Laurence spent Monday morning at the inn and pondered his course of action. He had the means to stay at The Vaults indefinitely and continue his visits with Jasmine, but he felt an urgency in getting things settled. He would no longer let the wind of circumstances control the fate of his life. He needed a feeling of permanence. He had never felt rooted to any place on land until the Bertram family had given him the desire to find a haven.
In the afternoon, he wrote two letters: one to Sir George and the other to the vicar. He wanted the Reverend to accompany him as he viewed the baronet’s landholdings. Now that his focus was on acquiring property and settling down, he wasted no time. He ate a lonely supper and took a long walk by the shore. By the time he got back to his room, he found a note from Rev. Bertram waiting for him.
My dear Captain Laurence,
I was grateful to receive the letter you sent, and I might add that I was not the only one. My eldest daughter has been dropping delicate inquiries concerning your whereabouts. On that pretext I think the best thing for you to do is accept my invitation for supper tomorrow so that you may allay her fears. I tried to reassure her that all men were not as flighty as Mr. Dilbert but only you could prove that to her.
Come with a cheery disposition for my daughter is in desperate need of it. The poor child has suffered immeasurable today at the shoemakers. Tomorrow I can only surmise that she will be in a fouler temper because she must go to the dressmakers, and the millineries. To be forewarned is to be forearmed.
On another matter altogether, I shall be delighted to accompany you and Sir George at your earliest convenience. Shall we say tomorrow at six o’clock for supper then?
Laurence smiled to himself. Six o’clock was perfect. He had no intention of running away and would do his very best to allay Jasmine’s fears. Pressing needs at his estate in Scarborough wanted his attention, but they could all wait for her sake. Before he retired for the evening, he sent a letter to his steward explaining his further delay.
Laurence gave a light tap on the front door of the vicarage and straightened his cravat. He thought his disposition was sunny enough to get Jasmine out of any doldrums but his optimism was challenged when seated at the dining table, he noticed her pale, worn expression. After grace, her father sympathetically commented. “Child, I hope the day was not too taxing on you.”
Jasmine raised her eyebrow and fired back, “Whatever my sufferings have been, they are now over.”
“They would have been over months ago if you had only gone with us for our fittings,” suggested Rose who was seated next to her.
Jasmine bit her lip. Her sister was right as usual. She always delayed the unpleasant as long as she could.
“I would think that you would be in ecstasy at the thought of such expenditures,” Laurence said looking at Jasmine.
“Expenditures, is a word we do not use in this house. I forbade it as soon as the first bills began to come in early in my marriage. You need only your imagination to fill in the sums when you realize that there are five women in the household,” Rev. Bertram said as he gave a quick glance at his wife. She tried to hit his knee but he deftly move it away.
“I am at a loss,” Laurence said quizzically. “Do you mean to imply that your eldest detests shopping?”
“She loathes it with a vengeance,” Daisy volunteered.
“Especially the shoemaker and millinery,” supplied Rose.
“If we continue this conversation about fittings and bonnets any longer, I shall get a headache,” Jasmine said as she pressed her hand against her temple.
Laurence grinned at her widely.
“That is the cue that we need to change the subject,” her father observed. “Shall we talk of the speed in which you dispatch your suitors?”
“Father, I can think of a hundred more worthy things to speak of than Mr. Dilbert,” Jasmine said.
“Ah, yes, I would not cause you indigestion for the world, dear child,” he said kindly.
Laurence tried but did not succeed in suppressing his chuckle.
“Which one of a hundred such things would you like to mention?” her father probed.
“Let me see,” she paused, thinking. “How about countries, cultures, and climates?”
“How about the wonders of nature?” Laurence hinted with a knowing glance.
Jasmine immediately frowned.
“Excellent suggestion, Captain!” Rev. Bertram said.
“But, sir, whatever you say, do not mention mushrooms or blasted trees,” Laurence advised him.
Jasmine’s frown only deepened.
Laurence stood before the mirror as he shaved and thought about the evening before. What a pleasant time he had. It was almost sinful to have so much fun. He wasn’t so sure that he cheered Jasmine up as the night progressed but he did enjoy himself in the process. His weakness was showing. Jasmine was delightful to tease!
He had hardly finished dressing before he heard a nock on his bedchamber door by a servant informing him that the vicar was waiting for him in the downstairs parlor. He check his waist clock. The good Reverend was right on time.
“The weather is inclement. Do you still want to see Sir George’s property?” the vicar asked him as they sat down to breakfast.
“I have only today and tomorrow to settle on some transaction with the baronet. I must leave on Friday. I have pressing business up north to attend to.”
“Then we shall do what we can and pray that God hold back the storm clouds.”
The vicar’s prayers were answered for it did not rain the whole time they were out. They viewed one house on the edge of town, but it was too small for his needs; the second property Laurence liked immediately. Though it was further from the village, it had a beautiful wooded area the other one lacked. The property, being further inland, was closer to Charmouth than Lyme, but there was only a few miles difference.
The gentlemen rode out on horseback to survey the extent of the grounds. When they finished, Sir George offered to show Laurence the manor house but he preferred to see the tenant farmers first. Sir George was surprised by his choice, but Rev. Bertram was pleased.
Laurence spent some time conversing with the farmers. It seemed like small talk to Sir George, a complete waste of effort; however, Rev. Bertram was paying closer attention, noting Captain Laurence’s obvious concern for them. Laurence was building relationships by sowing seeds of respect. Rev. Bertram studied the farmers’ expressions and saw admiration in their eyes. If this was how the captain commanded his men, it was small wonder they were loyal to him. They finally turned toward the manor house where Sir George played king at court.
As twilight approached, the men broke up and Rev. Bertram headed toward his home. Laurence had supper with Sir George. Though his heart was back at the vicarage, he steeled himself and spent needed time with the baronet.
It was late when he turned back toward the inn and even later before he went to sleep. Laurence wanted to buy the property instead of leasing it. His aim was to acquire more land and make permanent changes to the house--leasing would tie his hands too much. First thing in the morning he would seek the baronet out and ask if he would sell him the land and the manor house.
At their meeting, Laurence boldly put the matter before Sir George. After the initial surprise, he warmed up to the idea rapidly. How much of this heat came from the pressure of his debts was left to speculation. He set a reasonable price, which happened to be very agreeable to Laurence. Sir George had no idea the extent of his wealth. If he had known that Captain Laurence was also Lord Michael Laurence, his greed would have gotten the better of him. Ignorance in this case worked out for the captain. The lawyer drew up the papers that very day and both men parted thinking they had obtained a deal, but in truth, they mutually benefited.
Sir George went to bed relieved of financial embarrassment. Unfortunately, the rescue did not teach him fiscal responsibility. The last thought he had as he fell asleep was to hold a lavish ball to celebrate his good fortune.
Laurence was pleased with his purchased but was not fond of its name, Fillmore Manor. The mansion had been built only thirty years before and had none of the lineage that great halls have. He had certain modifications in mind and he took out a pencil and began to draft his ideas. He wanted an arboretum built that would lead out to the rear garden. He would also add balconies to the back bedchambers. He stayed up late that night working on the reinvasions, but like a homing pigeon he returned to the name again and again. There had to be something better than Fillmore Manor. He wanted a name embodying the life he longed for: a home filled with a happy wife and many children. In his secret heart, he had always wanted a household full of them. Growing up an only child made that an easy preference. He laughed at his hypocrisy: he was a man who disliked women, but wanted children. How was he going to fulfill that desire?
As a youth, he longed to meet someone compatible whom he could respect and love. It had only been recently that he had given up hope. He remembered the night of his twenty-eighth birthday, eight months prior, when he was in port spending it alone at an inn. He poured out a glass of rum, drank to his reflection in the mirror and took a realistic look at his life and future. His chances of finding someone were slim to non-existent. Spending more time at sea than on land, how was he going to meet the incredible woman his fancy had created?
Laurence buried his desires that night. He would never marry or have children. It was his birthday…time to celebrate. He finished the whole bottle and, never being drunk before, paid for it the next morning. He was hung-over until the following day and got so sick he vowed never to get drunk again. He would not use liquor to solve his problems nor his aching heart.
He woke up the second day with resolution: he would not live a life of self-pity. He was also hard and bitter and reasoned that married life was not for him. He would be bored within a fortnight. He bathed, shaved, and dressed carefully. Making his way to Portsmouth, he joined the crew of the Temeraire. On that ship, the fiercest battle of his life awaited him. He had spent ten years at sea and it had aged him--he felt old and tired.
Laurence smiled at his reflection in the mirror of his room at Mr. Wiggins’s inn. He was a different man now. In a few months, he would be twenty-nine. He felt young enough to marry and have children. Hope returned to him like an early spring. The fragrance had but one name…Jasmine.
How different these past few days had been from the night on his birthday! He did not need to drink himself to sleep because of sorrow--Jasmine was intoxicating enough.
He woke up early and wrote a letter to Rev. Bertram thanking him for his help and informing him of his plans. He ate a hurried breakfast and left the inn. As he laid his head on the seat of the coach, he thought about Jasmine. Was it only Friday when he first saw her asleep on the beach? Had that been only a week ago? It did not seem possible. He felt as if he had lived a lifetime in those few short days.
He would spend several days journey on the road to Scarborough and did not want to waste time. He tried to organize his thoughts into some sort of plan, but recollections of Jasmine and her family kept pushing them out of his mind. It was not until his evening stopover that a name hit him out of nowhere: Evergreen Estates. It expressed perfectly the kind of love he desired in his home. He fell asleep dreaming of Jasmine surrounded by children laughing and playing in the garden.
Jasmine woke up Thursday morning desiring to see Captain Laurence again. She searched the house for her father but could not find him. She found her mother in the parlor, however, embroidering a gift, and began her interrogations.
“Where has father gone so early in the morning?”
“He breakfasted with Captain Laurence at the inn.”
“Why not here?”
“I believe they will be out all day.”
“What can they have to do? Are they viewing papa’s parish?”
“They are going to look over Sir George’s property.”
“Whatever for?”
“I do not know, my dear. At this point, I would rather not like to speculate.”
“Did father tell you when he would be back?”
“Most likely before supper.”
Jasmine’s prospects for a good day were going out with the tide. There would be no comradery with her father and Captain Laurence. She did not even have the option of an enjoyable day outdoors for the heavens looked like they would rent at any moment. Jasmine sighed as she left the room and went to the library. Usually, it was a place of solace for her, but not this day. She scanned the books out of habit, but nothing drew her interest. She finally pulled out an old favorite, The Odyssey. If she was stuck indoors and at least she could read of someone else’s adventures.
During supper, her father did not respond to her inquires any better than her mother had done earlier. It had been a day of frustration for her. The only promise the next morning held for her was the weather--it dawned fair and beautiful.
Jasmine touched little of her food during breakfast and Rev. Bertram looked up concerned when she excused herself from the table so soon. He was busy teaching Daisy her lessons, when he noticed that she had left the house.
Jasmine decided to take her portfolio and head for the shore to do some writing. Her story was coming along nicely. Just looking at the sea inspired her: the sound of the lapping waves and crying seagulls seeped into her soul. The taste of the salt on the breeze filled her senses. The canvas of colors that greeted her eyes were like familiar friends.
She went to her favorite place, spread out her blanket, threw her bonnet in the air, kicked off her shoes and sat down to write. Nothing happened. She put her inkbottle and quills back in her bag and tied her portfolio. No pages would escape today. She let out a deep sigh. There would be no Captain Laurence to assist her. She fell back on the blanket, closed her eyes and relived the scene again, alternating between smiles and chuckles as her memory took her back a week before. Captain Laurence had entered her world--she ended her war on men.
The writing Jasmine could not do during the day, she was inspired to do through the night. She stayed up so late in the morning that she slept in until noon. She had never done this before and her family was concerned she was ill. When she went down for the midday meal, and informed them of what had happened, her mother gently chided her. Jasmine took her correction to heart and amended her behavior.
That evening, Rev. Bertram read the letter he received from Captain Laurence earlier informing them of his purchase of Fillmore Manor. He would spend his time in London buying the necessary items to fit his house up properly. He had to settle legal matters and hire people; so many tasks awaited him that he could not foresee the pleasure of their company for some time. He would keep them abreast of his plans through correspondence and gave them his best wishes.
Jasmine was disappointed he had left so abruptly. She understood his reasoning; nevertheless, she would miss his company. She wanted to know more about his history, yet had no freedom to correspond with him. She could not write without some form of intimate relationship between them. All the information, therefore, would come through her father from the letters he received--she contented herself with that.
As always, Jasmine found release of her emotions through writing. The novelty of Captain Laurence’s presence the last several days had been the odd, yet pleasant, difference in her daily schedule. She returned to it like a migrating bird.
As each day progressed, Jasmine found inspiration in writing. Her story captain began looking and acting more like Captain Laurence. Her captain had been too melancholy and serious; she changed him into a man of wit and humor. She did not realize the transformation happening in her heart or story…Captain Laurence was becoming her ideal of manhood.
A few weeks passed before they heard word from him again. He inquired of Rev. Bertram concerning people in the area whom he could hire, a steward and housekeeper being the most urgent. Rev. Bertram replied with good references and many wise suggestions. He saved Laurence valuable time going back and forth from London.
Two weeks after they corresponded, Laurence made a quick trip to Lyme. He contacted a landholder of the property adjacent to his own and within twenty-four hours of his arrival, Laurence had extended his landholdings considerably.
He stopped by the vicarage for a surprise visit and found the family at tea. They had a glad reunion.
Jasmine said very little as she listened to all the things that Captain Laurence shared. “It has promise. I am fond of everything about the manor house but the name. I have changed it to Evergreen Estates.”
Jasmine smiled instinctively. Laurence, who was sensitive to any signal from that quarter, noticed immediately. “Do you approve, or do you prefer the original?”
“Your christened name is better. It has a nice, elfish sort of ring to it. Tree names are so much better than people’s when it comes to naming property, don’t you think?” she smiled as if caught in some fancy.
“When everything there is settled, I want to invite you, sir, and your family to see it.”
Rev. Bertram nodded and his wife smiled her consent.
“Of course, I cannot promise you, Miss Jasmine, a Pegasus to fly you to the house nor a faun to greet you at the door,” he said with a grin.
Jasmine chuckled and the rest of the family followed her delight. They entreated him to stay for supper, but he regrettably declined the offer. The coach to London would depart in thirty minutes and he had to be on it. Jasmine turned her head away to hide her disappointment. He lingered a few minutes longer, and then took his leave of them.
Jasmine left the room and rushed upstairs. Looking out her bedroom window, she had just a moment to see his back as he walked down their path toward the inn. Lost in her thoughts about him, she took out her paper and began to write. She was so engrossed, she did not notice that Rose had entered the room. Her sister sat on the bed for a moment and was about to ask her a question when she decided against it and quietly left the room.
Within a few days of his departure, Lyme became a busy place. Laurence needed all kinds of workers to build tenant housing on the new land he had acquired. Wagons loaded with furniture and boxes began arriving at Evergreen Estates. Villagers from Lyme Regis and Charmouth applied to the housekeeper for work. Indoor and outdoor servants were hired. News quickly spread that Captain Laurence was very generous with the rate of pay for services rendered. Rev. Bertram kept his family abreast of the news. He found out that Will Pipes had signed on a ship bound for sea within the week. The whole family was moving to the estate to work one of the sections of land as tenant farmers.
Rev. Bertram approved of Laurence more with each passing day when he saw his good sense and excellent business dealings. Before he dealt with the manor house, he took care of the farmers. He was proving to be a just and fair landholder: farmers would be keeping a greater percentage of the crops they raised and paying less for rent on their homes. In less than six weeks, the standard of living among the poor was beginning to rise. Merchants and shopkeepers were benefiting. All the profit to Lyme and the surrounding areas were due to the actions of one man.
Jasmine heard Captain Laurence name mentioned frequently by villagers during those months and missed him more than she wanted to admit. The sweetest nectar was the praise she heard concerning him. The whole village was starting to notice the excellence her family had seen in him from the beginning. He did not talk about charity--he did it. He influenced more neighborhoods in a shorter period than people who lived their whole lives there had.
It was a fine, warm July morning when Jasmine sought her mother out and found her in the garden cutting flowers.
“Mother?”
“Yes, dear?” said Mrs. Bertram absently.
“Mother, when did you realize you loved father?”
Mrs. Bertram was alert now--Jasmine had never asked her that question before. “Let’s sit over here on the bench,” she suggested.
Mrs. Bertram closed her eyes and smiled. It seemed like it had only happened yesterday. “I was nineteen when I met your father. I hardly noticed him for many suitors pursued me. I came from wealth but knew a man had to have more than riches to recommend him. Your father was an acquaintance of one of my suitors. He knew the class distinction between us and never put himself forward. In social gatherings, he was always quiet and observant. I invited him along with many others to a tea at my home. I would see him at plays and assemblies, but he never asked me to dance. I saw nothing distinguishing him apart from the other men of my set. He was the son of a barrister but had no title in society. I found out through a friend that he was just recently out of seminary. I assumed he must be dull, as I thought all clergymen were. The only thing that seemed to give lie to such an idea were his eyes--they looked too alive to be boring. I began to wonder what kind of thoughts lay hidden behind those eyes. You could say at this stage I was mildly interested in him.
“I remember one day, as a group of us walked down a side street in Bath, your father lagged far behind. My friends and I went into a shop, but I soon grew bored and left. Looking up the street, a few doors away, I saw your father on a step. He was holding a crippled boy in his lap and had tears in his eyes. I fell in love with him at that moment. I wanted to be close to him, to work alongside him. I saw my whole life, in an instant, as a waste--a foolish, shallow life. I walked up to him, and my heart was beating so loudly I thought he could hear. I was shy and uncertain: something I had never felt in a man’s presence before. I had been a terrible flirt. The response I received from men at an early age made me overconfident, but not now. I fumbled my words asking if I could help in any way. He looked up smiling at me, tears shining in his eyes--it felt as if the sun was rising. He asked me to buy bread and vegetables and to meet him back there. I had never done anything like that before--we had servants to do it. Your father was watching me closely. I only found out later, after we were married, that his choice of me as a wife depended on whether I would be humble enough to assist, or too proud and give him back the money.”
Jasmine was amazed the existence of her life and her sisters had depended on this one choice. Her mother continued the story.
“I reached out for the money with pride. It felt good to help someone in need. I was taking my first steps out of my selfish world into his--one filled with compassion and service. We went to the little boy’s home and gave his parents the food. Their poverty shocked me, but your father was unaffected by it. He did not seem to notice. He just saw the people and loved them. I beheld the real man that day and fell in love with him. Seeing what was real helped me recognize the counterfeit. I clung to your father as my only lifeline out of the social world I was beginning to despise.
“I learned more about real life in that one brief afternoon than in all my previous nineteen years. I felt like an infant in the things that really mattered compared to your father. I went home that day and no other man existed in my heart but him. We were married in three months. I was the one who pressured him, for he would have waited. I felt I had to catch up and the sooner--the better. There is only five years difference in our ages, but truly, we were worlds apart until I made up my mind that your father’s world was the one I wanted to live in. I came into the marriage with forty thousand pounds, but felt like a pauper next to him. I don’t think I can ever catch up to him now: the richness of his love nor his love for life.”
Jasmine’s face was glowing. “I’m glad you chose father.”
“I’m thankful he chose me. I do not know why he did for I was a foolish, selfish, nineteen-year-old girl. Maybe he had a vision of the woman I would become.”
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