Moss Manor, page 21
“You are most gracious as my Mother said,” Miss Steven states as they are halfway through their lunch.
“Your mother is a spirited woman,” she replies. “I thoroughly enjoyed her company.”
“As she did with you.”
“Your mother said that you may be wed soon,” she states.
Miss Steven’s face falls a little. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry if I have spoken out of turn,” Lady Moss returns. “I meant nothing but my congratulations.”
“Mr. Mencer would make a fine husband, and I’d be so lucky if he chooses to ask for my hand.”
“But, you do not wish to marry him.”
Miss Stevens blushes. “I….”
When her guest doesn’t continue, Lady Moss cautiously inquires, “What of Mr. Alcott?”
Miss Stevens shakes her head. “I…I do not find our personalities agreeable and Mother seems less fond of him now.”
“Hm,” Lady Moss replies. “I can see that.” She studies her guest for a moment. “Your heart belongs to someone else?”
Miss Stevens fights a grin.
“Who is the lucky gentleman? And, why hasn’t he asked for your hand?” she inquires, eager for the details.
“I think he knows that I am fond of him very much so.”
“Yet, you are uncertain?” Lady Moss suspects.
Miss Stevens nods.
“Where did you meet him?”
“In the city,” Miss Steven replies. “When I was staying with my Aunt and Uncle Motley.”
“How were your interactions?”
“Quite good, I think,” she replies timidly. “We’ve conversed during our first meeting at a ball almost a year ago and on several occasions later.”
“What is his name?”
“Oliver,” she says with a widening grin. Her expression falters.
“What is wrong, Adelaide?”
“I know that I would be not as suitable as other girls for him to marry.”
“Says who?” Lady Moss asks. “Any man should see himself honored to marry you. Beyond your beauty and your parents, you’re bright and have much to offer.”
Her smile returns slightly. “I am not of such rank as he. Mother is not a Lady nor my Father a Lord. You would have a better chance than—“
“Pish Posh,” Lady Moss replies. “I had married for a higher rank because I was told it was my duty. Should the chance return a second time? I would only marry someone I love and not the prior.”
“I do not think my parents feel the same for me, though they would be fond of his stature,” she says meekly.
Lady Moss lets out a heavy breath. “I know how you feel, but from what I gathered from our dinner, I would say they are much different than my Aunt who brought forth many suitors.”
Miss Stevens gasps in shock. “You did not love Lord Woolridge?”
Lady Moss lowers her chin slightly. “I hoped that should he still be alive, I would have.”
Neither speaks for a few seconds.
“Is Oliver a Lord?” Lady Moss inquires.
Miss Stevens’ head sway. “He is a Baron.”
Lady Moss’ brow lifts, wondering if he is the man she suspects.
“He does not know I know that I am aware of his title,” Miss Stevens says. “I only recently found out.”
“Which is why you haven’t spoken to your parents?”
Miss Stevens lowers her head and nods.
“His last name wouldn’t happen to be Hasworthy?”
“Hasworthy,” she repeats nervously.
“Baron Oliver Hasworthy?” Lady Moss states more than questions.
“You have heard of him?”
With a widening grin, she affirms, “I know a bit about him. He is most handsome and kind.”
Miss Stevens’ giddy grin returns. “He has a way with words that makes my heart beat in a manner that I fear it will jump out of my chest.”
Lady Moss thinks for a moment, back to the conversation she had with the Baron when he visited her unannounced. He had spoken of longing for a girl that was not of his social circle and wonders if he was speaking of Adelaide.
“I would say most definitely that it is love.”
“How do you know?” Miss Stevens inquires.
“Though I was not fortunate to experience it with my late husband, books are most helpful when identifying and comprehending emotions, are they not?”
“Most indeed,” Miss Stevens agrees.
“I will do my best to assist you, my dear.”
“Assist me?”
Lady Moss nods. “More people should have the chance to marry for love than obligation. I think it only fair that I aid such a revolution.”
Miss Stevens giggles. “Revolution?”
Lady Moss lifts her chin. “Indeed.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Spring is almost here, Clara,” Lady Moss reminds as she sips her tea. “I think, since you are still in the town, that a ball would be a great way to celebrate it, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“That settles, it,” Lady Moss declares. “I doubt this would be the first ball for the Stevens Manor, correct?”
Mr. Stevens’ mouth opens to comment, but his wife beats him to it.
“We have hosted many balls in our early years,” Mrs. Stevens shares.
“We haven’t had one in so long,” Adelaide reminds. “I think it’s a grand idea, Mama.”
“Dear?” Mr. Stevens cautions as he peers over his paper.
“What better way to celebrate Leonard and his wife as well as entice Mr. Mencer?” suggests Lady Moss.
Adelaide smirks as she watches on.
“There is too much to do to prepare,” Mr. Stevens states.
“Something that I’m certain Adelaide and Lady Moss would be more than helpful with,” Mrs. Steven suggests.
“Most indeed,” Lady Moss confirms. “I have learnt much since hosting my first. My dear friend, Mrs. Elizabeth Warren, worked wonders.”
“Has she had the baby yet?” Mrs. Stevens inquires.
“Not yet,” she states. “However, I believe the child will be here sooner than we expect. It would be a wonderful way to introduce you to her husband, Mr. Charles Warren, my lawyer.”
Mr. Stevens considers Lady Moss’ last few words. “I will allow it.”
“Oh, Papa,” his daughter cheers.
“As if it wasn’t going to happen,” teases Mrs. Stevens. “It would be the perfect way to expand the business.”
“I know quite a few good families who, should they attend, will make your party the talk of the season and would be potential clients or business partners,” Lady Moss claims.
“Such as?” Mr. Stevens asks, suddenly more intrigued by the idea of the gathering.
“Well, my first recommendation, and I’m sure I could easily persuade him, is Baron Hasworthy.”
“Baron Hasworthy?” Mr. Stevens repeats, leaning forward.
Mrs. Stevens gasps in awe.
“Oh, yes,” Lady Moss confirms. “The young Baron Hasworthy who’s already been handling much of his family’s business. He is such a gentleman, and from last I heard, still single.”
“Single?” Mrs. Stevens asks excitedly. “Did you hear that dear, single?”
Lady Moss nods as she glances at Adelaide who is blushing.
“Does he have intentions of marrying?” Mr. Stevens inquires.
“I’m sure he and his family do,” Lady Moss replies. “But last I heard, there has been no proposal to anyone.”
“What of any girls presented to him?” Mrs. Stevens inquires.
Lady Moss shrugs. “Many have been presented, but none that I know of have captured his eye.”
“How old is he? ” Mr. Stevens asks.
“What does it matter?” Mrs. Steven returns.
“I believe him to be in his late twenties,” Lady Moss states. “Just a few years older than me. Do you know anything on the subject, Adelaide?”
She swallows hard as she blushes and shakes her head. “I have met him briefly once or twice when visiting my Aunt.”
“You never told me,” Mrs. Stevens gasps. “What is he like? Is he as Lady Moss describes?”
“He is a most agreeable man,” she answers. “Handsome too.”
“Then, we must invite him,” Mrs. Stevens declares.
“Why would he or any Baron wish to attend our ball?” Mr. Stevens asks.
“I’ll request it,” Lady Moss informs. “He is a friend and I do not have a husband therefore he can accompany me.”
Mr. Stevens chuckles. “No offense, Lady Moss, but will that alone get him to attend?”
“Most indeed,” she agrees. “We have some potential business matters to discuss.”
“What sort of business?” inquires Mr. Stevens.
“None that I will share until it is well underway,” she replies, smoothing out her dress.
Mr. Stevens studies his guest.
“There’s also Mr. Pickens and his son Edmund,” Lady Moss adds. “They might not be Barons but they—“
“Have a printing business,” states Mr. Stevens.
“Yes,” Lady Moss confirms.
“You do love to read, Adelaide,” Mrs. Stevens reminds.
“Far better than fish,” her daughter says lowly.
“And, there might be some advertisements for our new linens to discuss with them,” Mrs. Stevens adds.
“Hm,” Mr. Steven says, scratching his beard.
“I think the ball would be a wonderful opportunity to get several suitors for Adelaide to step forward, do you not agree, Mrs. Stevens?”
“I agree, Lady Moss,” she replies.
“I thought you were opposed to women being married off,” Mr. Stevens challenges.
“Not if it is the right gentleman,” Lady Moss returns slyly.
“Adelaide is nineteen, dear,” Mrs. Stevens adds. “A good age to marry.”
“A good age to have many suitors and the opportunity to decide for herself,” Lady Moss suggests. Mr. Stevens begins to object, but she cuts him off. “The family business is already taken care of with Leonard to inherit it. Afford your daughter the option to choose and you just might be pleased with the outcome.”
Mr. Stevens regards his guest. “Something tells me you’re up to something, Lady Moss.”
“If it is to see my new friends, and neighbours, share in success for business and marriage, I say, why not, don’t you agree?”
He considers the situation before him for a long moment. “You will not go over budget.”
“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Stevens replies.
When Mr. Stevens’ gaze shifts, his wife winks at her daughter and Lady Moss.
“How many potential business partners, Lady Moss?” Mr. Stevens inquires.
She bites back a smile. “At least five.”
“How many potential husbands?” he checks.
Lady Moss’ grin widens. “At least ten.”
He grumbles to himself before agreeing.
Mrs. Stevens and her daughter quietly cheer, holding back their excitement as they begin to discuss who else to invite and what the theme should be. Lady Moss assists for the next hour before excusing herself.
“Must you go, Lady Moss?” Mrs. Stevens asks.
“Better she goes now or else I’ll expect her to pitch in for half of the expenses,” Mr. Stevens teases.
“I must send letters to my friends and acquaintances to make sure I have the minimum attending as promised,” she replies.
“Minimum?” Mr. Steven repeats.
She nods. “I do expect to invite at least three times as many, Mr. Stevens, and I do expect at least half to attend.”
He lifts his chin. “Suitors or—“
“Businessmen,” she answers.
He nods. “The Lady must go post-haste if we are to have a ball that will be discussed for the next year.”
“Do stop by anytime,” Lady Moss instructs the Stevens family. “I do love our visits.”
“As do we,” Mrs. Stevens replies.
When she arrives home, Lady Moss begins a list of suitors and businessmen. It takes her only five minutes to compile one of twenty suitors, including Baron Hasworthy, and a total of thirty businessmen.
“What schemes are you fixing, Miss?” Mr. Jackson’s voice accuses from the door.
“None that concern you,” she replies, not bothering to look up.
“They all concern me if—“
“If what, Mr. Jackson?” she inquires, lifting her gaze.
He studies her for a moment and his head begins to sway. “You are up to something.”
She shrugs and places her pen on the desk. “Aiding a friend is all…and possibly myself in the process.”
He lets out a heavy breath.
“Why are you bothering me, Mr. Jackson?”
He shifts his weight onto his other foot and she notices his uneasiness. “Just…William had a fall is all.”
“A fall?” She shoots up to a standing position and moves toward him. “What kind of a—“
“The boy is fine,” he assures, blocking her from passing by.
“What kind of a fall?”
“He’s fine,” he reiterates. “A little shaken but—“
“What are you implying? What happened?”
“He didn’t want you to find out,” Mr. Jackson states.
“Why not?”
“He knew you’d be upset.”
“Of course, I’m upset,” she replies. “How could I not be? I’m his mother.”
“He’s a boy,” Mr. Jackson says. “They get hurt.”
“How hurt?” she asks, irritated that he’s still blocking her.
Mr. Jackson places his hands on her, just below her shoulders. “Nothing he won’t recover from.”
“Where is he?” she asks, taking a deep breath.
“In the kitchen,” he replies. “Mrs. Doyle is tending to him. The boy will have a bruised eye and a swollen lip but—“
“From what?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer as she pushes past him. Her feet rush through the house towards the kitchen. “William!” she calls as she approaches. “William, dear, are you alright?” Her feet stop instantly when she catches sight of him.
“He’ll be alright,” Mrs. Doyle affirms, pulling back a raw steak off of his eye.
Lady Moss takes in a deep, sharp breath when she sees the bruising. As she’s about to step forward, Mr. Jackson catches her by the elbow. She doesn’t look at him as she pulls away forcefully and heads toward William.
“I’m fine,” William claims.
She lowers to the floor, kneeling before him. Lady Moss inspects him from head to toe.
“I’m fine,” he repeats.
“What happened?” she asks.
“He—“
“I’m asking him, Mr. Jackson,” she declares sternly, barely glancing over her shoulder.
“Mr. Jackson was teaching me how to corral the pigs,” William states. “I stepped one way and a pig stepped into me, knocking me into the fence. I hit my lip and that’s when a pig collided with my arm which forced my hand into my eye.”
“Told you he’s fine,” Mr. Jackson says.
Lady Moss rises and offers a heated warning glare.
“Out you go,” Mrs. Doyle states, shooing him away.
“What did I do?” Mr. Jackson whines. “The boy is—“
“Out!” Mrs. Doyle says, flicking her towel in his direction as she pushes him outside.
Lady Moss returns her attention to William.
“I’m fine, honest,” William assures.
Lady Moss lets out a heavy breath. “You may be, but I may not for a bit.”
“It won’t happen again,” William states. “I promise. I know how to do it now.”
Lady Moss chuckles. Though she wants to prevent him from ever doing it again, she knows that the boy has learnt a valuable lesson, one she nor anyone else could have taught him other than the experience itself.
“What have you learnt?” she asks, sitting down next to him.
“To better grasp the situation before taking action,” William replies.
“And?”
“And to be aware of my surroundings better,” he adds.
“And?”
“And, to always respect the animals,” he continues. “They can be unpredictable.”
“Good,” she sighs.
He looks at her tentatively with his good eye. “You’re not mad?”
“Heavens no,” she chuckles. “My brothers, your uncles, have learnt many lessons tending the farm…as did I.”
“Then, why were you mad with Mr. Jackson?”
“I was not mad at him as you think,” she replies with a sigh. “I was mad to hear you were hurt. My concern made me lash out, which I will apologize to him for.”
“Because you love me?” William asks.
She smiles and nods. “Yes. Though, that is no excuse to treat him the way that I did.”
“So…I can tend to the pigs again?” he asks hesitantly.
Lady Moss smiles. “Yes…however, why don’t we wait a few days and make sure both eyes are working, hm?”
“Both eyes were working when it happened,” William reminds.
“All the more reason to make sure they’re both working together the next time.”
He nods.
She brushes her fingers through his hair. “Looks like you’ll need to keep that meat patch over ye eye, Pirate Prince.”
William’s smile widens. “It does make me more like a pirate.”
Her head bobs from side to side. “Though it’s not how most pirates end up with a patch, I am glad that it is not due to the loss of an eye.”
“Me too,” William agrees.
“How about some cake?” Mrs. Doyle inquires.
“Can I?” William asks eagerly.
Lady Moss nods. “I don’t see why not.”
They sit down at the table and Mrs. Doyle offers her ladyship a plate as well. “Welcome to motherhood,” she says, pairing it with a glass of wine. “I’m surprised it took this long.”
Lady Moss chugs the liquid and Mrs. Doyle is quick to fill it again for her.
Later that night, after diner has concluded, William is sent to the kitchen for another treatment from Mrs. Doyle as well as some dessert.
