A Lord for Olivia (18 page)

Then the stud farm must be managed, though Jason had always taken a lively interest in it. She hoped he might soon take it off her hands entirely, but for now she was too thrilled to see him forced to learn about the rest of the estate's functions to risk taking him away to consult upon its operation.

No silver lining is without a cloud,
Olivia thought as she contemplated her toes peeking out of the water. For the last month she had worked from dawn to dusk. Often she had not even dined with the family, just taking a simple collation
in her room and collapsing in a heap after a hot bath, as on this evening. The worst was over at last, though. With the sale today of the year's crop of beef cattle she could officially consider summer at an end.

It is just as well I have not had much time to spend around Edmund,
she thought, sinking lower in the water. Each time she was with him, she felt ever stronger the pull of attraction to him. She did not want to be attracted to him, not when he was in full pursuit of Mary Benson. Not only had Mr. Benson invited him to dine with them twice, he had invited the entire Ormhill family on another occasion, and Mary Benson had scarcely left Edmund's side that evening. When Aunt Lavinia had invited the Bensons in return, the same pattern repeated. Edmund and Mary's father were on excellent terms, so there was no need for Edmund to fear rejection.

I suppose the only reason he has not proposed to her as yet is that he truly wants to learn what I have to teach him before he leaves us.
Again she felt that twinge of guilt, and decided that she would have to begin his formal tutelage once more. Tomorrow would be a good time. Michaelmas was almost upon them, so she must prepare for quarter day, when she would pay all of her workers, collect rents, and pay her bills.

She also liked to use that occasion to evaluate the summer's profits and the general finances of the estates. Jason and Edmund had learned a great deal about the practical side of farming, but now they must deal with what she found to be the most tedious side: bookkeeping. To know what profits had been made, it was very important to keep extensive and accurate records, particularly when one was experimenting with different crops, methods of rotation and fertilization, and breeding of livestock.

Estate duties had not managed to distract her from her greatest worry: what to do about Corbright. From various shooting spots he had sent her a barrage of letters. She read each one nervously, often shaking her head and frowning at the excessive passion voiced in them. They both depressed and alarmed her, spurring her to increase her preparations to
go to London and seek a husband. Each time she had this thought, a fugitive part of her mind whispered Edmund's name. But she ruthlessly suppressed it.

At least Corbright had no inkling she planned to go to London instead of Scotland. Although Mr. Barteau had remained at his nephew's home for some time after Corbright's departure, and had called upon Lavinia almost every day, they had kept their London plans from him. Olivia thought her aunt enjoyed these visits far too much, and had been glad when the man announced he had some business interests to see to. He had said he eagerly looked forward to seeing them again when they came to London in the spring.
I hope to have a husband by then,
she thought.
But alas for Lavinia. And he
will
loose interest in her when his nephew realizes his schemes for getting control of the valley have come to naught.

Not the least of your sins against us, Franklin.
There had been another letter from Corbright this morning, plaintively asking her when she meant to join him in Scotland. She clenched her teeth at the memory of his florid protestations of love.
Never!
She rose from the rapidly cooling water, intending to send a note down to Jason and Edmund asking them to join her the next morning. The sooner her bookkeeping chores were out of the way, the sooner she could get away to London.

 

As she looked for them the next day, she mentally girded herself for the task ahead, for Jason had always hated anything to do with mathematics, and according to Corbright and Lord Heslington, Edmund had had little formal schooling. But she had put off their tutelage in this important aspect of estate management far too long. The late-afternoon light coming through the French doors was not sufficient to illuminate her office on such a dreary day, so she gave orders for the candles to be lit, then went to the billiards room, where Jason and Edmund were engaged in a desultory game.

“Oh, there you are, Liv,” Jason said. “Come to drag us to the schoolroom, eh?”

Olivia smiled. “Just so. Complete with chalk and slate.”

Lord Edmund put down his stick and donned his coat, which he had placed on the back of a chair for the game, depriving her of the stirring sight of his well-muscled body straining against the fabric of his shirt. “Lead on, fair instructress,” he said, smiling at her. She wondered if he felt any trepidation at having his mathematical skills on display. If so, he did not show it, but rather appeared quite at ease, even eager.

She soon found out why, when she began to explain how her bookkeeping system worked. He grasped the concept immediately, whereas Jason appeared completely at sea. She then showed them stacks of notes about crop yields, receipts, expenses, and so forth, and set them to recording sums in the appropriate ledgers. “Add each page up and then to the total carried forward,” she instructed. “Then place this number at the top of the next page.”

Jason groaned. “May I get foxed first, Livvy? Then I'll have them done in no time.”

She smiled fondly at him. “No, you may not. You may do sums speedily when drunk, but your handwriting becomes illegible.”

Jason grumbled, but set to work. She began some bookkeeping of her own while they did this, and was startled when Edmund brought her his work in about half the time she expected. She frowned over the ledger he handed to her.

“Didn't I write it neatly enough?” he asked anxiously. “I confess mine is not the easiest hand.”

“Nothing is wrong with your handwriting,” she assured him. She had no choice, she felt, but to add the columns herself, for it was information that she needed, as well as important for him to understand that this would be a crucial part of managing any estate.

Working on a piece of scrap paper, she found to her relief that her figure tallied with his at the end of the first page. She looked up, meaning to give him an encouraging smile, and surprised a look of fond amusement on his face that made her bristle and blush at the same time.

“What is so funny, Edmund? You have indeed added this correctly, but I do have to make sure, for—”

“Your lips move as you add,” he observed.

“And what of it?”

He held up his hands. “Pax, Olivia. I realize not everyone can add in his head as I can. And you look quite charming as you work on the sums.” Olivia felt her innards warm at the light in his eyes.

“Add them up in your head?” Jason broke into the moment with a wail.

Olivia cocked her head to one side. “Edmund is a mathematical prodigy, it seems.”

“I think you did not believe me capable of simple addition,” he responded. “Surely after all these weeks you have realized that my brother and Corbright overstated my lack of education.”

“I know you are an intelligent man,” she assured him, feeling her cheeks pinken at being caught doubting him.

“But not a literate one. Well, it is true enough that I learned little Latin and Greek, but that is because I did not want to, not that I couldn't. I simply didn't see the point. But my father made sure I knew how crucial mathematical skills were to farming. Simple arithmetic came easily to me, so he gave me bookkeeping tasks on the farm. In addition he taught me to survey land, which sharpened my interest in geometry and algebra, as well. It was a practical education, true, but one well suited to my temperament.”

Jason returned to the simple but to him stunning fact that Edmund could add in his head. “Can you also subtract without using paper?”

“Assuredly. And multiply and divide, if the sums are not too large.”

Jason blew out an indignant huff. “It isn't fair, Livvy. You've given us the same amount to do.”

Olivia laughed. “The important thing is not the amount, but the process.”

“Here,” Edmund said. “I'll trade you the receipts from the dairy for those from the stud. You'll be interested, no
doubt, to see how much profit your breeding operation is bringing in.”

“That is more like,” Jason said, gathering the items Edmund passed to him. He fell to work with a will, and Olivia looked at Edmund, letting her gratitude show in her eyes. He bowed to her briefly, and she blushed at the warmth of his smile. She left the two of them in the study working away while she went in search of her aunt.

It is good that I am going to London soon,
she thought.
I find Lord Edmund's smiles too attractive. That way lies calamity. Bad enough to fall in love with a fortune hunter—it would be even worse to do so when he seeks another woman's fortune.

That evening when they discussed plans for their imminent departure for London, Jason seemed surprisingly happy, looking forward to his own plans for improvement in the manly arts.

“I shall become an expert,” he said. “And Edmund, I don't think you ever miss a shot. We shall find some ignorant souls and wager upon it, eh?” Jason looked hopefully at his friend, who scowled.

“I've told you, I won't be going. Olivia has already agreed that I will see to matters here.”

Though none of them were surprised, Jason and Lavinia had not given up hope of convincing him. “Of course you will go,” Lavinia asserted. “We consider you one of the family. And Milton will be here, after all, to see to any crises at Beaumont, as he always does during the shooting season.”

Edmund smiled sweetly at her. “Thank you, Lavinia, for saying that. But I am
not
one of the family, and my purse won't lend itself to London life just now.”

“Besides, I expect Edmund has certain interests he would not care to abandon,” Olivia said with a sniff. “The Bensons, after all, never go to London before May.”

Edmund glared at her. “I did not know that, but I thank you for telling me. All the more reason to remain in Norvale.”

She stood abruptly. “You are very welcome, I am sure.
And now I have some work I must do.” She fairly ran from the room.

Edmund got to his feet and bowed politely to Aunt Lavinia. “If you will excuse me, a fortune hunter needs his rest. I believe I will turn in early.” He stalked from the room, leaving Lavinia and Jason staring unhappily after him.

 

“O
h, bother!” Jason bit his index finger and slumped low in his chair. “The game is over if Edmund doesn't go with us. Aunt Lavinia, I think he is perfect for her. They have the same interests, yet he can talk to her about crops and cattle without setting her back up. He would take much of the work from her shoulders without trying to dictate to her.”

Lavinia shook her head. “I fear it is a lost cause. She is utterly convinced he is a fortune hunter, and perhaps he is.”

“I don't believe that. This morning matters seemed quite promising. They were flirting, in fact, and he looked at her so fondly.”

“Well, if they are separated, nothing can come of it.” She sighed and bent once more to her sewing.

Jason stood and walked over to the window of the drawing room. “Wish it weren't the dark of the moon. I'd like to take Moonstone for a good gallop.” And then, in a flash, he saw what he had to do.

“I know how to get him to go to London with her.”

Lavinia turned to him, her needle suspended in midair.

“If I were ill or injured and couldn't go, who would escort you and Olivia to London, Aunt?”

“Ill or . . .” Lavinia's eyes widened. For an instant hope dawned, then faded. “You wouldn't let her go. You never do let her go anywhere without your escort.”

“And she scolds me endlessly for it. So I would relent this time, provided Edmund would escort her in my stead.”

“I doubt she'd agree. She'd stay with you if you were ill or injured.”

“Something minor, of course. And if she stayed here, she would be near Edmund. But much better if they went off to London. Away from the farm, away from Mary Benson, with leisure to spend together, perhaps they would discover their feelings for one another.”

When they presented his scheme to the reverend Mr. Ormhill the next morning, he glared at his nephew. “A broken ankle? That's a harebrained notion!”

“Not really broken, of course. A severe sprain. Perhaps a slight fracture. Mr. Plimm won't be sure.”

Brother and sister looked at one another. Higgens was the local apothecary, and since there was no nearby physician, he was generally consulted for illnesses. But for broken bones, people in the valley turned to Mr. Plimm, the blacksmith. His powerful yet strangely gentle hands had set many a broken limb.

“Plimm would never be able to lie. Or to grasp why he should do so,” Milton objected.

“Brother, brother. Can't you see? Plimm won't have to lie.”

“Trust me, Uncle. A few scratches here and there to show that I've taken a fall, and a good deal of moaning and groaning are all it will take. Plimm will believe it's at least a bad sprain, if not a slight fracture. I've never been one to complain, so Olivia won't suspect me of malingering.”

“That's true.” Lavinia beamed at her nephew.

“I shouldn't sanction a lie,” her brother said, frowning.

“To save Olivia from Corbright?” Lavinia demanded indignantly.

“Surely this is a white lie?” Jason suggested.

“Don't wheedle me, boy. I must think on this.”

Jason seemed to concede. “Doubtless you are right. Perhaps you can convince her she is needed here or something.” He winked at his aunt as he stood. “It is a beautiful day. I am going to take Moonstar for a nice long gallop.”

 

“Tell Cook to set the meal back half an hour, and then serve it whether my brother has returned or not.” Olivia's
brows knitted in concern. It was unlike Jason to be late for dinner, particularly when they were having guests. She had decided to return the hospitality of several families in Norvale with a large dinner party before they left for London. All were assembled in the drawing room awaiting Jason.

Lavinia and her brother exchanged worried glances. “Do you suppose . . .” she whispered.

He whispered back, “I hope he's just lost track of time.”

Just then Buckman opened the door with some appearance of haste. “Miss Olivia, would you step out here a moment?”

Her heart in her throat, Olivia excused herself and stepped into the entryway, followed by her aunt and uncle. Her head groom, Richard Cox, stood there, his seamed face working with emotion.

“Begging your pardon,” he said with a darting glance around at the trio. He tugged at his forelock. “We've had a message from the young master, you see. His horse came in without him a few minutes ago, with this tied to one of the stirrups.” He held out a torn piece of cloth, which Olivia took in trembling hands as her aunt and uncle drew near.

“Is that blood?” Lavinia fairly shrieked.

Olivia's mouth trembled. “It appears to be written in blood on a torn shirtsleeve.” She read the message aloud. “ ‘Robin Creek, foot hurt.' ”

“Have you started someone in that direction yet?” Edmund demanded of Cox, alerting Olivia that he, too, had joined them.

“Yes, m'lord. Sent two men out. Thought I orta let the family know, though.”

“Hitch up a wagon, get some rope, wood for a splint, and something to carry him on,” Olivia directed. “He's hurt badly, perhaps has broken something, to send this instead of riding home.”

Cox tugged at his forelock and started on his errand, closely followed by Edmund.

Olivia turned to her aunt. “Why don't you take our guests in to dinner?” she asked.

“But my dear—”

“It will keep everyone occupied. Don't explain just now. Simply say that something has come up. Uncle, will you act as host? I am going to go with the wagon.”

He nodded, his face grim. “Send word as soon as you know something?”

“I will.” She gave him a brief hug, then started toward the rear of the house. By the time she reached the stable, Edmund had mounted Storm. He saluted her briefly and rode off while she waited for a wagon to be hitched and loaded with equipment. With Richard Cox driving, they set off at a spanking pace toward the creek that ran to the north of the estate, a favorite fishing spot for Jason and Olivia.

As they approached the spinney through which the creek wound, Edmund emerged and shouted at them, waving them on. By the time they had drawn up as near the trees as possible, he came back out, carrying Jason. He staggered with the load, for a summer of hard work had added muscle to Jason's already considerable height.

Olivia's heart turned over at the sight of her brother lying there so limply in Edmund's arms. She jumped from the wagon and ran toward him. “Is he . . .”

“Barely conscious,” Edmund replied in a tight voice. “Get those sticks out and I'll stabilize his ankle before we go any farther.” He bent with his burden, laying Jason carefully on the ground. The boy groaned as he did so.

“Oh, Jason. What have you done to yourself?” Olivia sank to her knees beside him.

“Hullo, Livvy.” He turned a white face toward her, his eyes crinkled in pain. “Something stupid, if you must know. Went wading barefoot in the creek, and slipped in a hole. Wedged m'foot under a tree root.”

“Wading? It's almost October!” She shivered, for though it was a sunny day, it hardly seemed warm enough to be dabbling in the water. “You're soaked,” she exclaimed.

Edmund knelt on the other side. His clothes were wet where he had held Jason. “He was in the creek for some time, apparently.”

“Yup. Told you it was stupid.” Jason began shivering violently.

Mr. Cox stepped up, three sturdy sticks in his hand, along with some rope.

“Get the blankets,” she told him, taking the items from his hands and passing them to Edmund, who was examining Jason's left ankle and foot carefully.

She looked at his ankle and gasped. It was swollen, covered with scratches, and oozing blood. “Oh, Jason. You poor darling. Do you think it is broken, Edmund?”

“I can't tell for sure, of course, but I feel no protruding bones. It seems to be mostly bruised and cut.”

Through chattering teeth, Jason explained, “Had the devil of a time getting it out, and all the time water sluicing around me! Hurts like the devil, Edmund. Must be broken. And Moonstar just kept twirling around when I tried to pull myself up to mount. Fool horse!”

The blankets arrived, along with the door the men had taken from the stable to carry him on. Olivia tucked the warm woolens around her brother once he was positioned on the flat surface. Edmund wrapped the injured ankle in his own neckcloth, then fastened one of the sticks on either side for stability. He and the grooms then carried Jason to the wagon, Olivia alongside, holding his hand.

“S-stupid of me,” Jason muttered. “Hate to make such a fuss.”

“Hush, dearest. It is nothing to worry yourself about.” She climbed into the back of the wagon and rode home with her brother's head in her lap.

After a long, confusing evening that saw first Mr. Higgens and then Mr. Plimm examine Jason's ankle, and pronounce in turn that they did not know whether it was broken or not, Aunt Lavinia chased the others out of Jason's bedroom so she could clean and bandage her nephew's foot.

“Olivia, you look like death,” she announced firmly, almost pushing her niece out the door. “Have Cook prepare a tisane for you, and get some rest. And Edmund, go change. You'll catch your death in those wet clothes.”

Uncle Milton looked on, his face grim, as the bandaging went forward. Once Olivia was gone, he said to his nephew, “Had to go ahead and do it, didn't you, sprout?”

“You'd have said no, Uncle. Or if you didn't, your conscience would have bothered you forever.”

“Took it all on your own soul. Don't you know morals are like muscles? Use them and they'll grow strong. Abandon them and they'll weaken from disuse. Then when the important moral decisions come along, you'll have no muscles to use to resist evil.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Jason said, then winced at his aunt's ministrations.

“You're well served for your wickedness, you know,” Milton barked.

Jason responded between clenched teeth, “If you mean my ankle is truly injured now, you have the right of it.”

“You overdid it, I think,” Lavinia agreed, straightening from spreading a healing unguent on his bruised, torn flesh.

“Not on purpose. Just meant to scrape it up a bit. I really did get it wedged under there. As you say, Uncle, I am well served. But now the trick is getting matters to fall out as we intended.”

“Don't say we, you varmint. You are on your own!”

“You aren't going to tell?” Jason looked anxiously at his uncle's severe face.

“He feels feverish to me, Milton. What do you think?”

Milton laid his hand against Jason's cheek. “Don't you get sick on us and die, you wretch! I'll never forgive you.”

Jason smiled ruefully. “Nor would I forgive myself.” He grabbed his uncle's wrist. “Say you won't tell, please?”

“No point in that now. It's done. As you say, the trick will be to get Olivia to leave you, especially if you come down with an ague.”

“She won't, if he does that. I'm going to have some willow-bark tea sent up.” Lavinia stepped to the door to summon Jason's anxious valet.

 

Once outside Jason's door, Olivia felt a mild attack of the vapors coming on, the events of the day having finally taken their toll on her nerves. She had been forced to bear up while politely dealing with her guests' solicitousness when they brought Jason home. Mary Benson had fallen into near
hysteria. It was Lord Edmund she required to calm her. Olivia had watched this blatant flirtation irritably, telling herself she only wanted to be done with the girl and all the other guests so she could go to her brother.

When at last all of them had left, she had hurried upstairs to watch first Mr. Higgens and then Mr. Plimm twisting and turning and handling Jason's ankle over his loud objections, until she thought she would scream. She had been almost relieved when Aunt Lavinia insisted on doing the treatment and bandaging.

Instead of going to her room and sending for a tisane, as Lavinia had suggested, she went to the drawing room, intent upon a glass of brandy. There she found Edmund pacing back and forth. He poured her brandy while questioning her about Jason's condition, and stood next to her, a concerned frown on his face, as she lifted the glass to her lips with shaking hands.

When the fiery liquid rushed through her veins, she found her shakes replaced by weakness that made her knees buckle, and Edmund helped her to a sofa, then sat down beside her, chafing her cold hands as she babbled.

“I've never seen Jason take on so. Edmund, you've never seen him injured, so perhaps you think he's overdramatizing.”

“That is not my assessment of him. I expect that ankle hurts like the devil.”

“I am sure it has a crack in it, as Mr. Plimm said might be the case. I am just glad he could not mount his horse and ride home. He might have made it worse. But, oh! He shook so. And looked so pale. What if he comes down with a fever? Just last year the Melbys' boy was carried off within a day of a fever caught after a wetting.”