Page 38 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
Arabella dropped her eyes to the table, unable to meet Marcus’s eye. She could feel Lady Wellwood looking at her, willing her not to slip up and say something that might expose the truth.
“If you venture into the paddock on the northern side of the estate,” Margaret spoke slowly and with a hoarseness to her voice, “have a look at the fence there. See if you can’t request the groundsman to fix it for us. Thomas tells us the wooden posts were pulled directly from the ground in the storms, and the fence has entirely fallen to the ground.”
“There have been no storms!” Marcus protested.
“The storms last winter …” Charlotte reminded him, with a sweet smile.
“Balderdash! If a fence had fallen last winter, I should most certainly have fixed it before now!”
All three ladies looked down, occupying themselves with their breakfast items, wary of igniting Marcus’s temper, whilst all silently acknowledging that there were, in fact,manyunkempt areas of the estate that Marcus had neglected to rectify for several years.
Margaret looked up at Marcus and watched him as he poured a cup of hot chocolate. Arabella glanced at Margaret and recognized the pity in her eyes.Here is a mother who loves her son, Arabella thought sadly.She has already lost so much, and he is, essentially, all she has left. She is watching him disintegrate in front of her very eyes.
Arabella felt so sad looking at Margaret with her maternal gaze upon her son that she had to look away.
Marcus picked up his toast, with the melting butter stacked on top; Arabella noticed how his hands were trembling.
“I shall walk the estate with our groundsman and point out all the areas I believe need some maintenance, Mother. I shall do it today. Will that satisfy your anxiety?” he asked with a sweet smile.
“Oh, it would. Thank you, Marcus,” Margaret seemed pleased with this suggestion and placed her napkin contentedly in her lap.
Marcus’s voice took on a new tone. “Of course, if we employ men to fix the broken things, this all costs money!” He gesticulated wildly, and splatters of butter flew off his toast that he waved about, landing splodges of yellow oil onto the white table linen.
“I will need to justify the costs, and I had not accounted for putting my finances into the land this quarter!” He sounded vaguely panicked.
Arabella watched him intently, wary of speaking as she did not wish to fuel any speculation. Since her understanding of Alexander’s exile, she had begun observing situations and behaviours with scepticism.
Marcus had a chaotic mind, and the financial side of managing the estate caused him some agitation. She found herself collecting clues to feed back to Alexander.Perhaps this is some way I can be of help, she considered.Bring information from inside the house to Alexander, Thomas, and Captain Morrison.
“Are you concerned for the estate, Marcus?” Margaret’s voice wobbled as she asked.
Marcus laughed too sharply, throwing his head back. “Of course not, Mother! The Corn Laws are working marvellously in our favour!”
“I do so hope there will be no more riots!” Charlotte mused. “Bread or Bloodthey were calling it, isn’t that right, Lord Wellwood?”
Marcus seemed either not to hear Charlotte or to avoid her question purposefully.
“Yes, the grain is being sold on at a premium, so we need not worry!” Marcus grinned, displaying all his front teeth.
“That is good, dear,” Margaret placated him, looking away.
Marcus stood very suddenly, pushing back his chair from the table. He placed his untouched toast on the small plate in front of him.
“I must leave! I have urgent business to attend to!” With that, he turned and departed from the breakfast room.
The three ladies sat in silence for a moment before Charlotte exclaimed, “But he didn’t eat a thing!” They all looked at the buttery toast sitting where the earl should be.
***
Before Arabella could lift the needle to her embroidery, in the morning room, Charlotte caught her elbow.
“Sister, a word if I may …” Charlotte walked Arabella to the window seat, which overlooked the vast sweeping lawn, and gestured for her to take a seat beside her.
Arabella feared the intimacy, knowing Charlotte was likely to probe about the current strange scenario, but dutifully sat beside her sister, clasping her hands in her lap.
Their skirts nestled next to each other, and Arabella distracted her thoughts with how the blue of her dress complemented the yellow of Charlotte’s skirts, to calm her thoughts and steady her breathing.
“You are distressed this morning once again,” Charlotte observed.
