, yes! She believed that. With all her heart. There had never been anyone with whom Nora had felt such an immediate and compelling connection, even with the bumps and bruises of her behavior.
“I do mean it. I love you now, Carlow! Not the sensationalized passions of one of those cheap broadsides published in London. For me, it is something grander and deeper than I would not have thought possible in such a short time.
“If you don’t feel that way about me, I promise I will still be an admirable wife. One any man in England would be proud to have, or at least not embarrassed to have. And I promise I won’t ever harass you or Andover or Fromme about what my father may or may not have done with his properties. I’ll even try not to add so much drama to your life,” she said.
“Nora,” he said.
“I know. At first, I was the one who wanted the dissolution or the annulment, but you were right. It would be difficult and scandalous, and we should make the best of our situation. We should, shouldn’t we?” She glanced at him again to see his expression was blank. “You’re not saying anything.”
“I wanted to give you the last word,” he said.
“Now is not the time for last words. We need agreement.”
“Well, I agree it is a good thing you love me.”
“Yes, of course you would think that. Henbury Hall will always be yours, never belonging to the Blasington family again. Perhaps someday I will still be able to buy it from you,” she said.
“I plan to give it to the first son you give me. He would be half Blasington.”
Nora smiled broadly at the implication. “Mayhap his name could be styled Blasington-Sutter.”
“Let’s delivery a healthy baby boy before we have that discussion.”
“You don’t seem too angry with me.”
“How could I be? The woman I love just said she loves me.”
Nora couldn’t stop the rush of tears nor the spill that rolled down her cheeks.
