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Varian had been surprised. The idea of a woman retaining her own property was an interesting one. Not that it was a new idea; it certainly was not. But he had never expected to marry such a woman. He understood Anthony Wyndham's position, however, and thought that had he found himself in the Earl of Langford's position, he might very well have done the same thing to protect his daughter.

"I am not a rich man," he told his father-in-law, "but neither am I a poor one. Now that I am to live again on my own lands, I must decide how best to utilize those lands."

"Have you tenants?" Lord Wyndham asked.

"Aye," Varian answered.

"Has your estate steward been collecting the rents from your tenants? Be certain that he has, and then find out what has happened to those rents," Anthony advised. "If they were not turned over to you for your living, they should have been used to maintain your property. You will have to visit each farmstead and see if it is being cared for properly. If it is not, then you will have to decide whether to evict the tenant or give him an opportunity to rectify his bad habits. You have lived at court long enough to be able to tell a man's worth. Common sense is all that you need.

"My in-laws breed horses, but once they raised sheep. If you have the means, try both. Sheep are a certainty every year, unless they get diseased and you lose the flock. That is what happened to the Morgans, but 'twas years ago. Wool is a valuable cash crop."

He chuckled at the look on his son-in-law's face. "The gold and silver have to come from somewheres," he told him practically. "You've spent so much of your life at court that you've forgotten, indeed if you ever knew, that wealth has to have a source, Varian. You've lived off your grandsire's bounty most of your life. He had to have some means to support the great family and the establishment that he has.

"Oh, he's in debt to be certain. Mighty men like Duke Thomas forget how to be truly frugal, but here in the country we don't live beyond our means. We cannot afford to if we're going to pay the king's taxes on time, see that our daughters are dowered, our sons outfitted, and our tenants fed. After all, poor Henry Tudor could not keep his magnificent court without us, and the taxes he gets from us." The Earl of Langford chuckled broadly. "No, indeed, he needs us."

Varian shook his dark head. "This will be more complicated than I had anticipated," he said slowly.

"Go with your instincts, sir, and trust Nyssa's," Anthony Wyndham advised him. "She's been raised in the country, and has a broad streak of good, common sense. My daughter is a country woman."

Varian remembered his father-in-law's words as he lifted his wife from her mare. "AfterRiversEdge, it must seem very old-fashioned," he said apologetically. He had not remembered Winterhaven quite this way, quite so down-at-the-heels as it now appeared to him.

"It will be so much fun bringing it up to date," she assured him sweetly. "As long as the chimneys draw well, my lord, and the windows are tight, we shall be cozy for the winter. There is time for us to renovate." Then she kissed his cheek reassuringly, and he loved her all the more.

An elderly couple hobbled through the front door, smiles wreathing their wrinkled faces. "Welcome home, my lord, my lady," they chorused brightly. It was obvious they were very happy to see their master and his new bride.

"This is Browning, and Mistress Browning," Varian said to Nyssa, "and this is the new Countess of March," he told the old couple. "She is the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Langford, and already carries the heir to Winterhaven. Have you assembled the other servants?"

"There are no others, my lord," Browning told his master. "Master Smale, the steward, says 'tis wasteful to hire servants to serve in an empty house."

"There is a chill in the air," Nyssa said. "Let us go inside and discuss this, my lord." She hurried past him, and the Brownings followed her.

Varian de Winter smiled to himself. He was impressed that his old servants immediately recognized in Nyssa the voice of authority. Bringing up the rear, he entered his house.

The Brownings led Nyssa into the Great Hall of Winterhaven. It was a cozy rectangle with two large fireplaces that were heaped high with burning logs. The room was more than comfortable. Nyssa removed her cloak, and handed it to Browning. "You are responsible for the kitchen, I presume, Mistress Browning? The morning meal will be served after mass each day. Nothing fancy unless we have important guests. Then you and I will go over the menus together. Cereal, hard-cooked eggs, ham, bread, cheese. I like stewed fruits, particularly now." She smiled at the elderly Mistress Browning. "No court hours here. Dinner will be at two o'clock in the afternoon. Then a light supper around seven."

"Yes, m'lady," Mistress Browning said, returning the smile. "I'll be needing help in my kitchens now, however."

"I will rely upon you to find it, for you know the families hereabouts. The girls you choose must be hardworking and of good character," Nyssa told her. "Pick as many as you need. I will see each girl myself, and determine who is fit to serve in this house. Those who are not suited to the kitchens will be considered for housework and the laundry. I am a fair woman, but know that I will tolerate neither immorality nor pertness in a servant. Now, please make my tiring woman welcome and comfortable."

"Aye, m'lady," Mistress Browning replied, curtseying. My goodness, she thought, her ladyship was very young to be so stern. It was clear she had been raised very well. Mistress Browning knew ofRiversEdge. Its hospitality was famed, and its servants were the elite of the serving class. Her ladyship was obviously used to the very best. So much the better for Winterhaven, which had not seen a mistress in thirty years. It was going to be a new era. She could but hope she was up to it.

Varian de Winter watched proudly as his wife directed his two old retainers with a mixture of kindness and firmness. When she had finished speaking to Mistress Browning, he said to Browning, "I will want to see Master Smale immediately."

"I'll fetch him myself," Browning said. Now the fur was going to fly. Arthur Smale had been running the estate for over fifteen years. He was an honest man, but not one open to change. There would certainly be changes now that his lordship was home, unless, of course, they returned to court after the heir was born. "My lord," Browning ventured. "Have you and her ladyship come home for good?" He peered anxiously at them.

"Aye, Browning, we have. You may tell everyone," the Earl of March said with a warm smile. "We have come home to stay. We have come home to raise a houseful of children. Does it suit you, old friend?"

"Aye, m'lord! And 'twill suit all of yer people as well," the beaming old man told his master. "I'll go fetch Smale to you now, m'lord. He comes from the stables this time every day for his dinner in the kitchens. He's not changed his schedule in all the years he's been here as estate steward. He's a predictable man, is Smale."

"And I'll get ye some nice wine and biscuits, m'lady," Mistress Browning said, curtsying, her smile broad.

They hurried off. Nyssa looked about the hall. It was paneled. Both the paneling and the floors needed a good scrubbing and polishing. Poor old Mistress Browning was hardly up to such work. The high board and chairs were attractive, but they too needed attention. "Are there no tapestries?" she asked her husband.

"Packed away years ago," he replied. "My mother did two beautiful ones that hung in here when I was a boy, but when my father died, I stored them in the attics. I knew one day I should come home, and I did not want those tapestries ruined by dust and sunlight."

"Who on earth ever told you how to care properly for tapestries?" she wondered. " 'Tis not a man's province."

"My step-grandmother, Duchess Elizabeth," he said.