Chapter 20.

Thomas had been overseeing the workers in the apple orchards on the east end of what he hoped would soon be his own lands when the rain drove them from the field. Despite feeling frustrated with losing half a day of work, he was pleased with the overall harvest thus far and had talked himself out of a poor mood by the time he reached the back entrance of Peakview Manor, the family estate located nearly equidistant between Northallerton and Romanby where he resided with his brother, Albert, and Albert's growing family. Since Thomas's return from London in July he had immersed himself in the management of his land and had never found more contentment in all his days.

Thomas hung his oilskin coat on the hook inside the doorway and then removed his working boots, placing them on the woven mat left beside the door. Lady Fielding had pointed out the mud and wet he brought in from the fields on more than one occasion, and he was determined not to give her more cause to complain against him.

He'd left his top boots by the door that morning and began to pull on the right boot before his foot encountered something inside the leather. He extracted his foot quickly, then turned the boot upside down, smiling when a far smaller shoe fell to the stone floor. He picked up the small black lace-up shoe, which most certainly belonged to his niece, then turned his attention to the other boot, which contained a similar treasure.

Thomas had always found Lizabeth endearing but had increased the time he spent with her in hopes of quieting some of her more spirited moods that had begun when her little brother-the next Lord Fielding-had been born.

The Dowager Lady Fielding, Thomas's mother, had a.s.sured the other adults that it was a normal phase when a new baby usurped the position of the reigning youngest child in a household, but suggested privately to Thomas that perhaps a bit more attention toward Lizabeth would help remind her she had not been replaced. It was not a difficult task to fulfill, and Thomas enjoyed seeking out his young niece on the evenings he came in before she'd been put to bed. He would indulge her with whatever game or story or adventure she requested of him, and he felt his own cares soften in response. Apparently, today, she had escaped her nursemaid long enough to start their games early. Lizabeth was already showing a disposition more similar to her father than her mother, something which concerned Lady Fielding quite a lot.

After pulling on his shoe-free boots, Thomas took the dainty shoes and made the rounds to the drawing rooms and breakfast room on the main floor. Lady Fielding had fresh flowers placed in the rooms twice a week, and if Thomas was careful, he could remove a bloom or two from each arrangement unnoticed.

Once he had adequately gathered his ammunition, he went into the study long enough to write a note, which he then took with him to the third level, where the nursery was located. Lizabeth had reading time following luncheon each day, and although he feared he would get into trouble for interrupting, he arranged the shoes, now filled with chrysanthemums and rosebuds, in front of the door, then placed the note in front of the display. He knocked quickly, then ran several feet down the hall to a recessed window where he pulled himself tight against the wall so as not to be seen.

The door opened, and he bit his lip to keep from laughing at Lizabeth's exclamation of delight. "What does it say?" she asked, surely addressing her nanny regarding the note.

"It says that if you are a good girl, your uncle shall join you for tea this afternoon."

More squeals and hand clapping and then a reminder from the nursemaid that she would have to finish her lessons. Pray, what type of lessons was a three-year-old child to learn? The door closed, and Thomas removed himself from his hiding place, quite pleased with his quick answer to her game and wondering how she had gotten away from her attendant long enough to hide her shoes in the first place. A scamp indeed. Only time would tell if her baby brother inherited his father's free-spirited disposition. Whatever would Lady Fielding do if he had?

As Thomas made his way to the family rooms on the second level, his mind moved from shoe bouquets to how he would spend his afternoon. Coming in from the fields early allowed him more time to work on organizing the estate records.

After Thomas's return from London, he had taken upon himself the task of gathering the doc.u.ments necessary for the transfer of land from the Fielding estate holdings to Thomas himself. Albert, busy with matters of his own, hadn't attended to it over the summer, so Thomas had undertaken the task of setting in order nearly two hundred years' worth of ledgers and doc.u.ments which had been stored in numerous places throughout the manor.

When Thomas entered the library, Albert was at the desk looking over some papers with a quizzing gla.s.s held to his eye. As the second son, Albert had not been raised to take over for their father and never been studious toward the requirements of being Lord Fielding. Only when their older brother, Charles, died following a debilitating bout of pneumonia did anyone consider whether or not Albert was capable of the position. Only two years later their father had pa.s.sed too, giving Albert the t.i.tle and the responsibility at the age of twenty-four-the age Thomas was now.

Albert had been sent immediately to London for a wife-it was their mother's belief that only marriage would settle his mind to his responsibility. Despite the mourning period, Albert married Miss Diane Broadbank in a private ceremony and set to work getting an heir of his own, which had been accomplished this summer. He'd done what was expected of him, but had been a bit of a bear those first years. Thomas had been at Oxford during that time but heard of his brother's struggles through correspondence from their mother, who worried greatly. However, in the end her wisdom had been proven. Albert had risen to his position and performed his responsibilities admirably.

Albert looked up from the ledgers and quickly hid the quizzing gla.s.s. Thomas did not comment on it, as he knew Albert did not want to draw attention to the fact he could not properly see the figures without his instrument.

"Did our fine weather drive you indoors?" Albert asked with a smile, seemingly pleased at the interruption.

"Much to my displeasure," Thomas said, looking out the large window behind his brother's head at the expansive grounds where the trees were just beginning to change color. "If I could have three fine days together I could finish the harvest."

"Three fine days together?" Albert repeated. "Does such a thing happen in England this time of year?"

Thomas smiled. "One can certainly hope, can he not?" He looked toward the crates of files, loose papers, and ledgers stacked in one corner. They had gathered records from all over the house and stored them here for Thomas to attend to as he could. They could easily have set the task to Albert's secretary, but both men were of a mind to have a better understanding of the estate and this proved to be a good way to become educated. "At least there is plenty to occupy me indoors."

"You say that with such-dare I say it?-affection."

Thomas smiled. "Despite how it troubles you to hear it, I find establishing order quite satisfying. Each of the Barons had a different system-or no system at all-and putting the records together will create a far more manageable system for future use. I find it an exciting prospect."

"You are a queer man," Albert said with an exaggerated expression of concern.

"Better a queer man than a blind one."

Albert laughed, and they returned insults and disparagements while Thomas chose which crate of papers to start with.

"Enough of that," Thomas said after Albert called him a bird-witted nincomp.o.o.p. "Now you're just repeating yourself. Have you not reports to go over?" He waved toward the papers in front of Albert, then turned his back and ignored his brother's mumbling. It was all in good fun, as it had always been between them.

Thomas pulled a crate in front of one of the leather chairs near the fire and picked up the stack of papers resting on top. It took nearly an hour to sort the papers into time periods, then he took one portion at a time to a set of shelves in the back of the library that they had cleared for the purpose of organizing the records. He tried not to be discouraged by the fact that despite the hours of sorting he had already completed, he had yet to find two of the doc.u.ments necessary for the transfer of t.i.tle he'd hoped would have been finalized by now. He and Albert were running their lands separately, even if the legalities were not yet in place. Still, Thomas wanted a deed of his own. He wanted to feel like his own man.

Thomas finished the first crate and moved onto the next.

"Did you hear me, brother?"

Thomas broke away from his focus on the papers and looked at his brother. "Forgive my distraction," he said. "Do repeat yourself."

"I asked if you ought not make your way to the Dower House about now."

"I'm sure I have no reason to call today," Thomas said, returning his attention to the paperwork. He visited with his mother a few times every week, and she joined them at Peakview for dinner more nights than not. "I had planned to be in the fields until sunset, though now I have a date to take tea with The Honourable Lizabeth Richards. I shan't live it down if I were to stand her up."

"I told you not an hour ago that Mama wanted you to visit her for tea this afternoon, and you nodded your agreement," Albert said with a laugh.

"I did?" Thomas had a tendency to become so absorbed in his tasks that he was all but unreachable, so it was not beyond belief that Albert was right. Thomas enjoyed his mother's company but hated interrupting his work. It could be weeks before he would have the free time again, and they were running out of season to finish the harvest, till the ground, and plant the new trees in the central portion to replace those older trees that had not produced well this year.

"Yes," Albert said with a laugh. "You are to present yourself at three o'clock. I shall have Lizabeth readied to accompany you." He stood and moved to the bellpull that would call a footman.

Thomas lifted the timepiece pinned inside his vest, then jumped to his feet. "It is nearly a quarter to three now."

Albert smiled. "Then you should get to it."

Thomas turned immediately, ever the attentive son, then stilled as he remembered the pattern of invitations his mother had created since his return from London. She had been quite disappointed that he had come home without an engagement and instantly set herself about the task of remedying the circ.u.mstance. She had instructed him to find a woman of his equal in London, and that he had not done so seemed to have convinced his mother he should have no requirements at all in a wife.

The fact that he worked fourteen hours a day had certainly complicated her efforts to find him a match, but she had not been dissuaded. There could be no doubt that he would not be the only person joining her for tea today.

Chapter 21.

Thomas turned back to Albert. "Who might be attending this tea in addition to myself and Lizabeth?"

"However should I know?" Albert said, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head and grinning. Then he nodded toward the window that overlooked the lane leading to the Dower House.

Thomas moved to the window in time to see a familiar barouche traveling through the pounding rain toward his mother's lodging. A footman came into the library and received Albert's instruction regarding the young Miss Richards while Thomas continued to observe the scene beyond the window with resigned disappointment. "So I am to be seated between the adolescent daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Kemmer, then?"

"Are you not delighted to be in such fine company?" Albert said with mock surprise.

"The eldest is not yet sixteen years of age. I would feel as though I were robbing the schoolroom."

"Many men before you have done so without complaint."

Thomas narrowed his eyes toward his brother. "Not every man wants a silly girl as a wife, Albert."

Albert shrugged, good-naturedly. Lady Fielding had only been seventeen when they said their vows. "I daresay good breeding and a willingness to please her husband and position should be of far more account. As they age, women become more independent, you know, and that is a fearsome trait."

"Such an argument does in no way dissuade me from my own interests in the type of woman I desire." Despite himself he heard the sound of Miss Sterlington's voice in his head and shook it away. A woman of Miss Sterlington's airs and disposition was certainly not the type of connection he wanted. Very far from the mark, in fact. Since returning to Yorkshire, he was more convinced than ever that he needed a woman of practicality and even temperament who would not mind being a gentleman farmer's wife. He was willing to wait as long as it took to find such a woman and therefore did not share his mother's concern for his continuing state of bachelorhood.

"Ah, yes, you are looking for an intellectual," Albert said.

"A woman I can converse with, yes, but who does not mind that I shall be my own man or bring mud in on my boots." A woman, he sometimes feared, who did not exist. He had become reacquainted with a number of women in Yorkshire in recent months but found not a single one of them interesting enough to pursue. Perhaps what he called patience was actually an unwillingness to admit defeat.

"Good grief," Albert said, lifting his eyebrows as though alarmed. "I shan't expect you to find any woman of breeding who will tolerate muddy boots. And did not both of the Kemmer daughters attend school in Bath? I believe the only young women Mother has attempted to catch you with are women of education. She understands your interests."

Thomas did not answer. How could he adequately explain that while equanimity of mind was certainly a priority, he also wanted admiration and, he admitted, desire. What a selfish man he was to want for so much, and yet he could not seem to help himself.

He had watched the married couples of his community when he was about town or in church. It was easy to see the difference between those partnered through arrangement, and those who had a true affinity for one another. Now and then he would catch a shared look of such depth and contentment that his own heart would tighten in longing for it. Was it only a matter of chance for such feelings to develop between a husband and wife? Or had they married for love and then thrived within it? He felt sure it was the latter, and therefore did not want to give up the hope of finding a woman who would meet his very particular interests. What he did not want was to disregard his hopes and find himself saddled to a woman he could not tolerate. Life was far too long for such an unhappy arrangement if a man expected to keep his vows, which Thomas did.

"It surely does not do to point out that those requirements of yours are without fulfillment," Albert said, breaking into Thomas's thoughts. "Which then brings us to consideration as to whether or not your expectations are as valid as you have made them out to be."

The two men stood with hands clasped behind their backs as they watched the carriage stop outside their mother's house. The groom jumped down from the seat and opened an umbrella, which he held over the carriage door, allowing the two Misses Kemmers to step out. One was head to toe in pink while the other was equally arrayed in purple. Both colors looked too bright set against the gray landscape surrounding them and seemed to flaunt the girls' age and immaturity. In addition, their choice in dress did not flatter their eyes or figure anywhere near the way Miss Sterlington's clothing had always flattered her person.

Albert's tone continued with a serious air. "There is great peace that comes from establishing a proper marriage, Thomas. I do not mean to make light of your preferences; you have always been a studious and attentive fellow who puts much thought into your direction, which is a credit to your character. But as your land will require your attention, if you are to secure the future you often talk about, I would advise with all seriousness that having a wife in place to support your efforts and create for you a legacy more precious than land will be of greater comfort and relief than you can imagine."

Thomas looked at his brother in surprise. It was quite out of character for Albert to wax so sentimental. "I daresay you are more satisfied with matrimony than I have ever supposed before," he said without attempting to cover his doubt. "Did you not feel it a heavy obligation at the time you and Diane made your vows?"

Albert inclined his head. "I did not take much care to conceal such feelings, did I?" He paused before he continued in the same sentimental tone. "When Father pa.s.sed so unexpectedly and I found myself burdened with the responsibility of his t.i.tle, I viewed marriage as a decidedly limiting aspect of my future. I had expected several more years before I had to rise to the level of duty Charles had left me, and I resented the quick end to my youth. No one could accuse me of being a happy groom upon the day of my nuptials." His paused for a breath before continuing. "Rather than it being such a limiting burden, I have, instead, found marriage to be a great comfort, brother. I am the first to admit there is an air of flippancy about Lady Fielding at times, and she does care for gossip far more than my patience can stand, but you do not hear the way she encourages me, or her confidence in my ability to be the man circ.u.mstance has determined me to be. I have come to believe with every part of my heart and mind that a good wife can truly make for a better man, to say nothing of holding a child in your arms that only she could give."

He stared out the window a few more moments, then seemed to remember himself and smiled in his familiar, jovial way. He slapped Thomas on the back and then nodded toward their mother's cottage. "Well, get on with it, man. They shan't grow in age or intellect quickly enough that delaying their acquaintance will be of any benefit-especially as our mother is surely counting the minutes you are late so as to flog you with your lack of manners. I shall have Lizabeth wait for you in the foyer as soon as she is readied. I am sure she will consider a trip to her grandmother's house a grand adventure."

Thomas parted company with Albert and hurried to his bedchamber where he traded out his working coat for a finer cut in charcoal gray. For an instant he thought of the coat he had given to Miss Sterlington nearly four months ago and wondered what had become of it. Thinking of the coat naturally led his thoughts to Miss Sterlington herself. Was she healed? Would she return to London next season and renew her flirtations with the bucks so entranced by her? He shook his head to rid himself of thoughts that did him no good, and instead focused on improving the shape of his cravat. To his great relief, thoughts of Miss Sterlington were becoming easier to push away. In time he hoped to forget about her completely.

He hurried toward the foyer where he bowed elaborately to Lizabeth, who wore a small blue cloak tied beneath her chin while her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Lady Fielding stood beside her, an expression that seemed a mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt and concern.

As Thomas straightened from his bow, he put out his hand to Lizabeth, palm up. "It is my pleasure to serve as your escort to the Dower House this afternoon, Miss Richards. Shall you want to walk or ride?"

"Ride!" Lizabeth shouted, jumping up and down which caused her honey curls to bounce.

"She shall walk, Thomas," Lady Fielding amended.

Thomas gave his sister-in-law a surprised look. "In the mud?" he questioned. He was never quite sure how to best get on with his sister-in-law, but after hearing Albert's compliments, he felt a bit softened toward her. "I shall of course do exactly as you say, but I fear for the state of the poor girl's shoes."

Lady Fielding looked toward the window, frowned, and seemed to realize the wisdom of Thomas's words. "Very well, but please help her be well behaved."

"Of course," Thomas said with a wide smile that elicited a decidedly distrustful narrowing of Lady Fielding's eyes.

He turned to his niece, put his hands on his knees and squatted, which was all the invitation she needed to scamper onto his back.

Lady Fielding made a disapproving comment, but Thomas could not hear it for the squealing in his ear as he secured Lizabeth's hands around his neck and hooked his elbows behind her knees as he stood.

"To the castle!" he exclaimed before galloping toward the door, which an amused footman opened for them at precisely the right moment. "And to the Kemmer girls who are far more suited in age for your company, Lizabeth, than mine."

Chapter 22.

December Dear Darra, I woke this morning and realized it was your birthday. I can hardly believe it has been a year since the cook made you those lovely spiced flat cakes for breakfast. Then we went to town where you bought that hat with the blue bow-do you remember?

I have taken much inventory of myself these last months as I have been so far away from everyone I love, and I have come to regret deeply my treatment of you. You accused me of giving no consideration of your feelings once we arrived in London, and I realize now how true that was. I was of one mind when we embarked upon our season: that of enjoying myself regardless of the cost it might have to anyone else. I did not have the character necessary to realize what that must have felt like for you. I am especially sorry for my behavior regarding Lord Sunther after I reentered society. I think of that evening at Carlton House and feel humiliation that has nothing to do with anyone's behavior but my own. I knew he had high regard for you, but I let my compet.i.tive spirit cast aside sisterly affection.

Because of the understanding I have discovered, I want you to know that I hold no ill will regarding removing my hairpiece. I am resigned to the result of that evening on my part, and have come to bear this form of banishment-I cannot find a better term-as due for my behavior, but I have been increasingly uneasy with the strain that continues to exist between us as sisters.

It is my dearest wish that you will feel of my love, which has not diminished toward you, and that you will be able to forgive me for my poor behavior, which caused you so much pain.

I would also like to attend your wedding if you will have me. I will do all I can to appear as would be expected. I am truly happy for your future and want very much to be a witness of your vows. I have already requested it of Mama, but she has not responded. If it is better that I not attend, I will understand. I in no way want to take away from your wedding day, only to share in it as we always dreamed we would.

I wish you every happiness, dear sister, and pray you will extend my love to the rest of our family. May you all have a Happy Christmas.

With all love and felicity, Amber Marie Sterlington "I best be going," Suzanne said from the doorway of the library as Amber pressed her stamp into the quickly cooling wax used to seal the letter. "Pray that the roads will allow me to get back tomorrow."

"I'm finished," Amber said, standing from the desk. She fanned the letter as she crossed the room to ensure the wax was properly set, then handed it to Suzanne already dressed in her coat, shawls, and cape.

It had become agonizingly cold and travel to town had become precarious, which had Suzanne attempting it less and less often and Mrs. Haribow coming hardly at all. But there were several matters they could no longer put off, and so Suzanne had watched the skies carefully and deemed today the time to go to town to procure some essentials, such as tea and salt and sugar, and some luxuries, like cinnamon. They also needed a new broom-Amber had left the prior one on the hearth where the bristles had burned. As winter had become reality, the women better understood the need to have enough stores to take them through the weeks, and possibly months, when the roads might be impa.s.sable.

"Come back only when the way is safe. If it is a few days' time, I will manage well enough," Amber said, though she hated the idea of being alone for an extended period of time. Still, it had been two full weeks since Suzanne had last gone to town, and the trip could not be put off much longer.

Suzanne nodded. "I shall try my best to return quickly."

"I know you will," Amber said, then shooed her toward the door. She did not want Suzanne's concern for her to keep her any longer in case the weather turned, as it could do quite quickly. They walked to the stable together, and Amber helped Suzanne into the gig, a difficult task when she was so enc.u.mbered with petticoats and layers of clothing meant to keep off the chill. They had had a few bouts of snow already-something rarely seen in Somerset where Amber grew up. It had melted quickly each time, but left enough cold and mud behind to keep things unpleasant.

Suzanne set Sally to move with a flick of the reins, and Amber hurried back to the cottage. She thought of the letter on its way to the post and wondered how Darra would receive it. Amber had not heard from her sister in all the months she'd been at the cottage and feared her letter would invite a reply full of anger and resentment that would burn into Amber's heart. Even if that were the result, however, Amber did not feel comfortable allowing their relationship to remain as it was now that she better realized her part in the circ.u.mstances.

Perhaps if Darra wrote back with kindness Amber would share the details of some of the activities that now filled her time. Her sister would scarce believe such tales, but rather than feeling ashamed at the prospect, Amber smiled to think of Darra's reaction. How she hoped to one day be restored to the comfort they had once shared. She vowed not to see such a connection as a small thing again.

Chapter 23.

The day was cold but the skies were a brilliant Yorkshire blue when Thomas turned Farthing up the lane that led to Step Cottage-as it had been referenced by his brother's solicitor, Mr. Llewelyn. The pursuit of the records, specifically a bill of sale for a sixty-acre piece along the riverfront, had led him to what was once the caretaker's house of the parcel.