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CHAPTER13
The next two weeks passed in radiant bliss for Verity. Each day with Ethan, little Thomas, and Artie proved to be a wonder. After loving her most thoroughly, her duke slept with her every night, and got up fewer and fewer times to visit that sandbag. Even yesterday, they had possibly shocked the housekeeper by cavorting in the library during the day. How Verity had blushed and hidden her face in his jacket while the devil had laughed. Ethan had his duties, and while hers were less strenuous, for she had been trained in managing a large household, they filled some part of her days.
Verity consulted with the housekeeper and butler every day. She had made sure to learn the names of all the staff and what their duties should involve. She checked menus with the cook, and made sure there was not too much wastage. She also enquired about the poor of the area who would be considered in the duke’s remit, and checked on any pensioners of the estate who had previously been employed there. Some of these matters she brought to Ethan or his steward’s notice, but she arranged for baskets of food to be sent to those who suffered the most from their poverty.
Because of the neglect to the hall suffered since the death of the late duke, Ethan’s father, she went through all the hall’s linens with the housekeeper and one of her new laundry maids. Badly worn or stained linens were replaced, or cut to be used for other purposes. The cellars had been much depleted, and fresh supplies were ordered with the assistance of her new butler. Every room was cleaned thoroughly and checked for any repairs or replacements that needed to be made, so bedraggled hangings and drapes were repaired and gradually replaced.
Windows were cleaned, and a carpenter and a builder called in to deal with some minor problems. She inventoried the silverware, had the stillroom cleared out and made sure it was properly stocked, and then set about personally to classify the documents and maps which had been tumbled into a small room, instead of carefully archived. Although the hall had been built by the late duke, the family records went far back, and referred to other properties and land as well as the hall. In these ways, Verity spent her time making the house more comfortable and running more smoothly.
Little Thomas was contented, and even Artie had taken greatly to the daily lessons she gave him, already making a great stride in reading, and even in his comportment. A modiste and tailor from London had come down to Kellitch Hall at the duke’s behest, and Verity, Thomas, and Artie’s new and quite fashionable wardrobes should arrive soon. Artie did refuse to relinquish his dagger, which had only amused her, and Verity had reassured him he could keep it. But she arranged for the local cobbler to take a paper outline of the knife, and asked him to make a proper sheath and belt so he could wear it safely. The worries of the past had melted away, and she could not even regret or resent the hardship of the last two years, for they had led her little family to this contentment. Even her parents had called upon them, and after the first few minutes, the tension had disappeared, and her mama and papa had expressed an interest in knowing Thomas.
Verity had cried that night, knowing it was all Catherine had hoped for, but she was gone and might never return. Verity missed her sister and ached to know if she had arrived in Paris safely, or even if Catherine thought of little Thomas, Artie, and her.
With a sigh, Verity brushed aside that worry, and handed over this week's menu to the cook, who bobbed a quick curtsy and headed for the kitchen. She then hurried up the winding stairs to find Ethan for their swimming lessons, which were coming along quite splendidly. Verity found him in the nursery, standing by the window with a chortling Thomas in his arms. She paused, listening to his deep, soothing voice, and the tale he told the baby.
“Your father was brave and never hesitated to go on an adventure,” Ethan said. “When we were lads of thirteen, we fancied we found a treasure trove as we explored some caves in Somerset.”
Thomas babbled as if he understood the tale, and certainly listened with rapt attention not often seen in babies of his age. She listened for several minutes to the adventures he painted for Thomas of himself and Oscar, walking deep in the caves for miles, or helping a bird with a broken wing, and even foraging for wild berries to eat when they believed themselves lost. Verity turned away from the nursery with a smile, to gather her sketch pads and pencils. She went outside toward the eastern end of the property, where a large oak tree had a splendid wooden seat attached as a swing to a sturdy branch. Verity sat on the grass, opened her pad, and started to illustrate the story Ethan told Thomas. She would ask her duke about more of their adventures, or even listen in whenever he regaled the baby with one of his tales, and she would create this memory book for little Thomas. When he was of a reasonable age to understand the stories and knew they were of his father, she would read them to him. He would have them for himself to read over and over, knowing something about the father he lost.
Smiling, she leaned over and began.
* * *
Artie ambled along the hallway,a proud lift to his steps, a smile on his face, and a kitten curled in his arms. When he saw Ethan, that smile dimmed to be replaced by wariness. Ethan lifted his chin, and the boy hesitated but followed him outside, where they took a stroll along the paved path that led to the lake. Ethan allowed them to walk in silence for several minutes, letting the boy get comfortable with his presence.
“You have been living here for a little over two weeks now, Artie.”
He cut him a peculiar glance. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you comfortable?”
The boy’s eyes widened. “My belly is filled every day, sir. And I ain’t cold anymore.” Those words hinted that Verity and her sister had faced difficult times financially in the two years he had lived with them. There were days food might have been scarce and the winters cold. His duchess spoke about it briefly, and had mentioned they sold several pieces of their jewelry and practiced strict economies to live as comfortably as possible. It spoke to her character that she had not complained about how exceedingly challenging it must have been for two young ladies, who had grown up in the lap of luxury with an army of servants, to make do in a small cottage with only a cook and day maid to aid them in their daily lives.
Somehow in his grief and responsibility of dealing with inheriting the dukedom, Ethan had not made a link between the ‘Catherine’ Oscar spoke about and the rare beauty that had been disgraced for having anticipated marriage, and committing the grave sin of loving outside of marriage. That ugly, dark feeling dug into his chest and clawed at him. He pushed it aside until it died away. The chains of guilt were damned burdensome, and he wished he could be callous enough to cut them away with ease, as he had seen others do. The logical part of him knew they would likely one day ease, and he reflected that since his marriage, the burden had been lifting daily.
“I want you to know that wherever Verity and I are, your home is also there. You are now a part of our family.”
The boy stopped and gripped the lapels of his jacket in a tight hold. “My father was the local butcher. My mama died birthing me.”
Ethan stared at him and waited for Artie to gather his thoughts.
“I ran away from home because of his beatings,” he said in a rush. “And I stole food to live, sir.”
“You did what you had to do to survive,” Ethan said. “There is no shame in it. You were a lad of eight years.”
The boy still looked dubious. He gave Ethan a quick sideways look, as if he were trying to understand the man before him.
“Do you wish to return to your father or let him know of your whereabouts?”
“No.” A cloud passed over the boy’s face. “But…I don’t belong here. I feel it in my bones.”
“Do you wish to belong?”
A flash of hunger passed over his face. “Yes.”
“Do you wish to be educated and prepared for a life where you might make a living, marry well, and have a family of your own?”
The boy nodded.
