Page 24

"C hilly," Caroline called, setting Chilton's teeth on edge. "Might I have a word?"

He had just left the breakfast room, where he'd spent the past hour studiously avoiding looking in Meredith's direction while simultaneously being acutely aware of her every movement.

The previous evening had been an exercise in restraint, watching Townsend fawn over her from across the room, his attentions growing more obvious with each glass of wine he consumed.

Chilton didn't want the lovely young woman to overhear whatever criticisms Caroline was going to level at him, so he gestured her toward a door that would lead them to the garden.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-dampened roses and freshly turned earth from the distant kitchen gardens.

A pair of gardeners were at work trimming the yew hedges that lined the formal parterres, the rhythmic snipping of their shears providing a backdrop to what promised to be an uncomfortable conversation.

"You need to stay away from that Martin woman, Chilly. She is not the right match for you. Not by a long shot," Caroline added, her voice carrying the authority she had wielded over him since their parents' deaths.

"I don't recall making an offer for any woman, Caroline.

And I've asked you before not to call me Chilly.

It might've been cute when I was an infant, but it's hardly appropriate at this stage of my life.

" Chilton crushed a fallen leaf beneath his polished Hessian boot, the small act of destruction providing minor relief for his frustration.

"I raised you, Chilly, I can call you whatever I'd like," his sister insisted, looking down her long nose at him despite the fact that he towered over her.

Her morning dress of pale blue cambric was perfectly pressed, her fichu arranged with geometric precision, her entire appearance a testament to controlled perfection.

"That woman would be an embarrassment to our family. You cannot expect us to welcome someone like her into our midst."

Caroline's sharp tone and judgmental attitude caused Chilton's muscles to tighten and a headache threatened. He rubbed his temples in an effort to dispel the pain gathering there.

"See," Caroline crowed.

"She's causing you trouble already," she added, gesturing toward his head.

Chilton was forced to smile over his sister's ridiculous statement.

"You are Baron Sutcliffe, Chilly. You have responsibilities.

This woman and her wild ideas are completely unsuitable for you.

She is beautiful, I'll grant you that," she added when Chilton didn't respond.

"So, I can see why she would appeal to you.

But you really need to consider what you owe to our name. "

Chilton clenched his teeth.

"It isn't even your name anymore, Caroline," he pointed out gently.

"Once a Sutcliffe, always a Sutcliffe," Caroline declared, tapping him on the hand with her folded fan none too gently. The ivory sticks gleamed in the morning light, their carved figures depicting classical scenes that seemed to watch their exchange with ancient, indifferent eyes.

"You might be a Sutcliffe, but I am Sutcliffe. It is I who will make the decisions for the estate and my own future. Who I choose to court is my business, Caroline, not yours."

"So, you admit that you are courting her?" Caroline's eyes were wide with shock, her hand flying to her throat in a gesture of distress that would not have been out of place on the London stage.

"I admit nothing of the sort," Chilton countered, watching a pair of sparrows squabble over a crumb near the garden bench. "I am merely pointing out that I am an adult, and I will direct my life as I see fit."

They walked deeper into the garden, where a stone fountain played, water droplets catching the sunlight and casting miniature rainbows on the flagstones. A marble nymph smiled enigmatically from her perch atop the fountain, seemingly amused by human follies enacted before her unchanging gaze.

"As you see fit?" Caroline's laugh was sharp enough to startle a nearby bird into flight. "When have you ever truly known what was fit? Who guided you through Society? Who taught you proper deportment? Who made sure you didn't embarrass yourself at every turn?"

Each question struck like a physical blow, hitting all the insecurities Caroline had spent years cultivating. Chilton's fingers tightened around the walking stick he carried, its polished mahogany smooth beneath his grip.

"I am grateful for your guidance," he said carefully, fighting to keep his voice steady. "But gratitude doesn't give you the right to dictate my future."

"Someone has to think of your future," Caroline snapped, her carefully arranged ringlets trembling with the force of her emotion.

"You certainly aren't. Do you think I haven't noticed how you look at her?

How you defend her ridiculous schemes? A baron's wife starting a school for common children? It's preposterous!"

"Is it?" Chilton found himself straightening, drawing on a strength he hadn't known he possessed, his shoulders squaring beneath the fine wool of his morning coat. "My tenants need education. Their children deserve opportunities. How is it preposterous to want to provide that?"

"Oh, Lord preserve us!" Caroline pressed her fingers to her temples, her lace-trimmed handkerchief fluttering like a distressed butterfly. "She's already infected you with her revolutionary ideas. Next you'll be suggesting we invite the scullery maids to tea."

"You're being deliberately obtuse," Chilton said, surprising himself with his firmness. "There's a vast difference between practical education and social upheaval."

They reached a small pergola covered in climbing roses, now past their prime but still offering occasional late blooms among the greenery. Caroline seated herself on a wrought-iron bench, arranging her skirts with practiced precision, the very picture of aristocratic composure reclaimed.

"But that's how it starts, isn't it?" Caroline's voice lowered, taking on the confidential tone she had used when instructing him on particularly sensitive matters of etiquette in his youth.

"First it's teaching tenant children to read, then it's questioning why they can't attend university, and before you know it, everything we've built, everything our family stands for, crumbles into dust."

Chilton studied his sister's face, seeing for the first time the fear behind her rigid control. Her complexion, still fair despite her years, had paled further, and fine lines appeared at the corners of her mouth that her powder couldn't quite conceal.

"Is that what truly worries you? That change might diminish what we are?"

"What worries me is that you seem determined to throw away everything I sacrificed to preserve.

" Her voice caught slightly, a rare display of genuine emotion breaking through her controlled exterior.

"The Sutcliffe name has stood for centuries, Chilton.

We weathered the Wars of the Roses, the Civil War, countless political upheavals—all because each generation understood its duty to maintain what came before.

And now you would risk it all for... what?

A woman who thinks the natural order of Society should be overturned because she's read a few philosophical treatises? "

The pergola cast dappled shadows across them both, the pattern shifting with the morning breeze. A bee hummed nearby, investigating a late-blooming rose with single-minded purpose that Chilton rather envied in that moment.

"Meredith doesn't seek to overturn Society," he said, the use of her Christian name deliberate. "She believes that education can improve lives without destroying the social fabric. That knowledge is a right all minds deserve, regardless of birth."

"Meredith, is it?" Caroline's voice turned cold. "Such familiarity after so brief an acquaintance. I wonder what Father would say to hear you speak so warmly of a woman with such radical notions."

The invocation of their father was a calculated strike. Bartholomew Sutcliffe had been a traditionalist to his core, viewing his role as baron as a sacred trust to preserve rather than transform.

"Father believed in responsible stewardship," Chilton said, choosing his words with care. "In improving tenant welfare within appropriate bounds."

"And where do you imagine those bounds lie?

" Caroline challenged, adjusting her gloves with precise movements.

"At teaching labourers’ children to read the Bible, perhaps—under proper supervision, of course.

But your Miss Martin envisions much more, doesn't she?

Mathematics for milkmaids. History for ploughboys.

Ideas well beyond their station or needs. "

"And what determines their 'needs,' Caroline? Their birth? Or their capabilities?" The questions felt dangerous even as he voiced them, challenging assumptions he had never before thought to question.

"God determines their place, Chilton." Caroline's voice held the certainty of absolute conviction. "He orders Society as He orders nature—each creature with its purpose and position. Disrupting that order brings only chaos and suffering."

A gardener passed at a respectful distance, tugging his forelock in acknowledgment of their presence.

The man's weathered face and calloused hands spoke of a lifetime of labour, his deference to them as ingrained as breathing.

Chilton found himself wondering if any of the gardener's children possessed minds that might, with proper nurturing, solve mathematical problems or write poetry or discover scientific principles that would benefit all of humanity.

The thought was disturbing in its implications.

"What if God's order includes the potential for growth and change?" he asked, the question as much for himself as for Caroline. "What if some are born with gifts that transcend the circumstances of their birth?"