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Chapter 5

Aurelia was sitting in the drawing room window, reading a letter from Silas. She had yet to tell him of her father's decision, hoping to persuade him about her way of thinking somehow. She still held onto the hope of marrying him, even as, for now, the possibility had been crushed.

"My darling Aurelia. How happy it makes me to think of you as I write these words. I picture you in the drawing room at your father's house, sitting in the window looking out along the drive – waiting for me. How I long to be there with you, my darling. How I long to hold you in my arms, to feel your sweet embrace, and to bring my lips to yours. I know it won't be long, but how I long for it to be now …" Aurelia read, her heart skipping a beat as she clasped the letter to her breast and sighed.

This was how Silas always wrote to her – declaiming his love for her and making her feel as though she was the only person in all the world who mattered to him. How cruel it was to think of her father and mother denying her – denying them – the love they shared. It was all here on the page – the sincerity of his love and desire. She had written to him the previous day with words of a similar nature, sobbing as she had written, for she knew the truth could not be held back for long.

"I want only to be with you, Aurelia, and I know it won't be long before we make our vows, and I am yours, and you are mine. "My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite," she read, smiling at the final words from Shakespeare – Romeo and Juliet.

But as with Romeo and Juliet, Aurelia feared the tragedy to come. She knew she could not defy her parents, and as long as they refused her permission to marry Silas, their love would go unrequited. It broke her heart to think it, and now a tear rolled down her cheek.

"What's that? Another letter from Silas?" Letitia said, snatching it out of Aurelia's hands.

Aurelia let out a cry, turning to her sister and attempting to snatch the letter back from her.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite …" Letitia read out loud, laughing as she darted across the drawing room, holding the letter in her hands.

Aurelia ran after her, knocking over an occasional table where her mother had placed a vase of freshly cut flowers. It fell to the floor, breaking with a crash, sending flowers and water all over the floor. Their mother, who had been embroidering a handkerchief, sprang to her feet, shouting for them both to stop.

"Enough, that's enough. What are you doing, Letitia?" she exclaimed.

"Aurelia's got a letter from Silas – he's quoting Shakespeare to her and telling her how much he loves her," Letitia exclaimed.

Aurelia lunged towards her, grabbing her sister by the hair and causing Letitia to scream.

"She's only jealous because no man will ever fall in love with her and her ugly face," Aurelia exclaimed.

"Stop it! Enough. Give the letter back, Letitia. And Aurelia – forget Silas. You're not going to marry him. I forbid it. And your father forbids it. I don't care if he quotes the whole folio to you – Shakespeare won't change our minds," their mother exclaimed.

Aurelia now snatched the letter from her sister's hand and fled from the room, colliding with her brother as she did so, promptly bursting into tears. He grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her up as she felt her legs collapse beneath her.

"Aurelia, what's wrong?" he exclaimed as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"It's not fair. None of it's fair, Reuben. Why won't they let me? I want to marry him. I love him," Aurelia exclaimed, and her brother sighed and shook his head.

"Sit down, Aurelia," he said, leading her to a chair in the hallway as the sound of their sister's indignant voice came from the drawing room.

"I don't know why you put up with her, Mother. I hate her," Letitia was saying.

Reuben shook his head.

"Why couldn't I be blessed with brothers?" he said, and Aurelia gave a faint smile.

She and Reuben had always got on, though she knew his preference for the companionship of those who preferred riding out and hunting to more sedate pursuits. But unlike her parents and sister, Reuben had always taken a more balanced approach to disagreements, trying to see both sides of an argument, even though he might only agree with one.

"You could have a brother in Silas if only they'd let me marry him," Aurelia said, but Reuben shook his head.

"They won't let you, Aurelia. You'll only cause yourself more pain if you insist on pursuing the thought of doing so. You need to tell him," Reuben said.

Aurelia shook her head. The thought of doing so was too dreadful. It would break her heart, and she felt certain it would break Silas' heart, too.

"Oh, but I can't do that, Reuben. You know I can't. And why should I be forced to do so? Why should I give up my love for Silas simply because Mother and Father don't think it right that I should pursue the match? What do they have against him? But they'd listen to you, Reuben. Please – can't you talk to them? Can't you persuade them?" she asked.

Her brother was her only hope. As the heir to the barony, Aurelia knew they would listen to him, but to her surprise, he shook his head.

"No, Aurelia. I won't talk to them. I won't try to persuade them," he said.

Aurelia began to sob, and Reuben took her hands in his.

"Why? What is it about him you despise so much? You don't even know him," Aurelia exclaimed.

"And that's the point, Aurelia. You don't know him, either. All these letters – these sentiments – how can they truly come from the heart when you've only known him a few weeks? To speak of marriage in such a short time is … madness. You can't know, Aurelia. I don't want you to be hurt. Perhaps in time, I might make the case for your marrying Silas. But not now," he said.

Aurelia shook her head – why would no one understand her feelings? Why did none of her family believe falling in love at first sight was possible?

"But … I know I love him, Reuben," she said, but her brother only smiled at her and squeezed her hands.

"No, Aurelia – you don't know it. You can't know it. Now, put the idea out of your head. But before you do, ask yourself why Silas wants to marry you so quickly. If he loved you as he says he does, why couldn't he wait? If I loved a woman, I'd be glad of the chance to prove it over time. I'd delight in getting to know her better, to know her family, to know everything about her. I'd be glad to wait. Why can't Silas?" Reuben asked, shaking his head.

"It's love at first sight," she told herself, but her brother's words had unsettled her.

It was a question she had asked herself, though one she had dismissed as mere folly, reminding herself of Silas' words. He had told her he loved her – just days after their first meeting. And Aurelia had said the same in response, though she had admitted to herself it was a surprise to hear those words so soon. She had put it down to a romantic gesture. It was a romantic gesture. But Silas was so keen to marry – he had spoken of it within a week of their meeting and soon after discovering the substantial dowry Aurelia's father had set aside for her. It was a considerable sum, along with property in London and Bath – the result of an inheritance the baron himself had received, dividing it between his two daughters for the time they married.

"I love him," Aurelia replied, even as the seed of doubt had been planted.

"Then I'm sure both of you can wait a little longer," Reuben replied.

Aurelia did not know what to say. She felt certain her feelings for Silas were more than a passing fancy, as were his for her. He had said as much, yet the speed with which he declared his love and desire for marriage was … unusual.

"And if I don't want to wait?" she replied.

"Well … you're never going to be allowed to marry him. Not this soon. Now, what about the new earl? What did you think of him?" Reuben asked, changing the subject.

Aurelia shrugged. She had not thought very much of the new Earl of Wimbourne. Not at all. He was an uncouth American, entirely out of his depth and hardly worthy of the title he now possessed.

"What about him? I'll be glad not to see him again," Aurelia replied.

Her brother smiled.

"You don't really mean that, Aurelia," he said, but Aurelia was adamant she did.

The new earl was a man she could find nothing in common with – a Kentucky rancher thrust into English society. He was entirely out of his depth, and there was no doubt in her mind he would flounder.

"Well … I suppose he's marginally better than his cousin," Aurelia replied.

She had seen how her brother had looked at Roxanna, and if he were unwilling to support her in her desire to marry Silas, she would not encourage him in his affections for the earl's cousin. Reuben looked hurt.

"You didn't like her?" he asked, and Aurelia nodded.

"That's right. I didn't like her. Not at all. And I don't particularly care for him, either. I think it was a mistake for them to come here, and they'd be far better off returning to Kentucky and the life they were used to. I don't know what father was thinking," Aurelia replied.

Reuben sighed.

"Oh, really, Aurelia. Give them both a chance. You might find you like them in the end," he said, but Aurelia's mind was made up.

She had no interest in the earl. He was not a man she wished to have anything further to do with, and his only merit – and one that would no doubt make him popular with a certain type of woman in the district was the fact of his good looks.

He was handsome, though ruggedly, eschewing any sense of fashion for a look redolent of the ranch life from which he came. He had appeared unshaven, his face still tanned from the Kentucky sun, and he was wearing the sort of clothes one might expect to find on the ranch rather than a country estate.

"If we're to be neighbours – though I doubt he's going to stay – I'll be civil to him, and to her, but as for anything further …" Aurelia replied, and her brother shook his head.

"I think it's good – he's different. I was surprised to hear he didn't want to hunt, but as for the rest … well, why do we all have to be the same? I like his difference – quite the opposite of Isaac, isn't he? Why should everyone be the same?" Reuben replied.

Aurelia did not have an answer for that. But the earl was so far removed from the norm to be something else entirely. She could not imagine him fitting in at balls and soirees. Did he even know how to dance or comport himself? The very thought of it made her smile.

"I don't think he'll last long. If anything, it'll be too cold for him here. He'll miss the warmth of Kentucky. You wait until winter. And if you think Roxanna is interested in you, well … she's probably got some rancher across the Atlantic waiting to be summoned," Aurelia replied.

Reuben shook his head.

"I don't know, Aurelia. But … well, I don't see any harm in making an effort. Now, I'll go and talk to Letitia. Perhaps the two of you might start getting on a little better from now on," he said, and nodding to her, he made his way into the drawing room, where Letitia's diatribe against Aurelia continued.

Aurelia sighed, taking out the letter from Silas and reading it through once again. She wanted to believe it was sincere, yet her brother's words had unsettled her, and she wondered how long Silas really would be prepared to wait for her …

"He will do. I know he will," she told herself, even as doubt was now setting in …

***

Dawson had grown tired of being confined to the house that morning. His great uncle's solicitor, Mr Dewsbury – a hawk-like man with a curved nose and hunched back – had arrived to explain something of the workings of the estate, and Dawson had found himself bored beyond measure as he listened to lists of dull figures and explanations of what was now required of him. Eventually, he told Mr Dewsbury he was taking a break, but instead of retreating to his study, Dawson stepped outside, intending to explore something of the estate now entrusted to him.

"It's good to be outside, but it's nothing compared to Kentucky," Dawson thought as he surveyed the countryside stretching out before him.

As he had learned that morning, the estate comprised the house itself, along with a dozen farms, the village of Wimbourne, and hundreds of acres of land stretching out on either side of the parkland. Dawson was now the landlord to nearly one hundred tenants and the patron of several ecclesiastical livings in the district. His income was secure and steady, though Mr Dewsbury had pointed out the necessity of improving the housing stock.

"Your great uncle did little by way of improving the estate's holdings, though he made many sensible investments overseas," the solicitor had said.

Dawson had subsequently discovered these "investments" to be linked to sugar plantations and slavery and informed the solicitor to divest all the investments immediately. Dawson deplored the slave trade, and it sickened him to think his great uncle had been involved in it.

But in a way, the discovery had given him some self-assurance – his great uncle might look the part of an earl, but if Dawson could behave with integrity, perhaps he could model a better way of being an earl. But still, the task before him seemed overwhelming, and as he walked across the estate, Dawson wondered if he was really up to the task.

"Good morning," a man outside a small, rundown cottage said.

He was chopping wood, and as Dawson approached him, he stopped, deferentially removing his hat.

"Don't stop on my account, sir. May I?" Dawson asked, taking up a second axe upended in a piece of wood.

The man looked at him in surprise.

"Sir? I … forgive me, are you the new earl, sir?" he asked, and Dawson nodded.

"Dawson Murphy, at your service," he said, and raising the axe above his head, he brought it down hard on the piece of wood, splintering it in two with a deft stroke.

Dawson was used to chopping wood for the stove, and back in Kentucky, he had a wood pile the size of the cottage in front of him. The man stared at him in astonishment.

"I can't let you chop wood for me, My Lord," he said, but Dawson grinned at him.

"Believe me, I'm glad to be doing so. Is this your cottage?" he asked, and the man nodded.

"Yes, My Lord. I've been a tenant on the estate my whole life – I was born in this cottage. You … you're not considering asking me to leave, are you?" he said, and Dawson shook his head.

"No, sir, I'm not. But I am thinking about making some well-needed repairs," he replied, for it was clear the estate had suffered from some considerable neglect.

Back in Kentucky, Dawson had always maintained the ranch to the highest standards and had treated those who lived and worked there with decency and respect. The man looked at him with surprise.

"Do you mean … do you really mean it, My Lord? I'll admit, the roof leaks, and the walls are damp. The chimney hasn't been swept in years, and I only live in the one room. My wife died some years ago, and … oh, bless you, My Lord," the man said, and Dawson was astonished to see tears in his eyes.

He put down the axe and held out his hand to the man with a smile.

"You'll have your house repaired, sir. And make it known I intend to have all the houses repaired as necessary – and with improvements, too. You wouldn't believe some of the advancements set to make life easier for us all," he said.

A sudden thought had occurred to Dawson – the possibility of using his now-found wealth and influence for good. He had not realized the appalling state of the housing stock on the estate – how could he have done? And once again, he realized his great uncle was perhaps not the man he had appeared to be.

"Thank you, My Lord – thank you from the bottom of my heart," the man said, and Dawson shook his head, telling him he was only too glad to make improvements to the estate – for all their sakes.

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