Post by Chelliet on Jul 31, 2008 12:14:38 GMT -5
Chapter Two
February 23, 1817
The Dashiell townhouse had been empty for nearly ten years. All the furniture was covered in dust clothes and most of the windows had been boarded up. The doors were locked tight and not even the servants seemed to have kept their residence there.
No one was very surprised by it when it first happened. In fact, most of the ton had expected it to happen earlier, though no one expected it to sit empty for so long. Many thought Lord Dashiell had sold the townhouse in order to keep from losing everything, but that theory was getting less and less likely the longer the house stood empty despite the very real history of the earldom’s lack of funds.
Some thought Edward Winston, the current Earl of Dashiell at the time, had finally been thrown in debtor’s prison, but alas, Newgate remained sadly empty of Dashiells and after the first few years, speculation died to somewhere below a low murmur and most forgot about the widower Edward and his son, Gabriel.
So it was that on that particular morning, those that noticed would be surprised that the boards on the windows had been removed and servants were bustling in and out of the once empty building. Hacks and horse-drawn carts stopped in front all morning long to offload all manner of things, though the most common were traveling trunks and food.
Gabriel stood at the window of the library, looking through the dusty glass to the street below without really seeing the hustle and bustle.
He was back. In London. Ten years was a long time to be away from one’s home and birthplace and he wished the circumstances of his return were different.
Though he’d expected it, nostalgia had hit him hard the instant he’d walked into the townhouse that had belonged to his family since it was built. He could almost hear laughter ringing through the foyer and childish steps racing up the stairway, followed by the heavy thud of his father’s boots. Memories of hours spent in the library reading books and listening to his father’s voice as he tutored him on every manner of subject pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind, so much so that when he’d arrived in the night and opened the doors into that very library, he nearly expected to see a half melted candle sitting on the desk and his father hunched over a book or a letter, the fire in the hearth nothing more than a glow of embers as a thin ribbon of smoke drifted up from the pipe he was never without.
What greeted him was far from that happy, content image, though he would have sworn he caught a whiff of Turkish tobacco underneath all the dust and emptiness. It hurt, fast and sharp, that he would never again see that sight with his own eyes.
Despite that he’d been traveling nearly nonstop for the past several days, neither he nor his steward, Stone, had slept a wink last night. They’d arrived in the dead of night and had been working on clearing out at least the bedrooms, the library, and the office ever since.
Gabriel himself stood quietly for a moment, his jacket removed and draped over the back of his chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up to just past his elbows, and his pants streaked with dust and cobwebs. Most would have cringed at the sight of a member of the peerage reduced to doing what amounted to maids’ work, but Gabriel was used to it. Not having money, despite his family’s title, meant that servants were few and far between. In fact, the only one left from his childhood was Stone, who at this very moment was probably despairing over the schedule and shopping list Gabriel had handed him this morning.
Picking up a delicate china cup that was one of the only reminders left from his mother’s reign, he took a long, slow drink of the coffee he’d brewed earlier. Dark and rich, it was exactly the way he liked it. The morning sun filtered through the window and lit up his hair despite the dust in it and for a moment he looked like the angel his mother once thought him to be, or so Stone thought as he stood in the doorway quietly.
“My lord, permission to speak freely,” the steward asked, his voice the low, polite tone he always used. Gabriel couldn’t remember a single moment when the older man hadn’t been perfectly pressed and completely calm, even during some of his or his father’s more…interesting…ventures. He also couldn’t remember Stone ever looking any different than he did now. He was a tallish man with a ruler straight back and a rather imposing expression most of the time, his face full of sharp angles with a nose akin to a beak. The only thing that had really changed was the addition of silver streaks in the man’s otherwise black hair.
“Granted,” Gabriel said before turning around and giving the man his full attention, humor hinted at the corners of his mouth. Stone had a moment to think how such a simple thing as turning one’s head can make a man go from angelic to devilish before he held up the list in his hand.
“Are you quite mad?” Gabriel smiled and finished the coffee before setting the cup back down.
“I’ve been accused of it on more than one occasion as I recall,” Gabriel said, slightly amused as he linked his hands loosely behind his back. “I take it you don’t agree with my time frame?”
“Respectfully my lord, no I do not. We’ve only just arrived. The house is in a fine state of disrepair and all of these items are going to take at least a fortnight to purchase. One does not simply walk onto St. James Street and ask for these,” Stone said. “Especially the books.” Gabriel sighed and looked at the wall of bookshelves to his right for a moment.
“I’ll see to the books. Can you handle the rest of it?” he asked. Stone seemed to stand a little bit straighter at the question. The steward didn’t harrumph, but it was a close thing.
“Of course I can handle it, but—”
“Good. I’ll need my evening clothes ready by tonight,” Gabriel interrupted. Stone pressed his lips together for a moment before folding the list crisply and putting it in his pocket.
“Tonight? So soon?” he asked.
“Yes. You think I should wait?” Gabriel asked as he moved over to an open trunk that sat heavily beside the desk. He bent over it, pulling out an armload of books and setting it on the desktop.
“I’m not sure you would care to hear what I think at the moment, my lord,” Stone said dryly. Truth be told, he worried over Gabriel, just as he’d worried over Edward. The son had taken after the father and, though Stone was quite proud of both of them, it gave him more than a few sleepless nights.
Gabriel just chuckled and retrieved another armload from the trunk.
“All will work out, Stone, but we cannot afford to sit around on our heels. Now, if you want to be productive, you’d best get started on that list,” Gabriel said, continuing to empty the trunk as he spoke.
“Indeed,” Stone said, nodding stiffly before turning on his heel and leaving. Gabriel spent another few minutes sorting through the books he’d unpacked before glancing at his pocket watch. He was due at White’s soon to make an appearance and he was fairly certain the other peers wouldn’t care for him to show up dressed in little more than his undershirt and dust.
Bending down, he pulled out one more book from the very bottom, holding it in his hands for a moment.
The lettering on the cover was completely faded and the leather was so worn along the edges that the wood was poking through. He settled one hand gently on the front cover, half closing his eyes to the memory of warm summer breezes, crisp, tart apple, and girlish laughter. Letting the familiar sorrow settle on him for only a moment, he very carefully set the book aside and retrieved his jacket before heading upstairs to change his clothes.
February 23, 1817
The Dashiell townhouse had been empty for nearly ten years. All the furniture was covered in dust clothes and most of the windows had been boarded up. The doors were locked tight and not even the servants seemed to have kept their residence there.
No one was very surprised by it when it first happened. In fact, most of the ton had expected it to happen earlier, though no one expected it to sit empty for so long. Many thought Lord Dashiell had sold the townhouse in order to keep from losing everything, but that theory was getting less and less likely the longer the house stood empty despite the very real history of the earldom’s lack of funds.
Some thought Edward Winston, the current Earl of Dashiell at the time, had finally been thrown in debtor’s prison, but alas, Newgate remained sadly empty of Dashiells and after the first few years, speculation died to somewhere below a low murmur and most forgot about the widower Edward and his son, Gabriel.
So it was that on that particular morning, those that noticed would be surprised that the boards on the windows had been removed and servants were bustling in and out of the once empty building. Hacks and horse-drawn carts stopped in front all morning long to offload all manner of things, though the most common were traveling trunks and food.
Gabriel stood at the window of the library, looking through the dusty glass to the street below without really seeing the hustle and bustle.
He was back. In London. Ten years was a long time to be away from one’s home and birthplace and he wished the circumstances of his return were different.
Though he’d expected it, nostalgia had hit him hard the instant he’d walked into the townhouse that had belonged to his family since it was built. He could almost hear laughter ringing through the foyer and childish steps racing up the stairway, followed by the heavy thud of his father’s boots. Memories of hours spent in the library reading books and listening to his father’s voice as he tutored him on every manner of subject pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind, so much so that when he’d arrived in the night and opened the doors into that very library, he nearly expected to see a half melted candle sitting on the desk and his father hunched over a book or a letter, the fire in the hearth nothing more than a glow of embers as a thin ribbon of smoke drifted up from the pipe he was never without.
What greeted him was far from that happy, content image, though he would have sworn he caught a whiff of Turkish tobacco underneath all the dust and emptiness. It hurt, fast and sharp, that he would never again see that sight with his own eyes.
Despite that he’d been traveling nearly nonstop for the past several days, neither he nor his steward, Stone, had slept a wink last night. They’d arrived in the dead of night and had been working on clearing out at least the bedrooms, the library, and the office ever since.
Gabriel himself stood quietly for a moment, his jacket removed and draped over the back of his chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up to just past his elbows, and his pants streaked with dust and cobwebs. Most would have cringed at the sight of a member of the peerage reduced to doing what amounted to maids’ work, but Gabriel was used to it. Not having money, despite his family’s title, meant that servants were few and far between. In fact, the only one left from his childhood was Stone, who at this very moment was probably despairing over the schedule and shopping list Gabriel had handed him this morning.
Picking up a delicate china cup that was one of the only reminders left from his mother’s reign, he took a long, slow drink of the coffee he’d brewed earlier. Dark and rich, it was exactly the way he liked it. The morning sun filtered through the window and lit up his hair despite the dust in it and for a moment he looked like the angel his mother once thought him to be, or so Stone thought as he stood in the doorway quietly.
“My lord, permission to speak freely,” the steward asked, his voice the low, polite tone he always used. Gabriel couldn’t remember a single moment when the older man hadn’t been perfectly pressed and completely calm, even during some of his or his father’s more…interesting…ventures. He also couldn’t remember Stone ever looking any different than he did now. He was a tallish man with a ruler straight back and a rather imposing expression most of the time, his face full of sharp angles with a nose akin to a beak. The only thing that had really changed was the addition of silver streaks in the man’s otherwise black hair.
“Granted,” Gabriel said before turning around and giving the man his full attention, humor hinted at the corners of his mouth. Stone had a moment to think how such a simple thing as turning one’s head can make a man go from angelic to devilish before he held up the list in his hand.
“Are you quite mad?” Gabriel smiled and finished the coffee before setting the cup back down.
“I’ve been accused of it on more than one occasion as I recall,” Gabriel said, slightly amused as he linked his hands loosely behind his back. “I take it you don’t agree with my time frame?”
“Respectfully my lord, no I do not. We’ve only just arrived. The house is in a fine state of disrepair and all of these items are going to take at least a fortnight to purchase. One does not simply walk onto St. James Street and ask for these,” Stone said. “Especially the books.” Gabriel sighed and looked at the wall of bookshelves to his right for a moment.
“I’ll see to the books. Can you handle the rest of it?” he asked. Stone seemed to stand a little bit straighter at the question. The steward didn’t harrumph, but it was a close thing.
“Of course I can handle it, but—”
“Good. I’ll need my evening clothes ready by tonight,” Gabriel interrupted. Stone pressed his lips together for a moment before folding the list crisply and putting it in his pocket.
“Tonight? So soon?” he asked.
“Yes. You think I should wait?” Gabriel asked as he moved over to an open trunk that sat heavily beside the desk. He bent over it, pulling out an armload of books and setting it on the desktop.
“I’m not sure you would care to hear what I think at the moment, my lord,” Stone said dryly. Truth be told, he worried over Gabriel, just as he’d worried over Edward. The son had taken after the father and, though Stone was quite proud of both of them, it gave him more than a few sleepless nights.
Gabriel just chuckled and retrieved another armload from the trunk.
“All will work out, Stone, but we cannot afford to sit around on our heels. Now, if you want to be productive, you’d best get started on that list,” Gabriel said, continuing to empty the trunk as he spoke.
“Indeed,” Stone said, nodding stiffly before turning on his heel and leaving. Gabriel spent another few minutes sorting through the books he’d unpacked before glancing at his pocket watch. He was due at White’s soon to make an appearance and he was fairly certain the other peers wouldn’t care for him to show up dressed in little more than his undershirt and dust.
Bending down, he pulled out one more book from the very bottom, holding it in his hands for a moment.
The lettering on the cover was completely faded and the leather was so worn along the edges that the wood was poking through. He settled one hand gently on the front cover, half closing his eyes to the memory of warm summer breezes, crisp, tart apple, and girlish laughter. Letting the familiar sorrow settle on him for only a moment, he very carefully set the book aside and retrieved his jacket before heading upstairs to change his clothes.