Chapter Five #3
“It’s just that, now that you’re here, I’m not terribly pleased with the idea of putting you to work. I had planned to have a house ready and working in proper order before I sought a wife. It wasn’t my intent to do this.”
Louisa’s smile faltered only slightly. He didn’t want her to work like some sort of servant, and yet, what else was she supposed to do?
“I assure you, I’m plenty capable of cleaning. And come this time next year, we’ll have a properly functioning estate, and it will be all the sweeter having worked on it ourselves, don’t you think?”
He appeared equal parts pleased and irritated by her words. Then, to her eternal shock, Rhys bent down and kissed her cheek. She gasped.
Slowly, he pulled back.
“I’m sorry, I just… I felt overwhelmingly lucky to have married you this moment and…” He shook his head. “That was ungentlemanly of me.”
“No,” Louisa said quickly, unsure why she wished for him to be anything but gentlemanly with her. “It’s… fine.”
Not the greatest word to buoy his spirits since he appeared deflated.
“Come, there’s more to see.”
Once Louisa was back in Mrs. Crawford’s company, she was shown the portage gardens and the greenhouse.
It was still early in the season, but Louisa was pleased to see so many roses and herbs.
From the garden, which sat on top of a little hill at the back of the property, Louisa could see several fields more than she could have from the carriage.
It was vast and untamed. Green fields with thousands of wildflowers stretched out everywhere to the trees that lined the ancient plots.
It would take twenty men to manage the work that Rhys was getting himself into and yet, he was planning to do it all himself.
It made her curious as the day faded into twilight. Why should a man, who had money, want to do all this sort of work himself? And with nary a servant or employee to help?
By the time dinner was set, a humble meal of stew, bread, and berries, cheeses and the sort, Louisa thought to ask him.
“Rhys,” she said after finishing her meal. The Crawfords had gone for the day, having a smaller cottage down the road. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Was it always your dream to run a tenant farm?”
The question must have caught him off guard because he paused, reflecting on her question.
“No. It wasn’t always my dream. But it was one that developed later.
On the battle fields.” Louisa only watched him, hopeful that he might say more and knowing it was not her place to pry.
When she didn’t respond, he continued. “When I was younger, a regiment came through our town. Dressed in their bright-red coats and shiny buttons, I was in awe of them. I began to have grand dreams of finding glory on the battlefield. To be a soldier in His Majesty’s army, well.
There was nothing quite as valiant in my young opinion.
My parents, particularly my father, supported my dreams and bought a commission.
” He blinked and refocused on Louisa. “But then dreams are so often the opposite of reality.”
“The war was not what you expected?”
“No. But then, it was exactly what I wanted. In my naivety, I thought the explosions and soldiers’ camp, and the gunpower and the blood were all part of the heroism.
In reality, it was nerve-breaking and miserable.
The winters we froze, the summers we boiled.
I came to loathe the smell of gunpowder and became desensitized to the sight of men, bloody and limbless, crying out for their mothers. ”
The room was darkly lit and though it was likely this was not the sort of conversation polite people had, Louisa was fascinated by this man’s speech.
“Throughout the misery and death, I started to dream about home. But not my father’s house.
I didn’t want to be surrounded by the parties and the balls, the pageantry of it all.
I only wanted for a small plot of land, in a quiet part of the country, where I might find solace in the plainest of activity.
Till the land, plant seeds, watch them grow.
” He glanced at her. “Undoubtedly the most boring sort of a life a person could wish for.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t?”
“On the contrary, it is the sort of life many wish they had.” She paused as another question bubbled within her. “Rhys?”
“Yes?”
“May I ask how you lost your hearing?”
“My unit, the Rocket Brigade, had been attached to the prince of Sweden’s personal guard.
Having been given a guard of Swedish dragoons, we advanced to attack five Saxon battalions of the French army in the village of Paunsdorf which was followed by close quarter combat.
I was in charge of setting up the rockets.
I had just finished setting off twenty-seven of them, but the last one slipped out of my hands while I was ducking for cover.
I lit it too soon, and the rocket exploded inside the tube, only inches away from my head.
Although I had a heavy leather covering to protect most of my body from shrapnel, I suffered significant hearing loss. ”
“Oh, my goodness. How dreadful.”
“After the rocket had exploded, a high-pitched ringing sounded in my head. I flung the covering off myself and began to walk around. It was bizarre to see the enemy starting to retreat and my own comrades cheering, but I couldn’t hear any of it.
Eventually, my hearing came back in my left ear, but not enough for me to blend back into society comfortably. ”
Was that why he insisted on doing all this work by himself? Was it a way to distance himself from society or a distraction to evade thoughts of war? Louisa was desperate to know.
“Is that why you are doing all this?” She twirled her index finger around. “By yourself? To avoid people?”
“I’m not alone,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I’ve the Crawfords and now you.”
“Yes, but I mean, without tenants, without servants, without help.”
“I cannot and will not house tenants and servants without the proper accommodations,” he stated, placing his wine glass down.
“And although I have some money, it will not last indefinitely. I need to procure a living, and this place affords me that opportunity. If I put in the work, I can have this place running as smoothly as a battalion in just short of a year. Servants at least by autumn.”
Louisa nodded slowly, stunned frankly that Rhys had the foresight to understand that money didn’t last. She had come from a household that went through money as quickly as it came in, if not faster, and her uncle’s house had been no different.
But the idea of working for a living was so far outside of her family’s idea of propriety that it was equally foreign as it was practical.
“I’m sorry if you were expecting more, but I assure you given the time, this will be a profitable estate.” He paused. “Why are you smiling?”
She wasn’t even aware that she was.
“I suppose I’m grateful.”
“Grateful?”
“Yes. It pleases me to learn that my husband isn’t a spendthrift or someone with grandiose ideals. I grew up in a household where title mattered more than anything, even if it meant forgoing meals to afford certain comforts.”
He frowned.
“Forgo meals?”
“Yes, when my mother was alive at least. She was so sure a pretty dress would save us and so she stuffed me in a too-tight gown during my coming out, but I had no social graces. I could not dance or play an instrument. I’m not terribly artistic and I cannot sing.
All the makings of a proper English lady were out of my reach. ”
“Is that why you were unmarried?”
She nodded.
“Then I should say I’m grateful too.”
“For what?”
“For you.” Louisa stopped breathing. “What I mean to say is, I’m glad it was you who came into Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s gambling hall and not some other woman. I believe Fenwick Park suits you, or at least it will once it’s been renovated.”
Louisa was glad for the dark, for she was blushing furiously.
“Thank you. I’m pleased to be here.”
Finished with their meals, Louisa followed Rhys as he stood and took his plate and another serving dish.
She followed him, carrying bread and empty wine glasses down a narrow set of stairs that led to the kitchens.
It was a wide-open room, with an ancient wooden table in the center of it.
The walls were whitewashed, and three open fireplaces lined the wall.
One was an open flame, while the other two housed two large wood stoves, though only one had been prepared by Mrs. Crawford.
Setting their plates on the table, Louisa searched for a tub of water and placed the dishes into a wooden barrel that had been cut in half. It wasn’t a proper kitchen basin, but then, all of that would come in time.
Once Rhys settled the rest of the food in the larder, he washed his hands and toweled them off.
“Bed then?”
Louisa followed Rhys up the narrow servants’ staircase, and then down the hallway to the main one before reaching the west wing. He opened the door to their bedroom to allow Louisa to enter first, but when she noticed he didn’t follow, she looked at him, confused.
“Good night, Louisa.”
“Good night?” she repeated. “Er, aren’t you, um, coming in?”
He did not smile or smirk at her. Instead, he only took a single step into the room, causing her to instinctively step back to make room. To her devastating pleasure, he bent at the waist and leaned forward, his lips barely grazing her ear before he whispered.
“Do you wish me to?”
“I… Um… I mean…”
But she couldn’t gather the words. Seconds stretched and Louisa was desperate for him to wrap his arms around her and haul her over to the bed, but at the same time she was so unbelievably terrified of what that would be like that instead of answering, she froze.
Slowly, Rhys pulled back.
“Tell me what you wish, Louisa.”
Her cheeks burned like a yule log.
“I… I don’t think I can.”
“Hm,” he sounded, nodding his head once. “Then good night,” he said before closing the door promptly, leaving Louisa all alone.