A Dangerous Nativity

Chapter 1, Scene 1

Pounding hooves and frustration drove the Earl of Chadbourn in a fog of discouragement toward an unfamiliar fence line. He rode head down into the wind until an unexpected sight startled him out of his dismals. He pulled Mercury to a sudden stop. The fence looked to be in good repair. Thank God, he thought.

Frustration had driven him from his sister's house, but his neck-or-nothing ride across the fields had done nothing to ease his burdens, raise his spirits, or banish his demons. This did.

Can some part of Emery Wheatly's benighted property actually be in repair?

William Landrum, 10th Earl of Chadbourn badly needed some sign of order. In the two months he had spent struggling with his late unlamented brother-in-law's over-grazed estate, falling fences had been the norm. So had unrepaired tenant cottages, sodden fields, and poorly managed pastures. The only things in good heart he had found so far were those that directly impacted the late Duke of Murnane's personal comfort. If it weren't for Chadbourn's nephew, the duke's son and heir-now his ward-the urge to chuck the whole thing and throw it back on the Crown might be irresistible. He longed to get back to his own land.

Will breathed deeply of the crisp November air, leapt down, and gave his mount a reassuring caress along its neck. He bent to examine the fence, sliding his gloved hand across the top rail. He shook the posts to test their stability. He examined the crossbars. Perfect. The earl admired quality workmanship; he rated this work highly indeed.

A short walk took him past a neatly pruned orchard. The cuttings appeared recent, done just after last week's hard frost. The orchard could not be on the Duke of Murnane's land. Eversham Hall boasted no such careful husbandry. He had ridden farther than planned. What neighbors are these? he wondered. Sylvia never mentioned them, but then, my sister doesn't tell me much these days.

The fence turned at a lane and curved past the orchard. Still leading Mercury, he let his curiosity pull him along until a farmhouse came into view. He stood at the top of a gentle slope looking down at a trim, thatched cottage, solid barn, and garden beds, neat even in late fall, the dried remnants of flowers to the front of the cottage, vegetable patch out behind.

In five years of marching through mud and blood, dreams of just such a scene had been his safe talisman, the peace of rural England keeping the horrors of death and dismemberment at bay. Seeing it in reality, after two months of managing Murnane's damaged legacy, warmed his heart.

He walked down the lane bathed in contentment, drawn by the need to absorb the place's serenity and order until barnyard chaos upended his fanciful notions. He had stumbled onto a domestic crisis. He chuckled as he went.

Piglets ran in several directions, while a goat charged up the hill toward him, eyes wide with panic. Two boys ran in circles trying to catch rioting pigs. The more they ran, the more they sent a flock of geese into a frenzy of honking and feathers. A dog barked frantically on one side, only to run to the other and bark more. In the center of the chaos a woman stood, one hand raised above her head and the other holding her skirts above the confusion.

Will's vision narrowed to the woman. Tall and serene, she put him in mind of Athena, striding above the fray to command calm. Intense longing for her serenity, for her strength, and for order filled him. For a moment, he could think of nothing else.

Frantic bleating broughthim back to earth. The goat pelted up the hill toward him. He caught the pieceof rope dangling from a loop around the animal's neck before it could chargepast him. The panicked beast sent Mercury skittering to the side. A hard yankbrought the bleater to an abrupt stop, and a gentle hand and soft voice calmedit. He could see that the rope had been violently torn from a longer piece.There's a story here, he thought, a smile twitching his lips. He led the goatdown the lane trusting his horse to follow.