“Captain Owen Buckley,” Aunt Clara said proudly. “This is our rector, Mr. Graveley.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” the rector said, shaking his hand.
“I am indeed the nephew,” Owen finally confirmed, taking his seat again. “How long have you resided in Briarstead?”
“You know, we only missed each other by a few months, I’m told. We took over the rectory nearly nine years ago now, I bel—oh, Miss Darling. Say you will join us.” He smiled charmingly up at Emma, who was in the act of fleeing. “I’ve been tasked with providing Mrs. Graveley an update on the state of your health, and I cannot do so if you take this opportunity to slip away.”
If she had thought to slip out unnoticed, Mr. Graveley had foiled her plans. It brought Owen a strange sense of joy.
She smiled at Mr. Graveley, her cheeks warming to a delicate shade of pink. “I was of a mind to use this time to my advantage, but you’ve caught me out, sir.”
“Ah, yes. The squire of Buckley Place, as we lovingly refer to you at the rectory.” Mr Gravely swung his attention to Aunt Clara. “Surely you do not mind, ma’am?”
“On the contrary. I heartily agree.” Aunt Clara reached for Emma’s hand as she took a seat on the sofa beside her. “Emma has done far more than is required of her this last year. I would have been lost without her.”
The only enjoyment Owen derived from the deluge of praise was that Emma squirmed beneath it. He leaned against the back cushion of his chair, crossing an ankle over the other knee.
“Now you are doubly blessed to have your nephew returned,” Mr. Graveley said kindly.
Aunt Clara’s eyes grew misty. “It will be a wonderful thing to have the will read and put behind us, you know. I am tired of looking at the dug-up garden and unfinished wing of the house. Broken floors and missing staircases. It is such a mess, the whole of it. Edward had engaged a man to carve the most beautiful flowers into the spindles leading up to the second floor, but they’re sitting in a dusty heap, waiting to be installed.”
“A shame,” the rector agreed. “Buckley Place will be the pride of Briarstead when you are through with your updates.”
“I hope only to restore it to its former glory. It was my husband who had grand ideas.”
“Far grander than the land permits,” Owen said.
“He told you of his plans?”
“In his letters, yes.” Owen recalled the long list of additions Uncle Edward had hoped to make. “Though I told him that I believed the money could be put to better use.”
“The house you want to procure,” Aunt Clara said. “What was it for again? Some charity.”
Coolness settled in Owen’s gut. He didn’t enjoy discussing his plans openly. At present, they were nothing but private hopes. Until he could secure investors, a property, and partners to oversee the business with him, it was only a dream.
It wasn’t a dream he was ashamed of, however. “A school for boys.”
“But a charity, Owen, wasn’t it? Edward told me of the scheme. He’d thought it sounded just like you.”
“Yes. There are plenty of schools available for parents who are capable of paying. This would be for those who could not afford to.”
The rector leaned forward, interested. “Capital idea. Do you plan to open it in Briarstead?”
Owen laughed. “I am still looking for a good property, Rector. My mother learned of an estate for sale near her house in Yorkshire. Once I’ve finished assisting my aunt with the things she needs here, I plan to look at it.”
“Yorkshire!” Aunt Clara said. “That is much too far.”
“It is a good price.”
She frowned. “That means it is derelict, you know.”
He had worried about the state of the house. The length of time it had remained available did not ignite any sort of confidence in Owen. But he’d kept those thoughts to himself. He was good at working with his hands, and if the house was affordable, he might have the money to make necessary alterations or repairs.
The door opened, and Mrs. Rooney entered bearing a tray with a tea service, which she set upon the short table in the center of the seating area. Aunt Clara gave Emma a nod, and she leaned forward and began to pour and prepare cups of tea.
“I will keep my eye out for anything in this area, Captain,” Mr. Graveley promised. He nodded to the sugar, then shook hishead to the cream. His attention shifted to Owen, a smile playing over his mouth. “I do hope we have the pleasure of your company for a long visit.”
Owen could make no promises. He’d not seen his parents in nearly a decade, and despite feeling no desire to correct that oversight, it was his duty to do so.
