“It does matter, sir. I want to make things right. I can make things right both here and with Miss Blanchett.”
Drew saw the first spark of interest from his father since he'd entered the room. “How?”
“Most important will be to put Rowland Park to rights and to get you from that bed.”
Lord Rowland gave a bitter chuckle. “It would take a great deal of money for the first and only God could do the second.”
“I've been told the doctor says you can walk if only you will try. As to the other, I have money, sir. It's taken eight years, but I have made my fortune and I fully intend to invest it here, in my home, if you still consider me your heir.”
“Of course you are my heir.” The baron grew silent as he contemplated his son's words. “You are still obligated to that girl. There's nothing we can do about her, for I signed those papers the night you disappeared, albeit I didn't know you'd run off until later. But it's all moot, for very likely the poor thing is dead and buried.”
“I intend to find out, sir. I'll hire someone to look for her and her maid. I'll start with Blanchett's lawyer. He claims to be receiving letters from her. If she's alive, I'll find her, Father, and when I do I'll honor your wishes and marry her. Rowland Park and Chettwood Manor will become one estate, just as you planned.”
For a moment the baron seemed to take heart from his son's words, then his gaze dropped to his legs hidden under the bed linens and the spark of light seemed to go out. “It doesn't matter. I shall never leave this bed. Do what you will.”
Both his father's solicitor and his stepmother had told Drew that the doctor had said the old gentleman could walk again, but he would have to want to do it. It was too early to hope for any changes. If he could make things better then his father's spirits might improve. Drew would take one endeavor at a time and for now that would be working to restore the estate.
“Very well, sir, if I must then I shall do things alone, but I would much prefer to have my father at my side. I shall begin first thing in the morning by hiring a new steward.” With that he left his father, hoping that something he'd said had rekindled his father's spirit.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Let go, you ugly blighter.” Jacinda tugged at the stubborn weed which stood nearly waist high. The borders along the walk in Rowland Park's east garden had been full of such weeds when she'd first started. Now they were heaped in a large pile for Ben to haul off later. After most of the morning pulling them, her strength was almost spent. She gave one last tug and the roots suddenly pulled from the ground, causing Jacinda to tumble backward. She landed hard on her backside in the newly scythed grass and her hat flew off. She chuckled and lay back to rest for a moment, enjoying the warm sunshine and the smell of honeysuckle on the nearby stone wall that sheltered the garden from the wind.
After three days of backbreaking work, the results of her efforts were beginning to show. This one garden was almost back to what it had been twenty years earlier. She knew because Nate had shown her a watercolor that had been painted by a former guest of the Park's gardens during it's heyday. A series of three pictures hung in the hallway where the servants came and went. Jacinda stopped and stared at them each morning when she and Ben came for breakfast with the servants. It gave her an idea of what she was striving for as a final result.
Exhausted, she savored the moment in the grass with her eyes closed. Her back hurt, her hands were blistered andâher eyes popped open when she heard a footfall in the gravel walk beside her. She stared up into the smiling face of Captain Morrow.
“Are we working you too hard, Jack?” He smiled down at her.
Jacinda scrambled to her feet. “N-no, sir. I just fell backwards while pulling weeds.” She lifted the offending plant still clutched in her hand, then tossed it to the weed pile to her left. Her gaze swept over the captain. This morning he looked different somehow. They hadn't met since the night they'd first arrived, so perhaps her imagination was playing tricks on her. Her gaze swept over him a second time. He definitely looked different.
Seth had told them the gentleman was so busy what with hiring a new steward and going over the books, he'd scarcely left the library, going so far as to have his meals served there, a fact that had piqued Lady Rowland. But fatigue wasn't what made him appear different. A soft breeze wafted through the garden and the scent of lavender and spice tickled her nose. Then she realized what had changed. He'd cut his hair into a more fashionable style. A Brutus, was it called? Also, his clothes were much more fashionable than the buckskins and driving coat he'd worn to drive down. Why, he looked as if he were going somewhere important.
Noting the direction of her gaze, the gentleman self-consciously ran a hand through the neatly arranged style, mussing it a bit, then tugged at his waistcoat. “My father's valet insisted he must see to me. Is it dreadful?”
Jacinda could only stare for a moment for, if anything, it made him more handsome. The dark gray jacket over a light gray waistcoat complemented his emerald eyes. The elegance of his cravat would rival any gentleman in Town and his once mud-stained Hessians shone like mirrors in the sunlight. “No, no, it is very stylish, sir. You will turn all the ladies heads.” A thought that strangely did little to please her.
The captain reach out and tweaked a blade of grass from her unruly curls. “If you like I shall have Clark trim your hair, as well. If your mane gets much longer, lad, they'll be mistaking you for a girl in town with that baby face.”
Jacinda's heart sank and she scrambled to recover her hat, which she then pulled down low over her face. “That won't be necessary, Captain. Ben and I trim each other's hair.” She promised herself to trim it at the earliest possible moment. “Was there something you wanted, sir?”
Morrow turned and surveyed the garden where they stood. “You have been doing an excellent job, Jack. I've seen Ben helping from the library windows. Speaking of which, where is the lad? I stopped by the stables to order my carriage and he wasn't there.”
“There just aren't enough horses to keep Ben busy what with Seth, too, so my brother's lending a hand here. He's burning leaves and grass in a pit behind the barn, sir. Seth said that was how the old gardener did it.”
“Very good. What I came to tell you is I think there is too much for you to do alone or even with Ben's help. You look exhausted. Take the rest of the afternoon off. Have Seth saddle Rosie. I should like you to ride into Westbury and see Mr. Samford at the Samford Arms. Tell him Lord Rowland is looking for, say, three sturdy lads to work at the Park during the day. We shall need them to start on Monday. I would handle it myself, but I am promised to tea with Mrs. Tyne and her brother this afternoon at Chettwood.”
A strange coil of jealousy stirred in Jacinda's chest. She had completely forgotten the invitation.
She
should be the one welcoming the captain to her home, not her cousin. Noting the twinkle in his eyes, curiosity got the better of her and she couldn't resist asking, “Are you ... taken with the widow, sir?”
The gentleman's brows rose. “I hardly know her and it really wouldn't matter if I were âtaken with the lady,' as you call it, Jack.” Captain Morrow eyes grew distant as his thoughts seemed to grow dark. “I am duty-bound to marry her cousin. No, I'm merely happy to be out of the house for the afternoon.”
There was a part of her that was pleased, and yet not. She was glad that he wasn't smitten but why would he pursue a marriage that he'd so adamantly opposed at sixteen? Jacinda probed further. “Her cousin? Why, sir?”
The gentleman shook his head. “It's a long, ugly story, lad. All I shall tell you is that long ago I made a mistake and did Miss Blanchett a terrible wrong. I shall do what I can to make up for it by doing my duty to the child. But you don't want to hear about my troubles. We can discuss how you fare in Westbury on my return.” On that he turned and strode off to the stables.
A hollow feeling settled over Jacinda. What wrong had he done her? Killed her father? Failed to stop his father from doing such a crime? She still wouldn't believe he'd had a hand there, but that was only part of her pain. He would marry her without caring a fig for her, all because of duty and honor. It made her feel sick inside. She had already been through enough in her life. She was no longer that frail little girl who would have done what her father wanted. When she was once again in her place at Chettwood, she would release him from the betrothal and send him away. She didn't want an unwilling husband.
A wave of desolation swept over her. She might never find someone who would love her for anything but her money. Her spine stiffened and she held her head higher. She was strong, and she would face whatever the future held even if Captain Morrow was to be no part of that.
She seemed to assume that he had no involvement in her father's death. Perhaps it was only that she didn't want it to be so, for she had come to like the gentleman. He was everything one could admire, having fought back from nothing to earn his own fortune.
With a sigh she picked up the weeds and hauled them to where Ben was working. She ordered him to stay near the fire until it was completely out, then told him of her mission to town. He begged her to bring him a treat, and she promised she would if possible. There had been few such treats in his young life.
Seth had already spoken with the captain, who'd left for Chettwood only minutes before she arrived, and a saddled horse awaited. She washed her hands and face in the horse trough and climbed up onto the mare's back.
It had been years since she'd ridden but it was a skill that one didn't forget. She jogged along on Rosie, enjoying her free afternoon. Within ten minutes of leaving Rowland Park she trotted past the gates of Chettwood. A lump formed in her throat as she stared up the drive. The house wasn't visible. It sat too far back from the road, but she knew the captain was there even now, having tea with Prudence and Giles as well as Aunt Devere and Cousin Millie. It made her feel melancholy.
She slumped in the saddle, letting her mind dwell on what it would be like to see everyone she knew again. To own the truth, even Millie's overprotectiveness wouldn't seem so bad to her after all these years.
Realizing that it was getting late, Jacinda urged Rosie into a canter towards the village. Another fifteen minutes of riding and the horse rounded a curve where the village of Westbury came into view. A lump formed in her throat when memories of coming here with her mother overwhelmed her. Then a moment of fear beset her when several people stared at her. It took a moment for her to realize they only did so out of curiosity at a stranger arriving in their small village.
At last she spied the Samford Arms and guided the animal into the inn yard. She climbed down and gave her horse over to an ostler. Once inside, the innkeeper, Mr. Samford, was clearly skeptical when she first mentioned hiring lads for Rowland Park. Once she convinced him
Captain Morrow
was returned and determined to set the estate to rights, the old proprietor's eyes gleamed.
“So, young Morrow is back and plump in the pockets? I wonder how long that will last once the baron is back on his feet and back to his old ways.” A wicked gleam settled in the old man's eyes. “I reckon the squire's daughter will be wanting the captain to call again.” The old gentleman chuckled.
Jacinda frowned. “The squire's daughter?”
“Aye, as memory serves, the lad was mad for Mariah Amberly. Only she's Lady Bancroft these days, not but what the earl ever notices. He's seventy if he's a day.” With that the innkeeper called to his wife to send for his son and for the blacksmith's lads as well, for there was money to be made.
Jacinda recalled that a youthful Morrow had spoken of a Mariah that day in the hallway. He'd professed himself in love with her. Yet, she had married someone else. Did the captain still have feelings for her?
Three burly lads arrived and turned Jacinda's mind to the matter at hand. It seemed very strange for her to be directing such large lads but they were more interested in the money than her presumed age. A sum was agreed to and they all promised to be at the estate by six o'clock Monday morning.
With her business complete, she strolled the streets of town, looking in the shop windows. At last she came to a mercantile, where she bought Ben a couple of pieces of hard candy. That done, she retrieved Rosie and set out to return to the Park.
She pressed the old mare into a canter, but as she neared the gates of Chettwood, the old draw to see the place got the better of her. She reined the horse and stopped in the road, staring at the empty driveway. She wanted to see it up close and if she were careful, it would hurt nothing. The servants should be busy this late in the day preparing for supper and all her relations would be resting or changing for the evening meal.
With a swift glance in both directions, she urged Rosie through the gates of her old home. A few feet in, she veered off the main drive and trotted thought the woods. Her destination was an old tree that grew beside the walled garden that her mother had had built. She came to the small stream that ran across the side of the property. After tying Rosie to a tree, Jacinda set out on a footpath that the servants used to go back and forth to the village.
Within minutes she came to the open field in which the grounds were set. She spied the tree, much larger after eight years of growth. Long branches dipping close to the ground would make it all the easier to climb. Crossing the open field to get to it would be risky, but there didn't seem to be anyone about. She dashed over the open ground and quickly scrambled up the branches to the top of the wall. The air caught in her lungs as she looked over the wall into the garden. It was just as she remembered it. The roses were in full bloom, their sweet scent soft on the breeze, the shrubs were neatly trimmed, and the fountain gurgled happily just like on the last day she'd walked there. Whoever was in charge since her father had died had done an excellent job of maintaining the estate. Her eyes welled with tears. She missed her old home. Despite all her fears, she did want to return, and that meant she must begin to ask questions ... but how?
A face suddenly appeared in an upstairs window. Jacinda ducked down, fearful of being seen, and her foot slipped off the limb. Despite her attempt to grab a branch, she fell. The tree limbs battered her all the way down, but thankfully helped break her fall. She hit the ground hard. Dust swirled around her, making it difficult to breathe. Or perhaps the wind had been knocked from her. For a moment she lay there gasping, fanning dust from her face. After the cloud settled she took a moment to test her limbs, nothing seemed broken, still the fallâ
“Ye there, lad, just what do ye think ye're doing here?” A female voice called from behind her.
Jacinda struggled to her feet. A difficult task, since everything on her ached. She turned away from the voice, afraid someone might recognize her. Not wanting a confrontation with any of her father's servants, she began to limp back up the path away from the garden. She called over her shoulder in her best imitation of a farm lad. “Sorry, miss, I lost me way 'ome.”
But the woman was not so easily duped. She lifted her skirts and hurried after Jacinda. The servant caught up with her in the middle of the field. “Here now, what nonsense is this? I saw ye in that tree.” She grabbed Jacinda's arm and spun her around. “Yer up to no good, lad. Ye was in that tree lookin' in the garden. Or are ye come to visit one of them silly parlor maids?”