The Hourglass (32 page)

Ardeth was not as weary as he had been, so slept less in the carriage. He even thought of riding the stallion for a stage or two. Genie thought otherwise. He was still weak and a fall might reopen the wounds. Furthermore, no one could keep up with his horse, to protect him from highwaymen or hired assailants lying in wait.

He smiled as he handed her into the coach. “Your nagging sounds just like a real wife.”

She looked back and said, “I am a real wife.” Then she whispered so Miss Hadley could not overhear, “Almost.”

The look she gave him spoke volumes. Chapter one could be titled “If he was well enough to think of riding the horse, he was well enough for another kind of ride.” He quickly climbed into the carriage after her. “You are right. I am not fit for such strenuous activity.”

They played cards, read out loud, sang folk songs from various lands, and discussed plans for the school they were going to establish where girls would be educated, too. Miss Hadley pretended to doze so they could converse more privately. Olive grew bored and sat up with the driver. To the crow, the wind in his feathers was almost like flying, without huntsmen or hawks.

On one night of the journey, the inn they chose happened to have enough rooms that Miss Hadley and the servants could each have one of their own. Genie brushed her hair, laid out her traveling outfit for the morning, read a few pages of her book, and repeated her father’s words to herself: “Got grit, my girl.” She gathered that grit, took a deep breath, and rapped on Ardeth’s door after she heard his man say good night.

“Is your room not to your liking?” he asked when he saw her standing in the hall. “Did you have enough supper? Are you feeling ill?”

“Thank you. I am fine. I…I was wondering if you were well.”

He raised his arm to show that he was getting more use of his shoulder. “I am feeling little pain, only stiffness, thank you.”

Her grit was sinking to her slippers, “Um, perhaps you want company, then.”

“After all these days in the carriage and nights sharing your rooms, I’d have thought you would cherish your privacy.”

“I was, um, worried that you might need someone here with you, in case you required something in the night.”

“I have not taken laudanum for a week, and can reach for candles, blankets, or water for myself. Do not fuss, Genie. I do not need a nursemaid.”

“Of course. I am sorry. I did not mean to be a nag again. There is nothing I can get you?”

How he wished. “No, thank you.”

“Your room is warmer than mine.”

“It usually is. Do you want me to build up the fire in your room?”

What for? Genie almost snapped at him. The man was as blockheaded as the bedpost. She was wearing her night rail, for goodness’ sake, her hair left unbound the way he seemed to like it. What did he think, she was here to borrow a book or tuck in his covers? She turned to go back to her own cold, lonely room. “I suppose I should leave you to your rest, then.”

He did not contradict her, and her heart sank, too, along with whatever courage she’d mustered. He was rejecting her and her protruding belly.

He touched her shoulder, so she turned, hopeful. He kissed her forehead instead of her lips, but placed a hand gently on the mound of her pregnancy. “I am sorry, Genie. I am not ready to share a bed with you, as much as I might want. And I do want. Never think otherwise. I am just not strong enough yet.”

“I could…that is…sometimes Elgin wanted me to…”

He held a finger to her lips. “Please, do not speak of Elgin in our bedroom. Even if this is not our own room, I do not want his ghost in here.”

She spun around. “Can he…?”

“Metaphorically, I meant.”

At least her husband was not seeing apparitions, Genie thought in relief. Who cared if he believed in ghosts? A lot of people did. Then she started to apologize for being forward. A strong man like Ardeth might not like a woman taking the initiative.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my dear. I am honored that you would come to my room. A warm, willing wife has to be every man’s dream come true. But I want our wedding night, our own celebration of our union, to be perfect for both of us when it finally occurs. That consummation is more fitting at Ardsley Keep. No one will bother us there, and we do not have to get ready to travel in the morning.”

“You are sure it is not me?”

He kissed her, long and tenderly. He could feel her melt against him. He could feel her softness against his…softness. He set her aside before she noticed. “I am sure. Now go to sleep. We will be at Ardsley Keep before you know it.”

“Soon,” she said, standing on tiptoes to brush a butterfly kiss against his lips. “Soon.” A plea and a promise.

Now all he had to do was hope his inefficacy ended before the journey did.

*

Ardeth timed the final leg of their trip so that they would spend the last night at an inn, with only a few hours to travel in the morning. That way they would arrive at his estate in daylight, fresh and tidy, and expected from the note sent round from the inn with one of his own grooms.

“Aren’t you worried that you might be alerting an enemy by giving your arrival time?” Genie wanted to know over breakfast before they set out. Miss Hadley was eating upstairs in her room, purposely and politely leaving them alone in the private parlor.

Genie was having plain toast, in hopes of reaching her new home in dignity and style, instead of in a green-complexioned fog.

Ardeth was tasting the inn’s specialty, steak and kidney pie. “An enemy at the Keep? I doubt it.”

“Tell me who will be there, then, so I am prepared.”

He wanted to know, too, so had the messenger speak to the butler there after delivering Ardeth’s note. The groom reported back that Miss Calverton and the schoolteacher had moved in, along with the vicar’s widow and her three daughters. They were awaiting the allocation of cottages until the earl’s arrival.

“I suppose they quickly discovered that the Keep is more comfortable than any empty house on the grounds,” Ardeth told Genie between bites, “but we shall see.”

Other than the visitors he had sent, the Keep’s caretakers were also in residence. Generations of Spotfords had been part of the Keep for ages, managing the properties. The first one had been his first wife’s younger brother, left in charge of defending the castle when Ardeth went to war. “They are very distant relations,” he explained, “who have always made their home at Ardsley.”

“But they are not in line to inherit it?” Genie was looking for motives under every rock.

“No, they are not in the direct line of succession for the lands or the title. Even if they were, the Keep and its holdings are not entailed. The title went into abeyance for a while when some ancient relative died without an immediate heir.” Coryn of Ardsley, to be exact. “All of the pertinent documents were unfortunately lost in a fire, and the parish records, too. When an heir was discovered, my great-grandfather, I believe, he was not living in England. Thinking he would return, he petitioned the Crown to reinstate the title, and to rewrite the letters of patent concerning the succession and inheritance. He never lived to see England, nor did my father, either, but the terms clearly remain: If there is no son, the last earl can dispose of the acquired lands as he will, but the original fortress and the title revert back to the Crown. Most of the property has been added to over the years by agents from abroad, with moneys from other sources. They belong to me, to bequeath as I wish. The fortune is mine also, not the earldom’s.”

Genie knew that rules of succession varied from title to title. Some could even devolve on the female line in lieu of direct male descendants. “So the Spotfords cannot benefit from your death?”

“Oh, I shall leave them a handsome bequest for their years of service, but they do not need it. They already receive a respectable competence and a percentage of the estate’s profits, which they could lose if I die. They also own a parcel of land of their own, although it always made more sense for them to live at the Keep. I suppose they grew to think of it as theirs, but I have sent enough messages and money to remind them of my existence. Our arrival will not be a shock to any of them.”

She gave up on the dry toast and tried not to breathe in the odors of the kippers Ardeth was eating now. “Tell me about them, please, as it appears we will all be living under one roof.”

He smiled, thinking she was imagining a crowded residence like her sister’s at Cormack Woods. He decided to let her see for herself. “I cannot tell you much, because I have never met any of them myself. My agents tell me Spotford is a typical countryman, wed to the earth like your father. He has two grown sons, neither married.”

“What of his wife? Will she be upset at losing the keys to the castle?”

“I believe she died in ch—” Ardeth recalled his audience and her pregnant state. “In her late twenties. That was the mother to Spotford’s second son. His first wife, mother to his older son, died of a smallpox epidemic. The younger boy manages the home farm and their own small estate. He studied agriculture and is a big help to his father, I understand. Likely Richard will take over the position when his father retires.”

Genie looked at the platter of sweet rolls near her plate, but decided against it, with regrets. “What of the other son?”

“Fernell is more of a charming wastrel, I am afraid. He is well liked in the neighborhood, from what I can gather. All the matchmaking mamas pursue him, at any rate. I assume they expect him to inherit Spotford Oaks. Mr. Spotford pays his expenses, so Fernell lives like a lord. He travels from house party to hunting box. He is visiting friends in Bath now, I understand. The butler did tell my messenger that Mr. Spotford sent for Fernell, to welcome us home.”

“He will not like being sent for, like a schoolboy.” She changed her mind. A bite or two of the pastry would not hurt her, no more than the carriage ride.

Ardeth passed her the jam to spread on her roll. “Since it is my money supporting him and his profligacy all these years, I daresay he will hide any discontent. Especially since I have the power to tighten his purse strings. There is also an aunt, Spotford’s sister, but no, before you work yourself into a fidget, she has never acted as mistress or hostess. An accident in her youth or something keeps her to her rooms.”

“How sad. Will they stay on, do you think?”

“That depends on them, and you.”

“Me?”

“If you do not like them, they are dismissed. It is you who shall have to deal with them when I am not available.”

Genie lost her appetite. “Not available” in his lexicon did not mean busy elsewhere. It meant gone altogether. She refused to think about that. She had enough to worry about now.

He seemed to have had enough breakfast also, eager to be on the road. “I am hoping they will stay now to advise me and manage day-to-day operations. I know nothing about that, as I told your father.”

Once they were on their way, Miss Hadley settled with her sewing, Ardeth staring out the window of the carriage, Genie asked, “How soon before we reach Ardsley Keep?”

“We have been on our land since leaving the inn, I believe. There should be a rise soon, overlooking the house.”

He directed the driver to pull up at that hill, off the road, so the other vehicles could pass. The baggage carts, the servants’ coach, and most of the grooms were sent on ahead to prepare the house and start unloading. They all thought Lady Ardeth was having another of her spells.

She was not. She was too busy having spasms to have an upset stomach.

Ardeth had helped Genie out of the coach and stood, pointing her in the right direction.

“That is your house? That…that castle?” She clutched at his arm, not caring if she wrinkled his sleeve.

The magnificent building, all four stories with numerous wings, scads of chimneys, and two dozen turrets, looked like a palace for a king, no, an emperor. It was huge and sprawling, with windows gleaming, set in vast gardens and wide lawns and elegant stands of trees. Honey-colored stones glowed in the sunshine, with ivy permitted to soften the edges in places.

Genie almost ran back into the coach. What did a squire’s daughter, a soldier’s widow, have to do with a place like this? Kings and queens ought to live there, or visit, at least. Would she be expected to invite the prince? And how did one keep such a mammoth-sized mansion clean? “Please tell me that is not Ardsley Keep.”

“Very well, it is not. That pile of rubble on the hill behind it is the Keep. This building has been built out of the old stones. Do you see that terraced garden? The moat used to be there. And over there, where those cottages are, an entire village once stood to serve the fortress.” He pointed east. “They moved the village over there after the fire, just beyond those trees, but the shopkeepers and such still depend on the Keep for most of their trade. Few travelers come so far north, away from populous cities.”

“It is lovely.”

It was, truly.

This was not the place where Ardeth had been born, not even where he had died. He had never seen the new structures except in sketches from his messengers, and he could not discern anything familiar in the jumble of rocks in the distance. But the lands were his, as far as he could see. He had wedded a stranger to possess this place, then fought to keep it. Ardeth looked over his domain now, the grand residence, the fields filled with crops, the green hills dotted with sheep, and felt his chest swell with pride and a sense of belonging. This was what he had worked for during all those years of stolen moments. This was where he could watch things grow, instead of waiting for them to die.