Chapter Fifteen

Howard was in the midst of digging a hole for the rowan tree the next day when Adam and Lord Jonquil arrived there. He paused in his work and waited to hear what it was they needed. Adam was the first to offer an explanation.

“Lord Jonquil is going to help with our Twelfth Night party. I thought it best that he participate since he knows where everything is and he will know what Lady Jonquil would like to do.”

“Wise,” Howard said.

Adam gave a very regal dip of his head. He was the most duke-like eight-year-old Howard had ever met. Once the boy was grown, he would be formidable.

Lord Jonquil stepped a little closer and, lowering his voice, said, “I’ll make certain the boy doesn’t disrupt your work overly much or put himself in danger, but I do think Miss MacGregor would be less anxious if Adam were more at ease with you.”

That was true as the day was long. His voice at conversational volume, Howard said, “If the two of you don’t mind helping a bit here, we could discuss our plans as we work.”

Adam looked around the garden doubtfully.

“We just finished a little jaunt around the area,” Lord Jonquil said. He motioned to his clothes, simple and made of the rough-spun fabric generally worn by laborers. “So we’re quite well dressed for the undertaking.”

Howard gave Adam a quick look-over. The boy’s clothing up until now had been quite formal, no doubt in deference to his rank. But he was, just now, dressed quite casually. The coat he wore, Howard would guess, actually belonged to one of the servants at Brier Hill. It fit him overly large, and the sleeves were rolled up, but it was too small to have been Lord Jonquil’s. His collar lay open. His trousers were a bit dirty, his hair a bit mussed. The black sash he’d been gifted at their Christmas celebration was tied about his middle, visible beneath the front edge of his coat. It was good for young ones to be able to get a little messy now and then. It was good for people, old and young alike, to spend a little time with the earth.

Howard motioned with his shovel toward a pallet of dirt in which were a few small flowering shrubs. “Those are holly bushes. They’re to be planted two in that section”—he motioned to his right—“and one in that section.” He motioned to the left and just a touch behind himself. “I’ll give you a mark where they’re supposed to go. If you’d start digging holes, that would help a lot.”

Lord Jonquil didn’t need to be asked twice. Howard had had enough conversations with the gentleman to know he was well-versed in the art of cultivating plants and had a love of doing so.

He abandoned, for the moment, the hole he was digging for the rowan tree and moved to the sections of the garden where the hollies were being planted. With the blade of his shovel, he marked very clear x ’s in the moist soil to tell his unexpected helpers where to dig.

Lord Jonquil picked out digging implements for the two of them, doing a fine job of selecting the right ones for their relative sizes and abilities. The gentleman took to the work immediately. Adam was far more hesitant.

“The wonderful thing about digging,” Howard said, “is it’s a simple thing to learn. You keep your back firm and strong, bend your knees, put your shoulders into it, and pull out the soil.”

Adam nodded but with lingering uncertainty. Howard suspected the boy wouldn’t appreciate being analyzed as he tried his hand at something new, so he put his attention to his own digging, following his own instructions. He could hear the other two having a discussion. Lord Jonquil had ample praise for his little helper. Adam was full of questions. The boy didn’t seem to know whether he liked the feel of damp soil under his feet. He outright said he didn’t want any on his hands.

Lord Jonquil laughed and said he’d always liked getting dirty. That was another odd thing about this lord. All the Quality Howard had interacted with appreciated gardens for their beauty or their abundance, but few had any interest in doing the work themselves.

Once Adam was focused on his digging efforts, Howard opened up the topic they’d come to the garden to discuss. “Has your Nurse Robbie talked to you of the Twelfth Night traditions I shared with her?” he asked.

“She told me it wasn’t fair to require her to make a list when I could just ask you.” That didn’t seem to meet with the young duke’s approval. “She was very stubborn about it.”

Howard thought he understood. Just as Lord Jonquil had brought the boy to the garden in an attempt to broker peace between him and the man he likely feared was stealing his nursemaid away, Robbie was attempting to nudge them toward something of a ceasefire as well.

“I’m happy enough to share with you what we did when I was child,” Howard said.

Adam looked to Lord Jonquil, a question clear in his expression. Lord Jonquil gave him silent encouragement to push forward.

“What is a person meant to do on Twelfth Night?” Adam asked but didn’t deign to look at Howard.

“The wonderful thing about Twelfth Night,” Howard said, “is that the entire purpose is enjoyment. It is the final day of the Christmas season, the last evening of revelry before the new year begins. Twelfth Night is a night for games, merriment, and music. You mentioned you and your father ate cake on Twelfth Night. Cake is a must. This was, in fact, the only day in the entire year when my family ate cake.”

Adam’s eyes pulled a little wide. “The only one?”

Howard didn’t think this the appropriate time to discuss the realities of poverty, so he wrapped the fact up in a bit of fancy paper. “That made Twelfth Night cake extra special.”

Adam looked to his digging partner. “Did you have cake on Twelfth Night?”

“We most certainly did,” Lord Jonquil said. “And every year I wished ever so hard that I would be the one to find the bean.”

Adam’s confusion grew twentyfold.

“The cake you ate with your father didn’t have a bean?” Howard asked him.

“I’ve never heard of beans in a cake.” Adam had a bit of mud on his hand and eyed it with fiercely drawn brows.

Lord Jonquil mimed flinging the mud off his fingers. Adam did his utmost to manage it. Howard decided to push forward with his explanation of beans in Twelfth Night cakes in an effort to prevent his delighted amusement from showing. Adam had shown himself sensitive about such things.

“Beans in cakes is one of the most specific Twelfth Night traditions.” Howard leaned against the upturned handle of his shovel. “On Twelfth Night, the cake is baked with a bean inside. I have heard some families use dried peas, but ours always used a bean.”

“As did ours,” Lord Jonquil said, continuing to dig with apparent enjoyment.

Adam was watching Howard with great interest.

“While we certainly enjoyed our cake, its purpose is not to be a treat. Its purpose is the bean.” Howard allowed all the excitement he’d felt as a child on Twelfth Night to enter his voice, hoping to fill Adam with a little bit of it. “You see, Your Grace, the person who finds the bean is crowned king or queen for the night.”

His eyes pulled wider. The child did a very good job of hiding his thoughts and feelings, but Howard was getting better at understanding what he kept tucked away.

“As the ruling monarch, that person chooses how the night is spent. The monarch of the evening decides which games to play, which songs to sing, which vignettes should be undertaken.”

“What’s that?” The tiniest bit of breathlessness entered his voice.

“It is another Twelfth Night diversion,” Lord Jonquil answered. “The participants are given a scene or an idea or a story that they are challenged with presenting. They choose poses meant to evoke the idea of it. If the monarch of the evening so wishes, and such things are at hand, they might even piece together costumes of some sort.”

“What is the purpose of vignettes?” Adam asked him.

“Those seeing them are challenged with determining what is being portrayed.”

“I understand about challenges,” Adam said. “My father told me that sometimes we have to do things that are difficult, but it’s the difficulty that gives us pride in accomplishing it.”

“I said it before, Your Grace,” Howard said, “your father was clearly very wise.”

The tiniest of smiles touched the little boy’s scarred face. The moment gifted Howard with an insight into this little one whom he was meant to gain the confidence of. Adam loved his father and was proud of him. He was likely as protective of his father’s memory as he was of his nursemaid’s present. Speaking highly of Robbie would not be difficult at all, but it would make a difference. He needed to not merely speak well of the late duke but also allow Adam to speak well of him.

Howard returned to his digging, suspecting Adam would be more comfortable if he felt his audience wasn’t staring at him.

“Did your father have any favorite tales or stories?” Howard asked. “Perhaps we could use those as vignettes to present in our Twelfth Night celebration.”

“If the monarch of the night wants to,” Adam said.

Howard gave him an approving and impressed smile. “Sorted that rather quickly, didn’t you?”

“I’m very clever.” The declaration was made very matter-of-factly.

“Clever, yes, but you’re not doing nearly as much digging as I am,” Lord Jonquil said with a laugh.

Adam grinned at him. The effect pulled fiercely at Howard’s heart. In that moment he could see the child that lingered behind the heavy heart. There was a naturalness to his smile that told anyone who saw it how joyful and soft a heart lay at the core of this very guarded child. What would become of him if he lost Robbie?

Howard appreciated his beloved’s conundrum. He understood that she cared for Adam and worried about him. He fully appreciated that. Stepping away from the boy must feel very much like stepping away from a child of her own. Howard had assumed that was at the heart of what she was struggling with.

Now he knew better.

This was a child in crisis. He would not simply be sad without Robbie in his life; he would be lost. The glimmer of hopefulness and tenderness that still remained in him would fade away until it was gone. It was little wonder she had clung so much to Howard’s use of the word hope . Adam needed it desperately. Robbie couldn’t feel hopeful herself unless she knew there was reason to believe Adam felt it too.

They had quite a dilemma on their hands.

Adam had resumed his digging. He was small, but he was strong and determined. “What else happens on Twelfth Night?”

“Well, it is also traditional for the tenants of a fine estate to visit the home of the master and mistress who own it.” Howard did his digging as he talked. “They often sing songs, and in exchange, the master and mistress give them drink and food. They are often given coins and other acknowledgments of the season. In some areas of the country, trees are wassailed.”

Again, Adam looked at him with widening eyes. “How does one wassail a tree?”

“Very carefully,” Lord Jonquil said.

In addition to discovering that his current employer enjoyed nature, Howard had very quickly realized the gentleman was exceptionally funny.

“Bread is soaked in wassail,” Howard explained, “and then tossed into the trees. It provides sustenance for the birds. Superstition claims it also brings good luck and an ample harvest.”

“Could we wassail this tree?” Adam pointed to the rowan Howard hoped to have planted by day’s end.

“I don’t see why not,” he said.

Adam turned to Lord Jonquil, eagerness in his expression. “If we wassail your new tree, it will bring you good luck with your new garden. And you and Lady Jonquil can sit in it and be happy. And when your baby is here at Brier Hill, all of you can visit the garden.”

“I think that is an excellent idea,” Lord Jonquil said. “With one change.”

A portion of the boy’s walls immediately began reenforcing themselves.

“You have to promise you will come visit this garden too,” Lord Jonquil said, resting a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

The boy’s gaze dropped to the dirt at his feet. “This isn’t my house. I’m not part of your family.”

Lord Jonquil knelt in front of him, setting his hands on the boy’s arms. “Family is who you choose, Adam Boyce. Julia and I, we have chosen you. That makes you family to us. When you are away at school, we will be family. When we travel to Nottinghamshire to see our parents, you and Lady Jonquil and I will be family. Every time you visit us, be it here or anywhere else, we will be family.”

“I would like that,” he said with a little break in his voice.

“And your dear Nurse Robbie, she is your family, no matter where she is and no matter where you are. You are family because you choose to be.”

Howard heard the little boy take a deep, trembling breath, the sort one took when trying not to cry.

“Family doesn’t stop being family just because they aren’t together,” Adam said.

Lord Jonquil gently touched his sweet, scarred face. “That is exactly right.”

Adam smiled, the expression shaky but content.

“If Mr. Simpkin finds the bean on Twelfth Night,” Adam said, “do you think he’ll make everyone dig holes?”

Lord Jonquil didn’t appear to know what to make of that at first. Howard himself wasn’t certain what had inspired the question. Then the most amazing thing happened. Adam’s mouth, only moments earlier pulled down in sorrow and grief, slowly tugged upward into the most mischievous smile he had just about ever seen.

A laugh burst from Howard. Lord Jonquil joined him an instant later. While Adam didn’t actually laugh, he grinned. Lord Jonquil stood once more and ruffled the boy’s hair, sending his black waves into utter chaos. Adam didn’t seem to care; he simply took up his shovel once more and set back to work.

“The most important thing to sort for our Twelfth Night celebration,” Howard said, “is what our womenfolk would most enjoy. If we can bring them cheer, they’ll be quite pleased with the lot of us.”

“There is a life lesson in that for the two of us, Adam,” Lord Jonquil said, assuming a demeanor so serious, no one could possibly take it seriously. “Anytime you can make the women you care about happy, that’s a fine thing.”

“Lady Jonquil likes ginger biscuits,” Adam said.

“She does indeed.”

“What does your Nurse Robbie like most to eat, do you suppose?” Howard asked Adam, suspecting he enjoyed talking about the woman who’d been his sure foundation for so long.

“She likes plum pudding.”

Howard tucked that bit of information away.

“I suspect we can convince Cook to make more ginger biscuits and some plum pudding,” Lord Jonquil said. “And I believe we can manage to have a Twelfth Night cake.”

“Will it have a bean in it?” Adam asked.

“Of course.”

Adam was digging in earnest now. He’d managed to find his rhythm with the work. Perhaps the boy would come over from the house and help every day. Howard could make some headway in earning the boy’s good opinion. Perhaps that would also grant him even more time with Robbie. Dear, darling Robbie.

“There is but one more thing to decide,” Lord Jonquil said.

“What’s that?” Howard asked.

“What we ought to sort is a means of making a very impressive showing for ourselves just now. You see, we are being watched.”

Howard glanced around, as did Adam. There was no one about.

“The window high on the back of the house,” Lord Jonquil said. “There are two womenfolk standing there just now, watching us.”

Howard looked up. Sure enough, Lady Jonquil and Robbie both stood at the window, looking down on them.

“We could do a vignette,” Adam suggested.

“Excellent.” Lord Jonquil looked excited. “I suggest we select something that makes the three of us look incredibly impressive.”

“What about Charon?” Adam asked.

“The ferryman on the river Styx?” Lord Jonquil nodded his approval. “Have you a fondness for the Greek myths?”

Adam shrugged. “I think about them sometimes. I don’t really know why. They feel... important.”

“They are rather fascinating,” Lord Jonquil said.

“And rather perfect for our purposes,” Howard said.

Thus began a thorough but very quick discussion of how to create their little vignette of Charon punting two poor souls to the underworld. They needed but a few moments to sort the particulars.

On a signal from Adam, they rushed to assume their poses, the young duke portraying the ferryman and his adult companions quite dramatically portraying the unwitting passengers. Howard looked up at the window. His dear Robbie was laughing quite heartily.

“I think we made them feel happy,” Adam said. “Anytime a man can do something to make the women he cares about happy, that is a fine thing.”

“A fine thing indeed,” Howard said.