Page 92 of The Heart of a Rake
Mark runs Blackthorn on his own, as Edmund has made him its manager. My oldest seems relieved not to have the responsibility on his mind. He still has fences to mend in London as well as things to prove to those around him.
Judith paused, looking again toward the direction her children and husband had taken, and tried to decide how much to tell Daphne. Blackthorn, for all its size as an aristocratic country home, had a relatively small back garden that overlooked the rolling fields of the main grounds. In the distance grew the scrubby blackthorn trees that gave the estateits name, and beyond them the first of the tenancies that helped the property earn an income.
In just two years, Mark had been instrumental in turning the Sculthorpe finances around. He had sold At Wheel’s End, using the proceeds to invest in the Sculthorpe estate. He had established close relationships with the tenants, and last year’s income from the farms had been double of the year before. Which, given the current weather, looked to be beneficial. If this year’s crops failed, they still had some in store and a reserve to keep the tenants solvent.
Judith doubted Daphne would want to hear all that, nor would she care about Atkinson, who had been convicted of his attempts at coercion as well as the murder of Stella Ashley. His wealth and connections had eased the blow somewhat; he wound up being given the option of transportation instead of hanging. He had obviously chosen to live, and he now existed somewhere in Australia. Most likely running a gaming saloon and bilking the locals.
“Judith?”
Judith folded both letters before turning around.
Phyllida strolled the one narrow gravel path of the garden, the skirt of her thick green woolen riding kit brushing her ankles. “I wish to join the children. Will you not ride with me?”
Judith shook her head. “Not today.”
“Still not feeling well?”
“Just a bit queasy. I do not think riding a horse would be a good idea.”
Phyllida peered at her. “And probably not a good idea for a while.”
Judith smiled but said nothing.
“Is that letter from my daughter?”
“It is.”
“And you are responding?”
“I am.”
Phyllida sniffed, then turned on her heel and headed to the barn at the far end of the garden.
Judith sighed. By showing up with a woman at Christmas, Daphne had sparked a rift in the family that would most likely take years to heal. She could have simply declared her companion to be a close friend, but that type of discretion did not seem to be a part of Daphne’s constitution—she was far too like her brothers and her mother for that. The result had been volcanic, after which the two women departed, with only Judith and some of the children seeing them off. Sophia had an estate in Yorkshire, and Daphne had gone there to live. The rest of the family now tried to behave as if their sister no longer existed.
Judith was not having any of that. Family was family. Mark and Phyllida knew that she wrote to Daphne, but they did not want to hear about it. But Judith knew people could change; she would not give up on this.
After all, Phyllida herself had made a major change in her own life after the Blackwell ball. After disappearing that night, she had emerged a week later with the first of several day gowns in every color of the rainbow. She had thrown off her clothes of mourning and emerged as one of the most vibrant dragons of the ton. The widowers of the city flocked after her but left unsatisfied. Then, after two London seasons, she had started spending more time at her own country estate as well as Blackthorn.
Judith suspected this had more to do with Matthew’s growing family and Sarah’s astute running of the Embleton household than Phyllida’s need for fresh air. No one liked to feel as if they were in the way.
As Phyllida on her thoroughbred cantered across the fields, Judith pulled the letters out again, deciding to save the rest of the information for a future missive, closing quickly.
Your mother is also staying the summer. London also seems to bore her these days, something I never thought I would see.
Please know that I wish you and Sophia well, and I hope we may visit someday soon. Please write whenever you feel the need.
Your loving sister-in-law,
Judith
Judith folded the letter, tucking it away again. She would seal and mail it later. For now, the chill of the morning air had eased her upset stomach. She wanted tea and toast, a bath, and a fresh gown. Epworth, whose knowledge of Judith had already alerted her to what lay in store for the next few months, would pamper her appropriately. Judith wanted to be at her best for her husband tonight, for the moment had come for her to explain to him exactly what could happen when he claimed her as his first choice. His only and forever choice.
The End
