Trials of Artemis (21 page)

Jack
finally recovered enough to say his name.
"Gideon."

He
looked down at her, his face still flushed and damp from their bed sport. He
seemed afraid of what she was going to say. Vulnerable. Her strong, domineering
husband looked terribly, terribly vulnerable.

She
wriggled under him. "We should get dressed soon if we hope to make tea at
the vicar's."

That
hadn't been what he was afraid of her saying because he laughed and kissed her
shoulder. "We can't show up to tea naked at the vicar's?"

"No,
I'm thinking that would court the wrong image for me as your new
countess."

"I
don't know, I like my naked countess."

"But
you don't like to share your naked countess with other men."

That
stopped him short in his teasing. "No, I don't."

She
wriggled again. "Then let me out of this bed so that I can dress."

"In
a moment." He smoothed her hair back from her face with an earnest
concentration that reminded her of the expression he'd had at the wedding when
sliding the ring onto her finger. Serious, yet somehow sweet. He cupped her
face in his hands and studied her as though memorizing all the lines and curves
of her features. At long last he kissed the tip of her nose and rolled off of
her to begin gathering his clothing from the floor.

"An
earl that picks up after himself? What a novel concept."

He
smiled at her a bit sheepishly, as though she had caught him doing something
vaguely naughty. How interesting that her husband could stand in that spot
shamelessly naked with the confidence of Ares, but question why he was cleaning
up after himself and he looked embarrassed.

"I
thought you wanted to get dressed," he complained.

"I
do," she said, stretching languidly on the bed. "But I'll need to
ring for Lara and assumed you wouldn't want her to see you parading naked
around the room."

"Indeed."
With that he departed and Jack summoned her maid to prepare for the trip to the
vicarage. Checking her mantle clock she realized they would need to hurry.

As
Gideon guided their phaeton he looked over at his wife. She had been quiet for
most of the trip, absorbed in the landscape. Kent was much different from where
she grew up in Derbyshire. Kellington's lands ran to cliffs facing the Channel
on the east side and to marshlands at the north. He had mostly taken her
through the rolling Downs on their morning rides. This trip to the vicar's had
taken them along the marsh with its oddly fetid yet sweet smell and milling
sheep. Wildflowers grew along the roadway and throughout the marsh grasses,
bobbing in the sea breeze. She glanced over at him and seeing him watch her she
smiled. It caught at him, how dazzling she was in her pale blue dress and straw
bonnet in the sunshine. He leaned down to kiss her and she laughed.

He
gave her a mock frown. "That strikes you as funny somehow?"

She
wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned into him. "You're just making
me giddy again, Giddy."

He
realized he was indulging in a self-satisfied smile and decided it didn't
matter with no one here to see it. Marriage was proving to be nothing at all
what he had expected. Although much of that, he knew, was due to how unique his
wife happened to be. If he had been trapped in marriage with one of the
brainless twits that made up the majority of the Marriage Mart he would have
already packed her off to the estate of her choosing. Worse yet, what if it had
been one of those scheming materialistic girls who ran through pin money like
water and charged outrageous clothing bills to their husbands. Which reminded
him that his wife had something of a limited wardrobe and hadn't requested any
clothing allowance.

"I
should take you shopping," he said.

She
sat up at that. "Whatever for?"

"Clothing,
for one. I'm sure you didn't have time to assemble a trousseau and I should
have seen to that before now."

"It's
a small matter. We can wait until we're back in London."

Neither
brainless nor materialistic, his wife.

"There
is one thing, though," she said, plucking at his sleeve absently.

"What's
that?"

"I
was hoping... That is to say, if it wouldn't be too expensive."

"Out
with it. Are we back to the rings and diamond bracelets again?"

She
laughed. "No. I was hoping that perhaps we could buy Tyche, my horse, from
my father."

"He
won't just give it to you?"

Her
brows furrowed. "He wants to, but I've told him to sell her."

"Well
if you want her then why did --" He broke off as he realized what her
words hinted at. The Walters were not in a position to carelessly give away
something as precious as prime horseflesh. And their daughter knew it.

"How
long have you had Tyche?"

That
question relaxed her. "Oh, forever. She was out of Charlie's Black
Bitterroot and Dancing Fool, one of his early breeding attempts. He gave her to
me for my tenth birthday but she had to grow up and be trained. I didn't ride
her until I was twelve."

Having
his daughter insist on selling her beloved horse to help fill the family
coffers was probably causing Walters no small amount of shame and
disappointment. "I'll talk to your father," Gideon said. "I'm
sure we can arrive at an agreement."

She
hugged on his arm. "Thank you, Giddy, that would mean the world to
me."

His
wife was oddly easy to please. To have her horse, to help her family, to have
breakfast together with him in the morning. Perhaps if someone had explained
what marriage could truly be like he wouldn't have avoided it all this time.
Although it couldn't have been like this with anyone other than the woman
beside him.

For
the rest of the ride to the vicarage Gideon told her stories about the swampy
lands around them. About the dangers that lurked in the murky waters of the
marsh, and the smugglers known as owlers who had run in roughshod gangs over
the lands in past centuries. That made him think again about the rumors he had
heard in London. Perhaps he would have Philip make some inquiries while they
were here, just to ensure that no one on his lands was involved in the
smuggling.

He
found they arrived at the vicarage much more quickly than he might have hoped.
He would have been happy if the afternoon of sunshine, old stories, and his
adoring wife could have lasted forever.

Jack's
first impression of the stately old vicarage was that it certainly looked too
small to house a family of nine in addition to the vicar's family. They were
expected and the vicar himself came out to greet them. She assumed her
considerate husband had sent a footman over to give the families time to
prepare.

The
vicar was a spare man, a few inches short of Jack's own height, with sparse
blonde hair and a ready smile. He greeted his new countess with the proper mix
of enthusiasm and decorum and bowed them into his home where his matronly wife
greeted them at the door. They repaired to the sitting room where the Hobbes
were waiting, all scrubbed clean and in what was probably the finest of their
poor clothes. The youngest was still a babe in arms and Mrs. Hobbes clutched
the child to her bosom as she made her awkward curtsy. The woman was thin to
the point of sharpness, no doubt from skipping meals to feed the young ones.
All of the children aside from the babe curtsied and bowed, looking quite
overwhelmed to be in the presence of both an earl and his countess. The seating
was limited and the youngest children sat on the floor at their mother's feet,
clutching at her skirts.

As
the vicar's wife, Mrs. Bycroft, served tea to everyone, Jack began to feel the
stirrings of panic. The simple pleasantries were at an end and soon, as the highest-ranking
female in the room, she would be expected to direct the conversation. She wished
fervently that she were someone other than herself. Either of the other
Haberdashers would do splendidly in this situation, although it failed her
imagination to guess exactly what they would do. If she knew then she could at
least try to emulate them. As the last little child was handed a plate with a
cake, which was of course quite pleasing to the tyke, Jack knew that her
opportunities for stalling were at an end.

"Thank
you for hosting us, Vicar and Mrs. Bycroft. And eversomuch for opening your
home to the Hobbes during this difficult time."

"It's
the Lord's work," Vicar Bycroft volunteered cheerfully, "we're happy
to do it."

Mrs.
Hobbes flushed and rocked the baby on her shoulder, obviously embarrassed to be
in this situation. Jack turned her attention to the woman. "Mrs. Hobbes, I'm
sorry to hear of the loss of your husband last year. You must be very proud of
the efforts your sons put into keeping the farm going all this time."

"And
me," the oldest girl said.

"Keep
civil, Emmy," her mother admonished, flushing an almost alarming shade of
scarlet.

"Oh,"
said Jack to the rebellious looking Emmy, "you also worked the
fields?"

The
girl nodded, not wanting to test the stern eye her mother had bent on her by
speaking again.

"Hm,"
Jack said. "With such a large farm I'm sure that everyone had chores to
do. Perhaps you could each tell me one thing you did on the farm."

Between
the cake and opportunity to speak the children were well entertained. Each
child did indeed have at least one chore to report, down to the seventh, who at
no more than three years old was responsible for the sweeping.

"Well,
your mother must be proud of all of you then," Jack said, which prompted
Mrs. Hobbes to speak.

"Indeed
I am," the thin mother replied and for a moment Jack glimpsed the woman as
she must have been before her husband died. Proud, confident, and by the sound
of her voice a bit more educated than most country folk. Her four oldest
children sat quietly on the settee next to her, hands folded in laps. The three
youngest other than the babe sat at her feet with a bit less decorum and sucked
on fingers or twiddled hair. Jack knew with a certainty that it would be a
mistake to make this mother work and have the oldest daughter care for the
children. The heart would go out of this family as sure as anything.

As
Travis, the oldest boy, had spoken of caring for the draft horses Jack asked
him, "Do you like horses, then?"

"Yes,
my lady, more than anything."

His
brother Gordon, next to him, rolled his eyes a bit. Since Gordon had spoken
about how he planned the planting schedule Jack asked him, "Why did they
look to you to plan out the planting?"

He
blinked and answered as though it were obvious, "I'm the only one who
understands it."

"Oh?
What does one need to understand?"

He
furrowed his young brow as though she were trying to ask him a trick question.
"Crop rotations, weather patterns, and potential sales returns in the
market for the crops that can be grown."

Jack
could scarce believe the child talking to her was twelve years old. His grasp
of the complexities of a farming life obviously far exceeded her own.

"My
only regret," he admitted, "was not knowing how much work a hundred
acres of grain could be."

"And
you couldn't predict the insects," Emmy said loyally. Travis nodded sad agreement.

After
another fifteen minutes of pleasantries the earl and countess took their leave
of the Bycrofts and Hobbes.

Once
the phaeton had drawn away from the vicarage some distance Jack turned to
Gideon. "Is there a cottage somewhere on our lands where Mrs. Hobbes could
live?"

"Even
if there were she couldn't afford the rents."

"She
can if we take her four oldest into service at Kellington."

Gideon
raised a brow at her. "Oh? And what do you suggest they can do?"

"Travis
for the stables and perhaps as a tiger. Mary for the kitchens. Did you see how
proud she was of cooking for the family?"

"And
the other two?"

"Well,
you've been complaining that Philip's greatest weakness is not understanding
farming and he can’t help the farmers learn the latest agricultural
innovations. Gordon seems like he would be a natural to learn and share changes
that could make the land more productive."

Gideon
mulled this over. "His father was well-respected among the men so his name
could go a long way in this part of the country. But he's only a twelve year
old boy so it would be a considerable investment of time and education."

"And
meanwhile he can serve as Philip's assistant, traveling to the farms and
assessing how the land is currently used. Certainly his observations would be
superior to Philip's who grew up inside the walls of Kellington."

"And
for the oldest daughter?"

Jack
smiled. "She will be my companion."