worked as if he
were chewing an invisible piece of straw. "You should have come to me,
Susanna," he said, low. "We're neighbors. I don't like strangers here
in our valley. Too many of them lately." He slapped his hat on his head,
nodded at Susanna, and stormed out.
Margaret stared after him, her
mouth agape like a dead fish. Slowly, a blush crept up her throat, over her
cheeks to her hairline. "I, uh... Farewell." She left without a
glance back.
Susanna watched them go,
bewildered and a little annoyed. Like Jeffrey, Walter Cowdrey thought she was
incapable of managing Stoneleigh on her own. It was nice of them to be
concerned but honestly! She wasn't a child anymore and she had a father still
living. She didn't need another parental figure, or another husband for that
matter. How many times would she have to say no to their marriage proposals and
offers of help before it would sink into their thick-headed male skulls?
"Please continue eating,"
she said to Holt and the others.
"Odd man," Cook muttered,
slathering marmalade over her bread. "Always thought that."
"He's not odd," Bessie
said. "He's just not as comfortable around people as most."
"Not as odd as his
sister."
"At least they're locals,"
Hendricks said, saluting his cup at Holt. "We've known the Cowdreys
forever, and they've always come to Stoneleigh's aid when we needed them."
Susanna had always been happy to
accept their offers, but not now. Not since she'd turned down Walter's
proposals. Any dealings she now had with him had become too awkward to endure.
This was simply the latest, and the oddest.
***
Susanna lay in bed and stared up at
the tester, her mind awhirl. Usually she fell asleep as soon as her head hit
the pillow, but not tonight. Tonight she couldn't stop marveling at how much
work Orlando Holt had achieved in such a short time. The trees were pruned and
the stakes in place for the canvas covering. He was a good worker, he never
complained, and he rarely stopped, despite her insistence that he ought to. Indeed,
the man always seemed to be smiling or jesting or flirting. She found herself
liking him despite her instincts screaming at her to be wary, to not trust him.
She sighed and rolled over, pulling
the blanket up to her chin, but still she couldn't sleep. Her stomach rumbled,
a sure sign sleep wasn't going to claim her. She got out of bed and put on a
warm housecoat and soft slippers then grabbed the candle and used the embers in
the fireplace to light it.
She crept quietly out to the
landing, not wanting to wake her father, and down the stairs. Halfway down, she
stopped. Listened. All was silent. Yet she was sure she'd heard something. The
click of a door opening or closing perhaps.
"Father?" she whispered
loudly. "Is that you?"
Nothing. She went back up to the
first floor and opened her father's study door. "Father?" Nothing,
and the door to his bedchamber beyond was closed. She checked the other
unoccupied chambers, but they too were empty, silent.
With a shrug, she returned to the
stairs and went down to the kitchen. It was still warm thanks to the glowing
logs in the fireplace and she stood at the big hearth for a moment until the
chill had left her bones. Another growl of her stomach forced her to investigate
the pantry. She found bread and cheese and set them on the table. She was about
to sit when Holt wandered in, yawning.
He smothered it when he saw her.
"I didn't know you were in here, m'lady. My apologies for disturbing your
late night supper."
"No need to apologize, Mr.
Holt. I assume you couldn't sleep either, and your stomach led you here."
He slid onto the bench seat at
the table and chuckled. The flame on her candle wobbled before straightening
again. It wasn't until that moment that she realized he didn't have a light of
his own. How had he seen his way in the dark?
"You have my measure, m'lady.
I often wake with hunger in the middle of the night and can't sleep until I
eat. You may soon regret your offer of board
were chewing an invisible piece of straw. "You should have come to me,
Susanna," he said, low. "We're neighbors. I don't like strangers here
in our valley. Too many of them lately." He slapped his hat on his head,
nodded at Susanna, and stormed out.
Margaret stared after him, her
mouth agape like a dead fish. Slowly, a blush crept up her throat, over her
cheeks to her hairline. "I, uh... Farewell." She left without a
glance back.
Susanna watched them go,
bewildered and a little annoyed. Like Jeffrey, Walter Cowdrey thought she was
incapable of managing Stoneleigh on her own. It was nice of them to be
concerned but honestly! She wasn't a child anymore and she had a father still
living. She didn't need another parental figure, or another husband for that
matter. How many times would she have to say no to their marriage proposals and
offers of help before it would sink into their thick-headed male skulls?
"Please continue eating,"
she said to Holt and the others.
"Odd man," Cook muttered,
slathering marmalade over her bread. "Always thought that."
"He's not odd," Bessie
said. "He's just not as comfortable around people as most."
"Not as odd as his
sister."
"At least they're locals,"
Hendricks said, saluting his cup at Holt. "We've known the Cowdreys
forever, and they've always come to Stoneleigh's aid when we needed them."
Susanna had always been happy to
accept their offers, but not now. Not since she'd turned down Walter's
proposals. Any dealings she now had with him had become too awkward to endure.
This was simply the latest, and the oddest.
***
Susanna lay in bed and stared up at
the tester, her mind awhirl. Usually she fell asleep as soon as her head hit
the pillow, but not tonight. Tonight she couldn't stop marveling at how much
work Orlando Holt had achieved in such a short time. The trees were pruned and
the stakes in place for the canvas covering. He was a good worker, he never
complained, and he rarely stopped, despite her insistence that he ought to. Indeed,
the man always seemed to be smiling or jesting or flirting. She found herself
liking him despite her instincts screaming at her to be wary, to not trust him.
She sighed and rolled over, pulling
the blanket up to her chin, but still she couldn't sleep. Her stomach rumbled,
a sure sign sleep wasn't going to claim her. She got out of bed and put on a
warm housecoat and soft slippers then grabbed the candle and used the embers in
the fireplace to light it.
She crept quietly out to the
landing, not wanting to wake her father, and down the stairs. Halfway down, she
stopped. Listened. All was silent. Yet she was sure she'd heard something. The
click of a door opening or closing perhaps.
"Father?" she whispered
loudly. "Is that you?"
Nothing. She went back up to the
first floor and opened her father's study door. "Father?" Nothing,
and the door to his bedchamber beyond was closed. She checked the other
unoccupied chambers, but they too were empty, silent.
With a shrug, she returned to the
stairs and went down to the kitchen. It was still warm thanks to the glowing
logs in the fireplace and she stood at the big hearth for a moment until the
chill had left her bones. Another growl of her stomach forced her to investigate
the pantry. She found bread and cheese and set them on the table. She was about
to sit when Holt wandered in, yawning.
He smothered it when he saw her.
"I didn't know you were in here, m'lady. My apologies for disturbing your
late night supper."
"No need to apologize, Mr.
Holt. I assume you couldn't sleep either, and your stomach led you here."
He slid onto the bench seat at
the table and chuckled. The flame on her candle wobbled before straightening
again. It wasn't until that moment that she realized he didn't have a light of
his own. How had he seen his way in the dark?
"You have my measure, m'lady.
I often wake with hunger in the middle of the night and can't sleep until I
eat. You may soon regret your offer of board
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