Chapter 4 #2
“Then I had to go away to school,” West went on, rubbing his face with a harshness better suited for the scrubbing of clothes, “and nothing was ever the same.”
“That would be adulthood,” she muttered, mostly under her breath.
He ignored her, thankfully. “My father died, and Leonard, as eldest son and heir, took over the title and the estate. Forced my mother to the dower house. Refused to let me home. I haven’t seen Fenmore since, and in my mind, it was always the great and majestic fantasy I had known.
I never dreamed I would inherit, mostly because Leonard delighted in holding his power and influence over me.
And the thrill I felt when I realized it was all mine now .
. . oh, there was such poetic justice in it! ”
Ellie scoffed impolitely, grateful that here, at least, was one other person who hadn’t grieved the loss of Leonard.
“And now . . .” West groaned and slumped further into his chair.
“Now you see the wreck and your grand illusions have all come crashing down around you,” Ellie chimed in helpfully, focusing on her darning as though it were more fascinating than anything else. “Poor, poor man, gaining an inheritance that isn’t much to look at.”
She felt rather than saw him look over at her, the creaking of his chair aiding her assumption.
“You’re a very unlikable woman, you know that?”
“I do know that, and I do not mind it, particularly with the inflated egos that parade about.” She shrugged and pulled the thread through her fabric with a long, steady stroke. “I have other details more pressing than your hopes and dreams, my lord.”
“You have no sympathy for me?”
She shrugged. “Not really. You inherited an estate with land and tenants attached to it. Despite the lack of furnishings, and whatever else you are missing, it is still more than I have ever had to my name.”
West growled a mirthless laugh. “We are going to debate the injustices of men over women now?”
“I’d prefer not to debate anything at all and continue on with my darning, especially if you are going to bemoan your poor estate and title and fortune and whatever else you are disappointed with.”
He was silent for a long moment, only the sound of the fire crackling filling the room. From the corner of her eye, Ellie could see him watching her, and that was more unnerving than anything he had done yet.
“If you were engaged to my brother, why are you darning stockings?” he asked her, sounding truly curious and not at all judgmental.
Perhaps his emotional wasteland had no hypothetical water for judgment.
Ellie raised a brow, glancing over at him. “Because we have no maids. I do my own mending and a third of the cleaning.”
West’s brow furrowed so deeply, it had to be painful. “What do you mean, no maids?”
“Were you not listening to Mrs. Havens earlier?” she shot back. “Leonard took all of the staff to the London house permanently when he inherited. And they remained there while he was away.”
“He let you stay at Fenmore without a functioning staff?” West shook his head. “He’s an even greater idiot than I feared.”
“Was,” Ellie corrected. “He is dead now.”
West snorted. “Thankfully.” He dropped his head back against the chair, looking up at the ceiling. “So you can only account for three years. Is this place better or worse than how you found it?”
“The house?” Ellie asked cautiously, her fingers moving just a trifle slower on her darning. “Or the estate?”
“There’s a difference?” he moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
With a sigh, she set aside her darning and turned to face him, the shadows of the fire making his features more stark and angular than before. “Let me explain a couple of things to you that will clear up a great deal. Will you allow that without arguing with me?”
He waved a hand for her to go on, nodding his head in an almost drunken manner.
Better than nothing.
She paused a moment, then placed her hands in her lap to begin.
“When I came to stay at Fenmore, there were only three occupied tenant farms. The lands were overgrown in almost every field. Every room in the house apart from the kitchen, the butler’s apartments, and the housekeeper’s apartments were shuttered, and the scarce furniture covered in linen sheets.
Hangings over the only paintings on the walls.
Everything else had been sold off by Leonard or taken off to the London house.
The funds coming in from the farms did not even go towards the salary for Worsley and Mrs. Havens.
Your brother’s blessed estate manager took that money for himself.
The stable manager and hands had left at least three years before I arrived, the good horses sold off for money and the working ones loaned to the farms. That is what the housekeeper and butler lived off of. ”
If it were possible for a man to look hauntingly pale in the dim light of a fire at night, West Howard was doing so now. He looked ill and horrified and scandalized all at once, and she thought he might find great relief in someone slapping him awake from this nightmare.
“Since Leonard did not need money,” Ellie went on, “he did not marry me straightaway. He suggested I remain in London for the course of our engagement, but I had no great connections there, so I offered to go to his country estate. He said nothing of its status, for good or ill, and only sent me with the address and a letter stating I could be mistress in his absence.”
“And now I feel sorry for you, of all things,” West murmured, more to himself than to her.
She smiled without amusement. “We’ve started working towards improving the most essential portions of the house, but it seemed more important to think of the estate as a whole.
Mr. Rokesby was let go as soon as I could provide proof of his dubious methods, thanks to the testimonies of a few farmers, and Mr. Williams was hired on.
We’ve gained four additional farmers since then, and the old stablemaster’s son was also hired.
I think you will find the ledgers an interesting read, when you can tolerate the state of them. ”
“What funds were used for any of that?” he demanded without heat. “If the farms were not producing enough to sustain and Rokesby was taking, where . . . how . . . ? Did Leonard . . . ?”
Ellie pursed her lips before answering. “Leonard did not care enough to provide funds here apart from what might sustain me while I remained, and I never asked for more. Since I had reached my majority and no official settlement had been made towards marriage . . . I used my dowry.”
He sat straight up. “Your dowry? You . . . you had the authority to . . .”
She nodded as he trailed off. “Leonard didn’t know, and he never thought enough to ask.
It was our collateral and capital at first, and it’s invested in the estate now.
It was going to be there anyway, if Leonard decided to be the baron in residence.
What was the point of letting it sit there to be used for his European adventures?
So Mr. Williams and I devised a way to put it into the lands instead. ”
West was staring at her with wide eyes now. “You . . . you focused on the lands rather than your own comfort?”
“Of course,” Ellie admitted easily. “What was the point of comforts here for three people when families were at stake? Seven families now. And we are on course to increase the livestock holdings, if the coming harvest is productive enough.”
“You take an interest?” he pressed, his tone wavering with disbelief and borderline amusement.
Ellie raised a brow at him, wishing she could see the color of his eyes just to see what they did in response. “Why should I not?”
His mouth curved into a hint of a smile. “Leonard was destined for a spoiled, selfish wife with cartloads of money.”
She scoffed and leaned back against her own chair, not quite matching his previous pose.
“Leonard was not prepared for a woman with a reasonable dowry to show an interest in his absence and have no haste for matrimony, thus freeing him from the actions associated with his duty. He was perfectly content with an understanding that allowed him to do as he pleased for any number of years before he settled into his role.”
“And you? What did you gain from such an arrangement, Elena Williams?” West asked her, now sounding fully amused.
She looked at the fire, letting her own thoughts and dreams wash over her. “Independence, and a quiet life of industry.”
She let the fire’s sounds emphasize her simple wishes for a few moments more.
“Go to bed, Lord Bickham. There will be more problems and arguments in the morning, and then you’ll likely need a stiff drink down at the pub before taking on the true state and needs of Fenmore.”