The American Earl (22 page)

“So that’s where the money came from,” Evan exclaimed. “Althorpe was totally ruined, so I knew it couldn’t be coming from the estate.  And Mr. Shields was admirably silent on the subject.”

“Good man,” the earl said.

Evan’s mouth set in a grim line. “From what my aunt tells me, everyone in town already knew about your affair with Julia’s mother. So why would your helping her ruin her chances?”

“There’s a difference between
knowing
and knowing. As long as the fiction of her paternity is maintained, Julia will be accepted.  Believe me, Althorpe, there are many aristocratic children who call the wrong man ‘father,’ and we all look the other way. But if the rules are flouted, if the children are acknowledged to be bastards, then society will turn its back. So it’s best to play by the rules.”

Evan felt sick to his stomach at this hypocrisy. “In America we take marriage seriously.  My father married my mother in the teeth of his family’s opposition, and my parents loved each other until the day they died!”

The earl did not look impressed. “That is certainly admirable,” he said dryly, “but your father was a younger son. He didn’t have the weight of a dynasty on his back. When duty dictates you must marry someone you don’t love – perhaps someone you don’t even like – you do what you must for the sake of the family. And if you find love elsewhere, you take what you can get.”

Evan stared at the man sitting opposite him as if he was an alien creature. “And I’ll bet you all go faithfully to church on Sunday to give a ‘good example’ to your tenants. It’s hypocrisy, pure and simple.”

“It’s the reality of an old world,” the earl said.  “You’re a new country; you have opportunities and choices we who live in the old world do not.  But you have been called upon to take up the burdens of our world.  You are the Earl of Althorpe, owner of a huge estate with many hundreds of people depending upon you for their livelihoods.  When you make your choices you must keep in mind your responsibilities.  You are taking your responsibility for Julia and Maria seriously, and I applaud that.  But what of Stoverton? What are your plans for what should be one of the greatest estates in the country?”

Evan did not care for this interrogation and spoke stiffly, “I am investing a great deal of money in Stoverton. The tenant farms and cottages are a disgrace.”

The earl smiled slightly. “They are, and I am pleased to hear you are investing in repairs. So you are planning to make England your home.”

It was not a question, but Evan answered as if it was.  “No.  I am not staying in England.  I plan to return to America, which
is
my home.”

The earl’s smile disappeared. Evan found it a little disconcerting to have Julia’s eyes look at him with such disappointment and disapproval.

Sheffield said, “Stoverton cannot survive if it is once again burdened with an absentee landlord.  Your uncle was a disgrace to his name.  If you had known him you would understand why Helen looked elsewhere for affection.  He neglected his wife and he neglected his duty to his own people.  Do you think your father, who grew up at Stoverton and loved it, would want you to walk away from his family’s heritage?”

“My father was a loyal American!”

“Good for him, I say.  He was the best of the family, but there was nothing here for him except the army or the church.  That’s the fate of younger sons here in England.  Your father escaped it, he married the woman he loved and he made himself a new life and a fortune.  Good for him, I say.  But
,
what do you think he would do if he were in your position, Evan? Would he walk away from his responsibilities knowing that so many people depended upon him?”

Evan could not tell this man that he had planned to put Julia in charge of the work at Stoverton. Sheffield would be horrified. Evan believed that Julia was capable, but he was also beginning to think that in his own way he was failing her as badly as her parents had. He was asking her to marry someone she didn’t love so she could take on the burden that rightly belonged to him. He was asking her to do the very thing he said he most abhorred.

He hadn’t wanted to become the Earl of Althorpe.  He hadn’t wanted to shoulder an enormous responsibility like Stoverton. But … would his father say it was his duty to take up this burden? Evan had the uncomfortable feeling that he would.

It was a somber and irresolute Evan who drove away from Sheffield that afternoon. The unthinkable had become the possible. How could he bear to remain in England for the rest of his life?

On the other hand, how could he bear never to see Julia again?  It was time to confront his feelings for her and stop fooling himself. 

Her face was so distinct in his mind. Her features, so sharply cut yet so delicate. The wry twist of her lips when she teased him. Her smile. The long stem of her beautiful neck. Her eyes.

His body stirred and his breath caught. 

Julia,
he thought. Julia – who was not his cousin.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Evan left Sheffield and with a perturbed mind he directed Sammy to drive to Stoverton.   Toby was lunging Isabella when they drove in and he looked at Evan with alarm.  

“Your lordship! We wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know,” Evan said.  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”  He jumped down from the curricle’s seat. “Take care of the horses,” he said to Sammy. “I’ll walk to the house. It’ll feel good to stretch my legs.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sammy said, and gave Toby an inquiring look. Toby said, “I’ll finish exercising Isabella and you take care of the horses, Sammy.”

Evan began to walk down the graveled pathway that led from the stables to the house.  In the late afternoon light, Stoverton appeared almost a fantasy, a golden palace haloed by a blue and gold sky streaked with long white clouds.  The grass needed to be cut which made the house look as if it was floating on a sea of green. 

Evan stopped and looked at his family home for a long time. The size was no longer as overwhelming to him as it had been when he first beheld it. And it was beautiful. He acknowledged that to himself, if somewhat reluctantly. The vision before him was a bit like that painting by Turner he had liked so much.

The front door was locked and Evan rapped the knocker several times.  No one answered.  He went around the house to the kitchen door and knocked there.  Mrs. Pierce opened the door slightly, saw who it was and went white.  Evan, afraid she was going to faint, pushed the door opened and grabbed her arms to hold her up.

“Are you all right?”

“M..y lord…. Is it really you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry to have startled you but my decision to come was rather sudden.”

Color began to come back into the cook’s face, and Evan let go of her arms. Steps sounded on the uncarpeted wood stairs and then Lucy was in the kitchen staring at Evan with huge round eyes.

“My lord!”

“Where is Peter?” Evan asked. The footman had been left behind and Evan had expected him to open the door.

“His pa died, my lord, and he went home for the funeral. We didn’t think to see you…”

“I see.  Of course he should have gone home, but I am so sorry to have frightened you.”  He gave them his most charming smile.  “Is it possible for me to have a cup of tea, Mrs. Pierce?”

“Accourse, my lord!  Accourse! I’ll put the kettle right on. Where do you want it served?””

Evan sat at the kitchen table, favored them with another heart-rending smile, and said, “Here, if you don’t mind.”

Mrs. Pierce beamed.  “Accorse not, my lord.  And I have some fresh pie as well.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Evan said sincerely. 

The cook sent Lucy to make up the bed in the earl’s room and get a fire going in the library.  Evan drank his tea, ate his pie, and went upstairs to the deserted house.

He walked around the empty rooms. The furniture was swathed in white Holland covers making the house look and feel like a haven for ghosts. Yet people had lived here for centuries. These rooms had once been full of gaiety and conversation and laughter. He remembered Cousin Flora’s stories of the wonderful Christmases she had spent here as a child.

On impulse, Evan went into the old part of the house and up the stairs to the long gallery. The pictures had not been re-covered when they left for London and he walked down the gallery, looking carefully at each of the portraits hung on the chestnut paneled walls. The family resemblance from one portrait to the next was remarkable. There was a picture of a young girl dressed in seventeenth-century garb who looked amazingly like Frances had looked at that age. The gallery also presented an array of family pets. Evidently the Marshalls had always been dog lovers. He had had a dog when he was a boy, but he had been away at sea for so much of his adult life that a pet hadn’t been feasible.

He stopped for a long time to look at the picture of his father as a boy surrounded by his family. The eldest son, Philip, looked to be about twelve and his face was solemn as he stood next to his mother’s chair. There was no sign on that boyish face of the character flaw that would lead him to gamble away his inheritance. Evan’s father, who must have been nine or ten, looked as if he was ready to burst into motion as soon as he was released from his pose. Evan smiled. He remembered that leashed energy of his father’s very well. Aunt Barbara was just a pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed little girl.

Evan moved on to the next picture, a portrait of Julia’s parents with their children. The late countess was a petite woman whose hand on Julia’s shoulder looked a trifle stiff, as if it wasn’t an accustomed gesture. Her hair was black and there was something formidable in her steady hazel gaze.

He looked at Julia’s mother for a long time, then he looked at the son who had drowned so tragically. His eyes were blue and he had the Marshall nose and chin. There was another boy older than Julia, but Maria was not in the picture. Presumably she hadn’t been born when it was painted.

His father had grown up in this house. As had his mother. It was a strange feeling to think about that. It was a strange feeling to think of generation after generation of his family living here over the centuries.

Evan had the eerie feeling that the eyes of all the Marshalls in the room were looking at him. Challenging him. It made him uncomfortable to turn his back and walk away.

He remained at Stoverton for a week, spending most of his time on the farms, walking the land because Baron was in London and he wasn’t going to attempt to ride Isabella.  He found that being on foot made it easier for him to see the neglect up close.  It also made it easier for him to get to know his tenants, and he spent hours in shabby farm kitchens listening to what they had to say. 

By the time Evan was ready to leave Stoverton he had realized the truth of Lord Sheffield’s warning.  Stoverton could not survive with an absentee landlord.  Someone needed to be here:  to supervise the repairs to the house; to see about repairs to the tenants’ cottages; to see about the needs of the farmland, which was the source of Stoverton’s income.

He had planned for Julia and her phantom husband to be the ones in charge. It had been an insane idea, he thought, as he sat in front of the library fire on his last night in his father’s old home. Not that he doubted Julia’s capability; after all, he had a sister who ran a huge shipping business. What had been insane was his idea that she should marry someone to make her look respectable. He thought of the men who called at the house to see her, who danced with her at the balls. The only one with whom she was remotely compatible had turned out to be her brother!

Evan had never been a possessive man, but he was finding that his feelings for Julia were possessive in the extreme.  He would never hand her over to one of those simpering dandies who hung around her in London.  Julia was going to marry him.

And so, as he sat by the fire that evening, Evan Marshall came to the conclusion that he, the Earl of Althorpe, the man who was responsible for the lives of so many people, the man who loved Julia, would have to remain in England and do his duty.

* * * *

When Evan returned to London he went straight to the office of Mr. Rothschild. The young solicitor was delighted to see him.

“I’ve found a way to break the entail,” he said as soon as Evan was seated in the heavy wood chair on the far side of the solicitor’s large, paper-strewn desk.

Evan stared into the intelligent dark eyes of his attorney. If he could get money out of the London house…he inhaled deeply. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” The young man stood and went unerringly to one of the piles of papers stacked on a table against the wall. He brought them to the desk, selected one page in particular, and handed it Evan. “If you will read this section, my lord, you will see how the entail can be set aside.”

Evan read it carefully and didn’t see. Mr. Rothschild explained in detail, and then Evan understood. He leaned forward to ask the most important question: “Will the courts agree with you?”

“Oh, yes, my lord. I’ve already checked with a few of my colleagues. The whole process will be made simpler because there is no other heir in sight to challenge your request. You can break the entail on both the house and the furnishings.”

Evan’s mouth dropped open. “The house too?”

“The house too.” 

“How long will this take? What do you think the house would fetch? What about the paintings? What are they worth?”

Mr. Rothschild laughed and held up his hand. “One question at a time, my lord.”

Evan grinned at him.  “Sorry, but this is such a wonderful surprise.  It might mean I won’t have to mortgage Stoverton.”

“Let me explain how this will proceed,” Mr. Rochschild said and Evan settled down to listen.

Chapter Thirty

When I learned that Evan had gone down to Stoverton. I was furious. When I expressed my feelings to Lizzie, she was sympathetic.