is to make such poor returns.
—Jane Austen,Mansfield Park
Chapter 8
Nathaniel found Helen ensconced in her favorite chair in the family sitting room—where he suspected she spent the majority of her time. He took in his sister’s plain grey frock, her severely pulled-back hair, and the pallor of her cheeks. Helen was only a year his senior, but at the moment she looked older than her thirty years.
She glanced up from her novel. “How are you feeling today?”
Her words struck him as the distant kindness of an acquaintance.
“In body? Better. I cannot claim the same for mind and spirit.” He settled himself on the settee across from her.
“What did the river police say? Any hope of catching the vandal?”
He snorted ruefully. “Catch a man most people believe mere legend? How they laughed behind their hands when I admitted Hudson and I had been overtaken by a lone attacker, a man who calls himself the Poet Pirate no less. Of course I told them the man’s real name as well, but I don’t think they believedme.”
“I am sorry, Nathaniel.” She shook her head. “At least the ship was not lost. You can make repairs, can you not?”
He had barely returned and didn’t want to burden her with the reality of their finances just yet. He exhaled a deep breath. “We shall see. Now, let us talk of something else. How have you been keeping while we have all been away?”
“Well enough. And how was Papa when you left him? In good health, I hope?”
How he abhorred the polite restraint between them. “Yes. The warmer climate seems to agree with him. Says he barely notices his rheumatism anymore.”
Helen studied him. “But... does he mind being alone there?”
He hesitated, biting back a sarcastic retort about the charming widow from a nearby plantation with whom their father spent an inordinate amount of time. Considering Helen’s solitary state, it seemed unkind to mention it. He said instead, “He has lived there a long time now, Helen. He has many friends.”
“And you? Were you sorry to return?”
Nathaniel considered. Should he tell her about the escalating arguments between him and their father? He said, “In hindsight, the timing of it all seems God-ordained, receiving that letter from Stephens when we did.”
Helen shook her head. “I still cannot believe Stephens wrote to Father. He always insisted servants should know and keep their place. I cannot believe he would say a word against Lewis.”
In his mind’s eye, Nathaniel saw the somber face of their dignified old butler. He had written to say he felt it his duty to apprise James Upchurch of the state of affairs at Fairbourne Hall, to make him aware of the decline of the great estate it had been his honor to serve for more than twenty years. Stephens apologized but said that he could not in good conscience remain longer. The butler had given his notice, not to Lewis or Nathaniel but to their father—the real master in his eyes, absent or not.
“His tone was very respectful—quite mournful, really.”
Helen pursed her lips. “Still, I thought him more loyal.”
Nathaniel fought against incredulity. “Helen, the man had not been paid in six months. Stephens paid a quarter’s wages to the lower servants out of his own savings. He tried to cover for us to keep the Upchurch reputation from suffering.”
She stared at him. “I had no idea it had come to that. Certainly, had Lewis known he would have done something. Stephens should have told him.”
Nathaniel hesitated. He knew his sister doted on Lewis. Everyone did and always had. She would not thank him for speaking against their elder brother.
Helen asked, “So Father sent you home to take the place in hand, didhe?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. I own I feared the entire staff would have deserted by the time I reached you.”
“You overreacted, the both of you. Things are not so bleak, as you see. You needn’t have come.”
Did she wish he hadn’t? Probably. Nathaniel shrugged. “Father and I had come to an impasse, at all events. I refused to manage the plantation as long as slave labor was used, and he refused to transition to paid laborers.”
“Lewis says our profits would suffer greatly.”
“They would indeed. But there is more to life than profits.”
