As promised, I'm going to start posting bits from my NaNo Novel. It is still slowly growing, despite my injured right arm, as preparing the first bit for posting brought my word count over 11K. It's still a far cry from the 50K I'm supposed to reach by 11:59 pm on the 30th, but it is something all the same.
This story is largely a character study more than anything, and I apologize for any boring bits in advance. This is still very much a rough draft, and it will go through extensive editing before I'm even remotely 'done' with it.
Before we start, I'd also like to thank my friend Scot for sharing his extensive knowledge of all things British with me. He's saved me from making a great many silly mistakes already.
And now, without further ado...
Chapter 1
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“Look at the castle I made, Miss Gracie!” young William Arden cried happily, tugging on his nurse-maid’s skirt.
'Miss Gracie' Sinclair pulled her attention away from her intent, but aimless, study of one of the garden’s beautiful roses. She looked down to where William was playing and smiled down at the excited little boy.
“It’s lovely!” she told him, gently ruffling his head of curly, blonde hair with her hand.
William grabbed her wrist with his small, chubby hands and pulled her down. “You have to look closer,” he said very seriously.
Grace chuckled and obliged, settling herself on the grass beside William. “Let us take a look at this magnificent castle of yours, Sir William the Great,” she said, imitating what she supposed were the manners of a lady at court.
William giggled and grinned happily.
”Ah, I see your soldiers are all out for inspection,” she commented, pointing to the little tin soldiers lined up in the loose soil. Their painted red uniforms gleamed merrily in the sunlight as they stood before William’s ‘castle.’
Grace smiled at her young charge’s handy work, impressed by William’s imaginative construction. He had levelled a patch of loose dirt and gathered small stones and twigs to construct the walls of his miniature fortress. Fresh spring leaves waved jauntily from the parapets and a strip of old bark served as the castle’s sturdy drawbridge, although a moat had yet to be constructed.
“Yes, ma’am,” William replied, beaming proudly at his youthful foray into the field of military architecture. “When the inspection’s over, they shall go out on field manoeuvres.”
“Very good, valiant knight! I am sure your leadership will do wonders for their discipline.”
“Aye! And they’ll be able to keep an eye out for any French spies lurking about,” William added, his voice lowering as he looked about as if expecting a spy to pop out from behind a rosebush at any instant.
Grace nodded solemnly. “This is a very good plan,” she whispered. “I think you had better send them off on those manoeuvres if we’re going to be safe, Sir Knight.”
William saluted her smartly and then immediately absorbed himself in the task of rearranging the ranks of his army. Grace smiled fondly at him, and then relaxed, resting on her elbows and leaning her head back.
The morning sunlight warmed her cheeks and she shut her eyes for a little while, enjoying the sounds of the light breeze rustling through the rose garden and young William quietly at play beside her. It wasn’t often that they were blessed with such lovely weather so early in the season and she intended to fully take advantage of it.
Enjoying the outdoors was a nice change from being cooped up in the nursery all winter long, as well as an escape from the preparations that busied the entire household. Everyone was in a fluster at the arrival of the Master’s sons, and although they had arrived yesterday, the activities of the house servants seemed even more frenzied. There were now two more rooms to keep spotlessly clean, two more fires to keep lit, more place settings to prepare at table, not only for the young Masters, but also for the neighbours who were sure to visit. In the country, much to do was made of sons who went away for ‘better learning,’ and the Master’s sons were no exception.
James Arden, the eldest, had contented himself with learning the ways of managing his father’s estate and so didn’t set out to be a huge success at university. He learned what he set out to learn and then returned home to be educated by his father in the particulars on maintaining the family estate.
Robert, the next eldest, held the greatest hope in the eyes of his Father, being currently a student of Divinity at one of the country’s best Universities. Master Arden, being a staunch and devout Anglican, had no greater desire than to see one of his son’s take the cloth, and Robert seemed to be fitting into his role perfectly. Master never looked half as happy as when he was speaking of his “dear son, Robert, who’s to become a cleric.”
John, on the other hand, seemed to be in the least favour with his father, his name hardly ever being mentioned at all. Grace wasn’t even sure she knew what the young Master was in university for, if anything at all.
The gentle breeze played with the edges of her linen cap and apron and she smiled to herself, enjoying the tickling sensation as the fabric brushed against her. She hoped that the good weather would hold, because secretly she was afraid of the Master’s fashionable sons. James was a regular resident, so she didn’t mind him, but the younger Mr. Arden’s were completely unfamiliar to her. She had heard the rumour from the other servants about Master John’s drinking habits, and there were whispers of other things besides.
Not that she thought she’d be worth noticing by the young master, of course, but it made her innocent soul tremble to think of spending any amount of time in close proximity to a man of his sort.
The sound of voices travelled on the wind to where Grace and young William sat. Grace opened her eyes at once, for the bark of angry, shouting male voices was unmistakable.
William looked up from his tin soldiers, excitement brightening his expression. “Is it them, Miss Gracie?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, rising to her knees and peering through the shrubbery towards the house. Through gaps in the foliage she could see three men, one of whom she recognized as Master James. They were congregated at the bottom of the porch steps, their stances unsteady, which, added to the shouting voices, indicated some trouble.
“I want to go see if it’s them,” William announced, collecting his soldiers into his hands.
Grace placed a hand on his shoulder. “No. Not yet.” Something wasn’t right, she could tell. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on the scene unfolding before them. One of the gentleman, his dark hair unruly and his clothes rumpled, took a step towards Master James and raised a hand threateningly.
She gasped as the dark haired man tried to land a blow on the Master.
“What? What is it?” William pleaded, tugging at her hand.
“Nothing. Just…” She tore her eyes away from the angry men and looked down at her charge, her gaze intense and serious. “Stay here, William. Do you understand?”
William knew from the tone of her voice that she meant what she said. He nodded silently, his grey eyes wide.
“Good lad. I’ll be right back.”
Leaving William amid the rose bushes, clutching his toy soldiers close to his chest, Grace moved towards the house. The voices grew louder as she approached and she held her breath as she strained to make out words.
One of the voices was definitely that of Master James, his resonant baritone carrying easily on the spring breeze. To her surprise, she heard James laughing, and her brow furrowed in puzzlement at the sound.
She peered around the hedge surrounding the rose garden, holding her skirts clear from the branches threatening to catch themselves in the folds of fabric, and looked towards the house.
The dishevelled gentleman was now seated on the ground, the force of his swing obviously having unbalanced him, and a dark scowl marred his features. Grace instantly recognized him as one of the Master’s sons, John, the family resemblance unmistakable in his high brow, strong jaw line, square shoulders, and trim form.
Fortuitously, the breeze picked up again and she could hear Master James playfully chiding his brother.
“Hah! That’s what you get for raising your hand to your elders! Don’t ask me to help you up now!”
“Stuff it, Jim,” John growled, his words slightly slurred. “If I’d had my way, you’d be the one decked, damn you.”
Grace stifled a little gasp of surprise at Master John’s surly attitude, and she was instantly sure that she wasn’t going to enjoy having this man in the house.
“Come now, you two. You’re behaving like children,” the third gentleman remonstrated gently from his perch on the steps. His words were soft, and Grace had to strain to hear them over a strange pattering sound that she recognized as that of running feet.
She quickly turned to see little William racing out from behind a nearby rosebush.
“It’s them! It’s them!” he shouted joyously, ducking neatly away from Grace’s intercepting arms as he ran past, showering tin soldiers from his arms all the while.
“William!” Grace called helplessly as the three gentlemen turned their attention to the sudden interruption.
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