Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate.
Standard disclaimer.
A month after Arthur and Will left Hampshire, a parcel addressed to Gwen, was delivered to the Priory.
With the Pendragon sisters gathered around her in the upstairs parlor, she opened the parcel and folded back layers of rustling paper.
They all exclaimed in admiration, as a cashmere shawl was revealed.
Such shawls were all the rage in London...hand-loomed in Persia and finished with a border of embroidered flowers and silk fringe.
The wefts of wool had been dyed in graduating colours, so that it produced the exquisite effect of a sunset, glowing red, melting into orange and gold.
"It's called ombré," Athena said reverently. "I've seen ribbons dyed that way. How fashionable!"
"It will look beautiful with your hair," Cassandra commented.
"But who sent it?" Bia asked. "And why?"
Picking up the note that had been enclosed in the parcel, Gwen read the boldly scrawled words,
As promised.
A. Pendragon.
Arthur had deliberately chosen a shawl, with the most vibrant colors imaginable. A garment that a widow could never, ever wear.
"I can't accept this," she said with a scowl. "It's from Lord Pendragon, and it is entirely too personal. Perhaps, if it were a handkerchief or a tin of sweets..."
"But he's a relation," Cassandra surprised her by pointing out. "And a shawl isn't all that personal, is it? One doesn't wear it next to the skin, after all."
"Think of it as a very large handkerchief," Athena suggested.
"Even if I decide to keep it," Gwen said, "I would have to dye it black."
The girls looked as aghast, as if she had suggested murdering someone. They all spoke at once.
"You mustn't..."
"Oh, but why?"
"To ruin such lovely colors..."
"How could I wear this as it is?" She demanded. "I'd be as flamboyant as a parrot. Can you imagine the gossip?"
"You can wear it at home," Bia interrupted. "No one will see."
"Do try it on," Athena urged.
Despite Gwen's refusal, the girls insisted on draping it over her shoulders, just to see how it looked.
"How beautiful," Cassandra said, beaming.
It was the most luxurious fabric Gwen had ever felt, the fleece soft and cushiony. She ran her hand across the rich hues, and sighed.
"I suppose, I can't ruin it with aniline dye," she muttered. "But I'm going to tell him that I did."
"You're going to lie?" Athena asked, her eyes wide. "That's not setting a very good example for us."
"He must be discouraged from sending unsuitable gifts," Gwen said.
"It's not his fault, if he doesn't know any better," Bia pointed out.
"He knows the rules," Gwen said darkly. "And he enjoys breaking them."
My Lord,
It was very kind of you to send the lovely gift, which is very useful now, that the weather has turned. I am pleased to relate, that the cashmere absorbed an application of black dye quite evenly, so that it is now appropriate for mourning.
Thank you for your thoughtfulness.
Lady Pendragon.
"You dyed it?" Arthur asked aloud, setting the note on his desk with a mixture of amusement and irritation.
Reaching for a silver pen-holder, he inserted a fresh nib and pulled a sheet of writing paper from a nearby stack.
That morning, he had already written a half-dozen missives to lawyers, his banker, and contractors, and had hired an outside agent, to analyze the estate's finances.
He grimaced at the sight of his ink-stained fingers.
The lemon-and-salt paste his valet had given him, wouldn't entirely remove the smudges.
And he was tired of writing, and even more so of numbers, so Gwen's letter was a welcome distraction.
The challenge could not go unanswered.
Staring down at the letter with a faint smile, he pondered the best way to annoy her.
Dipping the pen nib into the inkwell, he wrote,
Madam,
I am delighted to learn that you find the shawl useful, in these cooler days of autumn.
On that subject, I am writing to inform you of my recent decision, to donate all the black curtains that currently shroud the windows at Hampshire Priory, to a London charitable organization. Although you will regrettably no longer have use of the cloth, it will be made into winter coats for the poor, which I am sure you will agree, is a far nobler purpose. I am confident in your ability, to find other ways, of making the atmosphere at Hampshire Priory, appropriately grim and cheerless.
If I do not receive the curtains promptly, I will take it to mean, that you are eager for my assistance, in which case, I will be delighted to oblige you, by coming to Hampshire at once.
A. Pendragon.
Gwen's reply was delivered a week later, along with massive crates, containing the black curtains.
She was livid.
My Lord,
In your concern for the downtrodden masses, it appears to have escaped your mind, to inform me, that you had arranged for a battalion of workmen to invade Hampshire Priory. Even as I write, plumbers and carpenters wander freely throughout the house, tearing apart walls and floors and claiming that it is all by your leave.
The expense of plumbing is extravagant and unnecessary, not to mention, the noise and lack of decorum is unwelcome, especially in a house of mourning.
I insist that this work discontinue at once.
Lady Pendragon.
Madam,
Every man has his limits. Mine happen to be drawn at outdoor privies.
The plumbing will continue.
A. Pendragon.
My Lord,
With so many improvements, that are desperately needed on your lands, including repairs to laborers' cottages, farm buildings, drainage systems, and enclosures, one must ask, if your personal bodily comfort, really outweighs all other considerations.
Lady Pendragon.
Madam,
In reply to your question,
Yes.
A. Pendragon.
"Oh, how I despise him," Gwen cried, slamming the letter onto the library table.
Cassandra and the twins, who were poring over books of deportment and etiquette, all looked up at her quizzically.
"Pendragon," she explained with a scowl. "I informed him of the chaos he has caused, with all these workmen tramping up and down the staircases, and hammering and sawing at all hours of the day. But he doesn't give a fig for anyone else's comfort, save his own."
"I don't mind the noise, actually," Athena said. "It feels as if the house has come alive again."
"I'm looking forward to the indoor water closets," Bia confessed sheepishly.
"Don't tell me your loyalty has been bought for the price of a privy?" Gwen demanded.
"Not just one privy," Bia said. "One for every floor, including the servants."
Cassandra smiled at Gwen.
"It might be easier to tolerate a little inconvenience, if we keep reminding ourselves, of how pleasant it will be when it's finished."
The optimistic statement was punctuated by a series of thuds from downstairs, which caused the floor to rattle.
"A little inconvenience?" Gwen repeated with a snort. "It sounds as if the house is about to collapse."
"They're installing a boiler system," Bia said, flipping through a book. "It's a set of two large copper cylinders filled with water pipes, that are heated by gas burners. One never has to wait for the hot water...it comes at once, through expansion pipes, attached to the top of the boiler."
"Bia," Gwen asked suspiciously, "How do you know all that?"
"The master plumber explained it to me."
"Dear," Cassandra said gently, "It's not seemly for you to converse with a man, when you haven't been introduced. Especially, a laborer in our home."
"But Cassandra, he's old. He looks like Father Christmas."
"Age has nothing to do with it," Gwen said crisply. "Bia, you promised to abide by the rules."
"I do," she protested, looking chagrined. "I follow all the rules that I can remember."
"How is it, that you remember the details of a plumbing system, but not basic etiquette?"
"Because, plumbing is more interesting." Bia bent her head over a book on deportment, pretending to focus on a chapter titled, A Lady's Proper Demeanor.
Gwen contemplated the girl with concern.
After a fortnight of tutelage, Bia had made little headway, compared to Athena, who had learned far more in the same length of time.
Gwen had also noticed, that Athena was trying to conceal her own progress, to avoid making Bia look even worse.
It had become clear, that Bia was by far, the more in-disciplined of the pair.
Just then, Mrs. Winterbourne, the plump and genial housekeeper, came to inform them, that tea would soon be brought to the upstairs parlor.
"Hurrah!" Bia exclaimed, leaping from her chair. "I'm so famished, I could eat a carriage wheel." She was gone in a flash.
Sending Gwen an apologetic glance, Athena scampered after her sister.
Out of habit, Cassandra began to collect the books and papers, and sort them into stacks, whilst Gwen pushed the chairs back into place, at the library table.
"Has Bia always been so..." Gwen began, but paused in search of a diplomatic word.
"Yes," Cassandra said feelingly. "It's why none of the governesses lasted for long."
Gwen returned to her task, of pushing the chairs back into place.
"How am I to prepare her for the season, if I can't manage to keep her seated for more than five minutes?"
"I'm not certain it can be done."
"Athena is making excellent progress, but I'm not certain that Bia will be ready at the same time."
"True, but she would never go to a ball or soiree, if Bia wasn't with her," Cassandra said.
"But it's not fair for her to make such a sacrifice."
Cassandra's slight shoulders lifted in a graceful shrug.
"It's the way they've always been. When they were small, they spoke to each other in their own invented language. When one of them was disciplined, the other would insist on sharing her punishment. They hate to spend time apart."
Gwen sighed.
"They'll have to, if progress is to be made. I'll spend a few afternoons tutoring Bia in private. Would you be willing to study separately with Athena?"
"Yes, of course."
Cassandra organized the books, tucking in scraps of paper to mark the right place, before closing each one.
How careful she always was with books. They had been her companions, her entertainment, and her only window to the outside world, since forever.
And Gwen worried, that it would be difficult for her, to acclimate to the cynicism and sophistication of London.
"Will you want to take part in society, when the mourning period is over?" Gwen asked.
Cassandra paused, considering the question.
"I would like to be married someday," she admitted.
"What kind of husband do you wish for?" Gwen asked, with a teasing smile. "Handsome and tall? Dashing?"
"He doesn't have to be handsome or tall, as long as he's kind. I would be very happy if he loved books and music...and children, of course."
"I promise, we'll find a man like that for you," Gwen said, regarding her fondly. "You deserve nothing less, dear Cassandra."
"Why didn't you come to eat at the club?" Will asked, striding into the parlor of Arthur's terrace apartment.
Most of the rooms had been stripped of their furnishings.
The stylish modern terrace, had just been rented to an Italian diplomat, for the purpose of keeping his mistress.
"They served beefsteak and turnip mash," Will continued. "I've never known you to miss..." He stopped abruptly. "Why are you sitting on the desk? What the devil have you done with the chairs?"
Arthur, who had been sorting through a stack of mail, looked up with a scowl.
"I told you, I was moving to Mayfair."
"I didn't realize it would be so soon."
Pendragon House was a twelve-bedroom Jacobean residence, of stone and brick, looking, as if the manor at Hampshire Priory, had spawned a smaller version of itself.
Thankfully, it had been kept in better condition, than he had expected.
It was over-furnished, but comfortable.
The dark wood interior and deeply hued carpets, imparted a distinctly masculine ambiance.
Although Pendragon House was too large for one person, Arthur had no choice, but to take up residence there.
He had invited Will to live with him, but his brother had no desire to give up the comfort and privacy of his stylish terrace.
One couldn't blame him.
"You look rather grumpy," Will commented. "I know just the thing to cheer you up. Tonight, the fellows and I are going to the music hall, to see a trio of female contortionists, who are advertised as the 'boneless wonders.' They perform in tights and little scraps of gold cloth..."
"Thank you, but I can't."
"Boneless wonders," Will repeated, as if Arthur hadn't heard him correctly.
Not long ago, the offer might have been moderately tempting. Now, however, with the weight of accumulated worry, pressing on him, Arthur had no interest, in flexible showgirls.
He, Will and their friends, had seen similar performances countless times in the past...however, there was no novelty left in such shenanigans.
"Go and enjoy yourself," he said, "And tell me about them later." His gaze returned to the letter in his hand.
"It does no good to tell you about them," Will said, disgruntled. "You have to see them, or there's no point." He paused. "What is so fascinating about that letter? Who is it from?"
"Guinevere."
"Is there news from the estate?"
Arthur laughed shortly.
"No end of it. And it's all bad." He extended the letter to Will, who skimmed it quickly.
My Lord,
Today, I received a visit from Mr. Tottenham, who appears to be in failing health. It is my private opinion, that he is overwhelmed by the demands of his position, as your estate agent, and is no longer capable of carrying out his responsibilities to your satisfaction, or indeed to anyone's.
The issue he brought to my attention, concerns five of your lowland tenants, who were promised drainage improvements three years ago. The clay soil on their farms, is as thick and sticky as birdlime, and nearly impossible to plow. To my dismay, I have just learned, that the late Earl borrowed money from a private land improvement company, to perform the necessary work, which was never done. As a result, we have just been issued an order from the court of quarter session. Either we repay the loan immediately, or install proper drainage on the tenants' farms.
Please tell me if I may help. I am acquainted with the tenant families involved, and I would be willing to speak to them on your behalf.
Lady Pendragon.
"What's birdlime?" Will asked, handing back the letter.
"A glue made of holly bark. It's smeared on tree branches to catch birds. The moment they alight, they're permanently stuck."
Arthur understood exactly how they felt.
After a month of unrelenting work, he had barely scratched the surface, of Hampshire Priory's needs.
It would take years to acquire an adequate understanding of crop cultivation, land improvement, dairying, animal husbandry, forestry, accounting, investment, property law, and local politics.
For now, it was essential not to become mired in detail.
He was trying to think in broad sweeps, by finding ways, and patterns, that problems related to other problems.
Although he was beginning to understand, what needed to be accomplished, he didn't know precisely how it should be done.
He would have to hire men whom he could trust, to manage the situation on his terms, but it would take time to find them.
Tottenham was too old and stubbornly traditional, and so was Carleon, the land agent who worked for him.
Replacements were immediately necessary, but throughout England, there were only a handful of men, equipped for estate administration.
That very morning, Arthur had sunk into despair, brooding over his mistake, in taking on such a burden.
But then Gwen's letter had arrived, and that had been enough to bolster his resolve.
Anything was worth having her.
Anything.
He couldn't explain his obsession with her, even to himself. But it seemed as if, it had always been there, woven through the fabric of his being, waiting to be discovered.
"What will you do?" he heard Will ask.
"First I'll ask Tottenham what he knows about the borrowed funds. Since he probably won't have a satisfactory answer, I'll have to go through the account ledgers, to find out what happened. In either event, I'll tell the land steward to estimate what it will take, to make the land improvements."
"I don't envy you," Will said casually, and paused. His tone changed, sharpening slightly. "Nor do I understand you. Sell the damned estate, Arthur. You owe nothing to those people. Hampshire Priory isn't your birthright."
Arthur sent him a sardonic glance.
"Then how did I end up with it?"
"By bloody accident!"
"Regardless, it's mine. Now leave, before I flatten your skull with one of these ledgers."
But Will stood un-moving, pinning him with a baleful stare.
"Why is this happening? What has changed you?" he asked.
Exasperated, Arthur rubbed the corners of his eyes.
He hadn't slept well for weeks, and his cook-maid had brought him only burned bacon and weak tea for breakfast.
"Did you think, that we were going to go through life completely unaltered?" he asked. "That we would occupy ourselves with nothing but selfish pleasures and trivial amusements?"
"I was counting on it!" Will said.
"Well, the unexpected happened. Don't trouble yourself over it...I've asked nothing of you."
Will's aggression weathered down, to a core of resentment. He approached the desk, turned, and hoisted himself up with effort, to sit next to his brother.
"Maybe you should, you stupid bastard."
They sat side by side. In the hard-scoured silence, Arthur contemplated his brother's blurred and puffy countenance, the flesh beneath his chin loosening.
Alcohol had begun to crosshatch a pattern of threadlike capillaries, across his cheeks.
It was difficult to reconcile the disenchanted man beside him, with the laughing, high-spirited boy Will had once been.
It occurred to Arthur, that in his determination to save the estate, the tenants, servants, and Liam's sisters, he had overlooked the fact, that his own brother could do with some saving as well.
Will had always been so clever, that Arthur had assumed, he could take care of himself. But the cleverest people, sometimes caused the worst trouble for themselves.
It had seemed inevitable, that Arthur and Will, would turn out to be selfish wastrels.
After their father had died in a brawl, their mother had left them at boarding school, while she had traveled the continent.
She had fluttered from affair to affair, accumulating heartbreak in small fractures, that had eventually proved fatal.
And Arthur had never learned, whether she had died from illness or suicide, and he didn't want to know.
He and Will had been shuttled between schools and relations' homes, insisting on remaining together, no matter how often people tried to separate them.
As Arthur reflected on those troubled years, in which each, had been the other's only constant, he realized, that he had to include Will in his new life...even if he didn't want to be included.
The strength of their bond, would not allow one of them to move in any direction, without pulling the other inexorably along.
"I need your help, Will," he said quietly.
His brother took his time about replying.
"What would you have me do?"
"Go to Hampshire Priory."
"You would trust me around the cousins?" Will asked sullenly.
"I have no choice. Besides, you didn't seem particularly interested in any of them, when we were there."
"There's no sport in seducing innocents. Too easy." Will folded his arms across his chest. "What is the point of sending me to the Priory?"
"I need you to manage the tenants' drainage issues. Meet with each one individually. Find out what was promised, and what has to be done..."
"Absolutely not!"
"Why?"
"Because, that would require me to visit farms and discuss weather and livestock. As you know, I have no interest in animals, unless they're served with port wine sauce and a side of potatoes."
"Go to Hampshire," Arthur said curtly. "Meet with the farmers, listen to their problems, and if you can manage it, fake some empathy. Afterwards, I want a report and a list of recommendations on how to improve the estate."
Muttering in disgust, Will stood and tugged at his wrinkled waistcoat.
"My only recommendation for your estate," he said, as he left the room, "Is to get rid of it."
Stay safe!