An Earl Like No Other by Wilma Counts

appears to have been constructed from local stones,” Kate commented as she and Nell crossed the slate floor of the entrance hall.
    Nell chuckled. “Well, you might say so. The stone was originally quarried for the abbey up the Kenrill River. The first earl used stones from the abbey for this house—least, that’s what me da says.”
    â€œA not uncommon practice when the monasteries were destroyed in Tudor times,” Kate observed. She liked that bit of history about the house. And she loved the use of natural stone and heavy, natural timbers throughout the building. A wonderful home, but sadly neglected. She shook her head in mild dismay.
    Nell seemed to read her expression and offered apologies. “Lady Kenrick—his lordship’s stepmother—she never liked it here. Used to live in London mostly. She’s in Bath now. Lady Elinor is near blind. An’ Mrs. Preston—well, she was gettin’ on, you see.”
    Kate murmured sympathetically as they climbed the stairs to the nursery rooms, only three of which were in use. One was a large general purpose room that doubled as a schoolroom and playroom, one the nursery maid’s chamber, and the other belonged to the earl’s young daughter. The other five chambers in the nursery suite were kept closed, Nell explained. One was a larger bed-sitting room for a governess. They were all cold and smelled faintly musty.
    Kate and Nell found the nurse and her charge in the larger room, which had clearly been designed to accommodate a good many more people than the two it now engulfed.
    Nell made the introductions. “This here’s Nurse Cranstan and Lady Cassandra,” she said, sounding very formal. Kate thought the young maid’s voice had taken on a reserved, even apprehensive note.
    â€œMrs. Cranstan,” Kate said with a nod. “I am Mrs. Arthur, the housekeeper.”
    â€œYes, I know.” The other woman’s tone was almost curt. “And it’s Miss Cranstan—or just plain Cranstan.”
    Kate judged the Cranstan woman to be in her fifties. Her dark auburn hair was liberally streaked with gray and worn in a severely drawn back bun. She was a tall, spare woman with plain features. She had a brusque, no-nonsense demeanor.
    The child seated quietly at a small table, however, was far from plain. She was small with straight, coal-black hair that hung nearly to her waist. She looked up when Nell said her name, turning on Kate a pair of blue eyes that were especially startling, given her very dark hair and golden complexion.
    â€œWhat a beautiful little girl,” Kate said softly. “How do you do, Lady Cassandra?”
    Before the child could react, the nurse spoke in an admonishing tone. “How do you greet someone properly, Lady Cassandra?”
    The little girl scooted down from the chair and executed an awkward curtsy. She turned solemn, intelligent eyes on Kate, but said nothing. Nor did she smile.
    â€œShe doesn’t talk much,” the nurse said. “And she still has a lot of heathen ways about her. I doubt we will ever make a proper lady of her, but his lordship insists we try. And heaven knows I do try.” The woman heaved a much-put-upon sigh. “ ’Tis hopeless, though. Her hair won’t take a proper curl, no matter how hot the iron or how tight the rags, and she is as stubborn and contrary as any wild animal.”
    Kate was appalled at the woman’s crass speech in front of her charge. The little girl gave Miss Cranstan a dull, enigmatic stare. There was none of the liveliness or interest one would expect in a child of five or six years. Nevertheless, Kate had the distinct impression that Lady Cassandra, despite her extreme youth, possessed a very accurate view of her nurse.
    â€œChildren do have minds of their own.” Kate tried to sound noncommittal and bit her tongue against adding that wise adults treasured and nurtured those independent