Chapter 20

Benjamin

"Be patient and tough; one day this pain will be useful to you." ― Ovid

Benjamin followed Sarah with his eyes as she left the dining room. He was a fool! A damned stupid fool. He would be well served if she never spoke to him again. He got to his feet in disgust at himself. Why could he not have been warm and charming like he used to be, and tried to put her at ease? Was it not enough that the sight of him had instilled fear in her? He would not quickly forget that look she gave, like a frightened deer, as she tried to unlatch the library door to escape from him. Dear God, was he that much of a monster?

His head still hurt, feeling the effects of last night's overindulgence in whisky. He ran an agitated hand through his hair. What he needed was some fresh air. On impulse, he strode out of the dining room, past a flustered Siddons and up the stairs, walking along the corridor that led to the library. At the end of it was a large sash window which he opened with one, strong push upwards. Without hesitation, he climbed over the sill and dropped his feet on the ledge below. Walking sideways on the ledge, he reached the flat part of the roof and went to sit on his old, familiar perch.

He sat and breathed the fresh winter air, looking out towards the vast expanse of green fields dotted with trees. For a long time, he stared blankly ahead, breathing in and out deeply, and willing himself to return to some semblance of calm. What was he to do now? He could not return to America just yet, but the purpose of his journey was ruined. He had come for Sarah, and now she was lost to him.

She had looked so fine just now at the breakfast table. The years had been kind to her, unlike how they had ravaged him. Keen intelligence shone from the grey eyes he had never forgotten. And the way she had chivvied him into eating his meal? He smiled in recollection. That was so very like her—persistent in her kindly concern. Seeing her again had put him in no doubt that he wanted her very much. He had always wanted her, even that first time in the library when he had found her crying over another man.

Of course, he had pretended to himself and to her that he was merely a friend. What else could he have done when she was so enamoured of a man who seemed to possess so many qualities he himself did not have? So, he had returned to America and proceeded to chase other women, intent on proving that indeed, he did not want Sarah. He had been young and foolish. At his very core though, he had always known it was more than friendship, at least on his part. He had thought, from the tenor of her letters, that it was something more for her too, but he had been wrong.

She was engaged now to Philip Templeton. Benjamin could not have her, at least not in the way he wanted. Pain gripped his chest again, and it took him several moments more to tamp down his agitation. Over and over in his head, he asked himself the same question. What was he to do? That question had plagued him ever since Sergeant Stevens had informed him he would be mustered out of the army.

He thought of home and of Daniel, toiling to build a house for him. What an extraordinary act of kindness. He did not deserve such a brother. It had been wrong of him to put up a wall between them all these years, all because of his feelings of inadequacy—more proof, if ever it was needed, that he, Benjamin, was the lesser man. For reasons of his own, Daniel needed to be away from England, and he had asked Benjamin to take over the reins here on his behalf. That was what he would do. Not so that he could play lord of the manor, as he had mocked earlier, but to discharge his debt and duty to his brother. As for Sarah… it seemed as if all hope was lost, but he would see her again in due course. Maybe then, he would find an opportunity to apologise for the way he had acted just now. And after that, he would have to take it day by day.

He took a steadying breath and stood, then negotiated his way to the window, climbing back inside to the shocked stare of a passing house servant. "There is nothing here to see," he said curtly. "Keep on with your duties." With that, he strode along the corridor to the library. Daniel had told him that Ambrose kept a ledger there of all the rents collected and expenses paid on the Stanton estate. He would start by studying it and getting acquainted with estate business.

He walked into the library to find seated at the desk none other than Ambrose Cranshaw. The latter came to his feet instantly. "Mr Stanton," he said with a smile. "I was told you had arrived yesterday from America. May I say how I pleased I am to see you." He strode towards Benjamin and held out his hand.

Benjamin took it, replying brusquely, "Ambrose, good to see you. For the love of all that's holy, let us dispense with any formality. I abhor it. Call me Benjamin from here on, not Mr Stanton."

Ambrose's smile widened. "Of course, my mistake. I see you are cut from the same cloth as Daniel."

Benjamin raised a brow. "He is my brother," he pointed out.

"And what news of Daniel. Is all well?" Ambrose asked, his eyes scrutinising Benjamin.

"All is quite well. For reasons I am sure you will understand, Daniel wishes to prolong his stay in Ohio."

At this, Ambrose's face paled. If Benjamin had been in the mood to examine this response, he might have done so with more curiosity, but his head was still full of Sarah. "So," he continued, "I have volunteered to come and keep an eye on things here in his absence."

"I see," murmured Ambrose.

"I have a letter for you with his instructions." Benjamin pulled Daniel's letter out of his pocket and handed it to Ambrose.

"Do you mind if I read it now?"

"Not at all," replied Benjamin.

He watched, his mind still in turmoil, as Ambrose cut the seal on the envelope and unfolded the single sheet it contained. The estate manager read the contents and re-read them before looking up. "It is as you say, Benjamin," he said. "Daniel wishes me to report to you as I did to him on all matters relating to the Stanton estate. We were in the habit of meeting here in the library every Monday morning, at which time I kept him apprised of the latest developments on the estate and we went through the ledger together. Would you be happy to continue with such an arrangement?"

"I have no objection to that," said Benjamin. "In which case, perhaps we could start now. I had come here meaning to peruse the ledger, but it will be much more sensible to do so with your guidance."

"Of course," concurred Ambrose. "Then might I suggest we seat ourselves over here."

The two men settled themselves either side of the ledger on the desk, and Ambrose began to go through the figures in each column with Benjamin, who was relieved to find that the months he had spent working for his father prior to the war had not been in vain, for he was able to quickly understand the workings of the accounts. He found the work, prosaic as it was, stopped him from thinking of the woman he had lost through accident and his own foolishness.

The two men occupied themselves with this task for the next half-hour, after which Ambrose gave Benjamin a summary of the latest happenings on the estate. "We are having issues with one of the two steam ploughs we bought recently at great expense," he said. "It was against my advice, but Daniel was most insistent on it, cheered on by my sister, I might add. And now, less than two weeks after delivery, the accursed machine has broken down. I went to the home farm this morning to see it for myself. It is something to do with the boiler, but beyond that, I am not knowledgeable enough to say. I shall write today to the manufacturer and request they send an engineer to repair it."

Benjamin, who had been staring morosely into space as Ambrose spoke, now became more alert at the mention of a steam plough. "Before you do that," he suggested, "let me go take a look at it."

Ambrose regarded him doubtfully. "I have heard from Daniel that you have an interest in machinery, but I am not sure that is sufficient expertise for such an undertaking."

"Do you have the schematics for the machine?" asked Benjamin, ignoring this last remark.

"Yes, let me get them out." Ambrose retrieved a document box from one of the shelves and set it on the desk. After a minute or two of rummaging through the papers, he took out a set of documents and handed them to Benjamin. They contained detailed drawings of the steam plough as well as documentation regarding its maintenance.

Benjamin examined this for some time then addressed Ambrose with a confident expression. "I think I can work with this. Do let me have a try." Perhaps this would help take his mind off his present distress.

"Very well," said Ambrose resignedly. "But if the plough is still not up and running by the end of the week, I shall send for the engineer."

"That seems fair," responded Benjamin, a sense of purpose awakening in his breast. A short time later, the meeting concluded and Benjamin sat down to compose a letter to his brother.

November 14th, 1865

Dear Daniel,

I have arrived safely in England, the sea crossing uneventful except for one very stormy night that had me confined to my quarters. The ship docked at Liverpool harbour mid-afternoon on Saturday, and I was able to catch a train to London that very same day. However, I was too late for the connection to Oxford and had to bed down for the night at the town house. Perhaps had I been a little earlier, events might have taken a different turn, or maybe not. For on Sunday after church service, Sarah and Ambrose took themselves to luncheon with Mr Templeton, and it was then that this gentleman proposed marriage to Sarah, a proposal that she accepted. So you see, my journey here has been in vain.

There is little need to describe the depth of my disappointment though I will confess to imbibing a great deal of your best whiskey, dear brother, as a salve for my sorrows. I have spent much of this morning nursing my aching head and contemplating what I should do next. I do not feel quite ready to return home, and I know you wish for more time with the family. For now, I shall remain here, at least until the new year, and keep an eye on things for you. I may be of more use than you think, for I hear your new steam plough has broken down, and I have volunteered my services to take a look at it. I make no guarantee of repairing the machine, but I shall give it my best try.

Dear brother, I wish I had been more honest with you all these years, rather than putting up this barrier between us. I would wish to remedy this now, and in that spirit of greater confidence, I will tell you this. On finding out about Sarah and Mr Templeton, my pain and rage were so great that I punched one of your oak trees repeatedly until both my hands were bleeding profusely. It is something I have learned to do when I am under one of my ungovernable rages, for it is best I hurt myself than someone else. I came back to the house in a fine state, and poor Siddons was quite in a tizzy about it. It was then, after I had dressed the wound, that I asked him to bring me a bottle of your best whiskey to the library and proceeded to get stupidly drunk.

Let me tell you also that I met with Sarah today–she it was that unfortunately discovered me in a drunken sleep in the library—and being the fool that I am, I frightened her with my fierce manner and grizzly appearance, then compounded the error by being quite rude. It was that rather than show my pain, for a man has his pride after all. Needless to say, I am drowning in regret. Daniel, how am I to bear seeing Sarah on the arm of another man? I wish you could be here to counsel me, for I have never felt more alone. What am I to do now?

Your loving brother,

Benjamin Stanton