Few things in life are as hopeless as we fear they are. The trick is choosing to believe.
As Mr. Walker stepped inside the house, Gillian remained behind, her mind spinning and her heart aching. She couldn’t shake the feeling that sometimes there was nothing left to believe in.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Scott had long thought ofMater as a mother, yet he’d not truly looked on the Jonquil brothers as his brothers. He didn’t dislike them, and they didn’t seem to dislike him. They were all on friendly terms, but they weren’t really family.
And thus, he was surprised when the three who lived nearby—Philip, Layton, and Harold—descended upon Sarvol House and declared themselves ready to undertake repairs and needed work on the house. He had objected, insisting they needn’t expend effort, and they, in true Jonquil fashion, hadn’t listened but had simply tossed themselves into the work that needed to be done. And they’d returned many times since.
Philip had insisted they use the leftover plaster from repairs made at his house, Lampton Park. Layton had recently completed some work at his home, Farland Meadows, and donated wood, paint, and nails to Scott’s cause. Harold hadn’t any supplies but was a willing and able helper. Five times in a fortnight they’d come to Sarvol House, and Scott was astounded at all they had accomplished.
“I can’t imagine if I had brothers that they would have worked as hard as you have today.”
“Don’t think of this as us doing you a favor,” Philip said, flicking a speck of plaster off his sleeve. “Think of it as us not wanting to be murdered by our mother.”
Scott laughed. “Did she send you over here, then?”
“No, but she mentioned that Sarvol House was in need of work, and this was inevitable after that.”
“I don’t understand,” Scott said.
“Mater considers you one of her children, and that makes you one of us,” Philip explained. “And when one of us needs something, we see to it.”
“I don’t know that I warrant that, but I appreciate it just the same.”
Layton, who was quieter than the others, spoke up. “Anytime you need anything here, tell me. This was Bridget’s home. She wouldn’t want you to be unhappy here. And she wouldn’t want it to be falling apart.”
Bridget was Scott’s late cousin, the daughter of the uncle from whom he had inherited Sarvol House. She had married Layton years earlier but had died shortly after their daughter’s birth. Sometimes Scott forgot how intricately connected the Jonquils truly were to his own family.
“I know Bridget wasn’t always happy here,” Scott said. “I think most people who lived here haven’t always been. I mean to make it a joyful place again. Restore the soul of it, as my housekeeper is fond of saying.”
Layton nodded. “I hope you succeed, and not merely for Bridget’s sake.”
“For Mater’s as well,” Philip said. “She wants you to succeed. We always give Mater what she wants. Don’t we, Monkey?” He directed his question and the grin that went with it at Harold.
“Always,” Harold said too solemnly to be believed.
“Always?” Scott repeated, letting his doubt show.
A look of absolute unfettered mischief filled the earl’s eyes. “When it’s something she’s likely to find out about.”
Not one of the brothers, even the vicar, looked innocent in that moment, which only made Scott like them all the more.
Maybe you’re not finding family because you’re not looking in the right places.
“Mr. Sarvol.” The butler spoke from the doorway. “The Dowager Countess of Lampton and Mrs. Jonquil.”
Despite three of Mater’s daughters-in-law living in the area, “Mrs. Jonquil” could only be Sarah. The other two ladies were titled.
All the gentlemen scrambled to their feet, looking quite slipshod after a day spent laboring. Mater’s sons greeted her warmly in turn and also had fond welcomes for Sarah. She had so quickly become a fully accepted part of the Jonquil family.
“We have been exceptionally well behaved,” Philip said.
“I doubt that,” was his mother’s reply. “But no matter. I have come becauseIhave been scheming.”
“Brilliant!” Philip couldn’t have looked prouder.
Mater met Scott’s eyes. “They think me a doddering old woman incapable of mischief, don’t they?”