and Susanna introduced
them. Holt smiled in greeting and Cowdrey almost did. One side of his mouth
twitched and all! Farmer Cowdrey wasn't known for his joviality. Not that he
was sour like his sister, he simply wasn't one of life's happy souls with a
ready smile. Not like Orlando Holt.
A few years older than Margaret, Walter
and his father before him were good neighbors. The Cowdreys had been luckier
than her father and not lost their entire harvest to bad weather several years
in a row. Or perhaps it wasn't luck but better management. Susanna was under no
illusion that her father made a good farmer. A good gentleman perhaps, but he'd
been sent away to live with his aunt in London at an early age and so had not
received the same farm education that his older brother, the heir, had. He
wasn't supposed to have inherited Stoneleigh at all.
"Sit. Eat," Walter
said.
"I'm finished," Susanna
said. She wasn't, but she couldn't eat while guests in her house did not, and
especially with Margaret looking down her snub nose at the servants. "Is
something the matter?"
"No." Walter's hands worked
harder on his hat, crushing it even more. There was dirt under his overlong
fingernails, and the skin around the knuckles looked dry and worn, much like
his face. While not as haggard as Hendricks, Farmer Cowdrey had a comfortable
face, rather like a well-worn pair of gloves. Permanent wrinkles fanned out
from the corners of his eyes and bracketed his mouth. He didn't need to smile
to make them appear. He looked far older than his thirty years. "I heard
in the village that you'd hired a gardener." His gaze traveled to Holt and
Holt nodded once more. He was still standing. "I told Margaret we had to
come and find out more. Can't have you being taken advantage of, Susanna."
The use of her name caught her
unawares, and the soft way in which he spoke it made her face redden. He almost
always used the more formal Lady Lynden, unlike Margaret, and this new intimacy
worried her. Could he possibly be working up to another proposal?
"I have, on a temporary
basis only," Susanna said. "Mr. Holt is passing through and needed
the work. Since I needed help, we came to a mutual arrangement." She saw
no reason to discuss the particulars with Walter and Margaret. The entire
parish didn't need to know how dire her father's financial situation was,
although everyone had to know by now. Her lack of staff, horses, and land were
a sign even the most dull-witted could see.
Walter took a step closer to her
and lowered his head. Dark red strands of hair flopped over his face. "You
could have asked me, Susanna. I would have spared a man for you at no cost.
Still can."
"Walter!" Margaret said
through a jaw so tight it must ache. "You're very noble, but have you
forgotten how hard everyone is working at this time of year? I'm sure Susanna
understands that we simply cannot spare anyone."
"Thank you anyway,"
Susanna said, giving Walter a sympathetic smile, "but I'm happy with
Holt."
Margaret cleared her throat but
said nothing. She clasped her hands in front of her skirts and tilted her chin,
a rather insidious smile on her lips. There was no doubt in Susanna's mind what
she was implying, but her brother seemed not to understand. He simply shifted
his weight and watched Holt from beneath the curtain of hair. "Milner at
The Plough said he's a stranger to these parts." He spoke quietly, but
everyone in the kitchen would have heard.
Holt had still not sat down.
There was no smile on his lips now, no friendly greeting in his eyes. He stood
like a tightly coiled rope.
"He is," she said. "As
I said, he's passing through."
"Where you from?" Walter
asked Holt.
"Sussex."
"Where in Sussex?"
"A manor called Collier
Dean."
"Never heard of it."
Holt shrugged. "I'd never
heard of Stoneleigh, Sutton Hall, or Cowdrey Farm until I passed through the
village. Doesn't mean they don't exist." He smiled, but it lacked the
brightness Susanna had come to expect.
Walter's mouth
them. Holt smiled in greeting and Cowdrey almost did. One side of his mouth
twitched and all! Farmer Cowdrey wasn't known for his joviality. Not that he
was sour like his sister, he simply wasn't one of life's happy souls with a
ready smile. Not like Orlando Holt.
A few years older than Margaret, Walter
and his father before him were good neighbors. The Cowdreys had been luckier
than her father and not lost their entire harvest to bad weather several years
in a row. Or perhaps it wasn't luck but better management. Susanna was under no
illusion that her father made a good farmer. A good gentleman perhaps, but he'd
been sent away to live with his aunt in London at an early age and so had not
received the same farm education that his older brother, the heir, had. He
wasn't supposed to have inherited Stoneleigh at all.
"Sit. Eat," Walter
said.
"I'm finished," Susanna
said. She wasn't, but she couldn't eat while guests in her house did not, and
especially with Margaret looking down her snub nose at the servants. "Is
something the matter?"
"No." Walter's hands worked
harder on his hat, crushing it even more. There was dirt under his overlong
fingernails, and the skin around the knuckles looked dry and worn, much like
his face. While not as haggard as Hendricks, Farmer Cowdrey had a comfortable
face, rather like a well-worn pair of gloves. Permanent wrinkles fanned out
from the corners of his eyes and bracketed his mouth. He didn't need to smile
to make them appear. He looked far older than his thirty years. "I heard
in the village that you'd hired a gardener." His gaze traveled to Holt and
Holt nodded once more. He was still standing. "I told Margaret we had to
come and find out more. Can't have you being taken advantage of, Susanna."
The use of her name caught her
unawares, and the soft way in which he spoke it made her face redden. He almost
always used the more formal Lady Lynden, unlike Margaret, and this new intimacy
worried her. Could he possibly be working up to another proposal?
"I have, on a temporary
basis only," Susanna said. "Mr. Holt is passing through and needed
the work. Since I needed help, we came to a mutual arrangement." She saw
no reason to discuss the particulars with Walter and Margaret. The entire
parish didn't need to know how dire her father's financial situation was,
although everyone had to know by now. Her lack of staff, horses, and land were
a sign even the most dull-witted could see.
Walter took a step closer to her
and lowered his head. Dark red strands of hair flopped over his face. "You
could have asked me, Susanna. I would have spared a man for you at no cost.
Still can."
"Walter!" Margaret said
through a jaw so tight it must ache. "You're very noble, but have you
forgotten how hard everyone is working at this time of year? I'm sure Susanna
understands that we simply cannot spare anyone."
"Thank you anyway,"
Susanna said, giving Walter a sympathetic smile, "but I'm happy with
Holt."
Margaret cleared her throat but
said nothing. She clasped her hands in front of her skirts and tilted her chin,
a rather insidious smile on her lips. There was no doubt in Susanna's mind what
she was implying, but her brother seemed not to understand. He simply shifted
his weight and watched Holt from beneath the curtain of hair. "Milner at
The Plough said he's a stranger to these parts." He spoke quietly, but
everyone in the kitchen would have heard.
Holt had still not sat down.
There was no smile on his lips now, no friendly greeting in his eyes. He stood
like a tightly coiled rope.
"He is," she said. "As
I said, he's passing through."
"Where you from?" Walter
asked Holt.
"Sussex."
"Where in Sussex?"
"A manor called Collier
Dean."
"Never heard of it."
Holt shrugged. "I'd never
heard of Stoneleigh, Sutton Hall, or Cowdrey Farm until I passed through the
village. Doesn't mean they don't exist." He smiled, but it lacked the
brightness Susanna had come to expect.
Walter's mouth
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