Chapter Eight

P hillip made his way through the ground floor on his way to his study. He knew he'd find Violet there. That was where she always was at this time of day. You could set a clock by her schedule—she rose early each morning, no matter how late he'd kept her up during the night. Then she dressed and went down to the dining room to break her fast. When she finished eating, she would go to his study and start work on the estate ledgers.

Phillip made sure he always arrived to eat breakfast with her. If he didn't, he'd miss being with her during the best time of every day. This was when he would find out what her plans for the day were. If he wanted to keep up with her, he had to be on time, or he wasn't sure when he'd have a chance to be with her. Sometimes not until dinner.

Today was no different. He headed for the study and when he arrived, found her sitting behind the desk, hard at work.

She was getting larger every day. He had to smile. She couldn't push her chair close to the desk any longer, and had to prop the ledgers on a drawer to get them close enough.

"What are you staring at, Markham?" she asked without looking up from her work.

"I'm staring at the most beautiful woman in the world, and she's mine."

He caught Violet in a momentary blush before she placed her pen on the desk and lifted her gaze. "That is the most blatant lie you've told me since we met."

"No, not the most blatant lie. The most blatant lie was when I told you that Captain DeLaney and I single-handedly defeated Napoleon's army in one day."

Violet laughed. "Yes, but you were far from sober, as I recall. And Captain DeLaney was even worse. I hate to tell you, but I didn't believe a word either of you said that whole evening."

"You didn't? But you congratulated me on a victory well won."

"What else was I supposed to do, call you a liar in front of a fellow officer?"

"Oh, you are a jewel, Lettie."

"I'm glad you realize that minor fact."

"I've known it from the day we met."

"How wise of you," she said, then met his lips when he leaned down to kiss her.

Just then, Wilbert stood in the doorway and cleared his throat.

"Yes, Wilbert," Markham said with a grin. "What is it?"

"You have a caller, my lord."

"Who is it?"

"I'm afraid he wouldn't give his name, my lord."

"Did he say why he would not?"

"Because," a deep voice said from the doorway, "I was afraid if I told you my name, you would not see me."

Phillip's blood turned to ice. This moment had lurked at the back of his mind for so long that he had almost convinced himself it would never happen. But it had, and all he could think of was Violet, his Violet. He looked from her to the towering hulk in the doorway and stepped closer to his wife to protect her.

"What do you want?" he said, standing between Violet and Jamie Whitecliff.

"To give you what you're owed," Whitecliff said.

Phillip looked around for anything he might use to protect his wife. The anguish this fellow had shown on the battlefield played clearly in his mind. An eye for an eye. That was what he had bellowed as they carried away his twin.

The giant of a man had raged and punched anyone who dared try to calm him. He'd lost his twin brother, and swore he would take revenge on anyone who had contributed to his sibling's death. It was Phillip who had issued the order to advance. Phillip who had ordered Whitecliff's brother to face the enemy. On that horrid day, Jamie Whitecliff had wished to see the Earl of Markham dead.

"You owe me nothing," Phillip said in the calmest voice he could muster.

"I was afraid you'd feel that way, but my ma made me swear I'd give this to you."

Whitecliff took several steps closer to the desk, then reached into his pocket.

"No!" Phillip yelled.

"Mr. Whitecliff," Violet said as she rose from her chair. "Markham, I'm all right."

"No, Whitecliff. Don't you touch her."

"I have no intention of hurting her," Whitecliff replied.

Phillip didn't relax his stance, but kept his battle-ready pose.

Violet, however, seemed eager to invite Whitecliff to make himself at home. "Please, won't you join us for tea?"

Phillip reached out to stop Violet from getting near Whitecliff, but she eluded his grasp and stepped next to the man.

"Please, have a seat," she said, pointing to a spot on the settee. "I imagine you would rather have something stronger than tea, though, wouldn't you?"

"Do you have whiskey?"

"We do," Violet said, then walked to the sideboard and poured Whitecliff a glass of whiskey.

"Thank you, my lady," he said, taking the glass from her.

Phillip could see that Whitecliff had just figured out that Violet was expecting a baby. The expression on his face changed.

"Congratulations, Major," he said, lifting his glass in salute.

"Thank you, Whitecliff."

"What would you like, Markham?" Violet asked him with a smile.

"A brandy, sweetheart."

She poured him a brandy, then took it to him. He helped her to the settee, then sat beside her.

"Markham, would you please introduce me to our guest?"

"Violet, this is Sergeant Jamie Whitecliff. Sergeant, allow me to present my wife, Lady Violet Markham."

"My lady," Whitecliff said, standing at his chair and bowing.

"Please, Sergeant. Do sit. We're not that formal here."

Their guest sat.

"I take it that you and Markham served together in the war."

"Yes, my lady."

"Was he a good officer?"

"Lettie!" Phillip said, trying to stop her from dredging up things that were better left unspoken.

"The best, my lady. He had the admiration and respect of every soldier under his command. To a man they would have laid down their lives for him."

"I would have thought that," she said, reaching for her husband's hand. "So, who were you close to that laid down his life for Markham? I take it that's why you are here."

"Lettie," Phillip whispered.

"Someone died that the sergeant was close to, Markham. I think that's why Sergeant Whitecliff is here. He has something he'd like to say."

"It was my brother, my lady," Whitecliff said. "My twin brother."

"Oh, Sergeant Whitecliff. I'm so sorry."

"He was always the first in a scuffle, and when he saw the French rush the major, he jumped in to help without hesitating."

"Is that where you got the saber wound to your thigh and the scar across your back?" she asked Phillip.

"Yes. Without the bravery of Sergeant Whitecliff's brother, I wouldn't be alive today."

"Then I owe you a great debt," Violet said, turning to their guest.

"And I owe the major a debt, or rather, an apology," Whitecliff said. "In the throes of my grief, I said some words that I wish I could take back."

"That's not necessary, Whitecliff." Phillip wasn't sure he should believe Whitecliff, but the man seemed sincere. His voice was naturally gruff, but Phillip realized he heard no menace there.

"Just the same, I'd like to offer my apology."

"Accepted," Phillip said.

"And my mother sent along this memento. She wanted you to have it."

Whitecliff handed Phillip a small piece of cloth. He unwrapped the cloth and found an embroidered patch tucked inside. Embroidered on the patch were the words: Sergeant Jeremy Whitecliff– Surrey, England.

"My ma made one for each of us in case something happened to one or both of us and the army needed to tell us apart." Whitecliff held up his patch. The patches were identical except for the names.

"Oh, how special," Violet said, standing up and giving Whitecliff a hug. When she sat down, Phillip noticed tears running down her cheeks. "Thank you, Sergeant. I appreciate your coming all this way to give me this."

"Ma thought maybe when you have a son, you might want to give him this and tell him what a brave soldier our Jeremy was."

"I'd be honored to tell him all about how brave your brother was. I'm honored that you made a trip all the way here to give me what your ma made for your brother."

"To be honest, I had another reason for coming, but it didn't work out like I'd hoped it would."

"Oh, what other reason did you have?" she asked.

"I'm looking for a change, y'see. Our home holds too many memories of my brother for my ma to handle. I have a buyer for our land and want to get ma away from there. She spends most of every day crying, and it's not good for her."

"What do you do?"

"I was a land steward before the war. I answered an ad in the paper for a man not far from here who was in need of a steward, so I came to talk to him."

"But you say it didn't work out?"

"No. Farming practices and land management have changed so much just in the last few years that they are hardly recognizable," Whitecliff replied. "The man I spoke with doesn't want to change with the times. He insisted he wanted everything to stay the way it is and always has been."

"And you don't want to?"

"No. I want to modernize farming practices. If I put that much time and work in the land, I want something to show for it at the end."

"That's a wise attitude."

Phillip rose from his chair, walked to the liquor cabinet, and brought back the whiskey decanter. After he filled their glasses, he sat down. "I happen to have an estate north of here that is in need of a steward. It hasn't been run properly for several years, but in its heyday, it was quite profitable. It's yours to work if you want the job. You can try any new methods you'd like and keep any of the profits for the first five years. If it shows improvement then, we'll talk again. What do you think?"

"Is there a house on the grounds where my ma and I could live?" Whitecliff asked.

"Yes, although I'd have to provide a few servants. It's rather a large estate and would be more than your mother could manage."

"Could I look at it?"

"You may. It's almost time for lunch. We'll eat first, then I'll send my land steward and overseer with you to check things over. How does that sound?"

"Perfect, Major. This day is turning out better than I thought."

Violet started to rise. "I'll tell Cook to expect one more for lunch."

"You stay right there, dear," Phillip said. "I'll tell Cook, and then tell Wilbert to send for my land steward."

"Very well," Violet said as he left the room.

"Thank you," Sergeant Whitecliff said. "This day is ending much better than it began."

"Whatever happened in the war has bothered my husband since he returned home," Violet said. "I'm glad you came to speak with him."

"So am I. We left some business unsettled. It's good to have it sorted."

"That's always for the best," Violet said.

"The war affected everyone and left scars. The most painful are those that can't be seen."

"It's obvious you know that personally," Violet said.

"I do," Whitecliff said. "My brother's death left a wound almost more painful than any from which I could recover."

"That's often the way it is with those to whom we're closest," she said.

"I take it you've lost someone, too," he said.

"My father, when his ship went down. We were very close," Violet said. "Thankfully, I have Markham. We're very happy."

"I can see that. I'm glad," Whitecliff said.

"So am I," Violet said, and was more thankful than she ever thought she would be.