Page 26 of Impossible
“I’m working on that,” Ada said with determination. “The grooms, I mean. Just last night, his lordship agreed to hire a steward, so I hope grooms are not far off, along with maids and perhaps even a butler.”
Mrs. Tallent gaped at her. “You’ve been here, what, a week?”
“Yes.” Based on Mrs. Tallent’s reaction and Mrs. Kempton’s attitude toward Warfield yesterday, Ada gathered that his tenants didn’t hold him in the highest opinion and seized the moment to further her investigation. “What do you know of his lordship?”
“What do you want to know?” Mrs. Tallent sounded somewhat guarded.
“I admit I’m curious about him. I’m employed by one of his closest friends—that’s how I came to be on this assignment. Which is to organize his ledgers.” Ada vaguely worried that she ought not share so much, but these people had a right to know about things that would affect their livelihood. And hopefully Ada’s efforts would do that, for the better.
“I didn’t realize he still had friends,” Mrs. Tallent said wryly. “I’ve lived on this estate since I married fifteen years ago. His lordship was away at school then. When he finished, he spent a few years sowing his wild oats before his father purchased him a commission in the army. Then he was mostly absent over the next several years.”
Sowing his wild oats? Ada had difficulty imagining Warfield enjoying anything. But of course he did, and she’d seen glimpses of it yesterday. Perhaps the first step in rehabilitating him was believing it could be done.
“Was he a rake?” Ada asked, still trying to see the viscount as a carefree young man. Without scars, both inside and out. With his face, he probablywasa rake.
“I don’t know about that, just that his father called him home and made him choose between an army commission and a living as a vicar.”
If thinking of him as a rake was challenging, Ada had even less success imagining him as a vicar. “Do you know if there was anything he liked to do? Besides sow his wild oats.”
“He was an excellent rider. He rode all over the estate, apparently from when he was a very young lad. But when he came home after being wounded, he sold most of the horses at Stonehill, including his, which had gone with him to Spain.”
That sounded rather sad. “Do you know why?”
Mrs. Tallent lifted a shoulder. “No one does. The speculation is that he was wounded on horseback and perhaps that’s why he doesn’t care to ride anymore.”
“Only it doesn’t sound like his horse was wounded.” Furthermore, he’d suffered burns. How did that happen while riding? Before Ada went completely down the rabbit hole of her curiosity and thoroughly wasted Mrs. Tallent’s precious time, she reined herself in. “I suppose selling off horses made him think he didn’t need as many grooms working in the stables?”
“I believe that was the case. He’s also quite accomplished at driving people away with his surly behavior. The steward had suffered enough, which was too bad because he was excellent.”
“I don’t suppose he’d come back?” Ada asked.
“I highly doubt it. He went to work for an earl in Staffordshire. Unless he’s unhappy there. But he was unhappy here, and I suspect nothing could lure him back.”
That was a shame. Still, it might be best for everyone, especially Warfield, to start anew with someone who wasn’t aware of his disagreeability.
Except Ada suspected his reputation was probably well known.
She exhaled, committed to improving things. Just because something was difficult didn’t mean it shouldn’t be done. Difficult things were often those that were most worth doing.
Ada went back to the matter of the stable. “Is that how Archie came to work in the stable? When the grooms left?”
“Not long after. And Molly’s been working in the kitchens for about six months now. Mrs. Debley is in desperate need of help. Molly is exhausted when she gets home. At least they pay her well. Otherwise, I wouldn’t let her do it.”
Having the necessary funds wasn’t the issue, and yet the viscount wouldn’t hire more help. Anger curled through Ada as she recalled her best friend, Prudence, and how she’d needed money from him recently—for a dowry so she could marry her destitute husband—and he’d refused. She suddenly wanted to turn around and go back to Stonehill, where she would demand an explanation from him for why he’d treated Prudence so badly. There wouldn’t be a good one, and she’d bloody well shame him for it. How could he not realize how he was affecting those around him?
“You must need Molly here at home too,” Ada said.
“I’d prefer it. The farm is a great deal of work. But at least his lordship allowed us to stay after my husband died last year.”
This was what confused Ada so much. Why was Warfield kind about some things and ruthlessly horrid about others? “I have a hard time understanding his lordship.”
“We all do,” Mrs. Tallent said wearily. “You must know that tenants have left when their lease expired. Others plan to do the same.”
The awful truth was that Ada didn’t think he cared. But he should. “I would think he’d want to preserve this for the next viscount, that it’s his responsibility to do so.”
Mrs. Tallent flicked something from her skirt. “I don’t think he has any plans to have an heir. He barely leaves the house and certainly doesn’t do anything social.”
“Perhaps he’s still recovering from his wounds?”
