Chapter 5
Montgomery stared at the sheaf of papers his solicitor handed him.
“All of that?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Lordship. Now that your claim has been recognized by the House of Lords, there are many documents you need to sign.”
“And when I do, you can go home, is that it, Edmund?”
His solicitor, Edmund Kerr, only smiled faintly.
The man was near his own age, neither a boy nor close to doddering.
A good thing, too, since he’d expended some effort to find Montgomery in America.
The last two months had been spent navigating through the complex legal maneuvers necessary to have him recognized as the 11th Lord Fairfax of Doncaster. A thankless duty, all in all.
“Do I pay you enough?” Montgomery asked. Since money was no longer an object, perhaps Edmund deserved an increase in his salary.
He studied the man surreptitiously. Edmund reminded him of his brother James.
James had worn a full beard as well. Edmund’s shoulders were a little stooped, however, like those of an older man.
The man’s gaze was often fixed on objects, like the corner of his desk, or his fingers rather than looking a man in the eyes.
The one word he would use to describe Edmund Kerr was average. His height was average, the tone of his voice neither deep nor high-pitched. His appearance was neither noticeable nor memory-invoking.
“I thank you for your concern, Your Lordship. I’m very well compensated by the estate.”
“I suppose that goes along with it, doesn’t it?”
“What is that, Your Lordship?”
“Being Your Lordshipped to death.”
Another faint smile. The man retreated into expressions when words would have done just as well.
His housekeeper, Mrs. Gardiner, was the opposite, being as voluble as Edmund was deferentially silent.
She was responsible for the room in which he spent most of his time.
The room was decorated in what he imagined was Gentleman’s Library motif.
Because of Mrs. Gardiner, he’d settled into London with less trouble than he’d imagined.
Mrs. Gardiner, and to some extent, Edmund, had furnished the house and installed other creature comforts in his new home.
When the housekeeper had unveiled her efforts to set his library to rights, she’d patted her hands together like a child excited at the idea of a candy, reminding him of Aunt Penny.
Aunt Penny, before she’d learned of both her husband’s and son’s deaths at Antietam.
From that day until her death a scant two years later, she’d worn a sweet and somewhat vacant-looking expression.
Everyone had understood that Penelope had simply gone away, and only the shell of the woman remained.
A richly patterned carpet in shades of emerald and ivory covered the mahogany floorboards.
Thick velvet draperies of a color reminding him of the forests around Gleneagle hung on either side of the two floor-to-ceiling windows.
Bookcases lined the wall to his right, while to his left was a large fireplace, its white marble mantel heavily carved with fruits and trailing vines.
Mounted above it were four paintings of English countryside pursuits.
Braces of hares were slung over the shoulders of aristocratic hunters while pursuing hounds dodged the steps of prancing horses.
Country houses with smoke curling from their chimneys lured the visitor to stand and study the scene.
Opposite the desk where he sat, below the windows, was a long credenza.
When he’d first seen the room, a stuffed owl sat there, entombed in a glass case.
He’d removed it when Mrs. Gardiner wasn’t looking and claimed he’d accidentally broken the dome.
When she’d assured him it would not be difficult to procure a replacement, he’d convinced her it wasn’t necessary.
Evidently, the penchant for all things stuffed was an English trait.
For all its show of wealth, the room revealed nothing about him.
He’d only had one small valise when he’d arrived in London.
The sum of what was left of his life, it contained a change of clothing, a letter from President Lincoln thanking him for his service to his country, notes Montgomery had made about his navigation system, a pistol, and two silver brushes, the last physical items to tie him to his home, his past, and his boyhood.
He could not hold a daguerreotype in his hand to fuse the image of a loved one in his mind.
He couldn’t touch an object his father had collected or his grandfather had prized.
Anything he carried was tucked away in his heart, memories of Alisdair and James and Caroline, laughter he recalled at odd moments, love, affection, a feeling of belonging that never tarnished regardless of the passage of time.
The longer he was away from home, the farther away those times seemed. The separation pulled at him, but it was more than physical distance. Even if he returned to Virginia, walked the earth of Gleneagle within the month, he’d feel the same discordance in his mind, the same yawning cavity of grief.
Nothing would ever be the same.
Montgomery pushed aside memory in favor of a more pressing topic.
“I visited the Society of the Mercaii last night,” he said.
“Indeed, Your Lordship,” Edmund said. “How did you find it?”
He smiled, the expression not fueled by humor. “Interesting. I’m due to be married.”
Edmund stared at him.
“Married, Your Lordship?”
He sat back in his chair and watched as Edmund paled. He’d had much the same reaction to the idea.
“The Society might be interested in the occult, Edmund, but last night they were attempting to indoctrinate, if that’s what you want to call it, an unwilling young woman when I intervened.”
Edmund sank into a chair in front of his desk. “They were recommended to me as a group that studied oddities, bizarre events, and such.”
“The only oddity I saw was the leader of the society attempting to rape a young woman. One thing led to another, and now I’m about to be married.”
Edmund stood, walked to the far wall, and perused the titles on the bookshelves. Montgomery had not picked a single volume himself. Mrs. Gardiner, again, no doubt selecting what she considered to interest a peer of Scotland. Or perhaps she’d simply ordered the books by the pound.
The bookshelves contained a variety of books on gardening and husbandry, sheep, cattle, and the occasional novel. He’d been intrigued to find a book by Jules Verne and had set it aside to read when he had a chance.
Edmund, however, was ensuring he didn’t have any free time.
“It’s imperative you travel to Doncaster Hall, Your Lordship,” Edmund said now, turning from his study of the bookshelf, his equilibrium evidently restored. “Will you have time before the wedding?”
“No,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “In fact, I require your assistance in obtaining a special license. I’ve been assured that, despite the fact I’m an American, there will be no difficulty.”
Edmund nodded. “Would I know the young woman?”
Montgomery met the other man’s eyes. “She’s the Earl of Conley’s niece,” he said. “Is he familiar to you?”
Edmund closed his eyes, then opened them, as if he’d had a file of faces and names behind his lids. “Three daughters,” he said. “Two sons. An estate in Hampshire, quite a prosperous one, and a reputation for being a bully in the House of Lords.”
“He knew who I was,” Montgomery said.
“He would, Your Lordship, being on the committee that approved your petition.”
“Your memory’s quite impressive.”
“I spend some time in London, Your Lordship.”
Montgomery nodded, then concentrated on the stack of papers he still had to sign.
“There are many decisions you need to make, Your Lordship.”
Carefully, he put the pen back in its holder, sat back, and folded his arms.
“Is that going to go on forever?”
At Edmund’s look of confusion, he smiled.
“The Your Lordship business. We’ve known each other for three months, Edmund. We traveled from America together. You know everything there is to know about my life. Can we not dispense with the title?”
“If I’ve given offense, Your Lordship, then I apologize deeply.
” Edmund bowed, another gesture almost as irritating as the constant spouting of his title.
“I believe in giving respect where it’s due, Your Lordship.
You’re the 11th Lord Fairfax of Doncaster, and I have a duty to treat you accordingly. ”
Montgomery knew all about duty. Duty was a word that made him do something he didn’t want to do. Duty was the hook at the bottom of his conscience dragging him from place to place. Duty gave him courage, a kind of fearlessness that, when viewed in retrospect, was insane.
He was damned tired of duty. Duty, however, had evidently not yet tired of him.
Montgomery nodded, pulling the stack of papers toward him. He reread a clause on one contract written in a type of English that hadn’t been spoken in two centuries.
If Edmund hadn’t been annoying him so much, Montgomery would have asked him for a quick version of what he was reading, but he stubbornly refused to, stumbling through the passages himself until he realized it was an attainder.
“Doncaster Hall is entailed to my son or daughter,” he said, glancing over at Edmund.
“In Scotland, women are not necessarily prevented from inheriting.”
“Nor are they in America.”
“You’ll find there are many similarities between America and Scotland, Your Lordship,” Edmund said. “It is, after all, the mother country of the Fairfax family.”
“My grandfather still had the brogue,” he said. “I remember wishing I could speak like him.”
He made a neat stack of the papers and handed them to Edmund, who took them and placed them in his leather valise.
“Will you be ordering more supplies today, Your Lordship?”
Montgomery had spent the last month ordering bolts of silk, leather ropes, and securing the efforts of a few dozen craftsmen.
Edmund, however, had not once asked why Montgomery needed a basket woven in an oval shape, and ten feet long.
Nor had he ever questioned why Montgomery had met with a metalworker, spending a few hours in earnest discussions with the man over the design of a fan.
Edmund, evidently, had no adventure in his soul.
What truly surprised Montgomery was that he still did.
“I’ve only a few more things to see to, but I can do that in the next few days.”
“Shall I make arrangements to travel to Scotland, then?”
“Why don’t you go on without me? You don’t live far from there, do you? Wouldn’t you rather return home than forever harangue me?”
Edmund smiled, an expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Montgomery had noticed over the past few weeks that, while Edmund might appear friendly, the solicitor possessed a reserve, a distance that he put down to being British.
“I have served the estate for some time, Your Lordship. I live there for many months in the year.”
Montgomery remained silent, waiting.
“I would prefer to remain in London, Your Lordship, should you have any wish for me. It would not be unnatural for me to witness your nuptials.”
“Suit yourself.”
Bowing yet again, his solicitor gathered the signed documents, his leather folio, and left the room.
Montgomery stood and walked to the window. From there, he could see the street, and watched as Edmund got into his carriage.
He felt a great deal like Edmund’s charge, as if the solicitor had been given responsibility for him. Perhaps, after the events of the night before, he needed some type of escort. His behavior, while understandable, hadn’t been restrained.
Yet of all the men in the room, he’d been the only one to step forward. Had the members of the Society been drugged as well? Or had it simply been a case of the strong victimizing the weak? At least the weak should have a fighting chance.
He could not protect the world. He hadn’t even been able to protect his corner of it. Yet by his actions, he’d taken the niece of the Earl of Conley to protect and defend. Not just for a night, but for the rest of his life.
God help her.
Edmund’s carriage pulled away, lost in the activity on the street.
A bird perched on the windowsill, then flew away, a metaphor, perhaps, for his secret wish.
London was too congested. The city was never quiet, leading him to crave endless stretches of silence punctuated only by the murmuring of nature around him.
He missed the sounds of water, the cicadas in the trees, and the gentle sough of the wind around Gleneagle.
What had been almost a providential event was now a millstone around his neck. Instead of being simply Montgomery Fairfax, he was now the 11th Lord Fairfax of Doncaster. People expected him to be wise, prudent, resourceful, and caring.
All he really wanted was to be left alone.