Forever Phoebe by Chalon Linton
Chapter 14
Miss Jamison was pleased. That was all that mattered. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Her brothers needed to be pleased as well. All three of them. The day after the Gladstones had scorched Miss Jamison’s gown, Franklin had insisted Mrs. Gladstone retrieve the necessary measurements to order a replacement. He’d paid extra to rush the order, for he believed Miss Jamison would blame him if she could not ride with her brothers due to a lack of appropriate attire.
Her note of gratitude was simple:
Thank you. It is perfect.
—Miss J
Franklin had tucked it into the drawer of his night table.
He kept busy at the estate. Mr. Gladstone had completed the repair on the window, and it was surprisingly well done. Roger was tasked with purging the tack room, and Franklin met with the gardener—ironically, Mr. Bloom—and discussed his hopes for the grounds. Mr. Sunter had written and accepted the position of steward. He was due to arrive the following week. Slowly, a transformation was taking place.
The day prior, Franklin had returned from a ride with Chipper to find Gladstone in the stables, standing in the stall with one of the carriage horses, speaking low, and running his hand over the brown gelding’s neck. The nameplate on the stall read, Asher. Roger had stood with his arms propped on the stall door and watched Gladstone whisper to the horse.
“What’s this?” Franklin had asked.
“When I fed Asher this morning, I noticed he wasn’t doing so good. Mr. Gladstone, here, trained him. Thought he might be able to help.”
Franklin had stood with Roger, watching Gladstone coax the horse to drink some medicine, an herbal remedy Gladstone recommended. This morning, Franklin had inquired about Asher, and Gladstone explained that he had administered the medicine a second time. After an early supper, Franklin wandered outside and observed Gladstone leading the horse to the pasture. When the man removed the halter, Asher sprinted toward the other horses in the field. Gladstone watched the horse frolic away and stood with a content smile on his face.
Franklin walked to the fence and leaned forward. “Gladstone,” he called, and the man turned. “I’ve need of a stablemaster. You’ve a way with the horses. What say you?”
Gladstone’s smile widened, filling his face. “I’d be mighty happy to do it, sir.”
Franklin gave a single nod. It appeared his problem was solved. Gladstone turned back to the field, and Franklin returned to the house.
Mr. Thurston and his wife were due the following morning, as were the girls Miss Jamison and Miss Vane had appointed. Franklin hoped the Thurstons would arrive first. He knew he needed the maids of all work but was not sure how to best employ them. That was the first task he would assign Mrs. Thurston.
Mrs. Gladstone had aired the main drawing room and was busy preparing a large lunch when the Thurstons pulled their cart around to the servants’ entrance. Franklin directed them to their quarters and helped unload their sparse belongings. The girls began arriving shortly thereafter. Mrs. Gladstone directed them to the table at the kitchen, where Mrs. Thurston began making assignments. Franklin led Thurston to the study and reviewed the state of affairs as well as what would be required of the man.
“I’m afraid Ravencrest is not as fashionable as Berksley,” Franklin said.
“Not yet.” Thurston grinned. “However, I think I shall like my employer decidedly more.”
Franklin laughed a little and shook his head. “I’ve grand plans, Thurston. Are you on board?”
“Yes, sir.”
Franklin called for Gladstone and Roger, and together the men moved and arranged furniture to accommodate the new maids. Ravencrest finally began to bustle like a proper household. Franklin hoped several of the new girls were assigned to help Mrs. Gladstone in the kitchen. He was famished and wanted to steal a bite to eat.
He snatched a warm tart and dashed out the kitchen door to eat it in the sunshine. He stood contemplating how to steal another when he spied Miss Jamison and Miss Vane riding down the lane. A sturdy-looking groom followed behind them.
Franklin brushed off his hands and walked to greet them. He admired how well Miss Jamison looked in her new riding habit. The color suited her perfectly, and a bloom of pride swelled inside his chest. When the groom assisted Miss Vane from her saddle, Franklin did not hesitate to step up to Miss Jamison and offer to lift her down. She placed her hands upon his shoulders, and her fingers clutched tight the moment Franklin set his hands on her waist. He held his breath as he lowered her to the ground. When her boots came to rest on the dirt, her grip lessened, but she did not drop her hands. Her posture froze; it seemed she, too, did not breathe.
Franklin finally inhaled and whispered her name. “Miss Jamison . . .” He released his hold and swallowed.
“La!” Miss Vane called and walked over to meet them. “Phoebe spoke true. The view atop this rise is unparalleled.”
Miss Jamison’s eyes darted to Franklin’s, and she swiftly pulled her hands from his shoulders before stepping back and clasping her hands behind her. Her cheeks tinged red. Oddly enough, Franklin was delighted to know he could cause any sort of discomfiture in the brazen woman before him.
He fought hard to repress a smile and bowed to the women. “Thank you for your kind words, Miss Vane. For all that it is lacking, Ravencrest does boast a fine view.”
Miss Vane looked out over the view once more and inhaled deeply. Then she turned, and with a tilt of her head and a finger pressed to her chin, she stood evaluating the house. “Come, now, Mr. Everly, Ravencrest does not look as derelict as you would have me believe. Once a full staff is hired, it shall not take long to set the estate to rights.” She straightened and turned to Miss Jamison. “Do you not agree, Phoebe?”
Miss Jamison’s complexion now had a lovely rosy glow. Her full, freckled cheeks pushed up in a smile. “Ravencrest has great potential. Under Mr. Everly’s care, I have no doubt it will prosper.”
A swelling of hope anchored within Franklin’s chest. “The girls you appointed arrived this morning. I owe you both a great deal of gratitude.”
“Yes, yes.” Miss Vane waved away the sentiment. “The task was merely preparation for our futures. Surely, our husbands will depend upon us to run a proper household.” Miss Vane slipped her arm through Miss Jamison’s, and at the sound of approaching hoofbeats, the party turned.
“Everly!” Peter held up a hand.
Mason rode beside him.
Franklin sucked in a deep breath. Ravencrest was hardly fit to entertain, yet his acquaintances had decided to descend upon him in droves. Peter quickly jumped off his horse and led the animal to where they stood. Mason stopped his own mount several feet away and alighted with more decorum.
“Peter,” Miss Jamison began, “I told you at breakfast that Miss Vane and I planned to call at Ravencrest. Why did you not mention your destination mirrored mine? We could have ridden together, and I would not have needed to drag poor Paul along.”
“And deny you the privilege of Miss Vane’s company?” Peter made an extravagant bow to Miss Vane, who giggled and placed her fingers over her lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Roger arrived to tend to the men’s horses. Peter handed off the reins, and once Mason’s horse was seen to, he joined the group as well.
“Truthfully, I did not plan to call at Ravencrest. It was Mason’s idea,” Peter said. “When I mentioned you were visiting our neighbor, Mason suggested we join you.”
Mason wore an indecipherable, stony mask, but Miss Jamison lifted her eyes to his. “You came because we were here?” she asked. Her question was innocent enough, but Franklin could not dismiss the hopeful lilt in her tone.
Mason cleared his throat and changed the topic entirely. “I understand you’ve hired Thurston.”
“And his wife as well.” Franklin was happy for the change of subject and proud that he could offer employment and security to the couple. He also hoped the agreement might bring some order to the chaos of his household.
Mason offered one deft nod. “He will serve you well.”
Miss Vane pulled her arm from Miss Jamison’s and clasped her gloved hands together. “Perhaps you may grant us a tour, Mr. Everly.”
Franklin bristled at the suggestion. Ravencrest was far from ready to be shown. The thought of a tour froze his tongue. Such a thing would only flaunt his shortcomings and provide a laughable spectacle.
Miss Jamison answered in his stead. “Mr. Everly’s staff has only just arrived. I’m sure the housekeeper has her hands full at the moment.”
Miss Vane’s brows pulled together. “There’s no need for the housekeeper when Mr. Everly is here.” With her free hand, she motioned to Franklin.
“Hannah,” Miss Jamison scolded.
“Ahhh.” Miss Vane’s eyes opened wide. She turned a faux smile to the redhead beside her. “I understand. ’Tis not ready for us to see.” Franklin could not help but be entertained. Miss Vane meant well.
“If you ladies would like, you could join Peter and me on our ride,” Mason offered.
Franklin spoke before his brain registered his words. “The house is not ready to receive visitors, but as you have all kindly come to call, perhaps we may take a turn in the garden? The beds are overgrown and a bit wild, but the colors are lovely.”
Peter pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and turned away, but not before Franklin heard him snicker.
“Only if you can spare the time,” Miss Jamison said. She shot her brother a look of warning.
Franklin swept his arm in the direction of the garden. When Mason approached Miss Jamison and offered his arm, Franklin held his breath and tamped down his jealousy. Tension built as he led the party around the south side of the estate. When they reached the garden path, Miss Vane and Peter walked beside him, commenting on the variety of blooms. Mason and Miss Jamison remained behind, and when Franklin glanced back over his shoulder, the man smiled at something Miss Jamison said.
Then Franklin caught the tail of Miss Vane’s words to Peter. “She will not ask you herself.”
He moved closer to the duo, listening to their conversation. “Phoebe is known to speak her mind,” Peter said.
“On a great many things, yes,” Miss Vane said. “And if your mother were here, she would see it done, but I’m not certain Phoebe will ask Mr. Jamison. What I can say for certain is that every other lady will be dressed in a new gown. I’ve heard Miss Benson placed a special order with a French modiste in London.”
“Hmm,” Peter mused and looked back at his sister. When he faced Miss Vane again, his lips twitched with mischievousness. “Shall I tell Geoffrey you insist he buy Phoebe a gown?”
“You may tell Mr. Jamison what you wish. My only concern is for my dear friend.” Miss Vane then pressed her hand to her blushing cheek and commented on the full blooms of a white iris.
The upcoming ball and the promised dance with Miss Jamison had been, of necessity, pushed to the back of Franklin’s mind as he worked to restore Ravencrest. The event was now only two weeks away, and the thought of dancing and enjoying a lengthy supper with Miss Jamison promised to be a welcome reprieve.
Miss Vane had slowed enough that Mason and Miss Jamison soon caught up. They continued through the garden, discussing the variety of flowers and the ideal placement for a future fountain.
They worked their way back to the front of Ravencrest, and Franklin watched his guests ride slowly down the lane, considering that his new friends neither critiqued nor criticized. He was grateful. The estate held great promise—Miss Jamison had said as much. Her praise caused his breast to swell with determination. He would restore Ravencrest. He had started the task, and he would see it through.
The following week, Mr. Isaac Sunter arrived and proved himself both capable and agreeable. Franklin could not have been more pleased. He worked with Sunter, reviewing expenditures, crop yields, tenant needs, and projected income. Sunter interviewed and hired two footmen and two lads to help in the stables. Daily, Franklin’s hopes for Ravencrest increased. Sunter shared various management techniques and also counseled Thurston on his duties.
After two weeks of long days and numerous calculations, Franklin was confident that with his new staff, Ravencrest would be restored to a prosperous estate—a home he would be proud of. A home he could share with a special someone. Franklin stood on the south side of his property, overlooking the prospect below. The image of Miss Jamison’s light freckles, green eyes, and fiery hair flashed through his thoughts. He ducked his head and smiled. Yes, he harbored great hopes for his future.