Chapter 8 #2
Simon’s words had been a remarkable understatement, as Marco had quickly discovered when the baron had invited him to make use of the study earlier.
Simon had detailed each estate, along with careful mention of the long-standing tenants attached to each.
His attention and knowledge proved far more extensive than Marco had realized, for his uncle had given the impression that the family spent most of their time in London.
Marco had therefore assumed them to be somewhat removed landlords, with little sustained regard for the people under their influence.
But the notebook revealed that Simon had paid a conscientious annual visit to each of the estates over the past years, dating back to his father’s time, when Simon had taken on the responsibility of managing the Blackwood holdings in the late baron’s stead.
It was stewardship undertaken not from obligation alone, but from a sense of duty to those who depended upon the title for order and care.
Tenant farmer Mr. Frank Jameson oversees a 400-acre plot, one of the larger farms on the estate.
He is married to Wendy, the eldest daughter of a neighboring farmer, and they have one adult son, Caleb, and two younger children, Sandra and Mark.
Mr. Jameson employs several laborers to assist with the cultivation of his extensive farm, and I have tasked the steward with overseeing the improvement of the drainage ditches along the west perimeter.
These efforts are intended to boost Mr. Jameson’s crop yields and, consequently, his income.
The enhancements should increase the fertility of the soil and prevent waterlogging, but I have yet to receive word on the progress.
The work is to be completed by winter, and I expect a full report shortly.
It was not an isolated entry. Another that caught his attention was for a lessor tenant but with the same attention to detail.
Tenant farmer Mr. John Wright manages a 90-acre plot on the eastern side of the Elmstead estate.
He and his wife, Mary, work diligently, and they have two young daughters, Emily and Ann.
To help improve his yield, I have instructed the steward to supply Mr. Wright with additional seed for the next planting season and to repair the broken fencing that has allowed livestock to stray into his fields.
These efforts should bolster his crop production and reduce unnecessary losses.
Ensure the steward follows up regularly, as it is essential that all tenants, regardless of size, have the means to thrive for the good of all involved.
As Marco read through the notes, the complex issues of land management slowly claimed his attention, drawing him in as he realized that the estates were composed not merely of acreage and figures, but of living people who worked the lands.
Each tenant represented a family with children and, in some cases, laborers, who in turn supported wives and children of their own.
The baron’s holdings comprised entire communities who relied on the Blackwood title for good governance and leadership.
Despite his lack of experience in such affairs, Marco found himself unexpectedly absorbed by the writings, which gave shape and consequence to the lives affected from this desk with the stroke of a quill upon paper.
It was a far cry from tutoring spoiled and moneyed young men of the aristocracy who had just completed their time at university and were now idling their way through Italy while they finished their classical education.
Some were serious about learning from the art and culture Florence had to offer, but others were so far removed from the realities of labor and responsibility that this notebook made Marco regret his uncle Simon had never had the opportunity to take his own Grand Tour.
He would have been an excellent student, attentive to the humanity depicted by the old Masters.
They would have shared the experience well, had circumstances allowed it.
It was daunting to discover that there was far more to the stewardship of the barony than he had imagined, and he now better understood the concerns Simon had expressed about the attendant responsibilities.
His uncle worried not for himself, but for the people affected by the change in inheritance.
This realization did nothing to lessen the strain of the past few days.
In addition to guarding himself against attempts upon his life, Marco must now contend with the well-being of others whose fortunes were bound to this household.
“Maledizione,” he muttered, the oath having become something of a habit.
Shutting the notebook, he decided that was enough for the moment.
Perhaps he should return to the search, while Angelo continued working his way through the shelves behind the baron’s desk.
“I thought these upper classes were idle.”
Angelo glanced over his shoulder, balanced on a small stepladder so he could reach the upper shelves. “The notes imply otherwise?”
“I suppose you will be gratified to hear that our uncle is a responsible and benevolent manager. He knows these estates intimately.”
“That is good, no? It means our family is contributing to the well-being of society.”
“Sometimes, brother, your positivity is appalling.”
Angelo chuckled. “You would rather I was pessimistic? I think Mamma would caution you that you should be wary of what you wish for.”
Marco grinned. “If you are going to bring Mamma into it, I suppose I would not have you any other way.”
Just then, the study door opened, and a head popped around the corner. Marco’s eyes lifted at once, his attention caught by Molly’s iridescent gaze, and with it an unwelcome recollection of warmth and spice that stirred far too readily.
“Oh, hullo!”
His brother stepped down from his ladder, smiling broadly as he crossed the room. “Molly, you finished your search?”
“I did. I thought I might inform … you … of what I found.”
Angelo nodded. “We are most interested. Why not speak with my brother while I continue my search in the next room? No time to lose if we are to reveal a scoundrel.” With that, he turned to wink at Marco before disappearing into the hall beyond, leaving them conspicuously alone.
She entered and shut the door behind her, even as Marco suppressed a silent groan at Angelo’s transparent maneuvering.
His brother was determined to encourage what Marco himself was striving not to indulge.
Circling the baron’s desk, he came to a stop a few feet from where Molly hovered, her hands twisting together in visible unease.
“I must apologize for last night, Molly. I was … unkind.”
“No, I understand that you have much to contend with. Two murder attempts in as many days? You must be tense.”
“Nevertheless, you were standing by my side when that urn crashed down. I should have been more considerate.”
Molly frowned, as if his contrition unsettled her more than pleased her, and Marco found himself at a loss for how to amend matters.
This strange, restrained awareness between them lay well beyond his experience, and he could only hope that time, and patience, might teach him how to navigate it without doing further harm.
“Miss Dubois had a selection of gold and silver jewelry that seemed costly for a woman of her circumstances,” declared Molly, apparently deciding that a shift in conversation was in order.
“You think … perhaps a form of compensation?”
“It could be, but beyond that, it is hardly conclusive. Miss Dubois had not a single book in her possession, though she had some fashion periodicals along with some circulars, suggesting she is seeking another employment.”
His brows shot up. “Does that surprise you? That she is seeking a post?”
Molly shook her head, a lock of hair falling loose, and he stilled himself at once, mindful that they were alone and that familiarity would be ill-advised.
It was not the done thing, and he must keep his hands to himself.
“Not at all. Simon tasked the baron’s man of business to find a new companion for me for when he returns from Scotland, but no luck yet …
Miss Dubois and I do not get along very well. ”
“Then we are still very much in the dark about this muddle.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together in thought, and Marco found himself recalling, against his better judgment, the warmth of cinnamon that lingered upon her breath.
He folded his arms, determined not to betray himself, but could not help it.
He reached out to tuck the wayward tendril behind her ear, eliciting an audible gasp that pleased him as a man. She was affected by him.
“I suppose … I believe we should find some relief from the pressures of this house. The baron and I have not ventured out much since Lady Blackwood’s death, and I grow weary of this pall of gloom.
A sojourn to the country might provide clarity, if only by allowing us to breathe more freely for a short while.
Visiting Elmstead would be a pleasant way to spend the day. ”
“Elmstead? That is the baron’s property in Hertfordshire?”
Molly arched a rich brown eyebrow in surprise. “It is. A small but valuable estate due to its proximity to London. If it is acceptable to you, I shall propose to the baron that we visit in the morning. That will give the servants time to prepare.”
“That would be delightful. Angelo and I will continue our search, but I would welcome the chance to see something of this green and pleasant land I have heard so much about, yet have scarcely encountered for myself.”
She laughed, cocking her head to peer at him with a sympathetic expression. “Your welcome to merry England has not been quite as kind as one might have wished.”
Marco inclined his head in response. “To second chances, then.”