The viscount’s softened expression dissipated just as quickly as it appeared. “They will insist on trampling on my lands. It’s one thing if you study the grounds, but a society will require far greater involvement.”
I held his gaze, hoping he would understand my position. “I’ve written to them about the finds so far. I believe this will intrigue them further when they come to visit. I wrote the Dilettanti as well. All I need is one society to respond to my letter.”
A muscle ticked within his jaw as he glanced again at the grave site. “I do not wantanysociety rummaging through my orchard.”
“You may want to rethink that sentiment when Constable Wickham arrives. At least you can tell him you’ve done all youcan to find out the age of the child. But I beg you, don’t let him take anything. Antiquarian experts must first examine the site.”
Lord Hawthorn plunged a hand through his hair until the ends stuck up in whorls. “I have a road to finish and trees to plant. None of them can wait or I’ll lose my investment.”
Father lightly touched my arm, signaling for me to cease before I created further trouble, but I nudged his hand aside, determined to speak my piece.
“My lord, I have no intention of causing you further trouble. Please believe me; I want to help you as much as possible. Let us put the rumors of spirits to rest.” I meant it, especially considering how he had treated Mrs. Eacher and the tenants, along with assuring me he would leave the edge of Mr. Perry’s field alone.
Abigail cautioned me about him, but the more I saw, the harder it was to view him as an adversary.
And if his actions continued to surprise me, my declaration certainly had the same effect. His mouth parted before one of the tenants called to him, drawing the viscount’s attention from me while leaving me to wonder at what he might have said.
19:Bridget
For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
ECCLESIASTES 1:18
The constable, as expected, had yet to arrive. His absence had not gone unnoticed, but with the day drawing to a close, Father and Lord Hawthorn were among the last to leave the mosaic site, their low voices carrying the weight of the day’s discoveries.
As they finally joined the rest of us in the abbey courtyard, the men began packing up their tools, resigned to resume the investigation in the morning. Most of the tenants dispersed and left the abbey grounds, though a few lingered behind, including Mr. Whittle and the Dixon boys.
While we waited for Father and Lord Hawthorn to finish their conversation, an argument broke out among the men who remained, their voices rising as dusk settled over the courtyard.
“Can we find a buyer for the mosaic?” Mr. Whittle asked. “Someone might pay a pretty sum for it. If Mr. Perry can do it, why not you, my lord?”
“What about the bones? Why not sell them? Or advertise them as a roadside attraction, eh? With ghost stories to boot,” one of the Dixon boys suggested.
At that, I cringed, although museums did much the same, displaying Egyptian scarabs and sarcophagi for anyone to see.
“No.” Lord Hawthorn’s deep voice rose over the others clamoring with suggestions. “In fact, I want you all to plant west from the site.” Then he added in a clipped tone, “And keep away from Perry’s property as much as possible.”
“An excellent decision, my lord,” my father said. “I don’t relish disturbing graves either.”
“It would hardly be decent otherwise,” Lord Hawthorn noted. “We’ll wait for the proper authorities to assess the remains. You and your daughter are welcome to return for further study.”
He glanced my way, almost as if he had intended for me to overhear his offer. My cheeks heated to be caught studying him in so open a manner. In the evening light, with the sun touching the newly trimmed hedge and turning a profusion of flowers to gold, something shifted within me. He was not at all what I had expected in a lord. He actually listened to his tenants, allowing them to give advice, and responding in turn when questioned, giving careful reasons for his decisions.
I assumed Father and I would soon leave in the chaise, but Lord Hawthorn left his workers, his uneven stride eating up the distance in the courtyard.
“Thank you, Miss Littleton, for your assistance. Where did you gain such knowledge of Rome?”
I shrugged one shoulder to hide how much the compliment affected me. “Bramnor offers so little that I had no choice but toturn to history books and journals to escape the confines of village life.”
His lips quirked. “Yes, your nose in a book, getting a regular dose of isolated castles and blackhearted villains.”
“I do not read only about women trapped in castles, Lord Hawthorn. You might enjoy Samuel Squire’s dissertation on the antiquities of the Anglo-Saxon government.”
“Doubtful,” he replied with a smirk. “But I am impressed, Miss Littleton. And I do not impress easily.”
I didn’t share that my brother had often written to the librarians on my behalf, requesting certain classical volumes. All that changed when he squandered Father’s money at the gambling hells in London instead of attending seminary. Now, in his painful absence, I latched on to the things that made me feel alive.
“You may have nipped a clandestine rumor of the Hawthorn family before it started and I am truly grateful.” His voice thickened as he rested a bronzed hand against the chaise.
