L&A: 8

The next morning, before Lily was awake, Neville met his older brother in the main hall as he was putting on his heavy cloak, preparing to go out.

“Where are you off to?” Neville was shocked to see him anywhere but the East Room, keeping watch over Lily.

“That’s my business,” he said evasively. “If Lily asks, tell her I’ll be sure to be back by luncheon.”

“That’s hours from now. Archie, what are you doing?”

“It’s private,” he said, more sharply now. “Don’t worry about me.” He swung open the main door and Neville saw one of the stable hands holding Orpheus’s reins. Neville shook his head and went down the hallway to check on Lily.


* * *

Lily was right to fear for her garden; the storm had made a fearful mess, and even with the help of a few of the Manor’s best gardeners it was likely to take some work to revive it. It was obvious no one had been there since Lily had left it a few days ago.

Archie was not much familiar with the workings of gardens, but he had always found them beautiful and had often watched his mother tend to the massive grounds at Misselthwaite when he was a boy. He opened the small tackle box full of tools and began to work on the roses in the far corner while the others took the more fragile plants.

Mrs. Craven had often asked Archie to prune her roses, since his hands were smaller and therefore could get in the prickly bushes better than hers. He had since grown, and it was harder to prune the bushes than he remembered, especially since he had no gloves and the stems seems exceptionally resistant to any cutting. Still, he made the best attempts he could, knowing that he was no gardener, as Lily seemed to be instinctively. Her father had been right to give her this little plot.

The roses took longer to prune than he’d imagined, and by the time he was done with the modest group the sun was high. Straightening, he turned to evaluate their progress. The few men he had brought with him had cleared the debris left by the storm and replaced some of the loose soil around the flower beds. Tree branches that had fallen had been removed, and even the benches had been cleaned of leaves and petals.

He drew his pocket watch and realized that Neville should’ve returned from town by now. His brother’s religious tendencies didn’t both Archie as much as they amused him; he had given up on all of that long ago, when their mother died. Neville, however, still clung to their Anglican upbringing, even though Archie was fairly sure it was out of habit and not inner devotion. And it couldn’t hurt business, he thought sardonically.

After rounding up the crew he’d taken out, he rode back to the Manor, hoping that lunch was ready and that Lily was doing better. He didn’t relish the idea of Mrs. Medlock watching her while both he and Neville were gone, but he supposed that wasn’t to be helped. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to talk Neville out of church-going. And at least one of them should be on familiar terms with the Almighty.

* * *

Lunch was served by Lucy in Lily’s room, with Archibald and Neville finishing their lamb joints before pressing Lily to take some of the chicken broth Lucy had prepared by the kettleful. Neville sat near the bed as Lily slowly took the soup from the shallow bowl, which was precariously balanced on a wooden tray.

“It’s good,” she said tentatively as she sipped the broth. “But I’m not very hungry.”

“That’s to be expected, but you have to eat,” Neville said, somewhat sharply. Archie caught Lily’s eye and shrugged. Neville was in full-fledged doctor character, and would not hear a word of contradiction against his plan of treatment.

She swallowed another spoonful. “How’s my mother? And Rose?”

“They’re both fine, or at least they were yesterday. I’ll be going over tomorrow to examine your mother,” Neville said as he fidgeted with the silver buttons of his waistcoat.

“Is Rose helping? I know she can be reluctant.”

“She’s been fine. Very anxious about you.”

“I wish they could visit,” she said quietly.

Neville shook his head adamantly. “No. You may still be contagious, I don’t even want Archie—“

“Perhaps you could write a letter?” Archie broke in. He didn’t need Neville blabbering on about his health. Lily looked sharply at Archie as if she’d detected the sudden interjection was meant to cover something more. “Then Rose and your mother could know how you get on. I could take dictation if you don’t feel capable of writing.”

“Perhaps I could manage a pencil,” she said, smiling at him. “I make a mess with my pens even in a normal state.” She laughed. “That’s a lovely idea. Thank you, Mr. Craven.”

Neville stood. “I’ll bring in some supplies. I will take the letter with me tomorrow.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to get your next draught. Finish that,” he said sternly, indicating the half-full bowl.

She nodded. Archie took the chair that Neville had vacated. “You may call me Archibald, you know. We do not need to stand on formality.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t want to be presumptive.

He waved her concerns away with his hand. “Positive. Mr. Craven is my father.”

“It does seem to suit you, as well,” she said. “You can be quite formal.”

Archie was quiet for awhile, and she was afraid she had offended him. “I’m sorry—“

“I have always had much responsibility in the manor,” he said. “My father has never been in good health and I was brought up, from a very young age, to know and execute the responsibilities and duties that fall to the Manor’s owner.

“I don’t socialize much with others, partially because I was so busy when I was young. I don’t enjoy parties or balls. I never have. Your sex does not look very favorably upon me, Lily. I’ve known that since I was young. In many ways, having so much work to do is a blessing. Formality is the only way I can deal with people, and since I do so much work for my father, the only interactions I have are often ones of business.”

“What happened?” He knew that she was obliquely referring to his health.

He shrugged. “We don’t know. The hunchback began to manifest itself as I grew. There’s no treatment. I’ve often thought it’s the reason Neville entered medical school. Mother worried constantly, and Neville took up that mantle once she died. It causes some tension between us,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend pride and vanity haven’t had something to do with my love of solitude.”

“Is that why you went to London?”

He laughed derisively. “No. That was father’s plan, to get me married off. He thought I’d have a better chance in London, more women, maybe some desperate girl who was in her last season and wanted the wealth and prominence that a marriage to me would supply. We aren’t titled, but we have more land than many of the gentry, and my inheritance, as I’m sure you know, is not insubstantial. He wanted me to have an heir to the place. He knows Neville doesn’t understand it the way I do, and that he has never really loved the Manor.

“Neville wanted to go to London for school, so he supported the move. Father needed to settle some business. We stayed two years. The first year was essentially a loss—father was very ill, and I had to run the accounts.”

“And no desperate debutantes in the second?” she asked, aiming for levity.

He hesitated. “One. Amy Moore. Although she wasn’t desperate. It was her first season, and I was amazed that, as pretty as she was, she seemed to have chosen me. Her family owned land in Hertforshire, her father was a naval captain, there was talk of an elevation to the peerage. I was happy. I thought she was, too. I was planning a proposal.

“One night she happened to see me as I was taking off my coat. You know the season in London is during the fall and winter,” he said, “ and I often wore several layers of clothing when dancing, to attempt to mask the hump. It was fairly successful. Of course I never waltzed,” he said, “but the set dances often worked to my advantage. As did the low light of the ballrooms, and the sheer number of people one sees at Almack’s.

“She had accompanied me home. I was going to introduce her to my father. Seward was helping me off with my overcoat, and then my jacket, and she seemed to realize exactly what it….what I…looked like.” His voice broke and he settled it before continuing. “She pulled me into a side parlor and asked me what had happened. If it would affect our children. I didn’t know. Who did? There was no family history of it before me. No one knew.

“She said I had tricked her. She had wondered why I was as old as I was and never married. Now she knew. And she said that all the money in the treasury wouldn’t convince her to marry me.” He closed his eyes, sighed, and continued, his voice heavy. “She left immediately. I never saw her again. Of course, she told all the other ladies of her acquaintance, and London was ruined for me.”

Lily’s heart cried out for him, for the intense pain the rejection of the pretty Miss Moore had brought him. Fortunately she didn’t know the girl, so she couldn’t incur Lily’s wrath. The hump was noticeable, certainly, but it wasn’t overwhelming. He had a handsome face and warm eyes. He was a consummate gentleman. She thought Amy and Rose must be of the same mold.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hating the inadequacy of the words. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “It was a long time ago. I’ve too much to do to think about the past.”

“I think you’ve thought about it quite a bit.”

He looked at her, as if she had unmasked him. “Why do you say so?”

“It’s clearly had an effect on you,” she said. “Everyone around here has always heard that you do not like company, or the society of others. I think it’s because of her.”

“She certainly didn’t help,” he said. “I’ll give you that. But I was always quiet.”

“Not all women are like her, Archibald.”

“That’s what Neville tells me. But then I imagine them to be the fortune hunters. As unpractical as it sounds, I would like to know I had other qualities besides money.”

“That’s not unpractical. We all want that,” Lily said.

“You will have many options, I assume, now that you are on the marriage market.” His voice was tinged with bitterness.

“And, like you, some will only see the material gain to be found in marrying me. Even though my father does not have as much money as before, there is still the name. The desire to be a member of the peerage.”

“Then we are in similar positions,” Archie said. “Although I think Neville is the only chance we have for any sort of matrimony. I’m getting too old for it.”

“You are not,” she said, as she took another sip of the broth. “Men have a much longer time for marriage than the women do. Rose was practically frantic when she wasn’t engaged by the time she was nineteen.”

“But she is soon to be married, isn’t she?”

Lily nodded. “To Albert Lennox—he’s a captain in the army. Stationed in India, wants to move up in the ranks and then come back here and settle down.”

“Rose is going to India?” Archie didn’t know much about Lily’s older sister, but he knew she liked her comforts. “She will be in for a surprise.”

Lily shrugged. “Rose wants to be married, and Albert is a nice man. I don’t think she’s really thought about India yet. There are to stay here a few months while Albert gets a new assignment.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, toying with the spoon. “Marriage, I suppose. Helping mother with the new baby. Trying to stay out of trouble. I’m not nearly as ‘marriagable’ as my sister, or at least my family says.”

“I think you have many fine qualities,” Archie said, trying to keep his voice even. If she showed any interest in him, he would…

She smiled shyly. “Thank you. Although you don’t know me very well.”

“I can tell a lot about people quickly,” he said.

“You must be able to, given that for most of our acquaintance I’ve been unconscious, delirious, or otherwise out of my senses,” she said. Her wit was endearing.

The door opened and Neville returned, carrying another draught. “Here you are,” he said, handing her the glass. He eyes the soup bowl suspiciously. “Not much eating going on there.”

“I’m sorry, we’ve been talking,” Archie said, standing. “I should leave you,” he said to her as she drank Neville’s concotion. Neville picked up the bedtray and set it by the door.

“Will you stay, until I fall asleep? It is still very odd being here alone,” she said to Archibald. Relieved to have been asked, he nodded.

Neville stood awkwardly at the threshold. “Well I’ll head over to the House, then,” he said. “Go check on your mother.”

“I will try to have a letter for them tomorrow,” Lily said as she closed her eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Craven.”