Forever Phoebe by Chalon Linton
Chapter 4
Franklin sat across the desk from Mr. Gladstone, making every effort to affect a stern countenance. “Until a new steward is hired, I am to approve every decision in regards to the estate.” He wasn’t certain, but he thought Gladstone might have grumbled. Franklin was not ill-tempered, but Gladstone’s dismissive behavior sparked his ire. “Do you take issue with my request?”
“Sir, we’ve been maintaining the estate for nigh on ten years.” Gladstone cleared his throat. “Without your oversight.” Franklin’s brows met his hairline, and Gladstone had the decency to shift in his seat before he spoke again. “I don’t understand the purpose of you coming in and changing things when we’ve been gettin’ along dandily.”
Franklin stood from his seat. He leaned forward and placed a hand on either side of the half sheet of foolscap sitting atop his desk. He glanced down at the list of repairs. Closer inspection of the estate meant the list had continuously grown. “When a winter gale hits and the gutters do not properly drain, causing the kitchens to flood, do you consider your upkeep as dandy? Or when the orchard has been neglected and the trees no longer bear fruit? Maybe a clogged flue is dandy because, as of yet, it has not caused a fire. This is an estate in need of a great many things, Gladstone. Ravencrest is a far cry from dandy.” Franklin lifted his hands from the desk and stood tall. Gladstone’s eyes had grown as wide as saucers, his lips pressed into a tight line. “While you may have managed in my absence, you have let Ravencrest fall into vast disrepair. I intend to set the estate to rights, with or without your assistance. If you agree to my terms and would like to contribute in this endeavor, I welcome your help. But if you wish to continue with your current mindset, feel free to submit your resignation. I will consider writing a letter of recommendation, although it would likely be extremely short.” He paused, hoping he’d made his point. “Have you any further questions?”
Gladstone’s chest rose and fell with his breath. His eyes narrowed as he bit out a response. “No, sir.”
“Then, you are dismissed.”
Mr. Gladstone’s shoulders hung low. Before he made his exit, Franklin called after him. “And, Gladstone, I do not abide gossip. Please inform the staff, and take heed yourself.”
It was a pity Franklin could not give him a favorable review, for he rather liked the man’s wife. She had a cheerful disposition and a ready smile. Franklin credited her sunny personality as the reason for her neglect of tasks he felt were obvious. She simply did not take notice of things, but Mrs. Gladstone did not shirk hard work. At Franklin’s request, she had aired the study, the drawing room, and one of the spare bedchambers. When he had pointed out a broken knob on the bureau or the water damage in the corner of the bay window, she seemed genuinely unaware. It seemed because her husband said all was well, she smiled and accepted his assessment. Franklin would grant Gladstone a chance to make it right, but only one.
Ravencrest was not a large estate. The old bones of the house were sturdy brick, and from the rolls of wallpaper Franklin had discovered in the attic, he concluded the interior had been updated numerous times. The squarely shaped house rose four stories high with properly spaced chimneys and bay windows running the height of the structure. It boasted an updated kitchen with a boiler and large oven. Intricately carved moldings lined the ceilings of the common rooms. The furniture was dated but well made. A large portion of the third floor was claimed by a barren wood-paneled room with a patterned tiled floor. It could have served as a game room or even a ballroom for a smaller gathering. Franklin would decide on its purpose and furnishings once all his other tasks had been completed.
He assumed it would be another day or two before he received possible names of a steward to hire. He would need a proper butler, housemaids, and a cook as well. From what he’d seen of the ledgers, Ravencrest provided adequate funds to support a full staff, but he had hoped the task of recruiting servants would fall to the steward and not him. However, little could be done until more hands were hired. Currently, only the Gladstones, one stablehand, one maid, and an old, partially blind gardener resided on the property. Surely, there were residents in Halsham who could use work.
Franklin had found Mr. Jamison to be especially agreeable; perhaps the man might give him some direction in the matter. Franklin went to the stable and retrieved his brown horse, Chipper. He had a general idea of the direction of Primly Park, but he rode to Halsham to confirm the address.
Half an hour later, Franklin led his mount up the drive. Primley Park was cloaked in green. Symmetrically planted sycamore trees formed half circles around either side of the house. The grass grew wild up to the trunks of the trees and tidied near the house. The structure was a combination of cylindrical architecture framing a rectangular base. Four columns marked the entrance, and the purple rhododendrons running beneath the front-facing windows reminded Franklin of Miss Jamison’s vibrant ball gown.
He stopped his horse. He should have considered bringing an offering for Miss Jamison. She was the only lady he’d danced with. He had not intended to single her out, but after she’d left to help her friend, Franklin had visited with only a few more gentlemen before taking leave himself. If he were in London, he would send flowers, but he knew not what to do in this circumstance and did not wish to offend either Miss Jamison or her brothers. If only Bethany were available to advise him.
He decided it best to wait another day rather than appear empty-handed. With a kick to Chipper’s flank, he turned the stallion around. He moved into a trot as a shout rang out. “Ho there!”
Franklin looked back over his shoulder. Three men rode toward him. He recognized Mr. Geoffrey Jamison and assumed the other two were his brothers. He stopped Chipper once again. It seemed he would greet the family after all. The trio quickly closed the distance and reined in their mounts.
“Top of the morning, Everly,” Jamison said.
Franklin tipped his head in greeting.
“Have you met Abraham and Peter?” Jamison pointed to his companions with his riding crop.
“Pleasure,” Franklin said. Abraham wore a guarded expression. His hands held the reins and rested on his leg as he surveyed Franklin. Peter’s eyes lit with mischief. He leaned forward and stroked his mare’s neck while looking Franklin over.
“Did Windly tell you we were out riding?” Jamison asked.
Peter answered before Franklin could. “Come, now, Geoffrey, he’s not here to see us. He intends to call upon our youngest sibling. Though, I am the handsomest of the lot.” He propped one hand on his hip and turned his chin sideways as if posing for a portrait.
Abraham cracked a bit of a smile, but the eldest brother answered. “Phoebe can wait.” He turned to Franklin. “We’ve come directly from the stables and have a hearty ride ahead. Join us.”
Franklin considered each of the brothers. “I don’t mean to intrude.”
Peter leaned close to Jamison. “I don’t think he could keep up.”
“The horse looks capable,” Abraham said.
“Is it the rider, then?” Peter asked. Franklin caught the unspoken challenge.
“Have you a decent seat?” Jamison asked Franklin.
Franklin appreciated the banter. He missed his own siblings, and he could survive a bit of gibing. “Chipper and I can hold our own.” He patted his horse’s neck.
“A wager, then?” Peter sat upright and grinned. “The loser has to muck the stall of the winner for an entire week.” He turned a mocking glare on Abraham. “On his own.”
Abraham scowled. “Back to the mucking, are we?”
Peter pointed at Abraham. “You never did it properly. Paying the stableboy to do the task is cheating.”
“You never specified.” Abraham shrugged. “Besides, your win was questionable at best, leaping off the line before the start was called.” He shook his head. “For shame.”
Jamison laughed. “Shall we, then?” He tapped his crop against his horse’s shoulder, and Franklin followed the men around the side of the estate.
They started at a trot, but as their horses warmed, they quickened the pace. Reviewing finances and assessing damage had left Franklin depressed. He appreciated the fresh air and open space. The brothers continued their playful exchange while he observed and envied. He was close to his older brother. Or he had been. Their younger years were filled with memories of laughter and fun. The early death of their father had required Barton to assume responsibility for Everly Manor. Days of laughter had grown few and far between.
While Barton managed the affairs of the estate, Franklin had assumed responsibility for their mother. She was not a needy woman in terms of affection, but she worried over her children. The late Mr. Everly had passed his charitable nature to his offspring. It was a quality Mrs. Everly loved in her husband, but she feared her children would be taken advantage of. She fretted often, and it fell to Franklin to ease her worries. He had a talent for soothing his mother, and he could generally curb her anxieties.
Jamison pulled his sleek chestnut stallion to a halt at the top of a small rise. “Here we are, chaps.”
Chipper skittered, anxious to continue his sprint across the open field. Peter pulled alongside Franklin. “You’ve a fine piece of horseflesh, Everly. You may give old Abraham a go.”
“Chipper loves a good run,” Franklin said.
“I still doubt he can best my Artemis.” Peter turned his horse in a circle.
Franklin made no mention of how Chipper’s speed increased when the horse was given his full head. The Jamisons would be in for a surprise.
“We’ll race to the old oak. See there?” Jamison pointed across the open space. In the distance, the tree matched the size of Franklin’s thumbnail, yet it still towered over the surrounding foliage.
Abraham angled his white horse toward the tree, and the others lined up beside him.
“Wait for the start,” Jamison said.
Abraham’s focus remained on the tree. “Peter, if you start early, you’re mucking both of our stalls.”
“Afraid of a proper whopping?” Peter asked. Artemis reared her head, and Chipper followed suit.
Franklin reined Chipper in, holding him tight until the moment he could let the animal fly.
Jamison leaned over his horse’s neck. “Ready, then? Take your mark. Get set. Go!”
Franklin dug his heels into Chipper’s flanks, and the stallion responded, jumping immediately into a gallop. Franklin leaned low over the horse’s neck and kept only the barest of holds on the reins. Chipper’s long legs seemed to stretch farther with every hoofbeat. When they descended the hill and reached the flat stretch of ground, Franklin was second only to Abraham. He could hear Peter and Geoffrey not far behind, urging their mounts to go faster. Franklin focused his gaze on the tree, certain that Chipper could come off victor. He held his stance, patiently waiting as the oak grew larger on the horizon. Chipper had closed the distance, pulling Franklin’s saddle even with Abraham’s white horse’s tail. Hold on, chap, Franklin thought. Wait . . . and . . . “Ga!” Franklin called out the single syllable and gave Chipper one swift kick. The horse knew the command, and although he’d been running at a full gallop for nigh on four minutes, Chipper sped even faster. Franklin couldn’t contain his grin as he passed Abraham. Abraham called to his own horse and leaned even lower in his saddle, but Franklin knew he’d win the race. He steered Chipper to the left of the tree, then called for the horse to slow.
Sweat drenched Chipper’s coat, and both the horse and Franklin sucked in labored breaths. “Well done, boy.” Franklin slapped Chipper’s neck. He slackened the reins and used his leg cues to steer the stallion near where the brothers’ mounts now walked.
Abraham looked Franklin over, shaking his head, but Franklin could see the beginning of a smile. “Well played, Everly,” the man said.
“You choused us all.” Peter looked sincerely angry, and for a moment, Franklin wondered if he’d crossed a line.
Then Jamison began to laugh. “You set the wager, brother. Best find out what time Everly wants his stall mucked.”
Abraham could not hold his own stern countenance, and he laughed aloud. Peter glared at his brothers, then turned to Franklin. “Give your word you won fairly, and I will be at Ravencrest at first light.”
“If you’re asking whether or not I knew my horse could best you, I had a fairly good hunch. However, as you did not ask my opinion in either the race, the distance, or the wager, I refuse to be labeled a cheat,” Franklin said. He then smirked and added, “And no need to rise with the sun. Eight o’clock better fits my schedule. I should like to come cheer you on.” Franklin’s grin grew as the two older brothers whooped and laughed.
“Bother,” Peter muttered under his breath.
“Come,” Jamison said. “Let’s take the horses to the river.”
The four men spoke of horseflesh and Newmarket as they wandered into a clump of trees. As the undergrowth thickened, they fell into a straight line and followed Jamison to the water’s edge. The shrubbery sat back from the bank, allowing the group to dismount and leave their horses to drink without fear of them wandering off.
“Did you see Phoebe this morning?” Jamison asked Franklin.
The question caught Franklin by surprise, but he schooled his features. “I did not have the pleasure.” Never mind that Franklin had never actually presented himself at Primly Park. He glanced to where Abraham knelt near Peter’s mare. Abraham slid his hand down the horse’s front leg, then said something to Peter. Franklin turned back to Jamison. “Actually, I’d hoped I might solicit your help.”
“How can I be of service?” Jamison asked.
“Ravencrest is in greater disrepair than I realized. To be honest, it will require a vast amount of work.”
“I understood the estate was prosperous,” Jamison said.
“There I am fortunate. Funding the repairs does not concern me, but if I am to do it properly, I need a competent staff. I hope to hire a new steward as soon as I am able but also find myself in need of a butler, housekeeper, maids, and footmen.”
“What of the Gladstones?” Jamison asked.
Franklin rubbed his hand across his brow. “Under their care, Ravencrest has fallen into a rather deplorable state. I’ve offered to keep them on, pending Gladstone’s subservience to my wishes, but I’ve little hope that he will take kindly to my methods.”
“’Tis truly that bad?”
“I won’t be hosting dinner anytime soon,” Franklin said.
“Peter?” Jamison called to his brother. “Didn’t Mason get a new butler?”
Peter finished a comment to Abraham, and they both walked over. “Mason’s butler?” Peter asked.
“Yes,” Jamison said. “I thought I remembered something about a hubbub with the household staff.”
Peter rubbed his hands together in excitement. “Ah yes, quite the scandal. Thurston, the previous butler, grew fond of Mrs. Mason’s lady’s maid, and she returned his affection. Mason saw no harm in their union, but his mother would not allow it. Claimed it improper and dismissed them both. I think Mason regrets the entire affair, as the new butler’s rather a bore.”
“Does Thurston still reside in Halsham?” Jamison asked.
“I haven’t the slightest idea. Mason would know,” Peter said. Chipper startled, causing the other horses to shift and prod. The men moved to settle their mounts.
“You plan to remain at Ravencrest?” Abraham asked.
“I think I shall like Halsham very well.” Franklin ran his hand along Chipper’s neck.
“Indeed. We boast our share of gossips, but Halsham claims a quiet corner of Somerset,” Jamison said.
“When there are not kidnappers wandering about?” Franklin asked with sarcasm. He had heard only a bit of the rumor the night before.
“Did you discover anything further after I left last night?” Peter asked Jamison.
“A search party from Stangreen worked through the night. The girl was last seen at the paddock visiting her horse. The groom claimed to have seen her when he returned from exercising one of the other animals. He led his mount into the stable to brush it down, and when he walked the horse back to the paddock, the girl was gone.” Jamison shifted the crop in his hand. “The groom assumed she had returned to the house, and her disappearance was not noted for several hours.”
“Scoundrel,” Abraham said. “The kidnapper deserves to rot in a cell.”
“How many girls have vanished?” Franklin asked.
“This is the fourth disappearance in the last two months,” Jamison said. “They’ve no leads, no witnesses, no idea why the girls are being taken.”
“It’s dreadful,” Peter said. “Phoebe had better follow your direction, Geoffrey. If she wanders on her own, I vote we lock her in her room.”
Franklin did not have a voice in Jamison family matters, but he agreed with Peter.
“We would all do well to be alert. ’Tis only a matter of time before the kidnapper is caught.” Jamison lifted his foot to a stirrup and mounted, then changed the subject. “Let’s ride to Berksley and ask Mason if he knows where to find Thurston.” His horse turned in a circle. “Unless you have reservations about your butler being married,” Jamison said to Franklin.
Franklin grabbed Chipper’s reins and mounted. “If the job is done properly, I’ve no issue. Perhaps I may hire his wife as well.”
Abraham led the group from the clearing back to the trail. He turned and called over his shoulder. “Today we ride. Tomorrow Peter mucks.”