Chapter
9

The next morning, Nolan completed his chores in the barn as usual. Despite the fact that his father wanted him to immediately give up all aspects of his old life, Nolan was not yet prepared for such a bold declaration of his parentage, and chose instead to continue his normal routine.

He’d just finished cleaning the last stall when Bert appeared in the main corridor.

“I see you’ve finished in record time this morning. Did his lordship light a fire under you with his talk last night?” Along with the twinkle in Bert’s eyes, sympathy radiated from his features. He was the one person, besides Hannah, who Nolan had told about the earl being his father.

“I’d rather not discuss him, if you don’t mind.” Nolan closed the stall door and shoved the pitchfork into a bale of hay.

“So, your opinion of the man hasn’t softened any?”

Nolan shot the Scotsman a black look. “Did you really think it would?”

Bert stroked his reddish beard. “I thought once you spent some time with him as your father, and not your employer, you might see the man in a different light.”

Nolan strode toward his quarters at the rear of the stables, Bert following close behind. With a loud exhale, Nolan stopped and crossed his arms. “If you’ve something to say, please spit it out. I have an errand to run.”

“There’s something I think you should know about his lordship. In fact, there’s something I need to show you.”

Nolan scowled. He had far more important matters to attend to this morning. “I don’t have time—”

“It won’t take long.” Bert exited out the rear door, his long strides kicking up dirt behind him.

Knowing his friend wouldn’t rest until he’d had his say, Nolan reluctantly set out after him.

Bert headed across the meadow toward a sharp incline in the east.

Nolan jogged to catch up. “Where are you taking me?”

“Not far. Just over the rise.”

Silently, they climbed the hill, and at the top, the black spires of the fence surrounding the Fairchild cemetery stood out in stark relief against the light blue sky. It hit Nolan then that these were his relatives buried here. “You brought me here to show me my ancestors?”

“Not exactly.” Bert continued to walk at a fast pace, forcing Nolan to keep up. They passed the entrance to the burial ground and kept going.

Around a slight bend, Bert slowed to a more normal pace, then stopped altogether. Nolan followed the line of sight to where the Scotsman stared ahead.

Nolan’s breath caught. A magnificent cherry tree in full bloom filled the horizon, its branches spreading up to the sky. Certainly a beautiful sight, but why had Bert brought him here?

“Is there some significance to this tree?”

“Aye. His lordship planted it himself, the day he learned of his first wife’s death.” Bert fisted his hands at his hips. “It was her favorite tree, or so he said when I was installing the markers.”

Nolan squinted against the sun’s rays. He found it difficult to believe the earl would have confided in his blacksmith.

Bert jerked his head toward the tree. “Come on.”

Once again, Nolan followed the burly man until they came to a thicket of bushes. A wooden trellis marked the opening in the shrubbery, and a sign above read Mary’s Grotto. Beneath it was carved In loving memory of Mary Breckenridge Fairchild.

Huffing from exertion, Nolan dragged a sleeve across his clammy forehead. Edward must have truly loved the woman to create a shrine in her memory. As a sign of deference, Nolan removed his cap before entering through the trellis. A bench sat among the greenery, and some of the bushes were beginning to bud. In the center of the grotto was the cherry tree. Immediately below were two pewter crosses: one larger, engraved with the name Mary Fairchild, and the other much smaller, obviously meant for a child.

Nolan inhaled sharply, realizing that the cross was actually intended for him, since at the time the earl had believed him to have perished.

“His lordship asked me to fashion these markers, which I was happy to do,” Bert said. “The day I brought them up here, that tree was no more than a sapling the width of my finger.” He pointed to the array of rocks that lined the area. “The earl carried all those stones up here himself and arranged them like that. Every year, he adds a few more. And in the nicer weather, he plants flowers among them.”

Nolan bent to examine the crosses, running his finger over the intricately engraved patterns. “They’re beautiful, Bert. Did you know my . . . did you know Mary?”

“Aye. She worked for his lordship’s father as a housemaid before his son took a fancy to her.” Bert turned to look at Nolan. “She was a fetching lass, kind and loyal. I tried to warn her about the folly of getting involved with Master Fairchild, as I called him then. But it was too late. She wouldn’t heed my words of caution.”

Nolan straightened as a sudden thought occurred. Had Bert known all along who Nolan was? He opened his mouth to form the inquiry, but Bert shook his head.

“Nae, lad. I had no idea you were the result of that ill-fated union. I only learned of it the day of Elizabeth’s funeral.” Bert laid a hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “I thought it might bring you comfort to know that your father loved Mary beyond all reason. Never known a man to show such grief over a loss. Still comes here every year on their wedding anniversary and on the date of her passing.” Bert crossed his arms in front of him. “His lordship told me once that when the cherry blossoms start to fall, it’s as if the tree is weeping for her as well.”

Nolan swallowed a rise of emotion. Maybe there was more to his enigma of a father than he knew. Perhaps under all Edward’s harshness lay a redeemable human being. “Thank you for bringing me here. At least I know I’m the product of a genuine love.”

Bert nodded. “Thought you might understand your father better if you saw how profoundly Mary’s death affected him. Changed the course of his life, it did.”

“It does help. Thank you, Bert.”

Nolan shoved his cap back on. How different would his life have been if Edward had gone after Mary sooner? Perhaps she would have lived, and they’d have shared a true family bond—not this fractured, hostile relationship.

He took one last look around the intimate grotto. Could he and Edward ever develop a true father and son attachment?

Nolan prayed that, despite everything, he might still have the opportunity to find out.

When he got back to the stables, Nolan went to his quarters to don a clean shirt and tidy himself up. Then he saddled King for a ride into the village. He’d expected to have left before now, but he didn’t regret visiting the grotto. Bert was right. Nolan needed to see it in order to better understand his father. A beating heart might actually lie beneath the earl’s cold chest after all.

Nolan gave King a slight kick, urging him to a faster pace. Normally he took the time to savor his surroundings, but today all he could think of was the task at hand, as well as the necessity to be back before the tailor’s arrival alerted Edward to Nolan’s absence.

A niggling sense of guilt chafed Nolan. He’d told his father he would sever ties with Hannah, and now he was about to go completely against his wishes. Yet he had little doubt that his lordship would do whatever it took to ensure Nolan complied with his plans, even if it meant sacking Hannah and forcing her away.

This mistrust was the reason Nolan felt the need for secrecy. He would hold off making a decision about being Edward’s heir until he and Hannah were married. Then if Edward refused to accept her as Nolan’s wife, they would have the option of leaving Stainsby to live on the farm.

The sun shone brightly after the rain the night before, and the scent of blossoming flowers drifted by him on the breeze. A perfect spring day. A good omen, perhaps, that things would go his way.

When he reached the small stone church, he guided King down the flagstone path that led to the rectory. There he tied the horse to a tree and knocked softly on the front door.

Mrs. Black answered with a welcoming smile. Soft gray curls framed her round face. “Good morning, Mr. Price. How are you holding up? I was ever so sorry to hear about your mum.”

Her sympathetic tone jarred him from his mission. He’d had so much on his mind, he’d pushed his grief to the background, but now it crashed back over him. “I’m doing as well as possible under the circumstances, Mrs. Black. Is your husband available?”

“Of course, dear. Come in, and I’ll fetch him.”

He stepped into the tiny cottage. The smell of eggs and bacon hung in the air, making Nolan wish he had eaten breakfast.

A few seconds later, Reverend Black lumbered down the hall. “Nolan. How are you getting on, my boy?”

“I’m fine, Reverend. Could I speak to you for a few minutes?”

“Of course, lad. Come into the parlor.”

Sudden shame filled Nolan as he recalled his behavior on the day of his mother’s death. With all the fuss at the funeral, he’d never had the chance to apologize. He removed his cap and followed the stooped man into the sitting room, which was furnished with an overstuffed sofa and two armchairs. An open Bible and a pipe sat on the table beside one of the chairs, where the reverend had likely been sitting.

“What can I do for you?” he asked after they had taken their seats.

“First off, sir, I owe you an apology for my disrespect the day my mother passed away. I was wrong to take my anger out on you.”

Reverend Black shook his head. “Think nothing of it. I’ve had much worse said to me in a moment of grief.”

“I appreciate your understanding.” Nolan hesitated, trying to choose the best way to approach the next topic. “I need your help with another important matter.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“This may sound odd, given my . . . circumstances,” he drew in a breath, “but I want to get married as soon as possible.”

The older man choked back a cough, eyebrows raised.

“It was my mother’s dying wish to see me settled down. She knew I intended to marry Hannah and made me promise to do so. I feel it only right to honor her wishes and continue with the path I’d chosen for my life.” Nolan ran the tweed cap round and round through his fingers and held his breath. Would the minister accept his explanation?

“Well, this is highly unusual, I must admit.” He hesitated until Nolan met his gaze. “Is the young woman in question agreeable?”

“Yes, sir, she is.”

“And there are no impediments?”

“No, sir.” Not the kind he meant, anyway.

“Who will stand up for you?”

Beads of sweat pooled under Nolan’s collar. “I was hoping Mrs. Black could be our witness.”

“An elopement then?”

“Of sorts, I suppose.” It struck him then the sacrifice Hannah would be making, forfeiting a real wedding with her family and friends in attendance.

Reverend Black cleared his throat and peered at him over his wire spectacles. “You can tell me the truth, young man. Have you gotten the girl in trouble?”

Heat burned up Nolan’s neck to enflame his ears. How easy it would be to say yes and force the minister’s hand. But he wouldn’t do that to Hannah; he would not compromise her reputation. “No, sir. I would never dishonor Hannah that way.”

“I see.” Reverend Black picked up his pipe and tapped the barrel with one finger. “What about family, then?”

Nolan chose his words with care. “It’s always been just me and Mum. And Hannah’s family lives a day’s journey away. Even if they lived closer, they couldn’t really afford time away from their farm.” He paused. “We’re planning a short trip to see them right after we’ve wed—to share the good news.” He forced his mouth into a smile.

A few seconds of silence ensued.

“I guess I can’t offer any binding reason why you shouldn’t be married,” the minister said. “After the banns have been published for three Sundays in a row—”

“Three weeks? Is there no faster way?”

Suspicion returned to the reverend’s demeanor. “The upper classes sometimes purchase a special license, but they’re quite costly.”

“Where would I get such a license?”

“Closest place would be the clerk’s office in Derby.”

“Good. I’ll set out straight away then.” Nolan unclenched his fingers. “If all goes well, could we be wed tomorrow?”

“I suppose, if everything is in order.” His eyes narrowed, making Nolan squirm in his seat. The unspoken question hung in the air, but the reverend wouldn’t likely give credence to village gossip about Nolan’s parentage. And even if the clergyman suspected the earl would disapprove, he would have no concrete reason to refuse Nolan’s request.

“We’d like an early ceremony, so we can make a good start on our journey afterward.”

“The missus and I are early risers ourselves. However, according to the law, eight o’clock is the earliest hour to perform a marriage.”

“That would be fine.” Nolan expelled a soft sigh of relief. He rose and extended his hand. “I can’t thank you enough, Reverend.”

The rector clasped Nolan’s hand in a tight grip. “I hope you’re taking this sacrament with the seriousness it deserves, young man. Marriage is holy in the eyes of God.”

“Trust me, sir, I’ve been planning this union since I was fourteen years old.”

On Friday morning, Hannah paused in the hallway outside the kitchen to calm her unruly nerves. A prayer seemed the only way to do so.

Lord, forgive me for having to deceive the people I love, especially dear Edna. But I trust you understand the need for secrecy. If you’re so inclined, please give me a sign that this union is in Nolan’s best interest, that he won’t forever regret it. If it be your will for us, please grant us your blessing on our marriage. Amen.

With a final deep breath, she entered the kitchen.

Edna looked up from the table where she had rolled out a length of pastry for the day’s pies. “There you are, girl. I was wondering when you’d come to say good-bye.”

Hannah forced a bright smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t be gone long. Only a few days.” She hoped that was the case. She wasn’t really sure what Nolan had in mind.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, dearie. I know the real reason you’re leaving.”

Hannah’s feet froze on the stone floor. “You do?”

“How could I not, when it’s the talk of the house.” Edna wiped her hand on a rag and leaned closer. “Word has it that Nolan is really his lordship’s son. And that he’s been told to have no contact with any of us belowstairs.”

The air stilled in Hannah’s lungs. What could she say to that?

“I know you were hoping to marry the lad. You must be devastated, poor dear.” Edna pulled Hannah in a tight hug. “A little time away will do you good.”

For a woman who normally didn’t show affection, this was most unexpected.

“Thank you, Edna. I’m sure things will seem a lot different when I return.” If only she knew how much.

“Say hello to your mother for me. It’s been an age since I’ve seen her.” Edna sniffed and shuffled back to the table.

“I will. You’re sure you can manage without me?” Hannah smoothed down her cotton skirt, wishing she could wear her Sunday dress. But Edna would be suspicious if Hannah were to travel in her best outfit. So unless there was an opportunity to change at the church, she would be married in her serviceable blue skirt and high-necked blouse.

“I’ll manage just fine. The other girls will fill in while you’re gone.” Edna picked up a basket covered with a red cloth. “Here, take these biscuits with you. Always a favorite of your mum’s.”

“Thank you. I’m sure she and Molly will love them. And thank you again for giving me the time off.”

“No need to thank me. You’ve earned it, and you deserve a break.”

Hannah tried to smile, but guilt made her lips tremble. “Well, I’d best be off.”

“You sure you don’t want one of the lads to take you into the village?”

Alarm surged through Hannah’s body. She couldn’t risk anyone seeing her with Nolan. “No, no. I’ve got plenty of time before the coach. And I’d prefer to walk. It’s such a lovely morning.” She picked up her bag, positioned the basket on the crook of her arm, and forced a smile. “Take care of yourself, Edna.”

It wasn’t until Hannah had walked the length of the Stainsby property and stepped out onto the road that led into the village that she allowed herself to take a full breath. Once around the bend and completely out of sight of the estate, she looked for the lane where Nolan had promised to be waiting.

Sure enough, a small buggy, barely visible through the brush, stood at the appointed spot. The horses stamped their hooves as though impatient to be off.

“You made it.” Nolan jumped down to assist her. His smile beamed across his face, his blue eyes dancing in the morning sun.

“Of course I made it.” Nerves dampened Hannah’s palm as she took note of his attire. He was dressed in his Sunday suit, complete with tweed waistcoat, pocket watch, and matching cap. He looked so handsome, her heart hurt. She passed him her basket.

Nolan placed it on the seat of the carriage and turned back to take her bag, his smile replaced with a slight frown. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“No. I’m just nervous . . . about everything.” Her lashes fluttered down to cover her discomfort. How could she explain that not only did she fear being found out, but that she was terrified of the wedding night? If she’d been able to, she would have asked Edna what to expect. Before becoming a widow, Edna had enjoyed a very happy marriage. “What about you? You’re certain this is what you want?” She’d give him one last chance to back out of this crazy scheme.

He took one of her hands in his. “I’ve never been more certain of anything. I love you, Hannah. Nothing will change that. Definitely not a father I barely know, nor a title I care little about.” He kissed her fingers. “Now, leave the worrying to me. Everything will go just as we planned. You’ll see.” He set her bag beside his in the carriage and assisted her onto the seat.

When he leapt up beside her and grabbed the reins, a measure of calm returned. How could she not trust Nolan? Hadn’t he always protected her? His solid presence beside her gave her the security she needed. That and the many heartfelt prayers she’d offered along the way.

After making sure that no one else traveled the road, Nolan guided the horses toward the village.

“Won’t you get in trouble for taking the buggy?”

He raised one brow with a grin. “I can’t get in trouble for taking my own property, now can I?”

Soon Nolan pulled the horses to a stop in front of the rectory, and Hannah’s nerves returned in full force. As if sensing her unease, Nolan took her gloved hands in his. The warmth of his skin seeped through the thin fabric to her icy fingers.

“I love you, Hannah. I can’t wait to make you my wife. I’ve dreamed of this moment from the first day I met you.” His blue eyes shone with sincerity.

Tears burned behind her lids, but today of all days, she would not let them fall. “You always say the perfect thing to make me feel better.”

He dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Good. Since that will be my job from now on.” He hopped down and reached up to assist her.

Together they approached the rector’s door, and Nolan knocked. A few moments passed before Reverend Black opened the door.

“Good morning, Reverend.” Nolan beamed at the man, who strangely enough did not smile in return.

“Good morning. Please come in.”

Hannah pressed a palm to her abdomen, willing the nausea to ease as they stepped inside the quaint cottage. Was every bride this nervous?

“Shouldn’t we head over to the church, Reverend?” Nolan asked. “Nothing against your fine home, but we’d like to be married in God’s house.”

The minister didn’t quite meet their eyes. He clutched his hands together in front of him. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Price, but I won’t be able to perform the ceremony today.”

Hannah’s knees threatened to buckle. She gripped Nolan’s arm and willed herself to remain standing.

Nolan’s dark brows drew together in a frown. “Has some emergency arisen?”

“No.”

“Is there a problem with the license then?”

“The license is fine.” Reverend Black now appeared decidedly uncomfortable. His pale face held a hint of fear as well as compassion. “Lord Stainsby came to see me yesterday. He forbade me to marry you without his express permission, as well as his attendance at the ceremony.”

Hannah raised a hand to hide her trembling lips. It was just as she feared. His lordship would do everything in his power to control Nolan’s life from now on.

“The earl,” Nolan bit out, “has no say in the matter.”

For the first time, the minister met Nolan’s eyes with a frank stare. “I think we both know why he has the right to an opinion on any prospective bride you might choose. Especially if you plan on marrying beneath your new station.” He turned an apologetic glance to Hannah. “No offense intended, dear.”

Hannah’s tongue remained glued to the top of her mouth. She blinked to hold back the threat of tears and risked a glance at Nolan. The veins in his neck stood out beneath his clenched jaw. She sensed he was using every effort to control the outrage that must be burning inside him.

“Did you tell him I’d been to see you?” Nolan’s terse tone gave credence to his anger.

“No. I felt our conversation was a private matter. I did, however, pray long and hard into the wee hours to discern what I should do.”

“And I suppose you cannot go against the earl’s wishes.”

The older man sighed. “Not when the residents of Stainsby Hall and the surrounding properties make up half my congregation. Not to mention the fact that the earl contributes large sums of money to keep the church running.” Reverend Black gave a small shrug. “I’m sorry, son. But perhaps it’s for the best. If this marriage is the will of God, it will happen one day. Give it some time and prayer.”

His sympathetic expression did nothing to ease the band of tightness in Hannah’s chest. She clutched Nolan’s arm harder to steady herself.

“I understand the difficulty of your position, sir,” Nolan said slowly. “Might I trouble you for a glass of water for Hannah? I fear she’s had somewhat of a shock.”

The minister’s brows shot up. “Of course. Please excuse my bad manners. I’ve kept you standing in the hall. Have a seat in the parlor, and I’ll have Mrs. Black bring you some tea.”

Hannah’s heart beat against her ribs. Nolan’s tight smile may have fooled the minister, but it didn’t fool Hannah. She knew him far too well for that. She gave him a hard stare before she made her way into the parlor and perched on the edge of one of the armchairs.

Out in the hall, Reverend Black called to his wife. Then the murmur of male voices drifted into the parlor. Hannah strained her ears but could not make out a word of what was being said. From her reticule, she took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the moisture on her forehead and upper lip.

What was Nolan up to now?