Marjorie Farrell Read Online Free PDF Page B

the already burning resentment he felt about his family. One morning, as they cooled their horses after a bruising ride, Gareth poured out his adolescent heart. “Why must they be so…eccentric?” he almost cried. “Why can’t my father enjoy a ride like this? A real man would be ashamed to have his wife managing the estate while he locks himself away reading about horned gods and faery rings! And my mother…she is just as bad. I know she is your sister, but what real lady would be happy discussing the bloodlines of sheep? I almost think I hate them,” he added passionately.
    “Except you love them too much?” replied his uncle.
    “Yes,” muttered Gareth, embarrassed by his outburst.
    “It is very natural you should feel this way, Gareth,” said his uncle, continuing to walk his horse. He wanted to stop and face his nephew, but knew continuing to move would make Gareth feel more comfortable.
    “I know this sounds like a truism, and you will likely want to draw my cork for it.” Gareth looked over and smiled at his uncle’s use of cant. “But as you get older, you will appreciate them more for what they are, and let your sense of humor take care of the rest. And one thing I am sure of is that you must have a sense of humor by now to have survived this long. I know mine developed after my first years with your Aunt Katherine. It is not always easy to be married to the ‘Methodist Marchioness’!”
    Gareth grinned. His aunt had heard Wesley speak years ago, and had been deeply impressed, to the horror of her family, who considered religion something you took out only on Sundays, like your best bonnet.
    “How do you stand the gossip? And Aunt Kate’s activities?”
    “I love her,” answered the marquess. “And although at first it is hard to separate yourself from the foibles of someone you love, it is those very individual qualities that drew you to the person in the first place.”
    “But you chose Aunt Kate. I have had no choice,” complained Gareth.
    “Gareth,” said the marquess, finally facing his nephew, “your mother loves your father just as he is. And she loves breeding sheep. Neither of them would be happy in society. They have too much energy and intelligence, and needed a place to exercise those qualities. Your mother doesn’t resent your father’s devotion to scholarship. You do.”
    “Aye. I know I do.”
    “And yet your father will leave work behind that will benefit generations to come.”
    “It is hard to see how,” protested Gareth.
    “Oh, I am no more bookish than you are, young man, but even I can see that understanding the ancient ways of this land will only help us understand ourselves.”
    “I just wish he were more like you,” said Gareth, almost under his breath.
    “Gareth, fathers and sons rarely appreciate one another, especially at your age. I am flattered you would have your father more like me,” said the marquess, throwing an arm over Gareth’s shoulder, “but were we truly father and son, I suspect you would find something to criticize in me. And I you.”
    “My father rarely criticizes,” said Gareth. “I think because he rarely notices me. Lynette is the scholar in the family and he and she live in their own private world.”
    “That may be so, but nevertheless he asked me to make this visit for the purpose of sounding you out on what you want to do with your life.”
    Gareth looked up, truly surprised.
    “Oh, yes, he notices you, my boy. He knows that right now you need a wider world than Yorkshire. And although you are no scholar, he thinks you would not be unhappy at university?”
    “He is right. I do enjoy learning, though not to the extent that he and Lynette do,” Gareth grudgingly admitted. “But we can hardly afford to think about it.”
    “And after university?”
    “A commission. Something else to only dream about.”
    “I have made you my heir, Gareth,” announced the marquess.
    Gareth stopped dead in his tracks. “You