Chapter Nineteen

 

 

 

FitzArden Hall was a welcome sight to James’s weary eyes.

From the outside, it looked a pleasant mansion, not overwhelming with pillars and columns, but welcoming with a blend of warm brickwork and creamy marble.

He noted that the trees he’d asked for had been planted, and made a mental note to himself to thank Paul for overseeing much of this. Trips to London were to be avoided as much as possible, but were a necessary evil, since his business interests had paid for the vista confronting him as he rode into his own driveway.

Lights permeated the growing early November dusk, an even more welcoming sight. Smoke came from the chimneys, which told him the cook and kitchen staff he’d hired had settled in.

Cantering up to the front door, he was pleased to see that it opened almost immediately, and a footman rushed out to hold his horse.

“Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you, Henry. How’s everything?” James alighted and unfastened his traveling bags.

“Very good indeed sir. Mr. DeVoreaux has seen to a dozen things while you’ve been away. I think you’ll be happy with ‘em.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Another man walked to the horse’s head, doffing his cap respectfully. “I’ll take him now, sir.” He took the reins from Henry.

“And you are…?” asked James.

“Pewsey, sir. Just lending a hand in the stables, like. Yer stable master was kind enough to offer me a week or two’s work until everything gets sorted.”

“Very good. I trust Morton when it comes to my horses. So I will trust you too.”

“Won’t let yer down, sir.” He stroked the tired stallion’s nose and then led the docile beast back toward the stables, which James had tucked away behind a small copse of trees to the side of the Hall.

“I’ll take yer bags, sir.” Henry lifted them. “Mr. DeVoreaux is in the small parlour.”

“Then I’ll join him.” Paul stripped off his riding gloves and walked into his own home at last.

It was indeed a delightful sight to see Paul reading in a large chair near the fire, one ankle resting on the other knee, a snifter of brandy beside him. He looked up as James entered.

“Welcome home, Sir James.” He closed the book and grinned. “Your palace is most comfortable.”

“So I see,” chuckled James. “And my brandy—you have an opinion on that too?”

“Indeed.” Paul picked up the glass and swirled the liquid around. “I doubt any duty was paid on this. Far too good to have been soiled by something as mundane as a customs officer.”

“I will never reveal my secrets.” James walked to the sideboard and poured himself a matching glass, then walked to the sofa and settled himself into a contented sprawl.

“How was the greatest city in the world?”

James shrugged. “It was as always. Foul-smelling, noisy, and full of hypocrisy.”

“Ah, London. How I miss it.”

“Really?”

“No.” Paul chuckled. “Not in the least. Did you do the pretty with Society?”

“I went to a few affairs, if that’s what you mean.”

Paul put down his glass. “I suppose what I’m actually asking is if you saw Letitia, and if so, how your pursuit of the fair lady is progressing.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you saw her, or you don’t know if you’re progressing.”

“Yes, I saw her. Yes, I’m progressing.”

Paul blinked. “Then why don’t you know if it’s yes or no?” He frowned. “I’m confusing myself.”

“I need more brandy.”

Paul held out his empty glass silently.

An hour later, matters were no clearer, but James had a smile on his face. “She’s a most intriguing woman, all right.”

Paul managed a slightly out-of-focus stare. “Letitia?”

“No, Lady Jersey. Of course Letitia, man. Who else?”

“Hmm. Good question.” Paul chuckled. “Don’t look at me like that. Remember I’m at least one, if not two, snifters ahead of you.”

“True. Apologies.” James shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his cravat. “She wants to spend the night here.”

“Lady Jersey?”

James sighed and tried again. “Letitia wants to spend the night here. With me. In bed.”

That took a few moments to fully percolate into Paul’s consciousness. James waited with interest to see if it would actually register.

“I see.”

No…not quite yet…

“You mean here. At night.”

We’re getting close…

“Oh.” Paul’s eyes widened. “Good God.”

The hounds have found the fox at last.

“Quite.” James couldn’t help a grin.

“You’re going to—she wants to—”

“Yes.”

“Well I’ll be damned. How did you manage that?”

James stared into the fire. “I didn’t. She asked. She was blunt and precise. I want you to fuck me, James. Those were her words.”

“Well then.” Paul sagged back in his chair. “No misinterpretation possible with that, I’d say. So why the frown?”

“It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, Paul. She’s still under the impression that she cannot engage in any true affection because she’s a Ridlington.”

The fire crackled, and Paul leaned over to put another log on top. He missed slightly, but it was close enough to keep the merry blaze going for a bit longer. “Women are prey to strange fancies, I’ve discovered.” He nodded sagely.

“You and every other man who’s ever had contact with one.”

“So you told Letitia yes?”

James snorted. “I may be an idiot, Paul, but I’m not stupid.”

“Hmm.” Paul followed the conversational train. “You’ll need me gone, then.”

“Probably best. Not that I’m kicking you out, of course…”

“Of course not. Besides I don’t actually live here, although it might seem that way…”

“Thank you for the great things you’ve done while I was gone. I believe I forgot to say that earlier.”

Paul glanced at him. “What things?”

“I don’t know. Henry mentioned them. Thought I should thank you for them.”

“You’re rambling, James.”

“Damn brandy.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the thought of a night with Letitia?”

James gave Paul a look which should have shrivelled him in his chair and singed the upholstery at the same time.

“Ah. Forget I asked.” Paul grinned. “Oh, while we’re talking about women, you should know that Miss Harry favoured me with her story.”

“Really?”

“Awful things women have to put up with.”

“I can’t argue with you on that,” said James. “She’s quite charming in her own way, isn’t she? She’s good for Letitia.”

“She is indeed charming.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Developing an interest there, old lad?”

“I don’t know. Possibly. Maybe.” He paused. “I’m not sure.”

James raised his snifter and squinted at Paul through the bowl. “And that, my friend, sums up the state of affairs for us gentlemen when we allow ladies to become important in our lives.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

 

*~~*~~*

 

Harriet and Letitia had managed to keep themselves occupied with their day-to-day routines, while awaiting word that James had returned to FitzArden Hall.

For Letitia, it was difficult, since now that she had set a course, she was eager to pursue it. When the morning post failed to reveal a note from him, her day seemed a little darker. Many times it actually was darker, since November was settling in to be a damp, cold and rainy month, requiring more fires, candles lit much earlier and stout boots.

Ridlington Chase wasn’t known for its efficient use of firewood, so a decision was made to restrict winter access to those rooms which could be used without the need to shove something into a window frame to keep it closed, or buy new, heavy draperies to keep out the drafts.

Edmund hated to do it, since restoring the house was one of his goals and he feared a harsh winter might set those plans back.

But they all agreed it was the sensible course of action, and Letitia volunteered herself and Harriet to mastermind the project. It gave her something to do, and kept both their minds focused on an important task.

The topmost floors of the central wing were as snug as they could be; housing as they did the current limited staff of the Chase. Beneath them were a couple of habitable rooms—one that Chidwell used as an office, reserving the other for a housekeeper, when such a person could be hired.

Beneath that lay the bedchambers of the family; all in relatively acceptable shape now, after Edmund and Rosaline had ordered new windows, and sealed up the mouse holes in the wainscoting.

The house itself had been in deplorable condition, but slowly it was coming back to life. The east wing was still off limits, with flooring that might fail and staircases that were less than reliable.

The west wing was getting more attention, and several of the ground floor rooms were now in use. It was where Rosaline’s small study was tucked beside the parlours, and Edmund’s larger domain took up a quarter of the wing’s floor space.

As Letitia walked through the hall, she paused and looked around, seeing the increasing signs of restoration, and the decreasing amounts of rot.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” Edmund strolled up and put his arm around her shoulders. “How much of the original building was here and we never knew it.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Every now and again I’m struck by it. It’s become new, but the same.” She sighed. “I’m not making much sense.”

She felt him shake his head. “No, I understand.” He glanced at his study door. “I used to dread walking through this hall to that room. He was there. And I dreaded the fights that were to come, the hard words, the hopes and expectations I always had that were always dashed.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her voice sombre.

“But now, when I walk toward that door, there are no shadows any more. As if by cleaning and painting the hall, we have banished more than just dirt and grime. His ugliness is being washed away from this building as we make more and more improvements, Letty.” He leaned his cheek on her head for a moment. “Just as I think the damage he did to us is being washed away as well.”

“It’s a nice thought, Edmund,” she answered.

“More than a thought, my dear. And of course, Rosaline is a major part of it.”

She nodded, feeling the texture of his woollen jacket against her cheek. “You are very lucky to have found her. And now with little Hugh, there’s a new life at Ridlington, one untouched by the past and with only the very best future to look forward to.”

Edmund hugged her. “If I’m any judge of such matters, I believe Simon and Tabby will give you another niece or nephew in the not too distant future.”

“That would be lovely.”

“Letty…” he paused as if thinking, “I worry that your turn has yet to come. And if it does, you might refuse to see it because of how you still see yourself.”

She moved away from him a little and he dropped his arm. “No need, Edmund. Really. I am happy here. I enjoy what I do, and I love my growing family.”

“I know you, little sister. And I know how well you conceal your true emotions. I’ve never known what they are, I just know you’re hiding them. Just as right now, I know you’ve something important on your mind. It’s in your eyes when you stare from the window.”

“I could just be cursing this damned weather,” she chuckled.

He laughed as well. “You could be. But you’re not.” He turned to her and put a finger under her chin, making her look up and into his face. “I believe James has something to do with those secrets, Letitia.”

She started to deny that, but he hushed her with a shake of his head.

“I just want to say this. I think James FitzArden is an honourable man, who I am proud to call friend. I would be even prouder to call him brother, should matters between the two of you develop to that point. Is that clear?”

Letitia was caught off-guard by Edmund’s statement. “He’s spoken to you, hasn’t he?” She blurted out the first thing that came into her mind.

Edmund grinned. “Gentlemen never speak of such matters to ladies, dear sister. But just know that he would be welcomed into our family without hesitation. All right?”

She nodded. “All right, Edmund. Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re my sister. You deserve the very best in life.”

She smiled, her control back in place. “I have you for a brother. What more could I want?”

He laughed. “Charmer. I must work. We’ll meet at lunch.”

He strolled off to his study, leaving Letitia torn between her affection for his care and loving attentions, and absolute fury that James had apparently asked Edmund for her hand without telling her anything about it.

It was, perhaps, not the most propitious moment to see Harriet come into the hall, smiling from ear to ear.

“Miss Letitia, I just heard…” She hurried over. “Sir James is back. He arrived last night.”

Letitia’s jaw clenched hard for a moment. Then she smiled. “Is he now. Well how delightful. How delightful indeed.”

She spun on her heel and stalked upstairs, leaving Harriet standing alone in the hall with a slightly mystified expression on her face.