Chapter Twenty-Two

T he morning dawned clear and warmer than it had been. It promised to be a beautiful day. Reginald thought they sorely deserved one after yesterday’s dreariness.

He was not early down to breakfast; he’d gone to bed late and slept like the dead. Jasper was seated in the breakfast parlor with a newspaper spread open before him. He looked more himself. The hollows beneath his eyes were less sunken. He must have gotten some sleep as well.

“Has anyone else been down?” Reginald asked, setting down his plate and sitting a few seats away so as to not crowd Jasper’s paper.

“Crispin and Jeffrey. They’ve already gone to take Jeremy home. Dr. Haraldsen approved. I suspect the Squire will be glad to have them both back.”

“I’m glad it was not any worse than it was.”

Jasper grunted and bit into his toast. After a sip of coffee, he added, “Father was still sleeping when I peeked in. I think I woke Mother. She shouldn’t sleep in that chair.”

“I know. But I doubt she’ll leave him even for a moment now.”

Jasper shook his head. Then he let out a groan. “This is so difficult, Reg. I want one day not to have to think. I want to lie in bed and do nothing but stare at the ceiling for a full twenty-four hours.”

“You’ve been shouldering the lion’s share. But you know Crispin and I will help any way we can.” The words sounded empty. He added, “If we can.”

“Yesterday Crenshaw had the gall—the gall—to drag me all the way out to his farm, complaining all the while that Willie Jepson had stolen one of his piglets. I didn’t need to see the damn pigs to know one was missing. We could have handled it there in the churchyard.”

“Oh, the devil!” Reginald swore. “Is he still picking on that poor boy? Willie hasn’t got the sense of a two-year-old. He wouldn’t know how to steal a pig.”

“Well, he did steal it. But not to fatten it up for slaughter. He made a pet of it. Crenshaw demanded it back and was cruel enough to say he meant to grind it up for sausages. Willie started bawling. It was asinine.”

“What did you do?”

“I tried to make Crenshaw see reason, but he’s a mean-spirited, spiteful old fart. So I bought the damn pig. For far more than it’s worth.”

“I’m sure Crenshaw was thrilled. Did it satisfy Willie?”

“It should. I hired him to be our new pig boy. Tollerson will have to put up with Willie for a while until he loses interest.” Jasper grimaced. “Then I suppose we’ll grind it up for some very pricey sausage.”

Reginald snorted.

“The thing is,” Jasper said, looking down at his hands and then up again, “the thing is, I don’t know what the Earl would have done. There are so many things I just don’t know.”

“You did fine. It’s just a—”

“I know it was just a pig. But that was this time. Next time it won’t be a pig. And I still won’t know—”

“And you don’t want to hear me say you’ll do fine. Jasper, it’s certain you’ll make a few mistakes. But I’m sure Father did too. And you should not discount the possibility that you may do some things better than Father did.”

“I just wish there was more time.”

Reginald’s throat closed. “So do I.”

He never had the talk with Father that Crispin had urged him to have. He never told him he wanted to work for the university instead of the church. He never said that he bore Mr. Tibury no grudge. He would never know how Father really felt about any of his youngest son’s decisions. Father would not live long enough to see those decisions carried out.

Jasper closed the newspaper he had probably not really been reading.

“I’ve been neglecting our house guests shamefully these last couple of days. I’m worried they will pack up and leave.”

“I’m sure they understand.”

“It was a mistake inviting them. But I expected I’d be here for the whole Season. And Georgiana would be snatched up by someone else. Then I’d have to start searching with no idea where to start. But this is absurd. I’ve gone about it all wrong. Hell, I’m not even sure she likes me.”

Reginald knew he was supposed to say of course she does . Instead, he said, “But you do like her?”

“Everything about her.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s only, she isn’t Vanessa. You understand? And I handled that badly too.”

He needed to say something. But he had no idea what. That Jasper didn’t deserve Georgiana if he was still tied by the heartstrings to his mistress? That Jasper could not wed Georgiana because he was desperately in love with her?

“Well,” he said slowly, “what are you planning to do?”

“I can’t do anything this morning. I have a proposal to read over that I should have gotten to a month ago. One of Lord Billings’ projects. He’s stopping here today on his way to Plimpton. I’d forgotten I invited him. Thank God Peters reminded me.”

“Billings?” One of the Earl’s good friends. “Will he want to see Father?”

“He may want to, but he won’t. This is not how the Earl would want to be remembered. I mean to spare him that. So I suppose we’ll have a dinner for Billings. Set up the targets and do some shooting. That’ll amuse him. Then I’ll have to give him an hour to try to convince me to support his theater censorship bill.”

“Well, at least you know what the Earl would do with that.”

“Ha! Yes. That I do know. And that Father always aimed just a hair off the mark, then served his finest brandy, so that Billings would trot off well pleased with himself regardless.” The faintest smile crossed Jasper’s face. “Can I trust you not to humiliate the man if I let you shoot with us?”

“I haven’t shot a gun in over a year.”

“I don’t think that matters. Aim to the side.”

Reginald laughed. “If that’s all you require of me—”

“Oh, well, no. There’s more. I’ve got to play host to Billings which means I’m going to neglect Georgiana yet again. I hate to ask, but can you and Olivia entertain her this morning? And Alice, of course. And the Duchess unless she chooses to sit with Mother.”

He felt the request like a physical blow. “Entertain them how?” He knew what would interest Georgiana, but they couldn’t drag Alice to the library to thumb through accounts.

“Fortunately, it looks to be a fine day. I had wanted to take Georgiana out to see the folly if the sun ever came out. The walk out there is pleasant and it’s an amusing pretend ruin.”

“Crispin will be sorry he missed it. The folly is his favorite part of Chaumbers.”

“Well, if he gets back in time, he can join you. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No. I don’t mind.” And that was the truth. It was almost too perfect. Olivia and Alice were thick as thieves. It would be no trouble to find a spot for a private talk with Georgiana. She’d said she felt close to figuring out where the money had gone. If she had, then they were done with all this. If she hadn’t, well, perhaps they were done anyway. Once Bradwell and Father were both dead, what did a few hundred missing pounds matter?

The important thing was they needed to talk. He’d touched her hand. Stroked it. It had been such a tiny gesture. Insignificant on the vast scale of possible ways for humans to touch. But it hadn’t felt insignificant. It felt monumental. Intimate. It had been the most utterly wrong thing to do. He owed her an abject apology. But the truth was, he did not regret it at all.

*

Sunshine streamed through the windows. Georgiana did not see a cloud in the sky. Everything that was wrong was still wrong; nevertheless, her spirits lifted.

She waited for Alice to wake and dress, and then they both went downstairs together. Mama must not have announced any decision to leave, because Reginald and Olivia awaited them in the breakfast parlor with plans for the morning.

“We thought we’d walk out to the folly,” Olivia said. “It’ll be good to stretch our limbs. It’ll be just the four of us unless Crispin returns soon. Jasper is obliged to meet with Lord Billings.”

“Oh,” Georgiana smiled. “Is he coming here? Mama will enjoy seeing him.”

“Evidently,” Reginald said. “And my mother appreciated the Duchess volunteering to act as hostess for the dinner. She’s with Cook now, going over the menu. While Jasper is reading through whatever hare-brained proposal Billings wants him to support.”

They ate a quick light breakfast, then gathered their wraps and bonnets and set off. The path across the meadow was wide enough for the girls to walk three abreast. Reginald trailed behind. He was so quiet that Georgiana glanced over her shoulder a few times to assure herself he was there. His brow was clouded. She didn’t think he was even listening to their talk.

Olivia served as guide, pointing out the various landmarks. The village was behind them, the lake off to the left. Across the lake, though of course they could not see it, was the neighboring village of Crofton, where Jeremy and Jeffrey had their home. And beyond that, was the town of Ipswich, where one could find a surprisingly good milliner, Olivia’s bonnet being proof.

It was a hefty walk up a long, gradual incline. Georgiana was beginning to feel it in her legs when the gradient increased abruptly to an actual climb. They reached a plateau and Olivia halted and bid them turn around. Reginald came up to stand beside them, a wicked grin on his face.

“Oh,” Georgiana said, looking back at Chaumbers. From this perspective, one was able to truly form an impression of the whole of the house. She tried forcing a smile.

Alice giggled, then guffawed. “I do apologize,” she said, drawing breath. “I’m sure your grandfather was a lovely man, but…”

“He was no architect,” Reginald allowed.

Georgiana knew that many gentlemen’s country homes had been built in stages, with each new owner adding a little something of his own. As styles changed, there could be incongruities. But this home had no such excuse. It had been conceived as a whole. To look like this.

Olivia laughed. “I’ll tell you a story. A few years ago, my father hired a young painter to be my tutor. I had no particular talent in that direction, but I liked painting and Mama was eager to encourage anything that got me off of a horse. The man was engaged for six months.”

“Can you imagine the boon?” Reginald put in. “He was required to spend only a couple hours a day with Olivia, yet was paid a salary, provided with all the paint and canvas he required, and given a room and board. Jasper said the man put on at least a stone.”

“You didn’t like him?” Georgiana asked.

“I never met him. I was away at school. Jasper did not like him.”

“What was wrong with him?” Alice asked.

“He was very superior,” Olivia said. “Of course, I thought that meant he was a very good painter. All artists, I thought, were superior.”

“And he was young and handsome,” Reginald said.

“He was not. He had frog eyes.”

It was wonderful to see the two of them teasing one another. Georgiana realized it was not only the boys who rallied one another.

Olivia said, “He was not handsome, but he was young. And there was my dangerous impressionability to fear.” She made a face. “We were only to meet in the small parlor, door open, and every ten minutes someone would pass by. It was very distracting, but I persevered. We tried portraits first, but I soon showed myself a miserable portraitist. I had no desire to paint fruit in bowls. So we moved onto landscapes.”

Olivia looked at Reginald, as though daring him to say something, but he kept his lips clamped.

“We were permitted to take the easels out onto the lawn or the terraces, and I did paint some decent views, but there simply was not that much to inspire me. So we went back to the small parlor, and I made some sketches of better views from memory. I sketched this.” She swept out her hand.

Reginald laughed, knowing where she was headed, but did not interrupt.

“Well, the dim man made me sketch it again and again and kept pointing out what was wrong. It infuriated me. Finally, I said I was going to do the painting. And I did. It was a very good painting, if I do say so, but he mocked it.”

“And Olivia started to cry.” Apparently, Reginald’s silence had limits.

“I was angry. It must have been Jasper’s turn to lurk nearby because he stormed into the parlor looking ready to strangle poor Master John. I showed no signs of having been—I don’t know what, accosted, I suppose—so Jasper merely demanded to know what was wrong. I sobbed ‘He hates my painting!’ or something to the effect. Jasper looked at it and said, ‘What’s wrong with it?’ And in his oh-so-superior way, Master John scolded Jasper and said, ‘She will never improve if you patronize her.’”

They all laughed. Olivia could mimic a supercilious painting master to a T. But she was not finished with her story.

“Now Jasper was infuriated. He put Master John on a horse, which pleased neither John nor the horse, and hauled him here. The view offended all his artistic sensibilities. He said he couldn’t be expected to anticipate Chaumbers’ architect had been an imbecile. To which Jasper replied, ‘You are referring to the previous Earl of Iversley.’”

“And,” Reginald interjected, “no painting master can out-superior Jasper. John saw his salary and meals evaporating before his eyes.”

“It was awful!” Olivia exclaimed. “Poor Master John spent the next two weeks abasing himself. If I dropped a splatter of paint on the floor it was a masterpiece. I finally told Father to send him away.” She pouted. “My painting career was over.”

They laughed with her. She obviously had no regrets.

“Ah, but if only you had painted the folly instead of the house. Shall we?” Reginald indicated the way forward. The ground now slanted down. In the distance, Georgiana could make out an irregular outline of stacked brick and stones.

Olivia linked her arm through Alice’s and led. Reginald and Georgiana followed, though he did not offer his arm to her. That seemed an admission of the discomfort they both felt. She could hear Olivia continuing to chatter.

“Crispin used to bring us out here to get us out from underfoot. Me and Reginald. We would hide and he would look for us. I used to think we were so clever and that there were thousands of places in the ruins where he would never find us. But of course, there are only four or five rather obvious spots, and we hid there over and over. You wouldn’t think Crispin would be so patient, would you? But he was.”

Oh! This family! They broke Georgiana’s heart. They were so close. All of them. That was such a rarity. She couldn’t say anything, do anything, that might disrupt this. Especially not now when they needed each other so much.

Georgiana didn’t hear Alice’s response and couldn’t make out what Olivia said next. She and Reginald were walking quite slowly. They had fallen behind. He touched her arm.

“Georgiana, we should talk.”