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Authors: Susanna Fraser
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stables. Elizabeth answered as best she could, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy Sir Richard.
“You mustn’t leave the management of the place entirely in Purvis’s hands, my dear,” he said.
She supposed she must have risen in his estimation, to have gone from madam to my dear in the course of the morning. “But he knows so much more about it than I do,” she protested. “Jack tells me he’s the third generation of Purvises to work this land.”
“Of course he does, but you are the mistress of the Grange, not he. It is your son or daughter who will be master or mistress here hereafter, not his. You mustn’t think of yourself as a tenant.”
Elizabeth blinked. She didn’t think of herself of a tenant, when it came to the house. It was the land that didn’t feel real to her. She had grown up in a town and never imagined herself as mistress not only of a home, but of its lands. “I’ve been thinking of bringing back sheep,” she heard herself saying. “Purvis says they had a great flock in Jack’s grandfather’s time.”
“Not at the expense of the horses, I hope,” Sir Richard said anxiously. “Westerby Grange breeds the finest hunters in the north of England.”
Clearly the Armstrong horse madness hadn’t been limited to Jack’s father. “No, not at all. I only thought to make use of the hill fields, since we’ve neither crops nor pasturage there now.”
“Ah, now that’s well thought of, and exactly as an officer’s wife ought to do when her husband is an ocean away.”
Elizabeth decided perhaps she liked Sir Richard after all. At her invitation, he spent the night and part of the next morning. He couldn’t tarry longer, he said, because he was on the way to Bath for a long visit with an old friend from his days of active service. Over dinner, they discussed the possibility of another American war, which Sir Richard thought more likely than not, and the prospects for advancement it might offer Jack. Elizabeth forbore from pointing out the prospects for death it might offer, for she sensed that her husband’s uncle would consider such fretting unbecoming in an officer’s wife.
Instead she turned the subject to the Armstrong family and was treated to a long list of relations, including Jack’s second cousin, the baron, who lived in the family castle near Melrose. Sir Richard promised to see that she was invited there soon. The next morning as his carriage rolled away, she stood in the doorway waving and reflecting how lovely it was to have not only a husband, but a family, big and prosperous.
Over the next few months, Elizabeth took Sir Richard’s words to heart. She saved her books for late on her solitary evenings, and she added daily sessions with Purvis to the hours she spent caring for her mother-in-law. Under the farmer’s tutelage, she learned of the cultivation of barley and potatoes, and of the care of the small but thriving herd of well-bred hunters in the stables. She even learned to ride, though not on a tall, hot-blooded hunter, but on a gentle, sturdy bay Dales pony she purchased for her particular use. When she wrote to Jack of her riding lessons on Coffee, she said she hoped she hadn’t been too extravagant. After many months, his reply came, saying, Certainly you must have a suitable mount. Buy yourself anything else you want or need—and I need not even say “within reason,” for I trust you too well to believe you could act otherwise.
As summer turned to autumn, she even began to overcome her wariness of company, her expectation that everyone was judging her in the light of her father’s crimes and finding her wanting. She began with the friendliest of her occasional callers—the Ildertons, Miss Rafferty and Mr. Elting, the apothecary—inviting them to dine at the Grange and visiting them in her turn. Gradually her circle expanded to include almost all the better sort of families in Selyhaugh and the surrounding countryside, and she even flattered herself
“You mustn’t leave the management of the place entirely in Purvis’s hands, my dear,” he said.
She supposed she must have risen in his estimation, to have gone from madam to my dear in the course of the morning. “But he knows so much more about it than I do,” she protested. “Jack tells me he’s the third generation of Purvises to work this land.”
“Of course he does, but you are the mistress of the Grange, not he. It is your son or daughter who will be master or mistress here hereafter, not his. You mustn’t think of yourself as a tenant.”
Elizabeth blinked. She didn’t think of herself of a tenant, when it came to the house. It was the land that didn’t feel real to her. She had grown up in a town and never imagined herself as mistress not only of a home, but of its lands. “I’ve been thinking of bringing back sheep,” she heard herself saying. “Purvis says they had a great flock in Jack’s grandfather’s time.”
“Not at the expense of the horses, I hope,” Sir Richard said anxiously. “Westerby Grange breeds the finest hunters in the north of England.”
Clearly the Armstrong horse madness hadn’t been limited to Jack’s father. “No, not at all. I only thought to make use of the hill fields, since we’ve neither crops nor pasturage there now.”
“Ah, now that’s well thought of, and exactly as an officer’s wife ought to do when her husband is an ocean away.”
Elizabeth decided perhaps she liked Sir Richard after all. At her invitation, he spent the night and part of the next morning. He couldn’t tarry longer, he said, because he was on the way to Bath for a long visit with an old friend from his days of active service. Over dinner, they discussed the possibility of another American war, which Sir Richard thought more likely than not, and the prospects for advancement it might offer Jack. Elizabeth forbore from pointing out the prospects for death it might offer, for she sensed that her husband’s uncle would consider such fretting unbecoming in an officer’s wife.
Instead she turned the subject to the Armstrong family and was treated to a long list of relations, including Jack’s second cousin, the baron, who lived in the family castle near Melrose. Sir Richard promised to see that she was invited there soon. The next morning as his carriage rolled away, she stood in the doorway waving and reflecting how lovely it was to have not only a husband, but a family, big and prosperous.
Over the next few months, Elizabeth took Sir Richard’s words to heart. She saved her books for late on her solitary evenings, and she added daily sessions with Purvis to the hours she spent caring for her mother-in-law. Under the farmer’s tutelage, she learned of the cultivation of barley and potatoes, and of the care of the small but thriving herd of well-bred hunters in the stables. She even learned to ride, though not on a tall, hot-blooded hunter, but on a gentle, sturdy bay Dales pony she purchased for her particular use. When she wrote to Jack of her riding lessons on Coffee, she said she hoped she hadn’t been too extravagant. After many months, his reply came, saying, Certainly you must have a suitable mount. Buy yourself anything else you want or need—and I need not even say “within reason,” for I trust you too well to believe you could act otherwise.
As summer turned to autumn, she even began to overcome her wariness of company, her expectation that everyone was judging her in the light of her father’s crimes and finding her wanting. She began with the friendliest of her occasional callers—the Ildertons, Miss Rafferty and Mr. Elting, the apothecary—inviting them to dine at the Grange and visiting them in her turn. Gradually her circle expanded to include almost all the better sort of families in Selyhaugh and the surrounding countryside, and she even flattered herself
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