Chapter 3

The construction site of Blaylock House looked more like a spring camp than the grand house Jane Bennet Hamilton could remember. Nearly a year ago, she had dined there once before the terrible night of the fire, the loss of Lydia, and the birth of little Robin the previous summer. As the future mistress of the home, Jane gasped at the imposing stone shell that stood intact, with the roof collapsed in numerous areas and that which still stood, charred along the edges. Crews of men worked upon elaborate scaffolds to patch the surviving roof and remove the building materials damaged beyond repair. The bustle of activity excited Jane as she had never seen such construction on a large scale.

“It’s almost complete!” Jane exclaimed as her dashing Earl of Bolton jogged to her carriage, performing the duties of footman himself to help her down. Jane blushed as Graham Hamilton leaned forward to peck her cheek, his beard prickling her delicate skin. Lately, Graham had taken to camping at the house site for days at a time instead of returning to Mr. Darcy’s home of Starvet House, where he and Jane had made a temporary home, eager to push the rebuilding efforts in haste.

“Tis a facade, I’m afraid, lass.” Graham offered her his arm as they took to walking toward the front of the house. As they passed women helping with the cleaning of items dirtied from the fire, but not destroyed, Jane received a chorus of “miladies” and curtseys. She looked up at Graham who grinned.

“Ah, it can’t be helped. On our land, you’re mistress,” he said as they walked to a simple table of drawings held down by rocks. Graham greeted his architect and introduced his wife.

“Mr. Nash, allow me the honor of introducing my wife, Lady Jane Hamilton, Countess of Bolton.”

As Mr. Nash bowed his head slightly, Jane’s eyes widened. “Mr. John Nash of London? I’ve read of your feats in the paper, sir.”

“No, milady, Hugh Nash be my name. But he is my uncle. I’ve completed my apprenticeship under him and seek to continue his quality of work, but not his fame,” the young man of humble roots offered his employers the concession of a thin smile.

Jane, wishing to remain polite, only embarrassed the poor man. “I shall share another favorable thought of your uncle then that he diligently sees to the education of his nephew,” Jane said, smiling as she thought about her own nephew who knew her as “Mama.” Her smile faltered when Mr. Nash began to cough and Graham’s grip on Jane’s arm slightly tightened.

“While noble when assistance is graciously given, I’m afraid my uncle had more of an obligation,” Mr. Nash explained.

Jane tilted her head to one side with a keen interest. “How so?”

“Let me show you the surprise, Lady Hamilton, so we can let Mr. Nash continue in his work,” Lord Hamilton interrupted any further inquiry and began to nudge his wife to walk with him along the eastern side of the building to reach the southern facade.

“Graham, I do not appreciate being led away like some naughty child!” Jane said forcefully as soon as they were a few paces from the drafting table.

Graham laughed hollowly as he gazed up and Jane followed his eyes to see three men working above them looking down. Quietly, Graham began an explanation as he knew Jane would not accept anything less.

“It is well known in the north countries that Mr. Nash, the famous one, has an unscrupulous wife. He’s sent her to Wales and beyond, and they divorced a long time ago.” Lord Hamilton’s tone was terse as the subject of wives banished to the country was a sore one for him, as that fate had been given to his own mother.

“And what has that to do with his poor nephew? Surely he has no part of that mess and no need to be ashamed,” Jane reasoned.

Clicking his tongue, Graham Hamilton pulled up short of the southeast corner of the home and looked at his wife directly.

“Mr. Hugh Nash will be in our employ for some time and this is why I wish to explain, because I know you would never care to insult another.” Graham closed his eyes and spoke, so he did not have to see his wife’s response. “John Nash became indebted to his brother, Hugh’s father, and so the boy’s education was a settlement of the debt. However, he was not treated well and I beg of you not to inquire more.”

“Not treated well! But that is abominable! The papers and society herald that man as genius in the first order! And yet he only helps his kin to settle a debt?” Jane grew irritated, a response that startled Graham as he had expected the sweet, docile Jane he knew so well to have fretted and fawned over the young man, not convict the elder Nash of poor behavior.

Graham gently rubbed Jane’s upper arms as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Does something vex you wife?”

“Vex me? Oh, no, nothing, it’s only …” Jane trailed off and took a deep breath.

“My darling, what is it? We can face anything together. Lord knows we practically have!” His gloved hands still comforted his Jane as she frowned.

“My courses began right after you left five days ago for the site,” she whispered, and he immediately pulled her into an embrace without a care as to who spied upon them from the roof or otherwise. Jane began to sob and Graham soothed her the best he could by stroking the back of her spencer, ignoring the tickle upon his neck by the feather in her bonnet.

“We were not certain, and it was early, you said so yourself.”

“Yes, but—” Jane began as Graham pulled back to carefully wipe his wife’s tears. Irritated, Jane hastened to wipe them herself and turned away, taking a step out of his embrace. “It is well. I am well.”

“Jane, dearest, there’s no reason to play false. Ye forget where you be, lass, here in the north country we wail and gnash our teeth at our misfortune!” Graham began to mock his lady’s very proper sensibilities. “And then, we raise a mug and drink the cares away until we’re quite properly ready to try again!” His voice was loud enough now that a few men from the roof yelled “Here, here!” mimicking their employer’s motion of raising a glass.

Jane could not remain melancholy with such a display of Scottish arrogance. She stamped her foot and raised her own hand and yelled “Here, here!” to the whoops and calls of the men above to see such a hardy lass as mistress to the estate. Graham scooped his wife into his arms and spun her around as he stole a kiss. Once he set her down, his eyes gazed into hers, arresting both of their attentions.

“We’ve been married not even three months. You fret for no reason.”

“But my sister has delivered Mr. Darcy a son, and then …” Jane trailed off as Graham interjected.

“A bonny lad, eh? Well I doubt he can rival our little scamp! I trust they are both safe and well?”

Jane gulped as another wave of strong emotions rushed into her heart. It always cheered her when her husband spoke of her ward, Robert Bennet, with no hesitation and the pride of a papa. “Yes, the express said as much. They named him Bennet Fitzwilliam.”

Graham grimaced. Jane scoffed at his reaction.

“Well,” the younger twin son of the Duke of Hamilton rubbed the back of his neck in consternation, “Darcy was always a very formal bloke.”

“Are you saying you don’t wish for your son’s name to be your mother’s or father’s name?” Jane had never encountered the fashion in Hertfordshire, but more than just a year and a half away from her former life, she had learned there was so much more to the world and customs than she had imagined.

“What if we have a daughter first? And no, my family does not hold to those conventions of the Continent.”

Jane furrowed her brow and realized that these ancient families held things for so many generations, the name Darcy was most likely D’Arcy at some point.

“If your spirits are better, and I am so very happy to hear your sister is safely delivered, may I now show you what I did not wish you to spy only on paper?” Graham Hamilton teased his wife as he looked over his shoulder for what he knew lay just beyond the corner.

Jane craned her neck to see, but Graham clasped her hand and took off in an undignified jog. Jane cradled her bonnet with her free hand and hastened her steps to match her husband and as they rounded the corner. Both were out of breath as a large, metal framework spanning the entire south wing stood with workers still hammering the wrought iron in the southwest corner.

Jane struggled to catch her breath as she knew exactly what was before her. Almost the size of another house, she could immediately envision panes of glass between the iron beams.

“A hothouse attached to the house?” Jane’s excitement returned her to the mindset of a young woman in Hertfordshire who wished her father would build a greenhouse closer to the house for her winter gardening needs.

“Conservatory, properly. Built and constructed for my blossoming wife,” Graham Hamilton complimented Jane as he pulled her closer to him. He took her hand and gingerly led her to the far edge and stepped over the low girder.

“Surely, it’s not safe!”

Graham squinted as he looked above. “Tis better be, the glass will begin arriving next week!”

Jane squealed and allowed him to help her step over the low girder and duck under the next. For the next half an hour, they walked the large addition to the home and Jane enumerated all of the plans suddenly flooding her mind with the possibility. Sagely, she pointed out that they might have just entered the skeleton structure through the door frame as they passed it. Her husband laughed at his own folly and said this is why he needed her to visit the site more often.

“I can plan and follow the orders diligently, but sometimes my powers of observation are rather dim.”

“Then I shall be your light. And for my next observation, I shall share that it’s time we take the picnic I packed from the main house before I must leave you.”

Graham reluctantly agreed, keeping his other surprise for the next time he brought Jane to their homesite.

All too soon for his tastes, his bonny wife returned to Starvet House to be home before dusk and he was once again alone with his workers and staff to build a house fit for his countess.