Nathaniel Farley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burdenedbyfamily) wrote2011-12-16 10:20 pm
burdenedbyfamily) wrote2011-12-16 10:20 pm
1802
"Is Miss Rebecca fit to be seen, sir?"
Nathaniel Farley looked up at the sound of his father’s valet. His valet now, he supposed. His father had passed away a few days after Christmas, and Rodney Lane had volunteered to stay on to serve the new master of Hartewood Manor as he had the previous. Nathaniel was grateful for the familiar presence, and he had personally thanked the cook, two maids, groom, groundskeeper, and the valet who had not taken their pay and reference offered and left. Not one member of his father’s staff had gone.
"She’s retired to her rooms, Lane. Why?" His dear sister. He tried to push his worries about her away. At least she had survived their parents; he could ask for nothing else. They had not had to bury their daughter.
Lane smiled like a man with a secret. "There is a gentleman here to call on Miss Rebecca and you, sir. What shall I tell him?"
"Show him in, Lane, and extend my apologies that my sister is too ill to receive company presently," he replied.
While he waited, Nathaniel put down his mother’s book of Byron’s poetry and looked out at the grounds he could see from the upstairs library. The groom was out, exercising one of his father’s Arabian mares--his brother’s, if he looked closely he could see the white on her back feet. His father had loved horses. Each child had received an Arabian mare of the Darley line upon turning thirteen. Rebecca had fallen ill at seventeen and never regained the energy to ride. William had no interest in life on the estate at all. Only Nathaniel enjoyed the land and animals, and he’d been away, seeing if the Mediterranean climate would help his sister recover. It had done no good nor harm, and his dying father had recalled him home to Hartewood. In truth, there was little to miss about Gibraltar, in his opinion.
"Doctor Joseph Clay," Lane announced upon his return. When Nathaniel looked at him, his valet was grinning.
Nathaniel got to his feet as the servant left and the guest came in. Joseph was tanner now than when they’d seen each other last, and two years had added weight to the man’s shoulders, though he still looked impossibly young. His smile had lost none of its warmth, thank God. "My friend."
"Nathaniel," Joseph replied. They took one another by the hand. "I heard about your father. I’m sorry." His gaze dropped briefly. "I’m sorry I’ve only just come."
Nathaniel shook his head. "He was ready to go, Joseph."
"Not for him. For you." The doctor looked up, and Nathaniel had to smile at the sincerity and intensity in those dark eyes. Joseph settled his hand on Nathaniel’s arm and asked, "How are you? Is Rebecca holding up under the loss?"
"She’s been tired more often, less inclined to leave her rooms, but that is the worst of it." He sighed under the relenting gaze. "I--I suppose I’m as well as I can be." He looked out the window at the groom and mare. "I’ve love to just go riding, spend an hour or two just seeing the estate."
"Let’s."
"What?"
"We’ll go riding. You’ve Lindy, and Rebecca has given me permission to use Belle before. It would do you good, Nathaniel. Fresh air, sunshine, activity. Come. We’ll go."
"But Rebecca--"
"I shall leave word with the maids. A few hours without you will do her no harm, and your doctor has given you his medical orders. Allons-y."
Nathaniel laughed to hear the French but followed the man nonetheless. Two hours riding through his family’s land on a powerful mare while enjoying the beautiful April day would be pleasure enough, but to have Joseph Clay beside him and know there was no war to call him away was Heaven.
Nathaniel Farley looked up at the sound of his father’s valet. His valet now, he supposed. His father had passed away a few days after Christmas, and Rodney Lane had volunteered to stay on to serve the new master of Hartewood Manor as he had the previous. Nathaniel was grateful for the familiar presence, and he had personally thanked the cook, two maids, groom, groundskeeper, and the valet who had not taken their pay and reference offered and left. Not one member of his father’s staff had gone.
"She’s retired to her rooms, Lane. Why?" His dear sister. He tried to push his worries about her away. At least she had survived their parents; he could ask for nothing else. They had not had to bury their daughter.
Lane smiled like a man with a secret. "There is a gentleman here to call on Miss Rebecca and you, sir. What shall I tell him?"
"Show him in, Lane, and extend my apologies that my sister is too ill to receive company presently," he replied.
While he waited, Nathaniel put down his mother’s book of Byron’s poetry and looked out at the grounds he could see from the upstairs library. The groom was out, exercising one of his father’s Arabian mares--his brother’s, if he looked closely he could see the white on her back feet. His father had loved horses. Each child had received an Arabian mare of the Darley line upon turning thirteen. Rebecca had fallen ill at seventeen and never regained the energy to ride. William had no interest in life on the estate at all. Only Nathaniel enjoyed the land and animals, and he’d been away, seeing if the Mediterranean climate would help his sister recover. It had done no good nor harm, and his dying father had recalled him home to Hartewood. In truth, there was little to miss about Gibraltar, in his opinion.
"Doctor Joseph Clay," Lane announced upon his return. When Nathaniel looked at him, his valet was grinning.
Nathaniel got to his feet as the servant left and the guest came in. Joseph was tanner now than when they’d seen each other last, and two years had added weight to the man’s shoulders, though he still looked impossibly young. His smile had lost none of its warmth, thank God. "My friend."
"Nathaniel," Joseph replied. They took one another by the hand. "I heard about your father. I’m sorry." His gaze dropped briefly. "I’m sorry I’ve only just come."
Nathaniel shook his head. "He was ready to go, Joseph."
"Not for him. For you." The doctor looked up, and Nathaniel had to smile at the sincerity and intensity in those dark eyes. Joseph settled his hand on Nathaniel’s arm and asked, "How are you? Is Rebecca holding up under the loss?"
"She’s been tired more often, less inclined to leave her rooms, but that is the worst of it." He sighed under the relenting gaze. "I--I suppose I’m as well as I can be." He looked out the window at the groom and mare. "I’ve love to just go riding, spend an hour or two just seeing the estate."
"Let’s."
"What?"
"We’ll go riding. You’ve Lindy, and Rebecca has given me permission to use Belle before. It would do you good, Nathaniel. Fresh air, sunshine, activity. Come. We’ll go."
"But Rebecca--"
"I shall leave word with the maids. A few hours without you will do her no harm, and your doctor has given you his medical orders. Allons-y."
Nathaniel laughed to hear the French but followed the man nonetheless. Two hours riding through his family’s land on a powerful mare while enjoying the beautiful April day would be pleasure enough, but to have Joseph Clay beside him and know there was no war to call him away was Heaven.