Chapter Eighteen #4
When the viscount and earl encountered one another, they began saying things like “It’s for the good of our heirs.
” They might be cordial, but they both felt driven to point out it was self-sacrifice on their part.
It was just as well that the young couples were to spend the Christmas holidays at Chemsworth Hall, as their location would surely have become a bone of contention otherwise.
The other holidays were split up after much negotiation and documenting of birthdays and various family traditions.
Things even progressed to neighbors daring to invite both the earl and viscount to the same dinner. Local society had watched with interest as a baron of the neighborhood dared it first and it was deemed a success.
Then came a moment when the relationship between the two houses must go below surface pleasantries.
That cold summer that had come upon them.
Crops failed and the viscount and the earl found they must work closely together to keep their neighbors and tenants afloat.
Between them, and some other well-to-do landowners, long-held stores were rationed out carefully.
It was well that both the earl’s and the viscount’s kitchens had always made it a habit to dry and preserve and cure as if the end of the world was near.
That summer, it did seem near, but with judicious management and good fishing and hunting, everyone was pulled through.
They were all thinner than when they’d started but better days were ahead.
It is often the case that dire circumstances will bring men to their senses and a more reliable perspective will take hold.
Everyone in the surrounding area worked together, regardless of which side of the county line they lived, to pull them all through the year without a summer.
It became a bit awkward to go back to being arch enemies.
Things eventually brightened and recovered, and children would smooth things even further, as there was no possibility of reining in two boys close in age who had the stamina to run through the wood all day collecting whatever seemed interesting before slamming into one house or the other, complaining of starvation.
They claimed a local wood as their own Inviolate Kingdom and were both made kings of it. There would be no battles for the throne in a wooded valley nearby Slippery Hill.
James Lelander, son of the future Viscount Pepperdon, and Richard Whiting, son of the future Earl of Westport, would be fast friends all their lives.
They had early settled their feelings on the Roses War, deciding that they were not personally involved, had their own kingdom to run, and so they ought to just leave old history alone.
The only serious argument they’d ever had was when Richard’s grandfather died, making his father the earl and himself the viscount.
He’d proposed that James address him as “my lord.”
That newly-minted lord found himself pounded into the dirt over it and it was not mentioned again.
If there be some rivalry today between Lancashire and Yorkshire, let it remain about puddings and sports, lest any couples find themselves once more embroiled in shenanigans of the heart.
Centuries later, two artifacts from Pansy and Poppy’s time survived at Chemsworth Hall.
A pair of young sisters, Catherine and Jemima Granger, discovered Poppy and Pansy’s diary hidden under a floorboard in the old nursery.
In it, they read of two growing girls, beginning with the crimes of Bertie and observations of Beau Brummel and ending with descriptions of their feelings for Lord Burkhart and Mr. Lelander.
Upon reading through it, those two sisters did not feel half as bad about their own transgressions.
The second item was Mr. Tiberius Smuckers’ leather-bound account of the false baron.
That book was kept under glass, viewed in the family as a testament to Chemsworth’s intrinsic eccentricity, and often shown to houseguests for their amusement.
The account was filled with the deepest thoughts of Mr. Smuckers, couched in florid phrasings. Often pointed out to visitors were—
“The courage of a man’s heart is an unknowable thing, until that man must grasp hold of it with the strength of Hercules and display all the prowess of the Gods.”
“One used to living in close contact with the most elevated circles, where refinement and delicacy must rule, will naturally be put on their guard when a man posing as acquainted with those lofty circles does not appear to know his fish fork.”
“In the darkest hour of the night, when less stalwart men were in their beds, I went forth in courage and determination to hide in the library.”
“Whether one uses a pistol or sword or a pump-can filled with gin, a man’s weapons are nothing if he does not have the daring and skill to wield them. I had the daring. I had the skill.”
And the oft quoted phrase that ended the account, “Tiberius Smuckers never lets down the house.”
That phrase had in fact become a regular thing to say in ensuing generations.
It was meant to challenge a person who shied away from taking action.
The halls of Chemsworth often heard, “I do not think Tiberius Smuckers would let us down in such a manner.” Or, “What would Tiberius Smuckers do in a case such as this?” Or, “Let us hope Tiberius Smuckers cannot see you this minute. He will be rolling in his grave.”
One must imagine Mr. Smuckers would be pleased to know it.
The End