The Desire for Dearborne

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

Leander’s first few days in London were a blur; he’d spent them in bed fighting off the beginnings of another bout of influenza. Once he was well enough to be out of bed, he spent his time exploring his enormous new home and trying to adjust to having a multitude of servants.

He was surprised to learn that Gibson’s attempts to help had not been in deference to his illness, but part of a valet’s regular duties. Leander couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t dressed himself, except when illness had left him too weak to do so, and having Gibson there was awkward, to say the least. The valet rarely spoke except to say “yes, my lord” or “no, my lord,” but the black eyes were always watchful—no doubt the poor man was just waiting for the opportunity to do his job. As for the rest of the servants, they went about their duties with no direction from Leander whatsoever. Powell had the running of the house well in hand, so Leander had nothing to concern himself with there.

Even after three days, Leander still had no real desire to step outside. Where most young men his age might feel confined, Leander was used to passing the time indoors and often in his bed. The same scarlet fever that had carried off his mother when he was seven had also left him an invalid for much of his childhood.

One of the few things Leander had been allowed to do during his long convalescence was read, and before long, books became his entire world. Although his father couldn’t afford many, Grandfather Spencer, a fair scholar in his own right, was always happy to lend Leander as many books as he could read. Leander had shared his grandfather’s fascination with the lore of King Arthur. Spencer’s copy of Le Morte d’Arthur had spent as much time on Leander’s shelf as it had on Spencer’s.

When he was twelve, another fever brought on—according to the doctor—by excessive study led his father to limit Leander’s time reading, insisting instead that he spend a set amount of time each day outside. This practice did strengthen Leander’s body to the point that when looking at him, people rarely suspected he’d been ill much of his life, but it didn’t strengthen his constitution to such an extent.

He likely would have begun taking his daily “constitutional” again in London, but on his first day exploring the house, Leander found the magnificent two-story library, with books on every subject filling the shelves. Balconies lined the higher floor along three of the four walls. On the lower floor, a large walnut desk dominated one end of the room, and a fireplace the other. A low sofa with a brown leather seat and two chairs upholstered in dark red velvet made for comfortable places to read, while a large round table provided a place for more study or to take a meal if one didn’t care to leave the library.

And Leander never wanted to. For him the outside world had ceased to exist. He barely knew where to start. He’d select one book to read only to find another that looked equally interesting. That was until the second day, when he found a complete translation of Chrétien de Troyes’ Lancelot, Knight of the Cart. When he was fourteen, his grandfather had managed to get an account of the poem and Leander had read the abbreviated version as often as he could before he’d had to return it. He’d discussed it with his grandfather and father enthusiastically for months afterward, although he’d left out the fact that he felt strangely jealous of Guinevere.

The library of Esmond House, however, contained several of de Troyes’ works as well as some works by Malory and Monmouth. Even more fascinating to Leander were a series of essays on Lancelot himself, which made reference to a German poem, Lanzelet, from the twelfth century and another in Italian. Painful thoughts of dead family and being alone in a crowded city disappeared as Leander immersed himself in legend, surfacing only when hunger or exhaustion demanded it.

When he finally emerged to take note of his surroundings again, Powell presented him with two silver salvers. One was covered with calling cards and another piled high with invitations. Leander had no idea what to make of either. He had thought his cousin might visit again, but Morleigh apparently had no interest in him now that his duty was done. Nor had Leander seen Marlowe, his man-of-affairs, but the name alone implied that the man had plenty to keep him occupied. No doubt he would see Leander when he had the time.

Leander had been in London just over a week when Powell walked into the library early one afternoon, interrupting his reading. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but are you home to the Viscount and Viscountess Carysfort?”

It seemed an odd question, when Leander was most obviously at home. “Of course.”

“Very good. I will show them to the drawing room. Gibson will be down with your coat immediately.”

Leander was briefly confused, but soon caught on. He had spent his time in the house wearing a shirt and trousers, just as he would have in Pelham, but obviously it was not fit for company. “Thank you, Powell.”

After a moment, Gibson arrived with his coat and cravat. Thus prepared, Leander walked into the drawing room. Inside was a couple so elegantly dressed that he was immediately self-conscious.

The viscount was a stern-looking man, whose bow and clothing were as stiff and proper as they could be. “Lord Dearborne, I am Viscount Carysfort. May I present my wife, Lady Carysfort?” He gestured to the woman at his side, whom, although she appeared to be well past forty, had a sparkle in her eyes that bespoke a much younger mind-set.

Leander bowed again in response to her curtsey, but after that was at a loss how to proceed. Lord Carysfort did not seem inclined to say anything further and was looking at Leander somewhat askance. Fortunately, Lady Carysfort was more than equal to the situation. “I apologize for intruding so soon after your arrival in London, Lord Dearborne. As an excuse, I claim a distant connection to you.”

“A connection?”

“The late earl’s daughter was married to my brother. They have both passed on now, but I did feel an interest in the new Earl of Dearborne.”

“I’m very glad to meet you,” Leander said, meaning it wholeheartedly. Although she was not a blood relation, he already found her infinitely preferable to the haughty Morleigh Mayfield. He glanced again at Lord Carysfort, who was looking at the Roman sofa. With a start, Leander realized his error and felt his cheeks begin to burn. “I’m so sorry. Please, sit down.” There had rarely been visitors to the Mayfield farm in Pelham. Leander had always assumed he would learn more about such niceties when he went to college in Amherst as his brothers had, but first illness—this time pleurisy—and then his father’s death prevented him from ever attending.

“How do you find London thus far?” Lady Carysfort asked when they were seated.

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen much of it,” Leander admitted.

“Yes, we understand you’ve been ill.”

The last thing Leander wanted was for his reputation as an invalid to follow him from Pelham to London. “The voyage did take a toll, but I was well after two days. Since then I’ve spent nearly all my time in the earl’s library.”

“Your library,” Lady Carysfort corrected gently.

Her words gave Leander pause, as did any direct reminder of his sudden wealth. “Yes, my library.”

“I sent you an invitation to my ball,” Lady Carysfort continued. “I do hope you will be able to attend.”

Leander hadn’t noticed her invitation among the piles, but she was the only person who made any effort to meet him, so despite how unsettling he found the idea of attending a ball, he promised, “I will be sure to attend. Thank you.”

“We look forward to seeing you there. Hopefully it will improve your regard for London.”

“My regard for London?” Realizing he might have given the wrong impression, thereby insulting his guests, Leander hastened to explain. “I have always wanted to travel to London, to England. There are so many things I want to see and I mean to, but…the library here is so splendid and once I started reading…” He felt his face flush again, unsure how much to explain.

Lady Carysfort merely smiled. “You’re very fond of reading then?”

“Very. So much that it used to worry my father. I should start going out and about. I know being shut indoors so much is not good for me, but the books—”

“If there is any way we can help, do not hesitate to ask. Indeed, we can recommend several shops that may prove helpful to you.”

Leander wasn’t about to admit that despite his apparent wealth, he had no actual money. “Thank you, but I—I should probably go over my accounts first. And I will as soon as my man-of-affairs has the time.”

That got Lord Carysfort’s attention. “Has the time? Never say your man-of-affairs has claimed he hasn’t the time to attend you. I would find a new man-of-affairs as soon as may be if that is the case.”

“He hasn’t refused to call on me,” Leander explained. “He just hasn’t contacted me yet.”

“Why would he present himself to you if you haven’t summoned him?” Lord Carysfort frowned. “The only occasion for such would be if there was a problem. Otherwise, he would not presume to disturb you.”

“Oh. I—oh.” He was a fool. Years spent at studies, and yet he still was a fool. “I suppose the servants here wouldn’t mention it if I were mistaken or neglecting something.”

Lord Carysfort raised his eyebrows. “Not if they wished to keep their position.”

“Of course.” Leander pushed his hand through his hair. There was no telling how many things he’d overlooked.

“If there are things you wish to attend to,” Lady Carysfort said, “perhaps we should take our leave.” Before Leander could protest, they both stood. “If there is any way we can be of assistance, don’t hesitate to send word.”

“Thank you.” Leander nodded, privately vowing to do no such thing. He’d burdened his family with his illness for much of his life, but he was not going to begin his new life here by burdening kindly strangers with his ignorance. Ignorance could be cured easily enough once one was aware of it. “I’m very grateful you decided to visit me.” That statement, at least, required no effort.

Lord Carysfort inclined his head in acknowledgment and Lady Carysfort gave him another warm smile. Leander walked them to the front hall, and after more bows all around, Powell was there to show them out. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, Leander wandered back to the library.

For most of his twenty-two years, all that had ever been required of him was that he live. That he live through the scarlet fever, brain fever, pleurisy, and a multitude of other illnesses. All that had mattered to his family was that he be healthy. He helped on the farm whenever he was well enough, but his father and brothers had been wary of letting him do too much for fear of bringing on another illness. Managing time or money matters had never been an issue; what little money there was to manage his father saw to, and any time Leander was not ill or working had been spent at his studies. Servants were unheard of on a two-horse farm.

His new wealth solved many of the problems that had plagued his family back home, but it had been foolish of him to assume it left him without any duties whatsoever. There were obviously many things for him to see to, and it was his responsibility to learn what they were. Taking a page from the book of his eldest brother, Leander decided not to waste time putting off what needed to be done.

Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out into the hall. “Powell, please come into the library. I need to speak to you.” Ordering people about didn’t come naturally to him, so he always tried to do it as politely as possible.

A moment later, Powell stood in front of the handsome desk that Leander had seated himself behind. “Yes, my lord?”

“How do I contact Mr. Marlowe if I want to see him?”

“I can send for him at once, my lord. How soon do you wish to see him?”

Curious, Leander asked, “How soon could he get here?”

“Within the half-hour if you wish it.”

Leander blinked in surprise, feeling more foolish than ever for having shrugged off the situation for nearly a week. “An hour from now will be soon enough.”

“Yes, my lord. Will that be all?”

It occurred to Leander that even if servants would never correct him, they might answer direct questions. “Did you work for the last Earl of Dearborne, Powell?”

“I did. I was a footman in the household then.”

“When did you become the butler?”

“Upon his death, the late earl’s butler, housekeeper, and valet all received generous pensions for years of service. Mrs. Cross and I were promoted by his man-of-affairs.”

“Mr. Marlowe?”

“No, my lord. Mr. Longheed. He also received a pension after seeing to the household and finding a new man-of-affairs.”

“Is that common when an earl passes on?”

If Powell thought Leander’s questions strange, he didn’t show it. “The late earl was very generous.”

Now came something that had been on Leander’s mind since he first saw Lord and Lady Carysfort. “Was he extravagant?”

Powell hesitated, obviously unused to voicing opinions on the aristocracy. “With some things, such as books.” He glanced around at the library. “But he was a man of taste.”

Ever since seeing Lord Carysfort’s fine clothes, Leander had become aware of how lacking his own wardrobe was. Once he’d thought about it, he realized that even his servants were better dressed than he was. It was such a bizarre situation that Leander didn’t know how to address it. Best just come out and say it. “Is his clothing still in the house?”

That gave the butler a moment’s pause. “It has been packed away until you decide what you wish to be done with it.”

“I would like Gibson to take an inventory of it. All of it. Could you tell him?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I know my clothes are not suitable. How do I go about getting some that are?”

“I believe you would call on your tailor, my lord.”

“Wearing this?”

The butler’s gray eyes flicked over Leander’s clothing. “I can send for some things for you to wear until you pay a visit to a tailor that suits you.”

“Do that.”

“I’ll see to everything at once, my lord.” Powell bowed and left the library.

Leander opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out several sheets of paper, then drew the quill and inkwell closer. He would begin by making a list of all the things he could think to ask his man-of-affairs. There were obviously a number of new things he had to learn about, but fortunately, learning had always come naturally to him.