Chapter 2

Chapter Two

E merald Falls hadn’t received snow for two years. Not even one flake had fallen from the sky since the twenty-eighth of December in the year eighteen hundred and twelve. James Bailey knew this of a certainty, for the last time he’d enjoyed the serenity of snow upon the rolling hills surrounding his estate was the day before Eleanor Dove had left his life and the little village nestled near the seaside in Northumberland.

It was as though the heavens had mourned the end of their courtship as much as he. But after two years, there was no way of putting it right, so it was best he did not dwell upon the state of his lost love and the lack of snow. The heavens would have to give at some point, and when they did, he could finally move on from Eleanor Dove. Pulling his greatcoat tighter, James blew a puff of hot air into his hands before slipping a pair of heavy York Tan gloves over his fingers. The day was bound to be miserably cold, with the overcast sky and the biting dry wind.

He checked his satchel once more to ensure his tools were safely attached to the horse before starting his journey to the tenant farms. He had promised to help Mr. Gower with his roof that morning. With three little ones and a wife, the Gower residence was in desperate need of repairs before the next rainstorm .

James set his horse to a canter as he turned out of the gates to leave Granville House. The winding country road was generally empty early in the morning, but to his surprise on that particular morning, the twenty-fifth of December and the first day of Christmastide, a carriage rambled down the same road he traveled, less than a quarter of a mile in the lead.

He didn’t recognize the carriage. As a lifelong citizen of the village and surrounding area, James knew everyone. He knew their traveling conveyances, extended family, pets, and even their livestock. But the bright yellow post chaise expertly navigating the narrow winding road was one he had never noticed in all his six and twenty years.

Curiosity won over, causing James to slightly tap his heels against Wainwright’s sides, encouraging the horse to increase in speed. James tipped his hat as he rode alongside the carriage allowing himself a prying glance through the fog-misted windows. As his eyes caught hold upon the lady inside, every bit of him froze except the one traitorous organ that somehow heated and increased in speed. His heart fluttered, the sound pounding in his ears far louder than the beat of the horse’s hooves upon the frozen earth. If he was still breathing, it was only due to his body’s innate need for constant air.

After all this time, she had finally returned. His hand sat frozen to the brim, like a statue carved with the purpose of gazing upon his lady love. But Eleanor Dove was no longer his lady, and the size of her hazel eyes, eyes that had the habit of capturing his very soul, told him she had not expected to see him so soon.

Thoroughly distracted by her ash-brown ringlets that poked out the bottom of her bonnet, framing her porcelain face, he forgot his destination. Thankfully his horse, Wainwright, was pointed in the direction of the tenant farms, elsewise he would have been tempted to follow the carriage through the main village and out to the west edge of Emerald Falls to Dove Hall.

“Thunder and turf, Gower. Why did you not tell me the roof was this bad?” James knew his grumpiness had nothing to do with the roof, but it was easier to complain about the situation in front of him than to give heed to the turmoil building inside his chest. If he had shouted to the heavens, Why has she returned? no one on the roof would have had any inkling of the source of his agony. His courtship with Eleanor was as long forgotten in the minds of the residents of Emerald Falls as was the argument that had driven them apart. No one ever spoke of it, at least not to his knowledge.

Mr. Gower took a deep breath and knelt next to the hole he had poorly patched. “I didn’t want to bother you, sir. You do so much for me and my family. I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

James knelt next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “A landlord who does not keep his tenants in proper housing has no business owning an estate. Now, let us fix this hole before your little ones freeze in their beds.”

As he spoke, he looked down through the hole to see a bed directly beneath them in the loft. The poor child who had slept under this hole was fortunate to only have a strenuous cough. It could have been far worse.

“How is little Jane’s cough?” James asked as he set to work patching the roof.

“We are most thankful you sent the doctor, sir. We shall never be able to repay your generosity.”

James lifted his hammer and pounded in the first nail. “Enough of that. I am happy to help when I can.”

“Even so, it must be said. There are some in Emerald Falls who do not think it proper for a gentleman to be so deeply involved in the lives of the poor. There is nary a gentleman in all of England who would be willing to climb a ladder to patch a roof.”

Gower didn’t have to speak the name of the Duke of Rothes for James to know where the sentiment had originated. The duke was a shrewd man who was stuck in the traditions passed down to him by his father and grandfather. Those traditions lacked basic human decency, in James’s estimation .

“I stand by what I have said, Gower. As long as I have a quid in my purse, I will use it to bless the lives of those in my care.”

He meant every word. While Rothes’s father had been teaching him to hoard his wealth and look down upon the less fortunate, James’s father had passed a legacy of generosity to his son. James would forever be thankful he’d been taught to value relationships over wealth. Although, he did understand it was easier to feel that way when one had been blessed with money and an estate.

James spent the morning helping Gower patch the roof while taking his frustrations out on the shingles with the hammer and nails. If Gower had been blessed with money, the roof would have been patched long ago. His skills left little doubt upon the matter. With proper tools and the correct materials, a man as talented as Gower could do anything. James watched the other man, emulated his techniques, and soon found he was able to work efficiently on his little corner of the roof while Gower and the other tenant farmers who had come to help tackled the rest of it.

Distance from the other men allowed his thoughts to settle upon the disturbing situation with Miss Dove. Eleanor Dove had no business returning to Emerald Falls. He didn’t care if her family resided in the area, they had both agreed this was to be his section of England. She had vowed to find a husband with an estate in the south, thereby keeping far away from the village where he had his own estate. If Granville House weren’t entailed, he would sell it this very moment and leave Northumberland forever, if only to escape seeing her once more.

Their agreement had been ridiculous. There was no way she could possibly stay away from Emerald Falls. He only wished he didn’t yearn to be near her. What he wouldn’t give to spend one afternoon with her smile focused upon him as he basked in the genius of her wit. Even after all this time, he still loved her. The logical part of his mind was disgusted that he hadn’t yet found a way to remove her from his every thought. The emotional part of his sensibilities wanted him to toss aside the hammer, climb down the ladder, and race over to Dove Hall to beg her forgiveness and begin anew. But he had spent far too long controlling the emotional side of himself, so he would stay where he was and allow Eleanor Dove to complete her business before requesting she leave once more.

By mid-day, the morning chill was no longer a bother, as he had worked himself into a sweat. Each shingle he threw off the roof and replaced with a new one received the thrashing he wanted to impose upon himself. It was his fault she had left Emerald Falls. He’d made it impossible for her to stay after their courtship had ended. What were they to become? Friends? A man could hardly be a friend to the lady he loved.

“Love,” James grumbled as he climbed down the ladder.

“What was that, sir?” Gower asked. His face showed a hint of a smile, indicating he might know a little more about James’s state of mind than warranted.

“I did not say anything.”

Gower nodded, his smile increasing until wrinkles formed around his eyes. He exchanged glances with the other men, who all stood as though they had complete knowledge over the turmoil wrecking James’s heart. “I only thought, sir, if the rumors are true and Miss Dove has returned to Emerald Falls, then there might be a reason for your distraction.”

“Rumors?” James narrowed his eyes at Gower. “What have you heard?”

“My sister is a maid at Dove Hall. She said Miss Dove is to return before her marriage to an Italian. I can’t remember the exact words. I only know she is to arrive today in time for the first Christmastide ball at Granville House.”

If only someone had warned him. He wouldn’t have made such a ninny out of himself upon the road that morning. James grumbled. “An Italian?”

“She is to be a contessa by the first of the year.”

It seemed Eleanor had kept her word. She had taken the promise much farther than the other side of England. Leaving for Italy meant she would leave the entire country to him. It took a moment for him to speak, swallowing three times as he tried to remove the lump from his throat. “Then this is a final visit before leaving forever?”

“Sensible of her, do you not think?”

“Indeed.” As feeling came back into his legs and arms, he carefully placed the tools he’d carried down the ladder in their respective spots.

“You could best him, sir.” Gower pulled his hands back, balling his fists as he punched the air. “Win her heart once more.”

James narrowed his eyes at the man. “I have no intention of doing anything so foolish.”

With a final farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Gower and the promise to assist at the Taylor residence the following day, James mounted his horse and slowly rode back to Granville House. The wind whipped through the countryside, his hat blowing off more than once until he finally tucked it under his arm to keep from having to chase it around the countryside.

The sweat he’d been so proud to have earned turned to ice, the earlier chill intensifying as the tiniest little particle of something fell upon his nose. For a second, he imagined it was a bead of sweat that had somehow thawed and dripped from his hair or forehead. But when a larger particle fell upon his nose, and then his gloves and Wainwright’s head, James could not deny what his eyes were witnessing.

Increasing his speed, he arrived home much faster than he’d originally expected. Leaving Wainwright in the care of the stable master, he stomped across the yard, his mood darkening to that of a brooding, cantankerous fool. He had only himself to blame for this misery he’d brought upon himself and Granville House. As he entered the house, he handed his greatcoat and hat to the butler, Mr. Bishop, “Please send my valet to my rooms.”

“Very good, sir.”

When he’d left the house earlier that morning, there had been sections of the hallway that had decorations, indications of his mother’s planning for that evening’s ball. It now seemed like a forest of Norway Spruces had grown through the floorboards and he was trespassing upon a tree nymph’s home. The grand estate had been transformed from top to bottom with all forms of outside vegetation including ivy, holly, and mistletoe. “Mistletoe,” he grumbled. Nothing good ever came from that little plant hanging inconspicuously over a door frame or a well occupied spot in the parlor.

Although he wasn’t overly partial to the evening’s events, given his sour mood, he had to admit his mother had outdone herself. Each year, she attempted to top the last as the hostess for the first ball of the holiday season. She would be the hostess for this ball and then for the final ball, marking the beginning and the ending festivities for the Twelve Days of Christmas.

He passed through the forest of cheerfulness and was nearly to the bottom of the marble staircase when his mother called out, “Where are you escaping to, James? I would like to speak with you.”

James turned toward his mother. Her hair was pulled tightly back, held in place with a scarf covering it, similar to how the maids attired their heads when dusting the house. He crossed the hall and kissed her cheek. As he pulled back, he wiped at a spot of dirt on her chin. “Can it wait? I would like to get out of these wet clothes.”

“Eleanor is back, James.”

If he hadn’t already witnessed her return for himself, he would have found the nearest chair and dropped into it without delay. But he had spent every swing of his hammer steeling himself for this moment so the reaction would look more like a shudder from the chill of his thawing limbs. “It seems her return has not gone unnoticed, even by the heavens.”

He pointed to the door, indicating Mr. Bishop should open it so his mother could witness the miracle of snow falling around them. With a rush of cold air and the flurry of a long overdue snowstorm, little flakes entered the hallway of Granville House as though they belonged indoors.

“It is a coincidence.”

James pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. “A strange one, at that. Or perhaps I was right when I blamed her for the lack of snow these last two years. She taketh and giveth with her very presence.”

His mother laughed as she patted his cheek. “I expect you to behave yourself, James. I have extended our invitation for tonight’s ball to include Eleanor and her intended. I am told she is to marry the Count of Montefeltro.”

James took a step backward. Even though he knew it would be wrong to invite everyone of their Society, even her family, and not include her and the count, he wasn’t ready for an encounter so soon. He’d prefer to wait until she was ready to leave the village once more. Then he could say farewell and send her away to the arms of her Italian count with warm wishes. The rational side of him understood his mother’s decision. The irrational part of him that couldn’t forget the last time Eleanor had been at Granville House wanted an explanation. “Whatever would have induced you to do such a thing?”

“We must put the past behind us. Show the Society of Emerald Falls that you and Eleanor can be friendly even after your broken courtship. The missteps of two years ago can and should be forgotten. You are two very different people now.”

“What do you know of it?” James had never spoken a word of that evening. He’d told no one, outside his dearest friends, what had passed between them. He’d even claimed she was the one who had thrown him over to protect her reputation. There was no reason to dredge up the past once more.

“I am no wiser now than I was then about what occurred between the two of you. But you have grown over the last two years, so she must also have changed.”

“Perhaps a little older, is all.” He rubbed feeling back into his chin as he thought about the frosty reception he’d received from the woman in the carriage. He doubted either of them was much wiser from the years they’d spent apart.

“Promise you will treat Eleanor with kindness.”

“Me?” James laughed as he stepped toward the stairs. If he didn’t change out of his wet clothing, he might have to send for a concoction from the still room or, worse yet, the apothecary, and spend the night in bed, which he realized might be preferable to the ball that would be taking place in his home that evening. “I will be a delight, Mother. It is Eleanor Dove over whom you must worry. The last time I saw her, she left me with several bruises.”

“Far too many. One that has yet to heal.” She placed her hand on his chest, a frown upon her face. “I wish you would confide in me.”

“Perhaps another time. I could catch my death in these clothes, and then that would ruin your entire evening.” He smiled to let her know it was a jest and then ran for the stairs before she could call him back to speak about feelings and the sort of nonsense he preferred to push deep down to the depths of nothingness where they would be lost, never to resurface.