Page 85 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
She met his eyes, held his gaze for an instant, then simply said, “Here is where we’re supposed to be.” She paused, then looked out at the hall before them. “We wouldn’t be happy anywhere else, so”—she shrugged lightly and reached for her teacup—“neither of us bothers to go down and pretend.”
Marcus chuckled rather darkly. “Much to the consternation of our aunt and her peers. Our parents, however, are more understanding.”
Thomas ate for several minutes. He’d noted Lucilla’s unwavering certainty about her direction in life; it seemed her twin shared the same conviction—the same assurance that this was where his future lay. Where he needed to be for that future to evolve as it should.
It must be…comforting, and anchoring, to have such absolute knowledge.
Finally pushing his plate away, he reached for the coffeepot and poured himself a mug. Both Lucilla and Marcus had finished their meals; like him, they were enjoying a last cup—tea for Lucilla, coffee for Marcus.
He would only be there for a few days, but he was accustomed to business, to being actively engaged with something through the days…and he was curious. Most of those in the body of the hall had departed, although a few last stragglers were still being served by the maids. He gestured at the hall. “I take it this is a communal place?”
Lucilla nodded. “It’s the Great Hall—the original Great Hall of the manor—and still functions as such. Everyone who works on the manor lands, including all those on our farms, come here for their meals.”
“That isn’t as odd as it sounds,” Marcus said, “because all our farms radiate outward from the manor. If you wander around the perimeter fence, you’ll see some of the farmhouses, and all are within sight of the manor’s turrets. So the manor is at the center of the Vale in a literal as well as figurative sense.”
“And as we are also—like the Carricks—snowed in for part of the year,” Lucilla said, “it was decided very early in our history that it made best sense for everyone on the estate to come into the manor during those times.” She met Thomas’s eyes. “It’s safer that way.”
He nodded. “I remember that Christmas Eve when we were all stuck in the Fieldses’ cottage. Bad enough when the blizzards rage now, but a century or more ago, it would have been hellish getting stuck for weeks in those flimsy shacks.” He idly tapped the table, then admitted, “I could wish the Carricks had a similar system, but sadly, now the various families are too…shall we say independently minded? If the first Carrick had instituted a system similar to yours, perhaps it might have worked, but now the farms are too far-flung and each family, or group of families, tends to struggle through on their own, only asking for aid when they’re in desperate straits.”
Marcus inclined his head. “Pride. It’s a fine edge one needs to tread when balancing independence and community.”
The housekeeper came bustling up. Smiling, she halted before the table, bestowed brief nods on Thomas and Marcus, then fixed her gaze on Lucilla. “If you would, m’lady, I’d like to get the menus sorted so I can send the boys off to Ayr. We put off the usual trip to market while you were away.”
“Yes, of course.” Lucilla pushed back her chair.
Despite his injury, Thomas was on his feet before Marcus could rise; he drew the heavy chair back for her.
She smiled—distinctly warmly—at him. “Thank you. Feel free to wander wherever you like. Your wound will let you know if you overdo things, but it won’t help you to sit all day, either. If you have any questions, ask anyone. All here will be pleased to assist you.”
He inclined his head. “I’ll endeavor to keep myself amused.”
She laughed and left, stepping to the side and down two shallow steps to join the housekeeper. Heads together, they walked away across the huge hall.
Thomas hadn’t quite finished his coffee; he slipped back into his chair and lifted the mug.
Having drained his mug, Marcus glanced at Thomas. “She meant that literally.” Something like amusement lurked in Marcus’s dark blue eyes. “You may be perfectly certain no one here will let you get lost, and everyone will be happy to answer whatever you wish to ask.”
Thomas wasn’t quite sure what to make of that—neither the words nor the amusement behind them. He’d expected to get off to a much more fraught start with Marcus, but apparently Lucilla had been correct, and Marcus would, indeed, take his lead from her.
“I have to ride out and look over the state of the crops with our farmers.” Marcus set down his mug and met Thomas’s eyes. “Last night, Lucilla told me about the strange happenings on the Carrick estate. She mentioned there was some question about the supply of seed. I’ll be seeing the local seed merchant today—he’s due to join us out in the fields. He’s the same merchant the Carricks use. If you like, I can ask if there have been any problems. The man knows me and values his business with us—if I ask, he’ll tell me what he knows.”
Thomas gazed at the table for several seconds, turning over the offer in his mind. If it had been Manachan who had been dealing with the merchant, he wouldn’t have contemplated checking up, as it were, but…if it had been Manachan dealing with the seed merchant, he suspected there wouldn’t have been a problem at all. Looking up, he met Marcus’s steady gaze and nodded. “Thank you. I have no idea what’s going on, but hearing from the other side of the deal might be the fastest way to find out.”
Marcus nodded and rose. “I’ll let you know what I learn.” He pointed to the archway to the rear right of the hall. “The library’s through there. Feel free to investigate, and if you need to write letters, you can use the desk there. The news sheets from London, Edinburgh, and Glasgow arrive about lunchtime, and will be put in there, too.”
Thomas didn’t fancy sitting inside all day—he did that too often in Glasgow. He eased his chair back. “Which way are the stables?” He should check on Phantom.
Marcus grinned and pointed to the largest archway. “The front foyer is through there—you want the corridor to the left. Head down it and through the door at the end, then turn left down the path. It’s actually not the shortest way distance-wise, but I suspect it’ll be your fastest way.”
Thomas dipped his head, then, using his cane, pushed to his feet. “Thank you. I rather think, in this instance, that fastest will be best.”
Marcus chuckled and left him, striding off down the hall.
Thomas paused, wondering how he felt over being left to his own devices—to do as he wished, with no restraint or direction… It had been a long time since he’d had such an opportunity.
Shaking himself to action and deeming it best to get out of the hall and let the serving maids clear the table, he gimped down the steps to the hall floor and headed for the main archway to which Marcus had directed him.
And realized, as he passed under the broad arch, just how he felt.
