A Deal for the Earl’s Love: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

Chapter 3

“It must be ten times the size of the ranch house,” Roxanna exclaimed as the carriage they had taken from Southampton pulled up outside Wimbourne Hall.

Dawson peered out the window at his new home – his inheritance – with some trepidation. He had read descriptions of the house and estate – all provided by the solicitor – and he had known of his great uncle’s considerable wealth, but he was hardly prepared for what greeted him. Wimbourne Hall was, as Roxanna had put it, ten times the size of the ranch house – and then some.

It was an extraordinary sight – a house built in a classical style, with colonnades and an arched roof replete with intricate carvings from classical mythology. They had approached along a sweeping drive, the vista of the house, with its two wings and central fa?ade rising out of mature and very beautiful gardens, giving way to parkland and a rolling estate.

“I think you’re right, Roxanna,” Dawson replied, shaking his head in astonishment.

The journey from Kentucky had been long and arduous. They had packed up their most essential possessions – Dawson’s books and scientific instruments, and Roxanna’s clothes and jewellery, before leaving the ranch in the hands of a land agent, travelling first by wagon and then by railroad to New York, where a boat had sailed them across the Atlantic in mercifully calm conditions.

They had arrived at Southampton the previous night, and after lodging at an inn, a carriage had brought them on the final leg of their journey.

“I hope it’s well-furnished. We can always make changes. I don’t suppose you’ll be bothered about such things, but I am,” Roxanna said, and Dawson smiled and shook his head.

“You can do as you please, Roxanna. I’m just glad we’ve got here in one piece,” Dawson said.

His cousin reached out across the carriage and took his hand in hers.

“Oh, Dawson – you’re happy, aren’t you?” she asked, and Dawson nodded.

“Like I said, I’m just glad to be here finally,” he replied.

At that moment, Dawson did not know if he was happy or not to be in England. But though he had been reluctant to leave the ranch behind, he was at least glad to be away from the threats and rumours in Kentucky. He still did not know who was behind it, but as long as they had not followed him to England, he would be content …

“Then let’s get out and explore. I can’t wait to see the house,” Roxanna exclaimed.

But before she could open the carriage door for herself, the house doors were flung open, and a small army of servants emerged, led by a man with an imperious expression on his beady-eyed face. He was dressed in a black suit, black breeches, white shirt, and necktie, and he walked upright and stiffly, pointing to the other servants, who hurried to line up in front of the house. The carriage door was now opened, and as Dawson climbed out, the imperious-looking man stepped forward.

“My Lord, welcome to Wimbourne Hall. I am the butler, Thompson,” he said with a curt bow.

Dawson stepped down, holding out his hand to the butler and smiling.

“It’s good to know you, Thompson,” he said.

The butler looked somewhat perturbed, taking Dawson’s hand and shaking it awkwardly.

“Yes … My Lord. It’s my pleasure,” he said.

“Oh, look at them all lined up here – there must be thirty people here. Does it really take thirty people to run a house?” Roxanna said as the servants stood next to one another, their hands clasped together and their heads bowed.

“Well, actually Miss Murphy,we’re somewhat understaffed at the moment. We’re missing a fourth footman, and one can never have enough scullery maids in a house like this. And if Your Lordship intends to entertain regularly, then we’ll certainly need more help in the kitchen. Perhaps a third cook,” the butler said.

Dawson shared his cousin’s astonishment at the number of staff. Back in Kentucky, they had managed perfectly well with only a few servants to see to everything.

“We can discuss that later, Mr Thompson. I’ll start unloading the trunks,” Dawson said, turning to the carriage, where their luggage was strapped on in various places.

But before he could move, three of the servants – young men dressed smartly in livery, had hurried forward under the butler’s direction.

“Please, My Lord – allow the footmen. And it’s simply “Thompson.” Only the servants need refer to me as Mr Thompson,” the butler said.

Dawson nodded. He was used to doing things for himself, and not having others at his beck and call. Back in Kentucky, he would not have expected his servants to unload his luggage like this, but it seemed he was to have no choice, and now he followed the butler inside, nodding to the servants as he passed. The hallway was vast, with a black-and-white marble floor and enormous portraits hanging on the walls.

“Is that Isaac?” Dawson asked, pointing to what appeared to be the most recent portrait, showing a military man in uniform, surrounded by several cocker spaniels.

The butler nodded.

“Yes, My Lord. That’s your great uncle Isaac,” he said.

Dawson looked up at the portrait and sighed. It showed a proud and noble man – the sort of man one might expect to be an earl. Dawson felt entirely out of his depth, not knowing what was expected of him in this strange and unfamiliar place.

“Look at this, isn’t it wonderful?” Roxanna exclaimed.

“It’s … very impressive,” Dawson said as the footmen hurried back and forth with their luggage, piling it at the bottom of the stairs.

“Through there is the drawing room, and this corridor leads to your study, My Lord. The dining room is here, and these stairs lead up to the second floor, where you’ll find the library and music room, and corridors leading to the bedrooms in the east and west wings,” the butler said.

“I’m sure we’ll find our way around,” Dawson replied.

It was an extraordinary amount of space for two people – obscenely so, or so Dawson thought, shaking his head with a sigh.

“May I show you …” the butler began, but before he could finish speaking, his words were interrupted by the sound of a carriage drawing up outside.

“We’ve got visitors,” Roxanna said, peering through the open door onto the forecourt.

Dawson was surprised – he was not expecting visitors – and now he looked out the door to see a group of people climbing down from the carriage – an older man and woman, a young man and two women, though one was no more than a girl. But it was the sight of the woman at the girl’s side who caught his eye. She was very pretty, short, and curvy, with bold red hair, freckled cheeks, and a rosy face. Dawson was distracted for a moment, even as Roxanna stepped out the door to greet them.

“And what do we owe the pleasure of your company to – is this a welcome to the neighbourhood?” she called out.

The butler looked somewhat perturbed, and Dawson now stepped forward to introduce himself, wondering the same as his sister but not expressing it in quite such forthright terms.

“Good afternoon,” he said as the older man stepped forward, holding out his hand with a smile.

“My Lord – I was about to call you Mr Murphy. But that would be a terrible mistake. My Lord, welcome to Wimbourne Hall, though I suppose it shouldn’t be me who welcomes you. I’m Joseph Banks, the Baron Canford,” he said, bowing to Dawson, who now took his hand and shook it warmly.

He and Joseph had exchanged correspondence, and he knew the baron to be a trusted confidant of his great uncle.

“Ah, Your Lordship … Mr Canford? How kind of you to come and call on us. As you’ll see, we’ve only just arrived,” Dawson said, glancing at his own carriage, where the last of their luggage was being unloaded.

“Not to worry, My Lord – we wanted to call on you and make you welcome. May I present my wife, Lilith, my son Reuben, and my daughters, Aurelia and Letitia,” the baron said.

Reuben stepped forward and offered Dawson his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, My Lord. How glad we are to have you in the district. Tell me, do you hunt?” he asked.

Dawson was somewhat taken aback. He hunted buffalo out of necessity, but he had not expected to hunt in England – did English aristocrats hunt for their food?

“I … I don’t know …” Dawson admitted.

“But do you ride?” Reuben persisted.

“Of course – he’s a rancher, isn’t he?” the younger of the two daughters said, shaking her head.

“Don’t be so rude, Letitia,” her mother said.

Dawson smiled and shook his head.

“It’s all right. I do ride, yes. I ride every day back in Kentucky, but I didn’t think … well, what do you hunt?” he asked, and Reuben laughed.

“For sport,” he said, as though the answer was obvious.

Dawson had never liked the idea of hunting for sport. He imagined what the Indians would say about such a thing. To them, the buffalo was a sacred beast – a creature that gave its life to provide meat and hides. Every part of the buffalo was used for a purpose, and the thought of killing them merely for sport was unthinkable – to Dawson, at least.

“Well, I suppose … perhaps,” he said, and Reuben nodded.

“Excellent – there’re some fine horses in the stables here. We’ll ride out in the coming days. I can show you the lay of the land,” he said.

“Reuben loves hunting,” Letitia said.

Dawson nodded, not knowing quite what to say in response to the younger daughter’s obvious enthusiasm.

“You should all come in and have coffee,” Roxanna said, and Dawson nodded, realizing the family was waiting to be invited into the house.

“Yes, absolutely – do come in,” he said, beckoning them to follow him.

Only the older daughter had not spoken, her gaze fixed resolutely on the ground, and as they went inside, she did not look up or acknowledge him.

“It’s a fine house, Wimbourne Hall, and my … well, I never knew quite what to call him. We were cousins of some sort – not close enough for you to have anything to worry about, of course. But more importantly, we were friends. He was a good man, your great uncle, and it’s a sad loss to us all to see him buried. But, still, time marches on – all of us have our time,” the baron said.

Dawson nodded. He was leading them inside his own house, yet he felt a stranger in their midst and out of place in such a large house without any of the trappings of home.

“Oh, be careful of that box. Put it in the study – it’s got telescopes in it,” Dawson said as he caught sight of the footmen lifting a box of his scientific instruments from the table.

Dawson was worried some had already broken during the journey from Kentucky, and he had been hoping to unpack them immediately, though now he found himself forced to entertain. The butler was standing in the hallway, overseeing the unloading, and Dawson now beckoned him over.

“Yes, My Lord?” the butler said.

“We need some refreshments for our guests, Thompson – coffee and something sweet,” he said.

The butler nodded.

“Coffee, My Lord? Not tea?” he asked.

Dawson wondered if he had made another mistake. Coffee seemed perfectly reasonable …

“That’s what I said,” Dawson replied, and the butler gave a curt bow.

“But of course, My Lord,” he replied before disappearing through a door in the corner of the hallway.

Roxanna was talking to Reuben, laughing with him over some joke she had made, and Dawson now led the rest of the family into what the butler had indicated to be the drawing room. It was a grand room, lavishly furnished, with windows looking out over the gardens and an enormous marble fireplace, over which hung a gilded framed mirror. The walls were decorated with hangings depicting oriental scenes, and the furniture was mahogany – the finest Dawson had ever seen.

“I’ve always admired this room,” the baron said as Dawson invited them to sit.

The older daughter whispered something to the younger, pointing to the hem of her skirts and tutting.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s my dress. I want the hem like that,” Letitia replied.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced yet,” Dawson said, and the older daughter looked up at him in surprise.

“Ah, yes, Aurelia,” her father said.

Dawson nodded to her and held out his hand, which she looked at with some surprise.

“I’m pleased to meet you. Do you hunt, too?” he asked, not knowing what else to say to initiate a conversation.

Aurelia took his hand, and Dawson shook it as she curtsied to him, resulting in a somewhat awkward exchange of over-balancing on her part as she was rocked up and down by the vigour of his handshake.

“Women don’t normally hunt,” Aurelia replied.

“I certainly will,” Roxanna said as she entered the room with Reuben.

Dawson turned to his cousin and raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I introduced my cousin,” he said, but Roxanna interrupted him.

“I don’t need introducing. I can introduce myself. Isn’t that right, Reuben?” she said, turning to Reuben, who smiled at her.

“It certainly is, yes,” he said.

The coffee was now brought in by a maid, along with plates of dainty cakes and pastries. It was placed on a table by the window, and the maid dipped into a curtsey and left.

“We pour for ourselves,” the baron’s wife said, and Dawson nodded.

It was all so difficult knowing what to do and when to do it – who did what and for whom. He nodded, going to the table and pouring the cups.

“I’ll hand them out,” he said, passing one to each of them.

But when he came to Aurelia, she shook her head.

“I don’t drink coffee. I find it too bitter,” she said.

“Oh … right … well, shall I call for some tea?” he said, but Aurelia shook her head.

“No, thank you,” she replied, taking a seat by her sister.

The others took the coffee without complaint, but Dawson remained curious about Aurelia – why was she behaving like this? He felt out of place in his own home, as though everything he was doing and saying was being judged – it probably was.

“We should arrange a meeting in the coming days, My Lord – to discuss the estate. I promised your uncle I’d do everything I could to help you in assuming your duties. It must be very daunting – and to discover you were the heir must’ve been quite extraordinary,” the baron said.

“Tell us about America,” his wife said, and Dawson blushed.

He did not like being the centre of attention, but he feared that was what he had now become – an American oddity, bound to get things wrong and become an object of ridicule and laughter behind his back.

“No, we’ve taken up enough of His Lordship’s valuable time – he needs time to settle in,” the baron said, and Dawson forced a smile to his face.

“No … really, it’s quite all right,” he said, though he would gladly have seen the back of them – longing to begin unpacking his books and scientific instruments.

“Then you must come to dinner tomorrow – both of you. It’s always so difficult in the first few days – settling into a new house, getting used to the servants … yes, we insist, you must come and dine with us,” the baroness said.

Dawson would gladly have refused the invitation, but his cousin now clapped her hands together in delight and nodded.

“Oh, how kind of you. We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Dawson?” she said.

Dawson faltered – he did not know what to say or how to refuse.

“Well … perhaps not tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of things to unpack and …” he said, wishing he could simply refuse.

It was not that he did not like the family – the baron had been kind to him in his letters, and it seemed he meant to be of help to Dawson now, but there was something about the others, about Aurelia, in particular – he felt judged by them – and now Aurelia looked at him with a haughty gaze.

“A gentleman wouldn’t refuse,” she said.

An awkward silence now descended, broken by the baroness, who laughed.

“Certainly not, and that’s why we’ll look forward to seeing you and your cousin tomorrow, My Lord. Come along now, everyone. We must leave these good people to settle into their new home. We’re really so glad to have you both in the district – and as our honoured neighbours,” she said, rising to her feet.

The baron shook Dawson’s hand, as did Reuben, with the baroness and Letitia curtseying to him. But Aurelia merely nodded. She was cold and disdainful – and Dawson wondered what she thought of him behind her thinly veiled civility.

“Goodbye, thank you so much for coming,” Roxanna said as she showed the family out of the drawing room, leaving Dawson alone.

He sighed and shook his head, fearing their first introduction to English society had been far from successful.