Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Wait . . . wait, so Ellie . . . our Ellie . . . has been . . . is . . . What?”
West chuckled as Fred sputtered his confusion, the two of them sitting before a fire in the library, which had become their sitting room in the evenings. He sipped at his tumbler of whiskey, exhaling the humor and disbelief at the revelations of the day.
He glanced over at Fred, who was holding his head and hunched over. “Are you quite well, Fred?”
“No,” his cousin moaned in a piteous manner.
“No, I am not.” He slid his hands down to his face and rubbed vigorously before dropping them and looking at West with wild eyes.
“I shouldn’t be surprised, right? I mean, we saw her in trousers in the fields moving rocks and digging trenches.
That should be a sign of something or other, yes? ”
“Looking back? Yes, that does seem plausible,” West allowed with a nod. “At the time? I simply thought she had grown accustomed to the very simple life that Fenmore had given her and, being an independent woman unafraid of work, had decided to join in with the work to occupy herself.”
Fred nodded frantically in agreement. “Yes. Yes, that. Absolutely that. Not . . . not the other thing.”
“Estate management,” West recited clearly, as though his cousin had difficulty either speaking the words or recollecting them.
“Yes, that,” Fred said again without any irony.
West laughed again. “She was already doing that, you know. Even if we hadn’t discovered this little portion of it. What she was doing while she was here.”
“Yes, but . . . but she’s just . . .” Fred gripped at his short hair, laughing almost breathlessly.
“She’s so perfectly situated to be the most genius estate manager ever simply because she’s Ellie.
She’s defied all of our expectations already, and we didn’t think she was capable of that as well? Hell, West, how did we miss it?”
“We were not looking for it,” he replied. “And if you are not looking for it with her, you are not going to expect it.”
Fred raised his head, smirking at him. “So . . . does this revelation make you like her more or less?”
West didn’t bother to protest liking her. He just was not certain if he liked her in a way that was right for him or wrong for him. He liked her as a person, as a part of Fenmore, as a companion. But did he also like her as a woman?
He liked the way she looked, the way she laughed, the way she fought, but did he like the way she did the unexpected? The way she reshaped his idea of who or what a woman should be and how she ought to behave?
“Differently,” he settled on, knowing it was an evasive, hedging answer.
“I don’t like her less for this, that is certain.
But I find myself incredibly intimidated by the prospect of what I do not know where she is concerned.
She has saved the estate in so many ways, and I envy that.
I am so insanely jealous, Fred, of her mind and her abilities, and yet I am not at all resentful about it.
Just grateful. And it makes me even more ambitious, dammit. ”
Fred began laughing heartily, almost hysterically, curling back into his chair so completely, his feet left the floor.
West watched the hilarity without comment, keeping his expression as blank as possible.
He was not ignorant. He knew this was a potentially comical thing for someone who knew him so well. But to be in the middle of the situation, the victim of the thing, was another matter entirely.
And far, far less amusing.
Fred wiped at the tears of mirth streaming from his cheeks. “You are . . . without a doubt . . . the worst romantic hero I have ever heard of.” He trailed off into giggles again, fighting for any sort of steadying breath.
West felt his brows begin to lower into more of a glare, his entire body curling into the gesture. “Glad to know my suffering is so amusing.”
That set Fred off further still, and West slumped in his chair moodily. He sniffed dismissively. “And I don’t think this is a romantic scenario, no matter what sort of hero I am.”
Fred practically squealed in breathless laughter.
“I am going to stop talking now,” West grumbled, taking a longer drink of his whiskey.
How had he gone from being the one with confidence, telling his cousin news that was shocking, to him being a point of hilarity and apparent stupidity? It had all turned on its head so quickly, and he did not like that at all.
Fred eventually calmed, but kept himself in the incredible slouched position in the chair, sighing to himself. “I’d apologize, Cousin, but I don’t think you’d believe me.”
“No, I would not,” he replied with a soft snort. “Why aren’t you confused about Elena?”
“I can assure you, I am very confused about her,” Fred retorted, folding his arms and stuffing his hands into his armpits. “I just don’t mind being confused by her. And that is the difference between you and me.”
That was probably accurate. West had always wanted to understand the things that made him curious, especially if they were complicated and unusual.
He did not always need to have control of everything, but he was confident enough in his own abilities that when he was in control of situations and problems, he was less intimidated by them.
And there was absolutely no controlling Elena.
Strangely enough, he did not want to control Elena. Yes, it would make his life easier if she conformed to his expectations a little more, but he also enjoyed how exactly she chose to defy those expectations. He was not certain that even he had the sort of confidence to be that true to himself.
It was as inspiring as it was maddening.
No, he did not like her less for this.
That might be worse.
“What do I do now, Fred?” West asked his cousin in all seriousness. “What do I do with this?”
Fred cocked his head, his brows lowering. “What do you mean? Do about what? Or how, I suppose?” He made a face, then shook his head like a dog. “I don’t know how to say it, but explain yourself in more specific terms.”
West gestured aimlessly around the room, trying to indicate Fenmore as a whole. “With Fenmore. With Elena. With the estate, farms, lands . . .”
“Why do you have to do it differently than you planned?” Fred inquired with a mildness that did not suit him.
“Because getting rid of Elena is getting rid of Williams, and I was going to keep Williams on for several years. I was going to work side by side with him because clearly he knew exactly what this place needed.”
Fred nodded in comprehension. “Yes, and . . .?”
West stared at his cousin blankly. “And . . . Williams is Elena? So I’d have to keep Elena as estate manager, and that cannot happen.”
“Can it not?” Fred tilted his head from side to side as though considering the idea. “I think we could. I don’t think anybody cares enough about Fenmore to investigate who your estate manager really is, let alone spread that much gossip about it.”
“Are you serious?” West asked him, raising a brow. “Mrs. Wickerton alone would see that it was spread down to London and back.”
Fred barked a harsh laugh. “And do you care about gossip in London?”
“No, but Elena might.” West shrugged. “I am not willing to risk that.”
“Very gallant of you. Not practical, given the situation, but gallant all the same.” Fred settled himself more fully into his chair, which seemed a feat, as he was not precisely sitting so much as lounging.
“You know she’s Williams, I know she’s Williams, and your lead farmer knows she’s Williams. That is all, yes? ”
West nodded, unsure what his cousin was trying to prove. “Yes, why?”
Fred gave him a leveling stare. “Let her continue to be Williams for as long as it serves. What’s the harm?”
“She’d still have to be here,” West said on a weary exhale.
“That is the problem. Yes, we could keep her identity as Williams a secret, but she would still be here, and that is the scandalous part we have to avoid. And we will avoid it. Even keeping her here in the village would be suspicious. We cannot ruin her reputation for our own ends.”
Unconvinced, Fred shook his head. “Fine, if you’re so convinced that is the course, that there are no other alternatives but to ruin her reputation, then I will support you. But you aren’t sending her away tomorrow, are you?”
West turned more fully to him, horrified, his heart beating hard and unsteadily. “Of course not! Why would you even think that?”
Fred met his gaze blandly. “You just said we had to protect her reputation at all costs, essentially, and it was unclear when you wanted to start being so valiant in that cause. I just wanted to clarify.”
West’s heart began to settle into a steadier pace and pressure.
“I need to talk to her about the fields and pastures—how they were when she arrived, what made her decide on the course of action she chose for them, her plans for the future, all of it. Exactly what I had planned to do with Williams. I need to see this place as she saw it. Still sees it, I suppose. I don’t want to disrupt anything in my aspirations for more. ”
“Interesting that you are doubting your own instincts and education and experience now when you have not for any previous fields and pastures you’ve observed or worked,” Fred mused aloud.
“Fenmore is special, I know, but what if things hadn’t been so miraculous here?
Would you be evaluating things so carefully? ”
“Probably, but I would be more decisive, once I understood things to my comfort.” West looked at the fire, letting the sight of the flames, their comfortable heat and smell, the hypnotizing dance of something destructive and beautiful, settle him and draw truths out of him.
“That is all I am doing here, Fred. Understanding so I can make informed decisions. Once I’ve been here a while, it will become instinctual, but until then, I must take greater care.
The challenge of restoring our fortunes at Fenmore is one I will not take lightly, but I will also enjoy immensely. ”
Fred shuffled in his chair, and West glanced over when it did not calm immediately. His cousin was now sitting fully upright, eyes wide, grin broad. “I have a brilliant idea.”
“Is that a judgment you ought to make yourself?” West queried with interest. “I always thought brilliance was something other people designate.”
Fred ignored him and turned almost a complete quarter in his chair to face West directly.
“A challenge. After you and Ellie do your walk about the fields and you’re on a more level understanding of the place, both of you craft individual plans for the coming year for the fields, livestock, crops, what have you.
Neither of you are capable of harming the lands, are you? ”
West shook his head slowly. “No . . .”
“Then neither option pitched will be wrong!” Fred crowed eagerly.
“Just options! But it should be the entire year, starting after harvest. What you would do with the winter season, the planting, purchases made that affect the estate earnings in any way. Once the pair of you have your plans, you present them to a jury.”
“Don’t you mean committee?” West asked him, trying not to laugh at this entire idea, entertaining though it was.
“I said what I said,” Fred replied without concern.
West smirked. “And who is on the jury?”
Fred’s brows danced. “The farmers working these fields. So you ought to work on them to get their votes, in my opinion.”
West groaned, rubbing at his brow. “This feels frivolous.”
“So let it be frivolous,” Fred insisted.
“It will breathe life into this nearly dead estate, and it will show your tenants that you know what you’re talking about, even if they end up choosing Ellie’s plan.
That establishes trust in your instincts and will allow for some ease when the inevitable transition of responsibilities happens. ”
Something about the word inevitable made West’s gut clench painfully, and he had to pause to allow the pain to pass before he could even think about this idea.
Once he could breathe more easily, he swallowed. “What is the prize for winning?”
Fred’s grin was crooked and mischievous. “Other than gloating rights and the knowledge of your plan being implemented at the estate?”
At West’s roll of the eyes and nod, Fred went on. “Not a clue. What do we have to offer that we could actually give Ellie if she won? You’ve already said she cannot stay here, which is probably what she wants, and we don’t have the sort of funds to allow for a monetary prize.”
All of that was true, but surely they could think of something to offer as a reward for the winner. But what would be enough? Not in terms of monetary worth, since he knew full well that Elena would not necessarily care or want anything of great expense, but something of intrinsic worth.
“I’ll have to think of something,” West murmured, more to himself than to Fred.
“So,” Fred drawled out dramatically, “does that mean we are having the challenge?”
West turned his attention to the fire once more, nodding thoughtfully. “Yes, I think we are.