Brighter Than The Sun (13 page)

"As master of this house," Charles put in with a mock-concerned expression, "I think that I should be apprised of any devious and underhanded plots that might be stewing."

"Very well," Ellie said. "We are going to sneak to the kitchen to secure another portion of dessert for Judith." She paused as her stomach rumbled. "And for me, too, I should think."

"I shall have to put a stop to this," Charles said.

"Oh, Charles, you wouldn't!" Judith cried out.

"Unless I may be a coconspirator." He turned to Ellie. "Besides, I should have thought you wouldn't want to go down to the kitchens on your own."

She scowled at him. "Judith and I would do quite well by ourselves."

"Of course, but it will be much more fun with me along."

Judith took Ellie's hand and tugged on it. "He's right. Charles can be great fun when he chooses."

He tousled her hair. "Only when I choose?"

"Sometimes you are a bit too stern."

"I keep telling him the same thing," Ellie said with a commiserating shrug.

"Now, now, Eleanor," Charles chided, "You usually tell me the opposite. Perhaps if I were more stern with you ... Hmmm ... I might meet with more success."

"I think it is time we were off," Ellie said quickly, ushering Judith toward the door.

"Coward," Charles whispered as he passed her.

"You may call it cowardice," she whispered back, "but I prefer to call it good judgment. Judith is only six years old."

"I am nearly seven," the little girl announced.

"And she hears everything," Ellie added.

"Children do," Charles said with a shrug.

"All the more reason to be more circumspect with your words."

"Are we going to the kitchen now or not?" Judith said with a little stamp of her foot.

"Indeed we are, poppet," Charles said, sweeping forward and taking her hand. "Now then, we must be quiet. Very quiet."

"This quiet?" Judith whispered.

"Even quieter. And you—" He turned to Ellie. "Pipe down."

"I didn't say anything," she protested.

"I can hear you thinking," Charles replied with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Judith giggled.

Ellie, God help her, giggled too. Just when she was determined to dismiss her husband as a complete ne'er-do-well, he had to go and charm her by turning their trip to the kitchen into a romantic adventure for young Judith.

"Can you hear
me
thinking?" Judith asked.

"Certainly. You are thinking about strawberry tarts."

Judith gasped and turned to Ellie. "He's right!"

Charles looked Ellie straight in the eye, his expres-

sion frankly sensual. "Can
you
hear
me
thinking?"

She shook her head quickly.

"Probably not," he agreed. "Else you'd have far more of a blush on your face."

"Look!" Judith squealed. "She
is
blushing. She
does
know what you're thinking!"

"I do now," Ellie retorted.

"What is he thinking?" Judith demanded.

"Goodness!" Ellie said quickly. "Are we nearly to the kitchens? You had best button your lips, Judith. Charles did say we need to be quiet."

The trio tiptoed into the kitchen, which Ellie noted had been cleaned quite thoroughly since her last visit. It looked as if the burnt oven had been put back into use. She was dying to look inside and inspect the rack. Perhaps when Charles's back was turned ...

"Where do you suppose Monsieur Belmont has hidden those tarts?" Charles asked Judith.

"Maybe in the cupboard?" she suggested.

"An excellent idea. Let us have a look."

While the two of them rummaged through the cupboards, Ellie made a mad—but by necessity quiet— dash to the oven. She shot a glance over at her husband to make sure that he and Judith were still busy, and then quickly stuck her head inside.

She pulled back out just as quickly, but she'd had enough time to see that the oven rack had been reset in exactly the same position she'd put it in. "This is extremely strange," she muttered under her breath.

"Did you say something?" Charles called out without turning around.

"No," she lied. "Did you find the tarts?"

"No. I have a feeling the kitchen staff must have

polished them off this evening. But we did locate a rather tasty-looking cake with butter-cream frosting."

"Butter-cream, eh?" Ellie asked, growing quite interested.

"Mmm-hmm. I'm sure of it."

Ellie believed him as he had one of his fingers in his mouth.

"It's ever so good, Ellie," Judith chirped, plunking her finger down and scooping up a chunk of frosting.

"Aren't either of you going to eat the cake?" Ellie asked.

"No."

"Not I."

"That butter-cream frosting will make you both ill."

"Sadly so," Charles said, giving his finger another lick, "but oh, so very happy."

"Try some, Ellie," Judith said.

"Oh, all right. But only with a piece of cake."

"But that will ruin the effect," Charles said. "Judith and I were planning to strip the cake quite bare and leave a mystery for Monsieur Belmont in the morning."

"He will not be amused, I am sure," Ellie said.

"He is never amused."

"Charles is right," Judith added. "He is forever grumpy and likes to shout at me in French."

Charles held out a frosting-covered finger toward her. "Try it, Ellie. You know you want some."

Ellie turned beet red. His words sounded uncomfortably like those he'd uttered in her bedroom— when he'd been so handily seducing her. He moved his finger toward her lips, but she backed up before he could touch her mouth.

"Pity." he said. "I thought you were going to do it."

"Do what?" Judith asked.

"Nothing," Ellie ground out, and then just to show Charles that she wasn't a complete coward, she reached her finger out to his, scooped up some frosting, and ate it. "Oh, my," she uttered "That's delicious."

"I told you so," Judith said.

Ellie gave up any attempt at trying to be the dignified lady of the house. It took the three of them only two minutes to denude the entire cake.

Chapter 12

Ellie woke up the following morning feeling a bit more amicably disposed toward her husband. It was difficult to maintain a sense of disgust with a man who so obviously adored children.

So he didn't take marriage as seriously as she would have liked. That didn't necessarily make him a bad person. Irreverent, perhaps, but not bad, and after all those years with her father, Ellie was starting to think that irreverent might be kind of nice. Clearly Charles had a way to go before he would be a husband she could trust with her full heart and soul, but the previous evening's escapade with Judith at least gave her some hope that they might be able to make a decent go at their marriage.

Not that she had any plans to fall into his little trap and try to seduce him. Ellie had no doubt as to who would be in control in such a situation. A fat lot
she
knew about seduction. She could picture it easily. She'd lean in to give him a kiss—which was the extent of what she knew how to do, really, and within seconds the seducer would become the seduced.

But to be fair, Charles had held up his end of the marriage bargain. He had arranged Ellie's financial accounts to her satisfaction, and she was more than eager to get to work. Sometime during the night Charles had slipped a piece of paper under the connecting door with all of the information Ellie would need to take control of her finances. It was remarkably thoughtful of him to have remembered to do this, and Ellie resolved to think of this kindness every time she felt like strangling her new husband—an impulse whose frequency she hoped would decrease.

Ellie left to visit her new solicitor after eating a quick bite of breakfast. No toast, of course; Mrs. Stubbs steadfastly refused to make it, which Ellie thought was just a bit uppity for a housekeeper. But then again, if all she could expect was another brittle, charred square that looked as if it
might
once have originated from a loaf of bread, she wasn't certain it was worth the effort to argue about it.

Then Ellie remembered what she'd seen the night before. Someone had readjusted the stove to her specifications. If she knew what she was doing—and she was still confident she did—then the entire Wycombe household ought to be enjoying lovely toast slathered with lovely jam for the rest of their lives.

Ellie made a mental note to look into it when she returned.

Ellie's new solicitor was a middle-aged man named William Barnes, and it was apparent that Charles had made it very clear that his wife was in charge of her own finances. Mr. Barnes was politeness personified, and he even expressed a large measure of respect for Ellie's financial knowledge and acumen. When she instructed him to put half of her money into a conservative account and half into the risky cotton venture, he clucked approvingly at her appreciation of the value of diversification.

It was the first time Ellie had been able to claim credit for her financial expertise, and she found it a heady feeling, indeed. She liked being able to speak for herself and not having to begin each sentence with, "My father would like ..." or "It is my father's opinion that..."

Her father had never had an opinion on money other than that it was the root of a great deal of evil, and it pleased Ellie to no end to be able to say,
"I
would like to invest my funds in the following way." She supposed that most would consider her eccentric; women did not ordinarily handle their own money. But she didn't care. In fact, she positively reveled in her newfound independence.

By the time she returned to Wycombe Abbey, her spirits were high, and she resolved to improve her efforts to make the grand estate well and truly her home. Her efforts at the Abbey proper had thus far met with nothing but failure, so she decided to spend the rest of the day outside, introducing herself to the tenants. Such an outing would be a worthwhile venture; Ellie knew that landowner-tenant relations often made the difference between prosperous lands and poverty. If there was one thing she'd learned as the daughter of a vicar, it was how to listen to the worries of villagers and help them devise solutions to their problems. As the lady of a great estate, her power and position would be much increased, but Ellie felt confident that the process would be much the same.

This was something she definitely knew how to do.

Of course, she'd also known how to fix stoves and grow roses, and look where that had gotten her.

It was a bit past noon when Ellie returned, and Rosejack informed her that the earl had gone out for a ride. That was just as well; meeting the tenants was something she'd rather do without the imposing presence of the earl behind her. Helen would be a much better choice of companion, and Ellie hoped that she'd be agreeable to such an outing.

As it happened, she was. When Ellie found her in the drawing room, Helen replied, "Oh, but I'd love to. The task of visiting the tenants has rested solely on my shoulders for several years now, and, if truth be told, I'm not terribly good at it."

"Nonsense," Ellie said with a reassuring smile.

"No, it's true. I can be rather shy, and I never know what to say to them."

"Well, then, it's settled. I am more than happy to assume this responsibility, but I will need your assistance this morning to show me about."

The air was crisp when Ellie and Helen got on their way, but the sun was high and bright with the promise of a warm afternoon. It took them about twenty minutes to walk to the first patch of tenants' cottages. Ellie could have probably shaved five minutes off their travel time, but she had long ago learned to adjust her normally brisk and no-nonsense walk to the pace of others.

"This first house belongs to Thom and Bessie Stillwell," Helen said. "They lease a small plot of land where they grow oats and barley. Mrs. Stillwell also takes in mending for a few extra coins."

"Stillwell," Ellie said to herself as she jotted the name down in a small notebook. "Oats. Barley. Mending." She looked up. "Any children?"

"Two, I think. Oh, wait, it's three now. They had a little girl a few months ago."

Ellie knocked on the door, and they were greeted by a woman of perhaps two and a half decades. "Oh, Mrs. Pallister, how do you do?" she said to Helen, looking rather apologetic. "I wasn't expecting you. May I offer you some tea? I'm afraid I haven't any biscuits."

"No worry, Mrs. Stillwell," Helen replied. "We didn't tell you we were coming, so we certainly cannot expect you to entertain us."

"No, no, of course not," Bessie replied, looking unconvinced. Her gaze shifted to Ellie, and she began to look even more nervous. Clearly she had heard that the earl had married, and was correctly guessing that Ellie was the new countess. Ellie decided that she must immediately put the woman at ease.

"How do you do, Mrs. Stillwell," she said. "I am the new Countess of Billington, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

Bessie dropped a quick curtsy and mumbled her greetings. Ellie wondered what sorts of experiences the tenants had had with the aristocracy for them to be so nervous around her. She smiled her warmest smile and said, "You are the first tenant I have visited. I shall have to rely on you for advice. I am certain you will know the best route for me to take today if I am to meet everyone."

Bessie warmed to the suggestion that she actually could advise a countess, and the rest of the interview proceeded just as nicely as Ellie could have hoped.

She learned that the Stillwell children were called Thom Junior, Billy, and Katey, that they were thinking of buying a new pig, and that there was a small leak in their roof, which Ellie promised to have fixed as soon as possible.

"Oh, but Thom can see to it. He's quite handy," Bessie said. Then she looked down. "We just haven't had the supplies."

Ellie sensed that times had been hard for the Stillwell family this past year. She knew that in Bellfield crops hadn't been as plentiful as usual, and she imagined that farmers had felt the same poor harvest here near Wycombe Abbey. "Then I shall make certain we send the proper supplies over," she said. "It is the very least we can do. No one should have to live with a leaky roof."

Bessie thanked her profusely, and by the end of the day Ellie had had such success with the rest of the tenants that Helen was saying, rather frequently, "I don't know how you do it. You have just met the tenants today, and already I think they would all lay down in front of a speeding carriage for you."

"It is simply a matter of making sure they realize that you are comfortable with them. Once they realize that, they will be comfortable with you."

Helen smiled. "I suppose Mrs. Smith could have little doubt that you were comfortable with her after you climbed up a ladder and inspected the bird's nest in her roof."

"I couldn't very well
not
look at it. If the birds had been pecking into her thatching, they could create serious damage. As it is, I think the nest should be moved to a nearby tree. I am not certain how to do it, though, without disrupting the chicks. I have heard that the mother bird will not tend to her young if a human has touched them."

Helen shook her head. "Where do you learn such things?"

"From my brother-in-law, actually," Ellie said with a wave of her hand. "He has always been quite scientific. Ah, here we are. The last cottage of the day."

"This is the home of Sally Evans," Helen said. "She has been widowed for nearly a year now."

"How sad," Ellie murmured. "How did her husband die?"

"A fever. It swept through the village last year, but his was the only death."

"Is Mrs. Evans able to support herself? Does she have children?"

"No children," Helen replied. "She had been married less than a year. And I am not certain how she makes ends meet. I think she will be looking for a new husband soon. She has a small vegetable garden and a few animals, but when her pigs are gone, I don't know what she'll do. Her husband was a blacksmith, and so she has no land on which to try to grow crops. I doubt she could manage it on her own even if she attempted it."

"Yes," Ellie agreed, lifting her hand to knock on the door, "farming is truly backbreaking work. Surely too much for one woman to do by herself. Or one man, for that matter."

Sally Evans was younger than Ellie had expected, and Ellie could instantly see the lines of grief etched on her pale face. Clearly the woman was still very much in mourning for her husband.

While Helen made the introductions, Ellie looked around the small cottage. It was neat and tidy, but there was a distracted air to it, as if Sally could manage the small tasks of life but couldn't quite tackle the larger ones yet. Everything was in its proper place, but there was a pile of mending as tall as Ellie's hip, and pieces of a broken chair stacked neatly in the corner, waiting to be fixed. The cottage was so cold that Ellie wondered if Sally had lit a fire in days.

During their interview it became apparent that Sally was just going through the motions of life. She and her husband had not been blessed with children, and now she was all alone in her grief.

While Ellie was pondering this, Helen suddenly shivered, and it was a toss up as to who was more embarrassed—Sally for the temperature of her cottage, or Helen for drawing attention to it.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Pallister," Sally said.

"No, do not worry, it is me, really. I think I am coming down with a touch of a cold, and—"

"You needn't make excuses," Sally interrupted, her face rather melancholy. "It is colder than death in here and we all know it. It is just that there is something wrong with the fireplace, and I haven't gotten around to having it fixed, and—"

"Why don't I have a look at it?" Ellie said, getting to her feet.

Helen looked suddenly and extremely panicked.

"I'm not going to try to fix it," Ellie said with an annoyed expression. "I never try to fix anything I don't know how to fix."

Helen grimaced in such a way that Ellie knew she was dying to bring up the toast incident.

"But I do know how to recognize what is wrong," Ellie continued. "Here, why doesn't one of you help me move this log?"

Sally got up immediately to help her, and a few seconds later Ellie was standing in the fireplace, looking up and seeing nothing. "It's dark as night in here. I say, what happens when you try to light a fire?"

"It spews black smoke everywhere," Sally replied, handing her a lantern.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ellie looked up and saw right away that the chimney was beyond filthy. "All it needs is a thorough cleaning, in my opinion. We shall send someone over immediately to sweep it out. I am sure the earl would agree with me that—"

"I would agree with you that what?" came an amused voice from the doorway.

Ellie froze. He was not going to be pleased to find her with her head up a chimney.

"Charles!" Helen exclaimed. "What a surprise! Come over here and see—"

"I am certain I heard my lovely wife's voice," he interrupted.

Sally replied, "She has been ever so helpful. My fireplace..."

"What?!"

Eliie winced and seriously considered crawling up.

"Eleanor," he said sharply, "remove yourself from the fireplace this instant."

She could see a foothold in the masonry. Just a step or two and she'd be out of sight.

"Eleanor!" Charles, not sounding amused.

"Charles, she was only—" Helen, sounding conciliatory.

"All right, I am coming after you." Charles again, sounding even less amused, although Ellie hadn't really thought that was possible.

"Your lordship! There really isn't room." Sally, sounding quite panicked.

"Eleanor, I will give you to the count of three." Charles again, sounding—well, Ellie didn't really see any point in contemplating how unamused he sounded.

She meant to get out and face the music, she really did. She wasn't naturally a coward, but when he said, "One," she froze, when he said, "Two," she stopped breathing, and if he ever said, "Three," she certainly didn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears.

Then she felt him squirming into the fireplace beside her, and she suddenly located her brain again, and yelled, "Charles! What the devil are you doing?"