The Marquess Method by Kathleen Ayers
18
“Good Lord,” Theo said under her breath, not wanting to upset Jacinda clinging to her arm as they swept into the main hall of Greenbriar. The tile beneath her feet needed a good scrubbing but otherwise seemed intact. Daring a peek into the drawing room, Theo saw the room was bare except for two chairs, a small table, and a moth-eaten rug which looked as old as the house.
Jacinda cleared her throat. “The drawing room.” Her eyes glistened with a mixture of shame and pride at the state of her home.
“A very nice space,” Theo told her, not daring to comment further.
Pale green paint peeled from around the windows. No artwork adorned the walls, though there were plenty of obvious spots where paintings had once hung. An enormous crack split the ceiling just above one of the windows with a battered pot beneath it. The fireplace appeared to still be in working condition and intact, but from the amount of black soot staining it, Theo surmised a good cleaning was in order.
Theo could feel herself deflate as the enormity of the situation looked back at her. She’d been expecting a pared down estate, not . . . this. “It’s quite a lot to take in at first glance.”
“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Jacinda said. “But when there is a fire roaring in the hearth and a good book in your hand, I promise you’ll be very comfortable.” She looked askance at one of the chairs where a spring had broken through the upholstery. “We’ve a marvelous library. Quite spectacular. I mean it was before—” Her voice faltered.
Theo squeezed her hand. “I adore books. And this will be a lovely room.”
No wonder Haven simmered with such desperation. Not only for his family home but for Jacinda. Theo would be devastated to see Cherry Hill in such a state, her sisters reduced to wearing a dress patched so frequently it resembled a quilt more than a garment. Why hadn’t his friends helped him?
Because he hadn’t told them.
She would venture to guess that Granby and Blythe knew of Haven’s poverty, but not the extent of it. And his friends only knew the destruction Haven’s father had caused from gossip. Blythe was generous to a fault. He would have gladly offered assistance had he been asked, especially for Jacinda’s sake.
Jacinda tugged on her sleeve, next showing Theo a large dining room with dusty wainscotting, absent the large table which must have once graced it. A smaller table, dwarfed inside the room, sat surrounded by six mismatched chairs.
Next, the once magnificent ballroom at the back of the house, stripped of chandeliers, the fine marble gouged and dirty beneath her feet. Several sections showed pits and cracks, as if someone had tried to pry out the marble in pieces.
Probably to sell it.
The sight of all this beauty left to rot or stripped bare made Theo physically ill. Greenbriar was a mere shell of what it must once have been. If she were to make something of her marriage, and Theo still thought she would despite Haven being an idiot, restoring Greenbriar would be her responsibility.
Her knees buckled just a bit.
Theo had never imagined having to renovate an entire estate, or even manage one. Yes, she was a duke’s daughter, but one woefully ill-equipped for this endeavor. Theo painted miniatures. Small landscapes. That was the extent of her talents and abilities. Mama had allowed her to thrive on her own, so to speak. Nurture her creativity. Theo’s education was lacking in several key respects. She couldn’t even plan a dinner menu properly.
The one time in her life she would have welcomed Romy’s opinions, and her sister was off with her duke. Romy, blazing warrior that she was, wouldn’t think twice at having such a task as the restoration of a crumbling estate set before her. She would have already hired an army of servants, all of whom would have been waiting for her before she even set foot in Greenbriar.
Jacinda touched her hand before leading Theo down the hall to a set of large double doors. “This is my favorite room in the entire house,” she said, opening one door with a flourish.
Oh, my.
Theo took a deep breath, inhaled the dust floating about, and promptly started coughing. After the unnecessary and enthusiastic thumping of her back by Jacinda, she straightened and took in Greenbriar’s library.
Absolutely stunning, despite its current condition.
Floor-to-ceiling windows faced the parkland surrounding Greenbriar, which would be a lovely view once the grounds were restored. The heavy velvet curtains hanging from the windows—all of which needed a good cleaning—were restrained by frayed, gold cording. Mildew showed in gray patches amidst the velvet, making it difficult to discern what color the curtains had originally been. Evergreen, she thought. The room was two stories, the second-floor landing and more bookcases clearly visible. A small spiral staircase so rickety Theo wouldn’t dare to stand on it twisted up above her to the landing. Dozens of half-empty bookcases met her eyes as the aroma of old leather and rot filled the air.
A ladder stood against a set of shelves.
Jacinda’s fingers ran down the scarred wood of the ladder, features pinching up.
Theo looked down at Jacinda’s leg. She’d fallen from that ladder, ruining her leg. Theo was certain of it.
“What do you think?” Jacinda’s smile was weak, searching. Begging Theo to love this space as much as she did. “I’m slowly cataloging the books we have left.”
She must spend hours in here every day. Theo could picture her on the ladder, reaching up for a book, only to wobble and fall to the floor. It must have happened when Haven was living abroad.
“I think, Jacinda, this is the most amazing library I’ve ever seen. Far grander than I could have possibly imagined. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one finer, and that’s saying something.”
Jacinda beamed back at her, bouncing on her feet at Theo’s praise.
How old was Jacinda, exactly? Theo took in her delicate bone structure and petite form. Haven said his sister was about the same age as Phaedra, but her eyes belied the hardship she’d endured, making her seem far older than she was. Her heart ached for her new sister-in-law, stuck in the country with only her daft uncle and Mrs. Henderson.
“The windows need to be cleaned from top to bottom,” Theo stated. She knew that much at least. “The floors scrubbed until they shine.” An image took shape in her mind. Rather like one of her miniatures. Only larger. “What would you think of a reading nook, just there by the window? Comfortable chairs. Lots of cushions. Several small tables.”
Nodding eagerly in agreement, Jacinda said, “Perhaps a small settee?”
“Of course, if you wish it.”
Jacinda’s excitement faded as she looked down at her feet. “Won’t you need to ask my brother first? It all sounds lovely but rather expensive. He may not approve, and I’ve no wish to upset him.”
“Haven has made it clear I’m to take over the care of Greenbriar, or at least the portion we’ll live in.” She’d no intention of cozying up to Haven in the drawing room and studying fabric samples with him. “And I’m obscenely wealthy.” Theo winked at her. “Expense is the least of your worries.”
The smile returned. “Ambrose told me you are an artist. You paint and sketch. He said your work consists mainly of miniatures and is some of the finest he’s ever seen.” Her cheeks pinked. “The miniature you painted for him as a betrothal gift is exquisite, at least from what Ambrose tells me. A self-portrait.” A wistful look crossed her face. “How romantic of you, Theo.”
“Yes, terribly romantic of me.” It was obvious Haven hadn’t shared the exact nature of the miniature, nor the circumstances of his marriage to Theo, with his sister. A good thing, because Theo would be hard-pressed to look Jacinda in the eye. How like Haven to have turned his thievery into a romantic gesture.
Wretch.
A smile tugged at Theo’s lips. “My finest and final miniature,” she declared. “I’m moving on to painting on a larger canvas.”
“You are?” Jacinda said hopefully. “Perhaps you would paint something for the library.”
“It would be my honor.” Theo pulled her rambling thoughts away from Haven. She was still nursing the wounds he’d inflicted earlier today.
“Shall we go upstairs? Unless you wish to see my brother’s study?”
“No. I believe I’ll save that for later.” Theo didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into Haven yet, though she wasn’t sure he was even in the house. Since coming inside with Jacinda, Theo had seen nothing of her husband. Perhaps he’d abandoned her again. Or he was giving her temper time to cool.
Jacinda led her up the stairs, pointing out where not to place her feet as at least two of the steps sported small, cracked boards. How the poor girl managed to make her way to her room without injuring herself on a daily basis shocked Theo. The library would not be the first thing repaired. These stairs would.
And the bannister, Theo thought ruefully as the beautifully carved wood tilted dangerously beneath her fingers. The entire house was battered and bruised, begging for someone to care for it.
Once they reached the landing, Jacinda pointed to a hallway to her left. “Guest rooms for guests we no longer receive. I’m not sure what we’ll find in them, Theo. They’ve been shut for some time. This is the family wing,” she said, starting down the hall leading to the right. There wasn’t so much as a small table on which to set a lamp, and the walls, much like those below, were devoid of any art or personal effects. “These are your rooms.” Jacinda stopped before a door, a look of trepidation on her pretty face. “When your maid arrived, Mrs. Henderson showed her up. I believe she’s been unpacking your things.”
“Betts.” Oh, dear. Poor Betts. Theo hadn’t spared her a thought. Between the argument with Haven this morning and their arrival at Greenbriar, Theo had forgotten all about her maid. Ashamed, she stepped ahead of Jacinda, her only thought to greet the stalwart, faithful Betts and seeing a familiar face. A small, unwelcome sound burst from between her lips as she opened the door.
Betts stood at the far end of a very large, spartan room next to a dresser, muttering to herself. Theo’s valise stood next to her feet. Behind Betts rose a small mountain of Theo’s trunks, most of which had not been unpacked.
Because there was nowhere to put Theo’s clothing.
The armoire, the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the enormous bed sitting atop a raised dais, wasn’t overly large. She could see the sleeves of one of her dresses poking from behind the doors of the armoire. There didn’t appear to be room for anything else. Haven’s clothing must be in the dresser.
Oh, dear.
“My lady.” Betts came forward with a forced smile. She was a plump, no-nonsense girl, cousin to Romy’s maid, Daisy, and as loyal as they came. A sideways glance from Betts told Theo everything she needed to know about the situation at Greenbriar.
At least the room was large, though without proper furniture, the area seemed especially cavernous. The windows, as filthy as those in the library, overlooked the mangled remains of a garden and part of the drive circling the front of the house.
“I cleaned as best I could, my lady,” Betts whispered out of the corner of her mouth, sparing a glance at Jacinda. “She’s a sweet one, is Lady Jacinda. And I didn’t wish to upset her.”
Theo looked toward the door leading to an adjoining room.
“There is an adjoining room, Lady Theodosia, but no bed,” Betts murmured. “No armoire. No furniture of any kind. The room looks as if it were stripped. Nothing left.”
Theo’s stomach sank. No wonder Haven said there would be no distance in their marriage. It was physically impossible unless she wanted to sleep elsewhere.
“I see.” Theo didn’t bother looking around for a valet. She had the impression Haven no longer had one.
“I know it all needs,” Jacinda hesitated, “work.” She shifted back and forth on her feet, leaning on the cane and looking utterly devastated. “I am sorry for the poor welcome.”
Shadows of Haven appeared in the mulish tilt of Jacinda’s jaw.
“My welcome has been anything but poor, Jacinda. There is nothing here that soap and hard work can’t fix.” This house must be put to rights, if for no one else but Jacinda. “I’ll admit, I’m not known to be especially good at tidying up and such—”
Betts gave a quiet snort.
“But I promise you, Jacinda, we’ll have everything put to rights. And you must be patient.” She squeezed her arm. “Haven told me what to expect. All the things that must be done,” she lied. “I’m not the least surprised. I assumed it would be much worse.”
Jacinda nodded, looking relieved.
Theodosia’s Enormous Endeavor.
She tried to view the room as the artist she was, envisioning it as a blank canvas upon which she must create. It made things simpler, looking at each room and Greenbriar as nothing more than the barest outline of a sketch. The stroke of the brush, the hues and shading. All must come later.
“I do wish my sister were here. She’s clever with fabrics and how things must go together.” Theo might not share Romy’s creativity at designs, but she was good at color. Light. Shadows.
This is nothing but a very large painting.
“Granby’s duchess,” Jacinda said. “Ambrose told me.”
“Yes,” Theo said, surprised Haven had told Jacinda about her sister. “Romy has quite an eye for fabrics and such. But we’ll muddle through without her.”
Jacinda’s room, the last on Theo’s tour, was closer to the front of the house. It was the only compliment Theo could give the spot where Haven’s sister slept. The wallpaper covering the walls was so ancient it had yellowed, the pattern unrecognizable. A stack of books served as the missing leg of what was once a finely carved table. Another armoire, this one in fairly decent shape, sat open against one wall, allowing her to see the near emptiness inside. The bed at least looked comfortable, unlike the one residing in the room Theo had just left. This mattress appeared free of lumps, but the faded blue coverlet was torn. Books were stacked everywhere, most in worse shape than the room.
The first place Theo meant to take Jacinda, after the dressmakers, was a bookstore.
Propped against the mantel of the fireplace was a portrait of a woman with hair the same color as Jacinda’s. It was the only painting Theo had seen in the entire house. She guessed, by the resemblance to Jacinda and Haven, the woman was their mother.
“She’s lovely,” Theo said, admiring the portrait.
Jacinda’s cane thumped softly behind her. “My mother,” she replied. “Matilda. Ambrose says I favor her. I wasn’t very old when she died. Childbirth. A fever took her and the babe.”
And then Haven’s father had slowly fallen into despair. Drink. Gambling. Taking his family with him. Theo regarded the painting of the auburn-haired woman with soft hazel eyes, seeing Haven’s rough attractiveness in her feminine features.
“I’m so sorry, Jacinda.”
“It was some time ago.” She gave a shrug. “I wish I remembered more about her. That’s what bothers me the most.” A stricken look entered her delicate features as she tapped the cane on the floor. “Ambrose is older, so he tells me stories, but it isn’t the same. Father never recovered from her death. His heart was broken. Ambrose and I weren’t enough for him.” Stark sadness bled through her words. “Then he died too.” Despite his leaving her impoverished, Jacinda had loved her father. Theo could hear it in her voice.
“I lost my own father,” she said, taking Jacinda’s hand. “I miss him very much.”
“The Duke of Averell. Uncle Erasmus told me about him when Ambrose said you were marrying. He said your brother looks remarkably like him, considering.”
Theo’s brow wrinkled at the odd comment. “Considering what?”
Jacinda shrugged again. “I’ve no idea. My uncle doesn’t often make sense. Besides the drink, he’s slightly addled. Something he and Mr. Henderson have in common.” She gave a small laugh. “You’ll see when you make his acquaintance.”
“Erasmus lived in France, didn’t he?” She wondered how Erasmus had seen the late Duke of Averell and either of his sons. Maybe the first time he returned to Greenbriar? When Haven was a child?
“He did. But he ran out of money, which Ambrose says he was bound to do because he hasn’t a mind for such things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Running an estate. Managing servants. Ledger books. Tenants. All the things a lord must do. At least according to my brother. Ambrose likens him to an oversized infant that one must care for.” She giggled. “Albeit one who smells of spirits.”
Yes, that sounded like something Haven would say.
“I was shocked when my uncle appeared. I didn’t even know I had an uncle, let alone one who looked like my father. But I was glad he came to Greenbriar. He’d heard Ambrose was dead and came to console my father. He was trembling something terrible from his journey. My father and Erasmus argued. Drank a lot. I’m grateful he was here when my father died, though my uncle is a bit of a handful at times. It’s the drink and his nervous condition.”
“Haven wasn’t here, was he?” The story fascinated Theo because it sounded like one of her novels. She shook her head. Twin brothers consumed by their love of spirits wasn’t exactly something anyone would wish to read about.
“No, Ambrose was in Italy, living in a villa. That’s where he met Granby. During a swordfight outside of Venice.”
“A duel?” Given Haven’s temper, she could imagine him brandishing a sword as someone mistakenly insulted him.
“Oh, no.” Jacinda shook her head. “He saved Granby who was in a swordfight.” Jacinda rubbed her finger over the bridge of her nose. “That’s why Ambrose has the bump there. Granby was swinging at someone during the fight, and my brother was trying to help him. Granby elbowed Ambrose in the nose. My brother often says had he only let that Italian count skewer Granby, he’d still have a perfect nose.” Jacinda gave a soft laugh. “Or if Blythe knew how to wield a weapon properly. But Ambrose saved him anyway.”
Haven had come to the aid of Granby and Blythe during a swordfight. How noble of him. Something stirred inside her as she imagined Haven with a sword, jumping into the fray to come to the rescue of his friends. A very dashing thing to do.
Even so, my anger has not yet cooled.
“What was your brother even doing in Italy?” Haven hadn’t been very forthcoming about his adventures. “He’s already told me he knows nothing of art, and that’s why most people go there, besides the weather.” Theo hated to admit that a part of her wondered if he’d gone for a woman.
“Ambrose hasn’t a clue about paintings and such. Which is why I find it ironic he’s married an artist. I was far more upset when my father and uncle stripped the walls than he was.”
It pained Theo to know Jacinda had witnessed such a thing.
“It was the argument with my father which made him leave. About the drinking and—” Jacinda plucked at her skirts. “All the gambling. My father was so in his cups he didn’t even remember Ambrose being here that day or what they fought about. He was terribly upset Ambrose was gone. Uncle Erasmus says if he had been here at the time, he would have tried to stop them from parting in anger.” She looked up at Theo, anguish shadowing her eyes. “Ancient history. We should go down. I think it must be time for tea.”
