Chapter 26
I clear my throat. “Your house is beautiful.” I don’t share what I realized on the tour, mostly because there’s a chance I’m wrong.
There are so many country houses in the United Kingdom; maybe I just missed this one.
And maybe what we’re doing, putting him closer to the monarchy, will make a difference.
I’ll get zooped back home and I’ll wake up knowing all about the historic, famous, wonderful Alston Hall.
I’ll probably get back home and realize it was so important I wrote an article—no, I’ll have written an entire book about it and about the half-Indian marquess who turned around a family’s fortune—Leopold Clifford-Alston.
And he did it ethically! Well, I guess that depends on how one feels about beer and marrying for money.
The universe will push all sorts of unwelcome knowledge about his family into my head. Like all the kids he had with his beer heiress. And how he got so rich he was finally able to afford a mistress after all.
But I don’t need to tell him any of that.
“Your face went through quite a lot of emotions in a short period of time. Some of them not as happy as others.”
“No. Only happy thoughts,” I lie, which I’ve gotten so good at in the past week. “It’s a stunning house.” There, I even ended with something a hundred percent honest.
“I am glad you like it. You appreciate it more than I ever have.” He looks around, maybe trying to see it like I do.
Not as a family home, but as an expression of hundreds of years of history, with all of the social and political pressures and changes, culminating in the phenomenon of the English country house.
“I have a different perspective. I could never look at a place like this and see a home,” I say.
Leo quirks an eyebrow. “Why not? It might be missing some of the most recent domestic innovations until I obtain the money to renovate, but it is a good pile of bricks.”
“It’s perfect. But in my time, most of these houses are museums or hotels or event spaces. A much smaller number are family homes, and even fewer have the original families living in them.”
“We already get some visitors; letting in more of the hoi polloi sounds terrifying.”
“But you can charge them! Solving your money problems as well.” It maybe isn’t fair to suggest it, since the houses don’t become full, organized museums until 1960 at Longleat.
Tigers will be involved. Because apparently, if you can’t get people to visit you for the history or art, why not open a zoo in the middle of the English countryside?
But I don’t care as much about timeline continuity, not when I could potentially help Leo.
Plus, Hampton Court had been open to the public since 1838 for a shilling.
And this is the time when country house tourism is rapidly increasing with the invention of railways and cars, changing from rich people seeing other rich people’s homes to everyone traveling and seeing history.
Some of the houses are open in an informal way for anyone who wants to visit, with the housekeeper giving tours, and some even have other infrastructure like buses and inns to facilitate travel to the house.
So I’m not giving anything away, even if the practice of visiting these houses doesn’t become a large, formal business model until later.
“I do not think it would make a difference at this juncture.”
Looks like the timeline is safe. “I’m just telling you what happens in my time.”
“Have you visited my house in your future? What happens to Alston Hall?”
Why is he so much more perceptive than I originally thought? He’s supposed to be a rake, damn it. “I haven’t seen every house in England, and not Alston Hall. So I can’t tell you its fate.”
“But you study us…if anyone would know, it would be you.”
“Thank you for thinking I’m good at my job, but there’s plenty I don’t know yet.
That’s the point of studying and learning.
And some things are hidden to the future, especially by the people I want to study themselves.
I didn’t know that your mom was an Indian woman living in England, and she is my specialty.
” Maybe I can write about her when I get back.
Do deeper research now that I know what I’m looking for.
Maybe some of the family documents survived, but no one has bothered to read them.
Plus everything I’ve learned about her from Leo.
“Hmm.” He doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go.
We fall into silence. “Really beautiful house.” If I keep repeating it, maybe I won’t have to move on to any other uncomfortable topics.
“So I’ve heard. I will get you a guidebook from the village before we leave. Someone wrote it for the occasional tourists we get, and I am sure you will enjoy it.”
“Thank you, that sounds really interesting.” More silence. “I especially liked your library.”
“I’ve noticed you like libraries.”
I lick my lips nervously at the reminder of what we did in the last library we visited. It doesn’t help that Leo remembers too, his eyes locked on my lips.
“Have you read all the books in there?” I ask as an attempt to distract him from thoughts of our kiss.
“I have opened some of them.”
“What a waste.” But at least he’s looking at my eyes again.
The butler comes into the room, saving me further. “Dinner is ready.”
“At least we don’t have to worry about the social hierarchy of who goes in first. With just the two of us,” I say as I take Leo’s extended arm.
Leo snorts. “You are clearly the better of us. You should go in first with me trailing sadly behind. Far behind. You will be on the dessert course before I even arrive.”
“That seems excessive. Let’s call it a draw and walk in together.”
“How egalitarian of us.”
“Must be the first time you’ve tried equality on.”
“I shall choose discretion at this juncture.”
Phew. No more talking about what happens to his family home, even though I think he has deduced why I want to avoid the subject. He’s too sharp. Must be all those expensive schools he went to. If only they taught him how to make money.
We walk through the ceremonial procession-way connecting the two rooms, and into the dining room, with wood paneling making the room darker than the light, airy pastels of the drawing room.
And more intimate. An ironic word since the table in the middle of the room is giant.
Like it could hold thirty people, easily.
And it’s got silver centerpieces and flowers decorating it like all those people are coming tonight.
In reality, it’ll hold only two. The head of the table is set for dinner, as well as the place to its right. At least we aren’t going to sit across from each other, a mile apart, yelling about how good the food is for the rest of the night.
Leo approaches the head setting. I think he’s going to sit down, since he is the Lord of this Manor and all. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he pulls the giant wooden chair away from the table and looks at me expectantly.
I raise an eyebrow. “I get to be at the head?” I sit down before he can change his mind and banish me to wherever the commoners eat.
“I told you; you are better than me.” His smile is more genuine than his charming one. Wider. More teeth and more crinkling around his eyes. A little less performance and a lot more real.
“I’ll take your word on that.” I sit down and Leo takes the seat next to me while the footman comes in and serves the first course, a soup.
“I am looking forward to taking you around London tomorrow. All the sites you spoke about wanting to see, plus a little surprise in the evening I think you will enjoy.”
I sigh, putting my spoon back down. “But I have to face reality sometime. And figure out what I’m going to do when…if…” I stumble over the words, then clear my throat and try again. “If I can’t get back.”
“Yes. You are very responsible. But you’ve had a shock, and I think you should not think about it, at least for the day. With me. In London. The problems will still be there the day after.”
“All right. It will get us seen, at least. Which you still need.” I level a look at him. “And it’ll only be fair since I dragged you away from London in the height of the season for this.” For nothing, it turns out.
“If that is what it takes, I heartily agree that I am owed a day with you.”
“Good.” I cheers him and take a sip to seal the deal.
“Is there anything in your home”—he looks around furtively, clearly not used to the cloak and dagger bit—“that you will not miss?”
“Something I won’t miss?”
“I do not wish to make you sad remembering all the things you are potentially giving up, but maybe you will be happy to leave something behind.” He takes a deep breath and the smile falters.
“For example, if I was in in your position, I would be happy to leave my debt and start anew. I would probably still end up in the same mess, but I want to know who I would be without all of this. The expectation, the title, the inherited debt. Just me.”
Oh, Leo. The man I’ve gotten to know would figure it out. The way he’s been rescuing me, taking care of me, and making me happy. He would be fine. “I think you’d be able to make it.”
He inclines his head in thanks. “But that is a dream. Here, I am responsible for all of this. For everyone.” He encompasses the room and the footman bringing the fish course. “And I will not disappoint them.”
“Responsible, yes. And you had great opportunities. But you also inherited a mess. I appreciate a good education, especially in classics, but maybe they should have given you some business courses. And everyone in your class thinks that working is evil. Something to look down on and it would make you less of an aristocrat. That’s a lot to go against, especially when you’re young.
” I can’t believe I’m trying to make an aristocrat feel better about his life.
This time travel must have scrambled my brain.
Or Leo—I think he has scrambled my brain.
“What could you have done with all that?”