Chapter Seventeen
Navan was a bit later than he wished to return to the fields the following morning, but he still knew a spring in his step.
He had kept more than one mistress over the years, but never had he known such feelings as he had experienced with Annalise.
Assuredly, she held no knowledge of the act, but only God knew how lying with his wife had changed Navan.
Her sweet innocence had him seeing the world through new eyes.
“Keeping London hours?” Medi O’Connor asked with a smile as Beaufort approached.
“I would be in bed until noon if I kept London hours,” Navan countered with a frown. He did not wish the world to know his business.
“Your wife be as pretty as an Irish lass,” O’Connor teased. “Teach her some Gaelic, and no one will know the difference.”
“I do not wish to change my wife, for she is a nice mix of hope and reality,” Navan argued.
“Nor do I wish to discuss Lady Beaufort. Today, I wish to tour all the cottages on the estate to determine which we should repair and which we should knock down.” He was quite worried by how quickly the estate had known devastation.
Assuredly, he had not visited the area since his maternal grandfather’s passing some five years earlier, but he could not understand how his grandmother had ignored everything.
It was evident that the previous land agent had taken advantage of Lady Klare and how the funds set aside for the estate had been misused, but his grandmother should have taken note before this time.
If she had sent word to him personally asking for assistance, Navan would have dropped everything to see to her welfare.
The problem was he could not live at Klare Fields.
He must set it on its feet and hire a competent estate manager to keep up the standards.
Unfortunately, the only estate managers he knew of any consequence were all English, and such would be a disaster this far inland in Ireland, and he could not leave Medi in the position, for O’Connor was required at Beaufort Court.
“On Monday, I wish to meet with those suggesting a fishing weir, as well as those building the fence for the new bull. We must begin to prepare for winter, with the assumption we have prepared properly for the spring planting. Lady Beaufort means to employ several to perform repairs upon the manor house. Repair beams. Plaster work. Windows. Floors and the like. Moreover, she will set some of the women to cleaning and making new drapes and such. My wife has insisted the work should be spread equally among those upon the estate, at least as far as is possible, and I concur.”
Annalise woke with a delightful soreness.
At last, she was truly Beaufort’s wife, and though neither of them had dared to speak words of love, she felt something greater than either of them had taken root during the night.
She rolled to her side and smiled, for on the back of a nearby chair hung a pair of men’s breeches, not Beaufort’s but from his grandfather’s wardrobe.
In between their lovemaking, which had both thrilled and frightened her at the same time, her husband had bemoaned the fact he had yet to shower her with jewels.
To which, she replied that she could use a pair of men’s breeches to wear under her skirts while she inspected the cracks higher up on the wall.
Naturally, Navan had initially objected, but she had convinced him she would be safer with her skirt tails hiked higher than the alternative.
He had termed her “the most remarkable woman of my acquaintance,” which pleased her nearly as well as did his kisses, before he rolled her over to have his way with her a second time.
Now as she dressed simply for her first day of actual work upon Lady Klare’s home, Annalise’s heart swelled with happiness, that is, until she went below to breakfast, where Lady Klare had reclaimed her place at the head of the table.
“Good morning, my lady,” she said softly with a quick curtsey.
“I see you prefer to sleep late,” her ladyship said in critical tones. “Ways of London.”
“It is a bit later than is customary,” Annalise responded, “but I did not wish to disturb you, so I asked the men who are to begin the repairs not to arrive until after eight.”
“And what are you wearing? Your gown appears to be hiked up,” Lady Klare demanded.
“I have pinned it, and I have donned a pair of men’s breeches so I might move freely as I make my way through the house,” Annalise admitted, though she did not say the breeches belonged to the lady’s late husband.
“No true lady would be caught dead in such a garb,” her ladyship groused.
“You have found me out, my lady. As my mother passed when I was about five years of age, I was raised by my uncle. I am not likely to perform as you might expect.” Annalise knew Beaufort would not approve of her speaking so frankly to his grandmother, but Annalise was well aware of her limitations without the woman reciting them.
She would never be the fine lady Lady Klare appeared to be, but she was not sorry, for fine ladies had never impressed Beaufort, and, thankfully, she had.
Mrs. Felix found Annalise then. “My lady, the men are in the kitchen.”
“Permit me to claim a bit of breakfast, and then I will come to you. See the men have a meal, if you will, Mrs. Felix,” she instructed.
“Again, you present others orders in my house,” Lady Klare said in caustic tones.
“If you have an objection, my lady, please lodge them with your grandson. I only follow Beaufort’s requests. However, if you wish to oversee the repairs, there are other tasks my husband has placed on my shoulders.”
“You believe Beaufort holds you in affection, but neither his father nor my grandson are capable of love. You will soon realize no matter how much you do for him, the more he will expect. My daughter learned that lesson the hard way,” the woman said as she stood. “I told her so again last night.”
Annalise had no idea to what the woman referred, so she simply turned her back on the woman to choose items on the side bar for her breakfast. Thankfully, she heard Lady Klare shuffle from the room.
“She will come around,” Mrs. Felix said.
Annalise had forgotten the housekeeper was still in the room. “I am accustomed to those who do not approve of me. I have a position of prominence in Lady Klare’s house. I understand she does not wish to share it with me, I shall not fail my husband, if there is a means to know success.”
And so the days were defined. Annalise spent hers inside of Klare Manor never going farther than the various gardens, except on Sunday when Beaufort escorted her and his grandmother to services.
It reminded her of the weeks she had spent all alone at Amgen House, except she had not been permitted to be seen outside during those days.
Though the house was full of various workers, just like at Amgen, there was no one with whom to hold a conversation, for she did not speak Gaelic, and other than Mrs. Felix and Lady Klare, no one else spoke English.
Essentially, though she was Beaufort’s countess, her life had not changed.
That is to say, except the best part of her days came when Beaufort returned from the village and the fields.
Often, he fell asleep in his hip bath, but, eventually, he would wake and crawl into her bed, and they would enjoy intimacies, until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. In those moments, she finally felt cherished.
“I fear I have some ill news,” he told her as she snuggled into his side.
“How so?” she asked sleepily as she listlessly played with the hair upon his chest.
“I must travel to Neidín to inspect the livestock for a new bull and to order necessary supplies. We have again broken another tiller. Irish soil is known for its rocky nature.”
She propped herself up on her elbow to look down upon his beloved features. “Could I not travel with you? I could order items for the house.”
“I would like to do so…”
“But…” she quipped in irritation. She sat up abruptly. “How is my life here in Ireland any different from what I experienced with my uncle?”
Her husband’s features scrunched up in disapproval. “I would say being the wife of a wealthy earl must be superior to that of what you experienced under Jacob Moran’s roof.”
“Is it?” she accused as she rose to claim her robe. “Tell me how, my lord, for from where I stand, it looks quite the same!”
“I am not about to argue with you,” he said as he crossed to the door leading to his quarters. “Good night, my lady.” He closed the door behind him with a bang.
Instantly, Annalise broke into tears, but she did not follow him or beg for his forgiveness.
Instead, she sat in a nearby chair and pulled her legs up to make herself smaller, just as she had done as a child, while living with both Captain Lisey and Jacob Moran.
She thought that had ended with her marriage, but, evidently, she must continue to protect herself, for no one else would give a care if she lived or died.
“Alone forever,” she murmured as she rocked herself for comfort.
Several hours later, reluctantly, she crawled into her empty bed, where she curled into a ball for both protection from the chill in the air and for comfort. Mrs. Felix found her there the next morning.
“I be sore to disturb you,” the woman said when Annalise dragged herself from her fretful sleep. “You customarily be an early riser.”
Annalise shoved the hair from her face. “I did not sleep well. I apologize for frightening you.”
The woman nodded. “Then I shall begin my day without you.”
“Start, and I shall join you shortly,” she told the woman.