Page 22 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
For the next hour, he buried himself in the dusty ledgers, determined to get a feel for how the place was run, with or without his brother’s help. When the knock came at the door it was a welcome distraction. For a moment he had a hope that it was the auburn-haired lass with a tray, for he was becoming quite famished and a look at those amber eyes would do his heart good.
But it was not Miss Price who graced his doorway, nor any offering of food. Instead, his brother Own stood there, glowering in a seething fury. He thundered into the room, not waiting upon an invitation and dropped his hands down upon the desk, leaning forward upon them until his face was a scant foot from that of his startled brother’s.
“What. Have. You. Done.”
It was not so much a question as a statement. Jacob set down his quill and leaned back in his chair, relaxed and calm as he stared up into the purpled face that bespoke of a mighty rage. “Good morning, Owen. It is always a pleasure to enjoy your company. How might I be of service this morning?”
The was nothing obsequious in his response, rather he spoke with a sort of evenness to his tone that did not allow for argument.
Owen was in no mood for pleasantries. His nostrils flared as he sucked in a massive breath before answering. “Did you or did you not send a group of workmen to fix the wall in the south field today?”
“I did. I saw on our tour the other day the necessity of it. It seemed there were cattle grazing in the field beyond.” Jacob shrugged and picked up his quill again. “Was there anything else? I am quite busy. There seems to be some discrepancy regarding the number of cheeses listed as being sold in the last three years. I am wondering whether there are needed repairs to the dairy, to prevent such high loss. Is the cheese room secure?”
“The cheese room.” Owen straightened with obvious effort. “Walls and cheeses. You come in here thinking that you can manage the estate as you would a ship, with high-handed orders, when you clearly have no idea how things are done here!”
“Then perhaps you should take the time to teach me, rather than to leave me with a pile of musty books as the sole means of explanation as to the estate,” Jacob replied, unable to keep the frustration from his voice.
Owen shoved a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “You could try asking. When you were told to leave the wall alone, what did the man say to you?”
“To talk to you—”
“Did you? Did you bother to come find me?” Owen threw up his hands. “Did you even think to ask where I was? No, of course not. My great and mighty brother had to prove his mettle by overriding my own orders, thinking he knew better.” He slammed his hands down on the desk again. “I will have you know that field was left open for a reason!”
Jacob felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It was?”
“The field is fallow. We were allowing the cattle to graze over yonder that they might fertilize the field and so bring the soil back for planting next year. Do ye understand the first thing about animal husbandry or crop rotation?”
For the life of him, he could not answer. He remembered reading something, while in school, in the Old Testament about letting a field lie fallow but he could not remember the details now. And that was ancient tradition. Old laws that were outdated in this modern age.
“Of course you do not. Any more than you knew that I needed those men today to dig a channel before the next rain so that the chicken house is not flooded again.” Owen’s hands clenched into fists. “I canna get a single man of them to come and work that project, though I tell you for certain it shall rain tomorrow. Think about that when ye have no eggs for your breakfast!”
With that, Owen rose and moved toward the door where he paused to look at his brother with open contempt. “As for your precious cheese, you might ask yourself how many cattle we had, and how much milk they were giving, before you think to rebuild the dairy. We had a spate of sickness that greatly reduced the herd. You will find less butter and cream in the entries as well, if you keep reading your precious ledgers.”
Jacob jumped to his feet. “Why do you criticize when it is the teacher himself that is at fault? You take me for a tour of the estate and set me at these books and leave me alone here. How do you expect me to take command over Ravencliff when you give me no guidance at all?”
Owen paused with his hand upon the door. “Why would it be necessary? Attend to your guests, Your Grace. Enjoy your grand ball. You have an overseer to the estate. Leave it at that. You have made it perfectly clear in the past that this was not your home, nor would it ever become so. There is no profit in spending time teaching a man who has no interest in staying.”
“I am the Duke, and Ravencliff is my estate. Not yours,” Jacob said quietly. “I am here with every intention of staying here. It is what Father wanted.”
“Father was a fool!” Owen reeled around to face him fully. “It was I who ran the estate for years as his health declined. “You left the family. You were not here!”
“Custom dictates—” Jacob began.
“Custom. But not law. A younger son might inherit.” Owen swore half under his breath. “There is no point in discussing the matter further. What is done is done. But I will not see you run this estate into the ground after everything I have put in place to make Ravencliff the largest estate in Northern Ireland. You will leave the running of it to me, or you will force me to take stronger measures.”
With that Owen left, slamming the door behind him hard enough to cause the ornaments scattered about the room to rattle upon their shelves.
Jacob stared at the closed door for a long time, feeling strangely hot and cold at the same time. For a moment he could not breathe, nor could he escape the look of absolute hatred and contempt in his brother’s eyes.
When he moved, it was to the glass decanter upon the sideboard where he poured himself a strong drink with hands that trembled.
It took several drinks before they stopped shaking altogether.
Chapter 16
The Duke would betray her. Of that she had no doubt.
Alicia darted a quick glance behind her, half expecting to see pursuers quickly closing in on her. The message had come for her that morning, to meet her father here at sunset. Now, as the lengthening shadows crept across the lawn, she could not help but think how foolish this errand was, and what a great chance she was taking in coming out here so late.
