Genie put her hands on her cheeks in an expression of dismay. "I am sorry I plagued you with such a child."
"A plague! Yes, that is exactly what my housekeeper called him."
"We shall definitely need to make better arrangements for him. Where is he now?"
"That is the part I fear will not please you. Jem took off running, with most of the staff in pursuit, destroying a vase in the process. Caused such a commotion I could not help but join in the fun. I chased the miscreant into the garden and over a hedge, but I fear I lost him."
"You poor man! Well, that explains your cravat. I am very sorry."
"Thank you for recognizing that the true victim here is me. I fear my cravat is a hopeless case."
"You must let me at least reimburse you for the vase."
"Oh no! Did us a favor there. My mother never liked it, but it was given to her as a wedding present by her mother-in-law. Been wanting it gone for years."
"I am glad it was not of sentimental value." Genie sighed. "I suppose we did our best. I felt sure I was being led to help this child, but I suppose we cannot help him if he will not allow it."
"I'm sorry!" squeaked a small voice from under a nearby bush.
"Jem!"
Seventeen
Grant scanned the garden surrounding them, and poking out of a hedge was the red head of the errant Jem. His response was one of joy followed by disappointment with the sure knowledge that Genie would expect him to try again with the ruffian.
"Jemmy! Come here, you naughty boy!" called Genie and the lad obeyed, holding his head low and dragging his feet. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm awful sorry, miss. But they brought a giant scrub brush and said they'd scrub the skin offa me."
"Jem, I do not believe they were trying to skin you alive. They just wanted to clean you."
Jem shrugged bony shoulders. "Theys mean coves, miss. Could I not stay wi' you? Yous right nice."
"Well, thank you. But how did you get into Lord Bremerton's garden?"
"Everyone starting yelling and kickn' up a dust. Them be chasin' me and howling something fierce. Put me all in a twitter!"
"So you ran back here?"
"Slipped through the garden gate. I ain't no bigger than a bodkin."
"You are resourceful," said Genie. "But you cannot stay here. My aunt would never allow it. Mr. Grant has opened his home to you. You must be appreciative."
"I am, miss. But could you stay with me too. You could come live wi' Mr. Grant. Your aunt ain't very nice. You wouldn't miss her, I wager."
"Jem, you must not speak that way of your betters," chastised Genie.
"Even if it's true," muttered Grant. He surveyed the wide-eyed ruffian with a mixture of amusement and horror. "We can give it one more chance, little man," said Grant. "But my mother will return in a fortnight and we will both be in the suds if she comes home to a household in chaos."
"Will you come with me?" Jem looked up at Genie with large pathetic eyes.
"Oh, I do not think … "
"Certainly she can, but only for a little bit," said Grant, snatching the opportunity. He felt very sure he was going to regret giving Jem a second chance and wanted to enjoy a little more time with Genie to make it worth his while.
"My aunt would never allow it," whispered Genie to Grant.
"But I do not live far. In fact, unless I am very mistaken, our gardens are connected. Is that how you got here, Jem? Show us."
Jem led them around large, sculpted shrubs and blooming hydrangeas to a small, forgotten gate behind a gardener's shed. The hinges squeaked in complaint, but with a little muscle from Grant, the small gate swung open. It led into a small path with large hedges on either side. Coming around the corner, it opened into a lovely garden, full in bloom. Flowers were everywhere, blooming trees, lilacs, lilies, and roses. Genie came to a full stop at its beauty. Unlike the manicured precision of the Bremerton garden, this garden was more haphazard and whimsical. Sunlight broke through the clouds and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, sending pink apple blossoms dancing through the air.
"It is beautiful," breathed Genie. "This is your garden?"
Grant shrugged. "My mother and sisters had a free hand in this. My father and I stand aside when it comes to any sort of decorating, let the ladies fight it out."
"They have done an amazing job. I would not mind spending days here. It reminds me of home."
"Do you miss it?"
"Yes. I know it is impolitic to say, but I miss it very much. The spring is beautiful on the farm, so many things in bloom. Do you enjoy the country?"
"Always go for hunting season. My parents hold a house party with that intent each year."
"Yes, but besides hunting, do you enjoy spending time at your estate?" asked Genie.
Grant had been raised on the family estate and had escaped female control as soon as he was able. He had not given it much thought other than London allowed him more amusements and ample freedom. "I suppose the country has its charms," he said with a noncommittal shrug.
"Do you have a large estate?" asked Genie. "How many families are in your dependency?"
"I don't know," answered Grant. He left the family management to his father. Since Grant planned to leave no heir, he figured one of his nephews would have to learn the business of managing the estate.
A glance at Genie told him his answer had disappointed her. "We have two dozen families in our village," said Genie. "I have always seen it as a privilege to be able to help serve them."
Grant could think of no response. Serve his tenants? What an odd idea.
"What crops are you planting this year?" asked Genie.
"I could not begin to say," answered Grant.
"I see." Genie turned away to watch Jem run through the garden, but Grant knew he had diminished in her eyes. He wanted to defend himself that no one in polite society talked of anything so provincial as farming, yet he recognized that excuse would not serve in present company.
"I do love the country," said Genie. "I know everyone expected my mother to be miserable, marrying beneath her station, but I believe she has enjoyed it a vast deal more than if she married the man intended for her."
Lady Mary's elopement was infamous. Of course, it was expected that since Genie's mother turned her back on society, she would live an isolated and miserable life.
"They had picked a groom for her?" asked Grant, unable to keep his curiosity in check.
"Lord Bremerton," said Genie with a poignant rise of her eyebrows.
"Oh! Well now. That's awkward."
"My aunt was married off to Lord Bremerton shortly after my mother left. I don't think Aunt Cora has ever forgiven my mother for leaving her in that position. Though my mother has told me many times she had no idea her parents would marry her younger sister off to Bremerton if she left."
"No, indeed!"
"My mother only wanted to live her life with the freedom to do as her conscience called her. She wanted to be able to live out her Christian ideals to tend the sick and help the needy. She has been able to serve our little community in a way she could not living within the strictures of society."
"And this makes her happy?"
"Yes, quite."
"Astonishing."
"That is why I am convinced taking in little Jem here will no doubt make you happy," said Genie with a smile.
"No doubt," mumbled Grant as he witnessed the death of a row of poppies under Jem's tireless feet. "If you miss the delights of the country, you are welcome to the garden any time you like," said Grant with a magnanimous sweep of his arm.
"But your mother and sisters … "
"My sisters are all married and my parents are in Hertfordshire for an extended stay. M'sister is expecting and my mother is in attendance, though she was put out that my youngest sister chose the middle of the season to bring her firstborn into the world."
Jem raced past them with a stick in hand, batting at the flying petals.
Grant shook his head. "Going to need help taming this creature."
"I will stand by your side," agreed Genie. "What will your mother say when she returns to find Jem?"
Jem took his stick and whacked at the tree branches to make more petals fly into the air.
"Don't want to know," answered Grant in all honesty.
"Let's see if we can get him cleaned," said Genie. "Jem?"
The boy immediately left his game and came obediently, the picture of compliance.
"Jem, you are going to need a bath if you are to stay here."
The boy shook his head violently.
"I know you are afraid, but how about if you could give yourself a bath, without anyone watching or attacking you with a scrub brush. Would that be acceptable?"