Chapter 14 #2
Her death from a winter fever had been tragic and unexpected, leaving the entire household at a loss.
The second Lady Bickham, West’s mother, had been far more engaged and affable, more active in estate matters and dealing with tenants, and a brighter sort of individual.
Her predecessor was not viewed as lesser, as far as Ellie understood.
Only more reserved. More inclined to withdraw. More inclined to privacy.
More insecure about her place.
Ellie could not fault any woman for that.
“And Leonard did not care for your aunt Eliza?” Ellie pressed as they left the yellow room and moved towards the conservatory.
Fred shook his head slowly, his shoulders slumping.
“Leonard hated her. From the very beginning, I believe. He had not been especially spoiled by either parent, but he resented anyone taking his time away from his father. Anyone diverting his father beside himself. He never obeyed her. Never spoke to her with respect. No matter what punishment Uncle Bickham doled out, Leonard did not change in his feelings towards her. In the end, he chose to ignore her. Complete silence for at least two years. It was better than his spite, so they let it lie, but it broke my aunt to have never been permitted even a moment of friendship. It was all I could do to entertain her into smiles at times.”
That was something Ellie could certainly relate to.
Her father had gone through a similar period of despondency where smiles and laughter had been rare, and she had done all in her power to bring them about.
Her trials had been after her mother had died, however, and nothing to do with a surly child.
But hearing Fred confess his actions towards his aunt, his desire to cheer her, explained a great deal about his nature, and she took this opportunity to ask about it.
“Have you spent your entire life needing to cheer people up, Fred?” she inquired as gently as she knew how.
His smile was small and sheepish. “I have. It comes from a lifetime of a cheery home and a dislike for anything disrupting it. I have three sisters, and their shifting moods unsettled me, so I learned to pull them out of it and restore my world to one of joy and warmth.”
“Not one for confrontation, then.”
“Not if I can help it, no.” He grinned easily, sliding his hands behind his back as they walked.
“But I rarely have need to. West has been my companion for many years now, and he has no such dislikes. He’ll take on anyone with the right cause, and then my task is only to settle him or talk him out of rashness, which I am more than capable of.
I have never had much of a temper, but he inherited enough for both of us.
But you’ll never find a more loyal, devoted friend. ”
“Hmm,” was all Ellie could say as they entered the conservatory, the glass walls allowing in an excess of light, despite the cloudy day.
“Don’t believe me?” Fred asked her with a laugh.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t go that far. I do not know him well enough to have an opinion that could be fair or impartial. It is clear he cares deeply, if his feelings about this place are any indication.”
“Oh yes,” Fred agreed slowly, but with great emphasis. “Fenmore was, and always will be, his utopia. The beacon of his hope, the very gates of heaven, perhaps even his one great love. I have never had an attachment to anyone or anything that goes as deep or resonates so strongly as his to Fenmore.”
“He must hate that I am here,” Ellie whispered, wandering along the stone paths, some of which were sunken down, cracked, or chipped. She made notations of each one, avoiding looking at Fred as she did so.
Fred hummed softly. “I don’t think you have any bearing on his feelings about Fenmore, specifically.
You might be wrapped up in the tendrils of his dismay and grief over the state of the place, but he knows full well you have only done good here.
Is he pleased? Likely not, but I can safely say it is pride that is pricked, nothing more. ”
She glanced over at him, almost shy now. “Pride? You think so?”
“I do,” he replied. “He’ll never admit it, of course, because .
. . pride.” He widened his eyes playfully, pulling a reluctant chuckle from her.
“He wouldn’t want anyone to see a place he loved in this sort of mess.
Fenmore is his family, his heart, and nothing will be right until it is restored, in his mind.
Not sure he’ll even want to be Lord Bickham until it is right, not that there is a choice. ”
“I’d have left right away, you know,” Ellie admitted in a low tone, “if I did not care about Fenmore. And if I had anywhere to go. But I want to . . . I must see my work through to completion, if I can. To know that I made a difference somewhere, that my efforts were not in vain.”
Fred took her arm gently and pulled her to a stop before turning her to face him. Then, of all things, he waited for her eyes to meet his. He did not take her chin or say her name, nothing so familiar or controlling. He simply waited for her to choose to do so.
That meant more than Ellie could ever express.
When she did meet his eyes, he smiled. “Ellie, I don’t know what you will consider as completion of your work here, but I can promise you this: You have made a difference.
A very great difference, if I understand things correctly.
Your efforts, whatever they were, made all the difference.
Who knows what three years of continued neglect would have done to this place before West got his hands on it?
I don’t think I exaggerate very much, my dear, if I claim that you may be the very reason why Fenmore still stands.
And that means West owes you a very great deal, indeed. ”
Ellie shook her head quickly, her throat tightening on a wash of tears. “He owes me nothing,” she managed. “There is nothing to repay.”
Fred squeezed her arm gently, a comfort as well as a scold. “There is everything to repay. He may never be able to repay the debt he owes, but he will feel that debt all the same.”
“That is not why I did it,” she insisted, her eyes welling with distress and embarrassment.
The cheerful man’s kind smile was fodder for continued tears. “That is why the debt matters.” He patted her arm before releasing it, then turned to face the conservatory, clapping his hands together. “Now, my Sherwood Forest of old . . . how shall we ever mend you?”
There he was—the jovial creature who could not bear low feelings in anyone around him and acted however he must to improve matters.
It worked, in a way, in that it stopped Ellie’s tears and made her smile, but it was more in fondness than amusement. She let him lead the way in this survey, taking notes based on his words and his sightings, grateful for someone else to be taking charge for once.
She was exhausted, and it only now seemed to be settling in. Someone else could share this burden with her, and no more did all things rest on her shoulders.
She knew the relief would not last, though.
At some point, she would need to bring George Tucker in to play the physical manifestation of Mr. E.
Williams for West, and she would not be truly at ease until that meeting was a success.
And she had yet to receive a question as to how she was able to make official decisions for the estate without any sort of legitimate authority, but she suspected it simply had not crossed West’s mind yet, what with all else there was to consider.
Even Fred, who bore no such concerns himself, had not thought of that.
But when someone did, she would have to present a feasible answer or confess to the proxy marriage.
What would happen to her then? What would either of them think? How would they react?
Would that information be made public?
No matter what Fred thought, West did not owe her much, but she hoped that respect and dignity would be afforded her. If she could depart the area with her reputation intact, she would consider herself fortunate.
And if she could manage to not be outed as a widow, but retain the status of a spinster, such as it was, she would appreciate it even further.
Her very future might depend upon the designation.