Moss Manor, page 13
“Here,” the boy says, offering the watch.
“You hold onto it for me,” he replies. “Put it in your inner pocket like this.” Mr. Jackson shows him. “You keep it safe until breakfast for me, okay?”
William smiles and nods before attempting to muck the stall. He catches on quickly, barely needing any further instruction from the foreman.
“Good,” Mr. Jackson praises. “When you’re done, do that one.” He points to the stall to his left. “I’ll start over here.”
When the morning duties are done, the men trickle into the kitchen not long after Lady Moss, William, and Mr. Jackson have already arrived. Each of the girls fawn over young William, excited to have a child in the house.
“How long is he staying, Miss?” Minerva inquires.
“As long as William decides to stay,” Lady Moss informs. “He is one of us now.”
“We can teach you the best hiding places in the back garden,” offers Britney.
“The best trees to climb,” adds Gale.
“He’ll enjoy playing with the Barton boys,” Mrs. Doyle states.
“That’s right,” Lady Moss agrees. “I forgot they have two boys.”
“How old are they?” William inquires.
“About your age, if I’m not mistaken,” Mrs. Doyle informs.
William beams as his legs swing under his chair.
During the next two weeks, with the excitement of a child at the home and Christmas in just two days, the manor is lively. William is a polite boy, only engaging in typical boy mischief. Lady Moss rarely chides his behaviors, wanting him to feel relaxed and welcomed. She knows he needs to learn certain disciplines, but his demeanor gives her the confidence that his requirement to be more of a man can wait another year or two.
As the midday of Christmas Eve arrives, the staff are surprised at the generosity of their Lady. All the boxes of chocolates, all of the fabrics, and the individual gifts in recognition of their hard work are greatly appreciated. They’re shocked when she announces that she wants to make the workers’ quarters warmer and more welcoming for them.
William is excited when Mr. Jackson, Mrs. Doyle, and Ms. Moss give him a few items of his own as well. He can’t remember the last time he ever received several gifts let alone one.
A week later, Byron and Henry visit the manor, bringing Bridget and their youngest son, Alexander, along. William is enthralled with his new uncles, aunt, and cousin. Alexander is only four years old, but William doesn’t mind playing with or caring for him.
“Papa said you took in a boy, but we thought he’d gone mad,” Byron states.
“Funny how you would say he is mad and not I,” Lady Moss replies.
“We weren’t sure what to think,” Henry adds.
“I believed him,” Bridget declares. “Is it not in Abbie’s nature to do such kind acts?”
The men nod in reply.
“He does look a little like William,” Byron states.
“You remember his appearance?” Henry asks. “I cannot remember such things.”
“I wish Mama and Papa had gotten a portrait,” Lady Moss states solemnly.
“At least Papa has a picture of Mama at the farm,” Bryon reminds.
“That’s right,” Henry agrees. “I had almost forgotten they got it done in town the one day.”
“Papa isn’t known to spend that much money,” Byron adds.
“He would on the one he loves,” Lady Moss returns. “That is why Papa hasn’t remarried.”
“She has a point,” agrees Bridget.
“I wish I had one here,” Lady Moss says solemnly.
“Perhaps, if you know of a good artist, you could hire one to paint her from the picture?” Bridget suggests.
Lady Moss beams with excitement. “That is a wonderful idea.”
“You should have him, or her, paint you and William as well. This is your manor now and there isn’t a painting of either of you,” Bridget adds.
“Bridget is right,” Henry states.
“Then, I shall need paintings of the entire family as well.”
Byron chuckles. “Can you afford all that?”
Lady Moss considers how to reply. Being a Lady of a grand manor and farm allows her to afford many things, much more than she could ever imagine. She dares not embarrass anyone with the revelation of the amount of money she had inherited.
“If I must sell a trinket or two, I will. A painting of my family to keep me company when you cannot be here is of more value to me. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it,” she replies.
“Usually, you think of everything, dear Abbie,” Henry teases.
“Any suitors?” Bridget asks. “I’m sure that finding a father for William will not be a challenge.”
“There are always suitors,” Lady Moss replies, smoothing out her dress. “None of whom are to my liking.”
“Dare you be so picky, Abbie?” Henry asks teasingly.
“I have every right to be as such,” she defends, spinning her wedding ring around her finger. “Aunt Norma lined me up before at least thirty or forty men since the age of sixteen. Mr. Woolridge was the only possible suitor for who I did not instantly have a severe distaste. He was my salvation from being rid of her.”
“Don’t say such things, Abbie,” Byron scolds.
“Why not?” she returns. “The woman is incorrigible. She’s never liked me, nor our family.”
“I always wondered why Uncle John married her,” Henry states. “She wasn’t of his kind.”
“You could say the same about Papa for Mama,” Byron returns. “At least they married for love.”
“Mama was looked down upon for it,” Lady Moss reminds. “I would be under the same scrutiny…not that I care what others think.”
“Why?” Bridget inquires.
“She married beneath her, according to our grandparents,” Lady Moss informs. “So, she was disowned.”
“All for marrying for love?” Bridget scoffs.
“Most women cannot afford to marry for such whims,” Lady Moss reminds. “You and Byron are one of the lucky few.”
“Well, you are a Lady now, Abbie,” Bridget reminds. “What say you?”
“I married once under pressure for higher stature and I will not do it again.”
“So, you will never marry again?” Bridget asks timidly.
“If love is to fill my heart, that will be the only way.”
Bridget grins. “Has anyone filled your heart?”
Lady Moss looks over at William who is running around the far end of the room with his cousin. “William has…so, the man must love not only me, but him as well as if he was his own son.”
“What are you saying, Abbie?” Henry asks.
“He will inherit the estate,” she informs.
“Even if you have children of your own?” Byron inquires.
Lady Moss sits more upright. “He is my own and will always be treated as such.”
“You think it wise, sister?” Henry asks.
“No different than me inheriting this manor because there was no one else in Mr. Woolridge’s line to inherit it.”
“She has a point,” Bridget agrees.
A silence falls upon the adults.
“The staff seems to enjoy him,” Bridget declares. “He is a pleasant boy and clearly Alexander loves his new cousin as well. I’m certain his other cousins will like him just as much. I would say he is definitely a Moss.”
Lady Moss smiles proudly. “Thank you.”
“Does the boy understand?” Byron asks.
“He is a boy, brother,” she reminds. “He does not need to understand it all. He has at least another year or two before he must begin to be shaped into a man.”
“All the more reason to find a husband,” Byron states.
“Hold your tongue,” Lady Moss warns calmly. “He has many fine men who work here. Mr. Jackson has been a wonderful example and has taught him many things that I cannot. Mr. Joel, Mr. Martin, Mr. Kurt, and Mr. Sheldon have contributed as well.”
“True,” Henry agrees.
“But, none of them are the boy’s father,” Byron reminds. “Nor are any of them presented as one.”
“A father nor mother aren’t always one whose blood you share, Byron. They are the people who love you, guide you, care for you unrelentingly. Uncle was that for me when I stayed with him and Aunt Norma.”
“You needed a mother,” Byron states.
“We all did,” Lady Moss counters. “Papa was in no position to replace Mama. He did the best he could and when he knew he could no longer be what I needed, he sent me to Aunt Norma. Aunt Norma…well….”
“It’s a shame he couldn’t have sent you to anyone else,” Bridget snickers.
“Though it wasn’t easy, I am grateful for the experience,” she sighs. “Uncle was most pleasant even during his instructions. He made my time with them more agreeable. I have learnt from Aunt Norma how I ought not to act.”
“I heard she will be visiting the Clemsons soon,” Byron informs.
Lady Moss tries to hide her disappointment since the Clemsons are within a half a days ride. “I’d gather she intends to visit here.” She fidgets with her dress. “I don’t see why she would. She seemed displeased with the manor when she came for the ball.”
“Don’t let her get to you,” Bridget says. “That is what pleases her the most. I’ve seen her do it with Papa and the boys.” She leans in toward her sister-in-law. “I’ve seen her purposefully do it with Uncle John.”
“I’d tar and feather the woman if I ever caught her doing that,” Lady Moss replies. “She is lucky I have not.”
“Now that’s a sight I’d like to see,” Byron chuckles.
“Don’t tempt me,” Lady Moss giggles.
“Abbie,” William calls, rushing toward her. “Can we play outside?”
She glances out the window. “It’s cold.”
He shrugs. “We want to go outside.”
She regards him and Alexander. “Something tells me that this is your concoction and you’ve convinced your cousin of such things.”
William pouts. “Please.”
She considers her response for a second. “If either of you gets as dirty as a pig, I will hog-tie you and bathe you in ice water.”
Wiliam snickers.
“The boy knows when you’re bluffing?” Henry asks. “Amazing.”
“It’s Mr. Jackson’s fault,” she returns with a sigh.
Bridget hides a smile. “Perhaps Mr. Jackson could be a suitor.”
“What’s a suitor?” William asks.
“It’s not important,” Lady Moss claims.
“Someone for your new Mama to marry,” Bridget replies.
William smiles. “I’d like that. I think Mr. Jackson would too.”
Byron and Henry chuckle loudly.
“Don’t encourage such nonsense,” Lady Moss demands, feeling flushed by the topic.
“Why is it nonsense?” Byron challenges. “He is the least likely of a suitor who would be presented to you and you have the most in common.”
Lady Moss lets out a loud, heavy breath to announce her irritation. She turns her attention to William. “Who wanted to play outside, hm?”
Chapter Sixteen
William sulks as he sits on the windowsill, watching the snow falling for the second day in a row.
“What is the matter, sweetheart?” Lady Moss inquires as she tends to her papers on her desk.
“I miss my cousin,” he says.
“I’m certain Alexander misses you too,” she assures.
“Can we go see him?”
“Unfortunately, no,” she sighs. “It isn’t safe to travel with the snow.”
“How much more of it?”
Lady Moss chuckles. “At least another month or two.”
William lets out a heavy sigh.
Understanding his disappointment, she suggests, “We could travel to a far-off land without having to deal with the cold snow.”
William’s head snaps around. “How?”
“Through a book,” Lady Moss declares. “You’ve been getting better with reading and you can follow along as I read aloud.”
“Which book?”
“Hm,” she ponders, venturing over to the bookcase. “There are many adventures here. It’s more the matter of which you’d like to partake in today.”
William jumps off the windowsill and rushes next to her.
“We have a variety of poetry books about many topics or stories of grand journeys. There’s a book about a merchant who abandons his family in search of fortune,” she states, pulling the book out slightly. “Or—“
“Does it have pirates?” he asks eagerly.
“Yes, it does,” she replies as she smiles at him. “There’s another about a man who was thrown in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.” Lady Moss slides out the book far enough for him to see.
“Did he get released?”
“We would have to read to find out,” Lady Moss replies though she knows how the story ends. “There’s also one about a young man who was impoverished as a child, depicting his trials and tribulations in becoming a novelist.”
“How about the one with pirates?” William asks.
“If that is what you wish,” she replies happily, retrieving the book.
William begs her to continue reading as they eat lunch, but she requests a break and promises to continue once they’re finished. He reluctantly relents though he tells Mr. Jackson what has happened so far in the story. The boy insists that Mr. Jackson join them to discover what occurs next. Mr. Jackson claims that there is much to do on the farm.
“It is snowing, Mr. Jackson,” Lady Moss reminds. “Mr. Joel and Mr. Martin have kept an eye on the animals. I’m sure they’ll continue to do just fine.”
It is not that Mr. Jackson doesn’t trust the men. It is the fact that he is not used to just sitting. He also enjoys the company of the boy and Lady Moss and doesn’t want to appear too eager to remain.
“Please,” William begs. “It’ll be fun.”
“You might rather like it,” Lady Moss adds. “There’s a character in the story that has an ill tongue such as yours.”
He rolls his eyes but agrees.
Once their meal has concluded, William requests Mr. Jackson to take a turn reading to him. He lowers to the chaise and the boy settles without hesitation on Mr. Jackson’s lap. Lady Moss bites back a smile, pleased to see how comfortable William is already at the manor and how he’s taken to her foreman.
They read through the afternoon and until dinner is ready.
During dinner, William asks questions and makes speculations about what will happen next in the story. Lady Moss actively engages his curious mind as her excitement begins to match his. Mr. Jackson listens on, commenting when William directs his attention to him.
Lady Moss resumes reading after Mr. Jackson’s claim that he needs a break. William does not mind and settles with her quickly on the chaise. Over time, their legs kick up on the chair and William is settled in the crook of her right side. He stops her from time to time, inquiring what certain words mean, and she’s happy to settle his curiosity.
“He’s asleep,” Mr. Jackson says, startling her.
Lady Moss shifts softly to see the boy’s face. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“It is a good story,” Mr. Jackson declares. “You have a good voice for storytelling as well.”
She smiles and puts the book on the small table that has held her tea.
“Would you like me to move him?”
Lady Moss assesses her situation. Though her body aches from being in their current position for so long, she’s reluctant to agree. Her arms wrap around the boy and she kisses the top of his head.
“He’s adjusted better than I thought he would,” Mr. Jackson admits.
“Far better than you,” she teases.
“How does he sleep?”
“Good,” she affirms. “He’s woken a few times in the middle of the night. He won’t tell me about the dreams, but requests that I stay in his room unless he comes to mine.”
“It is to be expected,” Mr. Jackson replies. “Who knows what the boy has dealt with.”
“What was it like for you?” she asks.
Mr. Jackson peers around the room to avoid answering. His attention is drawn back to Lady Moss when her fingers begin brushing through the boy’s hair. “I was younger than he,” he shares. “There was a group of us who fled the orphanage.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I cannot remember, but the streets, though dangerous, were more tolerable.”
“How did Lord Quincy come upon you?”
Mr. Jackson snickers. “One of the boys I was with tried to pick his pocket while the others stole food off the street. They got away…I did not.”
“Lucky for you,” she states. “I’m sure you’ve fared far better than the rest of them.”
Mr. Jackson nods. “I am very grateful for his kindness. Mr. Denison, the previous foreman, took me on and taught me what I know.”
“How kind?” she praises.
Mr. Jackson doesn’t comment.
“My brothers recommend he begin learning to be a man,” she states suddenly.
“He’s still young.”
“That is what I told them,” she replies.
“He’s got a good head about him,” Mr. Jackson adds. “A good personality too. Everyone here enjoys him.”
She smiles. “Even you?”
He snorts. “Even me.”
“And here, I thought you didn’t have a heart,” she goads.
"I have one,” he replies. His eyes catch a glimpse of her wedding ring. “Just not willing to show it much.”
She nods. “I surmised as much.”
A comfortable silence falls upon them for some time.
“William pushes to see Alexander again and my Uncle wishes to meet him,” she shares.
“What’s wrong with that?” he questions. “You’ll get to see more of your family.”
She lets out a heavy breath. “Is it wrong that I want him all to myself for just a little bit longer?”
Mr. Jackson chuckles. “There are many of us here.”
Her lips purse. “I…I just don’t want to taint him with the troubles of my world just yet. He’s had enough of his own for who knows how long. He’s yet to tell me about life prior to us finding him.”
