Moss Manor, page 12
“I’ll let you two boys alone,” Lady Moss declares as she attempts to slip out of the room.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Jackson inquires.
She turns and offers a shrug. “The boy is almost a man, Mr. Jackson.”
“So?”
“So, I think it’s more appropriate for another male to assist than—“
“Don’t go,” requests William.
“See,” Mr. Jackson quips. “The boy wants you to stay.” He makes his way to the door.
“I don’t want you to go either,” William states.
Mr. Jackson grumbles to himself, offering a weak smile when he turns to face the boy.
“Why don’t I read us something while you assist him, Mr. Jackson?” Lady Moss suggests.
“We have quite a selection,” Mrs. Warren informs from the doorway. “I’d be happy to show you, Abigail.”
“I’ll be right back,” Lady Moss informs, closing the door most of the way.
When they reach the end of the hallway, Mrs. Warren pauses her friend and asks softly, “What are your intentions with that boy, Abbie?”
Mr. Jackson and William shift quietly toward the door to eavesdrop.
“He is without family. I presented him the option to live with me and that is what he has chosen,” she defends.
“I mean no disrespect, Abbie,” Mrs. Warren sighs. “I’m sure the boy will be more than fine in your care.”
“Then, what is the—“
“You, my dearest friend.”
“Me? Why?” Lady Moss inquires, shocked by her friend’s statement.
Mrs. Warren nods as her lips purse. “I worry that you think that you have lost your chance to have children and—“
Lady Moss lets out a nervous giggle. “I appreciate your concern, Elizabeth, but I am fine. Honestly.”
“I see it in your eyes, Abbie. You are already attached to him.”
“What is wrong with that?”
Mrs. Warren offers a comforting smile. “Nothing. I know that he reminds you of someone.”
Lady Moss shifts her gaze to the wall behind her friend as she spins her wedding ring around her finger. “I understand what you are implying. But, God has put that child in my path for a reason just as he has with you, Mr. Woolridge, and—“
Mrs. Warren takes her friend’s hand in hers. “You will be a wonderful mother to any child despite if he or she was born from your womb, Abbie. I just…I just don’t want you to give up the chance of finding love and—“
“I have found love,” she declares. “That little boy.”
Mrs. Warren lets out a heavy breath. “I mean a different kind of love.”
“I was not afforded the opportunity to find such a treasure as you have with Charles,” Lady Moss says. “I—“
“I only wish that you will afford it if the opportunity does present itself, that is all.”
Lady Moss regards her for a moment and nods as she bites back the lump in her throat. “I long for that as well. Every woman does, you know that.”
“You are still quite young, Abbie. There is still time for you to find love. Now…come. Let’s get that boy a story.”
Mr. Jackson waits until he hears that the echoes of their footsteps have vanished. “Time to get in, boy.”
William nods and begins undressing. “Who do I remind the Lady of?”
Mr. Jackson’s head lowers slightly. “Her youngest brother.”
“How many does she have?”
“Questions you should ask her not me,” Mr. Jackson informs.
“Do you not know?”
“I know,” Mr. Jackson states. “However, it is not my story to tell.” He aids William into the tub.
“I like her, too,” William shares. “She’s not like any other Ladies I’ve met.”
Mr. Jackson grunts his agreement.
“What is a foreman?”
“He’s in charge of the land,” Mr. Jackson shares. “Lady Moss has a grand estate. I make sure that the grounds are taken care of and that the livestock and farm are profitable.”
“How did you get that job?”
“I earned it,” he replies.
“From Lady Moss?”
“No,” Mr. Jackson says. “From the previous Lord.”
“Here we go,” Lady Moss announces, keeping her eyes on the floor as she enters the room. “Mrs. Warren offered to send up a tray of sweeties for you while you bathe.”
“She doesn’t have any children, my Lady?”
“Not yet,” she returns with a smile. “Mrs. Warren is with child now and soon I will have another niece or nephew.”
“She is your sister, then?”
“She is not blood-related, but I do consider her as such.”
“What of your family?” William asks. “Will I ever get to met them?”
“Before the winter is over, you will be able to meet at least two of my brothers for they will be coming to Moss Manor soon,” she replies. “My father and another brother will remain on the farm for they visited not too long ago.”
“What of your mother? I bet she’s as sweet as you.”
Lady Moss smiles fondly at the boy. “I’d like to imagine she would be. She had died when I was young, not long after my youngest brother was born.”
“I’m sorry, my Lady.”
“You may call me Abigail or Abbie,” she instructs. “There will be no need for such formality.”
“Then, why do you call him, Mr. Jackson?”
After a moment of hesitation between him and Lady Moss, Mr. Jackson informs, “That is what I prefer. Now, let’s scrub behind those ears and let Lady Moss read to us, shall we?”
William nods in agreement.
Lady Moss reads about two pages before Mrs. Warren arrives with the sweets. She reads approximately ten more before Mr. Jackson announces that William has rid his body of all foul stenches and grim. They assist the boy to dress in clothes that are slightly large for him that have been given by one of the neighbours. Then, they return to the parlor where they last saw Mr. Warren.
They stay and chat for some time before Mrs. Warren and Lady Moss excuse themselves to shop for fabrics. Mr. Jackson suggests that William join the ladies, but Lady Moss explains that he would be bored of such errands. When asked what he would prefer, William states that he’d much rather stay with the men.
Mr. Warren is a gracious host, treating Mr. Jackson more like a gentleman than any other man in high society ever had—including Lord Quincy. He invites him to stay in the parlor with him, offering him a cigar as he encourages conversation. In time, Mr. Jackson becomes more relaxed though he isn’t much of a man to speak frankly nor freely. Charles does enjoy conversing with him and young William, happy to answer the boy’s questions and show him about the parlor and other parts of the house.
“Married, Mr. Jackson?” Mr. Warren inquires.
“No.”
“Why not? You’re a good-looking fellow,” he states.
Mr. Jackson chuckles. “You proposing?”
Mr. Warren smiles. “No. Not for me anyway.”
“Then, for who?”
Mr. Warren’s head tilts to the side. “How old are you?” he asks as he avoids answering the question.
Mr. Jackson regards him for a moment before answering, “Thirty-two. Why?”
Mr. Warren considers the age difference. “Only eight years difference.”
“For?”
“Nothing,” Mr. Warren replies, swatting at the air. “I’m amusing myself is all.”
Though he won’t say it, Mr. Jackson realizes exactly what Mr. Warren is suggesting. He knew Lady Moss was young, but he didn’t know her exact age. He being eight years her senior doesn’t bother him. It’s not uncommon for men and women to have a gap between them in age to marry.
“Considering it?” Mr. Warren inquires.
“What?”
“Marriage,” Mr. Warren states.
Mr. Jackson shrugs. “It’s entrapment.”
Mr. Warren chuckles. “Yes, but a rather fun entrapment if you find the right one.”
Mr. Jackson snorts.
“I am glad that my wife and I did not have the same pressures as Lady Moss,” he declares.
Mr. Jackson raises a questioning brow.
“There were some…there are always pressures from our circles, but her Aunt did try to pawn her off on quite a few deplorable men regardless of their fortune,” he adds.
Mr. Jackson nods and rubs his palms together.
“Though,” Mr. Warren begins, considering his words carefully. “If Abigail wished to really irk her Aunt, all she’d have to do is marry someone…like you.”
Mr. Jackson’s eyes narrow.
“I mean no disrespect, my friend,” Mr. Warren says, back peddling.
“Friend? You think we are friends?”
“I’m not trying to imply anything, honestly,” Mr. Warren huffs. “Though, you’d have to admit, even with her title, Abigail would be more likely to fall in love and marry a man such as yourself.”
Mr. Jackson snorts and chuckles.
“You think I’m mocking you, but I’m not,” he explains. “On the contrary. Remove the titles. Remove the constraints of society. Lady Moss would be happier and find love with you over any man her Aunt or anyone else would present before her.” When Mr. Jackson doesn’t comment, Mr. Warren adds, “You do not find her attractive?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t find her charming?”
He snorts. “Charming? More like a deadly siren-witch.”
Mr. Warren grins. “Precisely. That is how they draw us in, get us to fall in love with them. It is up to us to use our own bit of magic to get them to notice us from the sea of fish before them.”
“You are speaking in riddles.”
“I am speaking of how love unfolds, Mr. Jackson. It comes out of nowhere, hitting one like a sudden storm at sea. Casting our ship in their direction, causing us to notice their beauty in the bleakness that surrounds us. All they see is us and all we see is them.”
“You’ve gone mad,” Mr. Jackson informs.
“I’m madly in love with my wife,” he says proudly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Mr. Jackson remains quiet, uncertain of what to say.
“Consider it.” When Mr. Jackson doesn’t comment, he slyly adds, “Perhaps, you already have.”
Mr. Jackson doesn’t reply.
The ladies return sometime later and dinner is served not long after.
“Why don’t you stay the night, Abbie?” Mrs. Warren suggests. “It is late.”
“We should return to the manor,” she rebuts gently. “There is much to do before Christmas and I want William to get acquainted with the house.”
The Warrens offer their carriage to the station. Once on the train, William bounces around the cabin until about ten minutes after it disembarks. He has never been on a train before and is eager to know as much as he can. Back in Oakshire, they retrieve their cart and horses from the local stable where they were stored until their return. William sits between the adults and slowly begins to nod off.
When they arrive at the manor, Mrs. Doyle and several of the girls rush to greet them. They fawn over the sleeping boy, asking questions as they follow Mr. Jackson and Lady Moss up the stairs. They lay the boy upon the bed that is across from Lady Moss’ room, removing his boots and nothing more in fear of waking him. Mrs. Doyle shoos the girls away, leaving Mr. Jackson and LadyMoss alone.
“You have done right by him,” Mr. Jackson says.
Lady Moss smiles gently and peers back at the boy through the cracked door. “I hope so.”
“He wouldn’t have survived long,” Mr. Jackson states. “He may have for some time, but there are a number of things that could…you know.”
“That means much from you, Mr. Jackson.” Her hand rests softly against his forearm.
His hand covers hers for a brief second. “He is already fond of you.”
Her smile widens as she lowers her hand. “I see you are fond of him as well.”
Mr. Jackson doesn’t comment, aware that he has become more fond of her. He mentally curses Mr. Warren who has gotten into his head.
“Were you able to retrieve your pocket watch?”
He nods. “He lives above the shop and didn’t mind me picking it up after hours.”
“How does it look?” she asks.
Mr. Jackson removes it from his pocket.
“It looks new,” she says praisingly, taking it from him. She rotates it in her hand, opening it to check that it looks just as shiny on the inside. “What’s this?”
“What?” He snatches it back from her. “What is—“ He looks back at her after he sees the engraving of his initials that are hidden unless you know where to find them.
“I snuck in there and made the request. I hope you don’t mind. I paid for the—“
“It’s perfect.”
Lady Moss smiles, appreciative that he seems pleased by her gesture. “I’m glad you like it.”
They linger in the hallway for a few long moments.
“It’s been a long day,” Mr. Jackson declares.
Lady Moss nods.
“You should get some rest. Thank you,” he says, lifting his hand that is still holding the watch. He returns it to his pocket. “Goodnight, Miss.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Jackson.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Time to rise,” Lady Moss declares, opening the curtains.
William groans in reply.
“Time for you to meet everyone.”
His eyes barely crack open. “The sun isn’t up.”
Lady Moss giggles. “The farm waits for no one, William.”
He sits up and takes in his surroundings. “How did I get here?”
“Mr. Jackson brought you up,” she informs. “My room is just across the way should you ever need me. I’ll show you around later today.”
“Where does Mr. Jackson sleep?”
“Down with the rest of the staff,” she replies. “Which is far better than where he used to before I arrived.”
“Where was that?” William puts on his shoes.
“In a building that is being fixed,” she returns. “If we have time before breakfast, I’ll show you where it is.”
“Why are you wearing trousers? Ladies don’t wear trousers,” William declares with a giggle.
“Don’t you start sounding like Mr. Jackson,” she warns playfully. “Come. There is much to do.”
She guides William through the house, down to the foyer so he can get his bearings. Then, she shows him where the kitchen is located. She allows him to grab an apple to eat along the way out to the barn.
“The animals need to be fed, the cows need to be milked, and the stalls need to be mucked,” she states.
“All before breakfast?” William whines.
Lady Moss laughs. “You won’t be doing it all. Today, you get to see how the farm works. You’ll follow Mr. Jackson around. I’ll attend on occasion when I’m not busy at the manor. In a few days, we’ll get you started on some of your education. Do you know how to read and write?”
“I can read better than write,” William admits sheepishly.
“No need to be down on yourself,” she instructs. “You’ll have plenty of fun and education here.”
“Are there any children?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Lady Moss sighs. “My late husband and I were not married very long and I was not blessed with any children of my own.”
“What happened to him?”
Lady Moss stops in her tracks. “He went down with a merchant ship at sea.”
“I’m sorry, Miss.”
She rights herself quickly. “Abigail or Abbie,” she reminds him, heading towards the barn.
The boy nods and rushes to keep up with her as her pace returns.
“Good day, gentlemen,” she greets, entering the structure.
“G’day,” they reply.
“This is William,” she announces. “William, this is Mr. Joel, Mr. Martin, Reuben, Oscar, and Mr. Kurt. You know Mr. Jackson.”
The men nod when she says each of their names.
“Good day,” William greets.
She glances down at the boy. “There’s also a Mr. Sheldon somewhere around the grounds. You’ll meet the girls during breakfast.” She returns her attention to the men. “William is living here at the manor. When he is not assisting you, gentlemen, he’ll be studying or playing.”
They nod.
“Who needs an extra set of hands?” she asks.
The men look back and forth at each other, waiting for Mr. Jackson to reply. They’re unsure if she’s included with assisting as she has done many times before. It’s not that she’s incapable let alone gets in the way while working with them. It’s the fact that they’re still not used to the Lady of the manor to be working any part of the farm.
“Mr. Jackson?” she inquires with a warning glare.
“He can help me,” he huffs. “Come on, boy.”
William rushes to his side with a smile that stretches from ear to ear.
“Hold this,” Mr. Jackson says, handing William his pocket watch.
“Wow,” the boy sighs. “It’s shiny.” He carefully turns it in his hands and opens it.
“You keep that safe while I show you how to muck the stale, okay?”
William nods emphatically. “Where did you get it?”
“What?” He glances up at the boy. “Oh, the watch. Lady Moss gave it to me. It was the late Lord Quincy’s.”
“Who is he?”
“The previous owner of the manor,” he informs.
“Where is he now?”
“Deceased.”
William bows his head. “My apologies.”
“No need to apologize, boy. It wasn’t your fault. The man was old and it was his time.”
William nods and slowly raises his head as he clutches the item in his hand. Mr. Jackson explains his actions and why the tasks at hand are tended to first. After a minute or two of watching, he allows the boy to take a try.
Lady Moss helps with feeding the animals, looking over at the boy from time to time.
