The American Earl (6 page)

I was curious about this sister of Evan’s and asked, “Is your sister older than you or younger?”

“She’s two years older. We were always close as children and now she’s my partner in the shipping business.”

“Partner? You mean she owns it with you?”

“Yes. And because I’ve been away so much, she’s the one who runs it.”

“By herself?”

“Her husband works with her. He’s a smart man, John. I like him, even though he’s from Virginia.”

I look up at him, squinting a little in the sun. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Not at all. I’m twenty-seven.”

“Will you take up the business when you go home again?” I asked.  “Or do you plan to remain in England?”

He looked horrified. “Let us be clear on this, Julia. I do not plan to remain in England. I’ll do my best to straighten things out for you here, but then I’m going home.”

To disguise my glee at this response, I said, “Let’s give the horses a gallop to shake the stiffness out of them,” and took off. I heard Baron’s hoof beats right behind me and we galloped full out along the winding bridle path under the bare winter trees.

* * * *

I took Evan over every inch of the twenty-eight thousand acres that comprise Stoverton. We went through the Home Woods and around the lake. We rode around the extensive farmlands and I introduced him to our tenant farmers and their families. I knew them all, knew the names of their children and the names of their cows and pigs as well. I had been visiting them since I first learned to ride and they all knew how much I wished I could do something to help them.

Evan was friendly and courteous. Most of our tenants were polite but subdued. They didn’t know what to expect from this strange American who now held the power of their livelihoods in his hands.

I explained to Evan as we rode back toward the house that most of our tenants had been farming Stoverton land for a long time.  Some of the families had been here for centuries.  It was the income from the farms that made up the bulk of our family’s income.

He was quiet for a while, riding Baron on a loose rein as we walked along one of the bridle paths in the woods. I was just going to ask him what he was thinking when he spoke. “Those cottages. Do they belong to the tenants or to the estate?”

“They belong to the estate, like the land. The tenants pay us to rent them.”

“Who is responsible for the upkeep of the tenant farms? The tenant or the landlord?”

I looked straight ahead, between Isabella’s pointed ears. “The landlord,” I said in a small voice.

“Those cottages are in wretched condition. I wouldn’t house animals in them at home. How was this allowed to happen?”

“My father never put any money into the estate. He just took the rent money and gambled it away. Surely you got that picture from our meeting with Mr. Shields this morning.”

He was silent. Finally I looked at him. “I haven’t been collecting rents since my father died. The tenants need what they grow to feed their families.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” he said.  His profile looked set and stern and I thought he would be a hard man to cross.”  He glanced at me then went back to looking straight ahead.  “I’m going to be honest with you, Julia.  This inheritance is a burden I don’t want.  I tried to get out of it, but I can’t.  Under your law, I am the Earl of Althorpe and am responsible for the lives of people whom a few months ago I never knew existed.”

“Dear Christ,” he said, “The looks on the faces of those people! Those dreadful cottages!”

“I know.”  My voice was muffled.  I was mortified but there was no excuse I could offer. 

“Neglect like that must have started well before your father took over.”

I looked between Isabella’s ears and didn’t reply.

The path narrowed and the horses splashed across a stream and scrambled up a small hillside. When we were again able to ride side by side he said, “Those cottages must be completely rebuilt. I can’t have people who work for me living in squalor.”

“It’s hardly squalor,” I protested weakly.

He shot me a scornful look. “American workers would never consent to live in such conditions. But American workers have choices about their employment. It seems this is not the case in England.”

I hated this.  I hated the way he kept comparing us to America.  It was true that Papa, and my grandfather as well, had been poor custodians of their heritage, but the heritage was still here.  Beautiful Stoverton, with its history and its magnificent collection of art, was still here. The spirit of Philip Marshall lived on in every golden stone, every part of the beautiful landscape he had created for his family and his heirs. I had to make Evan understand that beautiful things are worth preserving for their own sake.

I squared my shoulders and Isabella, anticipating being asked to trot, began to prance. I quieted her and asked, “What do you do with all the money that you make from your ships, Evan?”

He quirked an eyebrow, as if he didn’t understand me, but he kept facing forward.

“Do you have a collection of beautiful paintings in your home?  A library full of wonderful books?  Do you have rooms that are filled with beautiful furniture?”  I waved my hand indicating our surroundings.  “Do you live in the midst of great natural beauty?”

He still hadn’t turned to look at me and I continued to stare at his profile.  “What do you spend your money on, Evan?” 

I thought I saw a muscle jump in his jaw. “My father bought paintings and books,” he said. But he sounded defensive.

“And what have you bought?”

“Ships.”

“So you can earn more money?”

“Yes.”

“Look around you,” I said.  We had come out of the woods onto the lawn and a small herd of deer was grazing under a clump of oak trees.  The sun, which had gone under a cloud, slid once more into the deep blue sky and glinted on the spraying water of the fountain.  In the distance the golden stone of Stoverton looked as much a part of the landscape as the deer and the trees and the stretching turf lawns.

I said, “Do you have vistas like this in Massachusetts?”

“We have the ocean at our door, and that is beauty enough for me,” he returned.

He is a cit through and through
,
I thought, with a mixture of anger and frustration. 

“Stoverton needs someone who loves it,” I said. 

“Like you?”

I lifted my chin. “Yes, like me.”

He shook his head. “Even if the estate had been left to you, you wouldn’t have the resources to save it, Julia. I didn’t want this house, or these acres. I didn’t want the responsibility of two young girls. But I’ve got it and I must do the best I can under the circumstances.”

I said carefully, “You may be responsible for Maria, but I am eighteen and old enough to be my own mistress.”

He turned to look at me. “Of course I’m responsible for you. You’re my cousin, you’re unmarried, and you have no money. What is to become of you if I don’t make some arrangements for your future?”

“I will be perfectly happy to remain here at Stoverton to keep an eye on things for you.”  A brilliant thought struck me.  “I could be your agent, Evan!”  I rose a little in my stirrups to look taller.  “There’s the perfect solution for the both of us!  You can order what repairs you feel are necessary and I will be here to make certain your orders are carried out!”

“You can’t live by yourself in this huge house,” he protested.

I could, of course, but I needed to sound cooperative. “I can always get someone to stay with me. That’s not a problem.”

“Somehow I don’t think that would pass muster with the rest of your family.”

It wouldn’t, of course.  But I had another thought.  “You just told me your sister has been running your own business for years.  If she can do that, why can’t I run Stoverton?”

“Frances is married.”

“What difference can that make?”

“A big difference, I’m afraid,” he replied.

“But don’t you see? It’s a perfect solution to both our problems. You don’t want to remain here and I do. We each are the answer to the other’s desire.”

“I’ll think about it,” Evan said. 

He sounded doubtful but I knew I could convince him.  The idea of Evan back in America and me in charge of Stoverton – after Evan had paid off all the debts, of course – was the perfect solution to my future.  I was quite in charity with him as we rode our horses into the stable yard.

Chapter Eight

Evan was feeling grim as he walked to the house, leaving Julia behind at the stables to help Toby.  It appeared that, along with her other responsibilities, Julia was also a groom. 

The household here at Stoverton was impossible, Evan thought.  How on earth could Julia believe he would leave her by herself to run this massive museum?  She was eighteen years old, for God’s sake.  And Maria was fourteen.  Not only did he have his uncle’s debts to deal with, now he had to come up with a solution for his uncle’s daughters!

He let himself into the house and headed for the library, where Maria and Flora were supposed to be doing schoolwork. He found them sitting together at one of the big desks, with books and paper spread out before them.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but might I speak to you for a moment, Cousin Flora?”

“Certainly.” Flora stood up. “Keep working on those French verbs Maria and I’ll test you on them when I return.”

Maria sighed. “Yes, Cousin Flora.”

Flora followed Evan into the hallway. “Why don’t we go into the morning room?” she suggested.

Evan followed her into the pretty room that looked out on the south lawn.  A fire was burning in the fireplace and the chintz-covered furniture looked comfortable, if a bit worn.  A few lesser masterpieces adorned the walls.

“Would you like tea?” Flora asked.

Evan would have liked some, but he didn’t want to wait until Lucy had been sent for, and the tea made and brought up to them. So he shook his head and said quietly, “Flora, what can I do to help Julia and Maria?”

Flora’s pale blue eyes filled with tears. “Their situation is so appalling, Evan. How their father could have left them like this is something I will never understand.”

“I agree. But they have been left destitute and clearly I must do something. I just don’t know what it is. I will restore their dowries, of course. But will that fix the problem?”

Flora’s face lit.  “Will you really do that?  Oh, bless you, Evan.  It will help a great deal.  If Julia has a decent dowry she can be presented to society and hope to catch a husband.  That’s the answer to the problem of Julia and Maria.  Get Julia married and her husband can provide a home for Maria until she is old enough to find a husband for herself.”

Evan sighed.  “I don’t think Julia wants a husband, Flora.  In fact, she asked me if she could stay here and be my agent for Stoverton.”

Flora threw up her hands.  “Julia and Stoverton!  Most young girls dream of marrying, but all Julia has ever wanted was to stay at Stoverton! She should be making her come out in society, like other girls of her age and station in life. Unfortunately, it was never talked about because there wasn’t the money for it.”

Evan frowned. “I don’t understand why other members of the family haven’t stepped in to help these girls. It’s outrageous that they should have been abandoned like this.”

“Your aunt, Lady Barbara Lewis, wanted them to live with her after their mother died, but Julia refused. She is completely undisciplined, Evan. She spends her time reading inappropriate books and hanging around the stables with that groom. Do you know who her best friend is, besides Toby?”

“Who?”

“The local squire, a man of almost sixty! The two of them spend hours together, working with the hounds and hobnobbing in the stable. It’s disgraceful. She can’t be allowed to go on this way.”

“How could her mother have allowed this?”

“Her mother was rarely at Stoverton.  Helen was a …  worldly …  woman, Evan.  As soon as she married the late earl she established herself in the family mansion in Piccadilly and, over the years, she became one of the most influential hostesses in the
ton.
  My sister and I were forever reading about her in the gossip sections of the London newspapers.”

“The
ton?”
Evan raised one blond eyebrow in inquiry.

“That’s the name given to the most fashionable level of English society.”

“You don’t sound as if you liked my aunt much.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I didn’t know her well enough to like or dislike her. Helen carried her head far too high to notice those of us who were beneath the distinction of her own elevated position in the world.”

“I see,” Evan said slowly. “What about my uncle? What did he do with himself, aside from gambling? It sure doesn’t look as if he devoted much of his time to the estate.”

“He had a position in the government to make him look important. Helen got it for him through one of her … connections.”

This last word was spoken with a distinctly ironic tone. Evan decided it would be wiser not to ask any more questions about Julia’s mother.

“I think you’re right about getting Julia married.  Do you have any suggestions as to how we can introduce her to some eligible young men?”

Flora replied decisively, “You must take her to London and give her a Season.  That is how all the young girls of Julia’s class meet husbands.  She will go to balls, the theatre, the opera.  Most important of all, she will go to Almack’s. 
That
is where young men and young women in search of a spouse go to meet each other.”

A lock of hair had fallen over Evan’s forehead and he pushed it back. “I can’t take her to London, Flora. I don’t know anyone here in England. That is something a mother should do.”

Flora sighed again. “If Julia was a normal girl, we could find a well-connected woman to present her and take her around to all the parties. But Julia isn’t a normal girl, Evan, and she would intimidate and dominate any poor woman you might hire to chaperone her.”