by Brianna York
Chapter Twenty
Rosy cantered her mare along the soft dirt of the road. The first of the tenant’s houses came into view and she slowed the mare to a sedate walk. She raised her hand to the woman she saw standing on the front stoop with a broom in her hand as she drew closer.
“Hello!” she called out, a smile on her face.
The young woman was slightly older than Rosalind but was work worn enough to look much older. Her two small children played in the dirt near the front stoop, digging little holes and sharing a small wooden carving of a horse in their game. “Good morning to you, My Lady,” the young woman said to her.
Rosy drew her mare to a halt and watched the children at their games for a moment. “They are handsome children,” Rosy said honestly. “One can see how healthy they are.”
The other woman blushed a bit at her praise. “We are lucky that we are allowed to grow our own little gardens to keep food for ourselves,” she replied. “It helps to keep us during the colder months of the year.”
Rosy was silent for a moment, debating how direct she ought to be. “I wonder if I might ask you a question,” she said finally.
“Of course, My Lady,” the young farmer’s wife replied easily. She leaned her broom against the side of her house and turned back.
“I have been learning a bit about the estate,” she said contemplatively. “I wanted to inquire what products you are selling in the town in order to care for your families. I have gathered the impression that you are all living here with limited support from the master of the house, but I think there might be a means to improve upon the goods that you must all be making in order to help support the estate better.”
“Well, one of the men makes a bit of pottery for our dishes and the like,” she hesitated as she thought for a moment. “One of the wives is a fair hand with a needle and thread and makes us all our clothes. I agreed to make the wool for our winter things seeing as I grew up knowing how to card wool.” She gestured to the side of the house where one could see some sheep lazily grazing. “It’s not many sheep but they make enough wool to keep us in clothing for the colder months.”
Rosy frowned a bit. “Doesn’t Mr. Bruxton bring you all provisions for the winter each year?” She was thoroughly confused. One of the main duties she had been allowed to help with each year while she was growing up was the delivery of winter woolens and extra stores of food to the tenants on her father’s property. It was a general practice amongst land owners to be sure that their tenants would survive the winter months comfortably. The job should normally have fallen to the Countess to organize, but if there was no such person, Mr. Bruxton and his daughter should have assumed the duty.
The farmer’s wife looked at her quizzically. “Why no, My Lady. Ms. Bruxton only comes by each quarter to collect our rents.”
Rosy felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. “The rents?”
The farmer’s wife looked yet more confused at this question. “Yes. She comes each quarter to collect our rent. She will not take trade either. It must be paid in coin.”
Rosy’s thoughts whirled inside her head. She knew that she had had a bad feeling about Ms. Bruxton being able to send her son to an expensive university. She was beginning to think that she knew how the money for that privilege had been gathered. “Thank you for your assistance,” Rosy said to the other woman. “You have been most helpful.”
As Rosy cantered her mare away, she felt anger roiling in her stomach. To prey upon the tenants in such a way seemed beyond the likes of the elderly Mr. Bruxton. She felt that Ms. Bruxton was the more likely culprit. She weighed out her options as she rode. She felt that Rob would not take her seriously without some evidence of the wrong doing of the Bruxtons in hand. She reached the fork in the road which led toward the main house in one direction and toward the Bruxton home in the other. She drew her horse to a halt and pondered what to do for a moment.
“Oh bother,” she muttered, turning her horse toward the Bruxton’s house. She would at least take the books off their hands and look them over tonight before broaching the topic to Rob.
“Good morning, My Lady,” Mr. Bruxton greeted her when she approached. He had been pruning the vines which climbed over the trellis at the front of the house but abandoned this task to approach her.
“Hello,” Rosy said briefly. She regarded the elderly man thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “I should like to have the copies of the books for the estate for the past two years.”
Mr. Bruxton frowned slightly. “Why ever for, My Lady? His Lordship has never asked to see them before now. Is something amiss?”
Rosy nearly snorted aloud at this but held her tongue. If her theory was correct, poor Mr. Bruxton did not know anything more than she currently did about the financial condition of the estate. “I do not have to have a reason, surely,” she countered. “I am mistress of the house and you shall do as I say.”
Mr. Bruxton bowed quickly to her. “Of course, My Lady,” he said in a tight voice. “I shall return momentarily.”
Rosy watched him scuttle into the house and waited impatiently while he was gone. She heard what she thought to be the voice of his daughter from within but the sound was too muffled to be able to hear specific words being said. Finally, Mr. Bruxton re-emerged from the house with two worn ledger books. They were not overly large thankfully and Rosy held her hand out for them as soon as he drew close.
“Are they not too large for my Lady to carry on horseback to the house?” Mr. Bruxton said anxiously. She ledgers cradled against his chest protectively.
Rosy felt anger beginning to rise in her. Her face flushed with annoyance, she held out her hand. “I assure you that I am more than capable of riding to the house with a couple of ledger books. Now, no more talking about this please.”
Bruxton swallowed hard, then walked the last few steps closer and passed the ledgers to her. “I did not mean any disrespect, My Lady,” he assured her timidly as he stepped back.
“Indeed,” Rosy said a bit coldly. “I thank you for the ledgers. I shall bring them back when I have looked them over.” She turned her mare and rode away without sparing Mr. Bruxton a second glance. As she rode at a quick walk back onto the main drive of the estate, Rosy juggled the awkward books into a more comfortable position in the crook of her arm. She guided her mare with one hand and tried to still her thoughts somewhat. She had no idea what she was going to find in the ledgers but she hoped that it would be enough to confirm what she had heard from the tenant. She knew that Rob was not likely to be very motivated to address the issue unless it was clear that there had been wrong doing on the part of the Bruxtons.
“Easy,” Rosy said quietly to her mare when she spooked at a rustle in the bushes. She gently guided the horse back to the center of the drive, trying to still her frantic thoughts. It would not do to have a fall off her horse because she was riding one-handed and not paying any attention to what was going on around her.
As she approached the front of the house, a footman materialized and held Nyx while Rosy dismounted. She had passed the cumbersome ledger books to him while she alighted from her horse but she took them back swiftly and made her way up the steps at the front of the house
“Did you have a nice ride, My Lady?” Charles asked her as she drew near.
Rosy smiled at the butler. “It was a lovely day and I have come home with some interesting reading.”
“I see that, My Lady,” Charles said agreeably as he shut the door behind them. “Those appear not to be light reading but rather more serious in nature.”
Rosy nodded. “Indeed. I shall be in the library if anyone needs me,” she told Charles.
“Shall I have your luncheon brought into the library then?” Charles asked her.
Rosy smiled fondly at him. “What a lovely idea,” she replied. “I am not sure when his Lordship will return from hunting but do tell him where to find me if he does appear.” She spared a moment’s thought to changing out of her riding ha
bit, then changed her mind and made her way to the library. She was too eager to pore over the books to care overmuch if she smelled like horse.
Once inside the library, Rosy set the ledgers down on the small writing desk near the window and pulled out the chair that went with the desk. She unpinned the hat from her hair and removed her gloves. Feeling slightly less encumbered, she flipped open what she guessed to be the older of the two ledgers based on the number of dog eared pages and stains. She drew in a breath, rolled her shoulders a few times and then settled in to start learning about her husband’s property.
“Shall I leave the tray over here?” Charles asked quietly as he entered the room.
Rosy glanced over her shoulder and nodded at the servant. “Yes, that is fine. Do please bring me a cup of tea and a couple of those sandwiches before you leave, though.” She barely took note of Charles delivering the steaming cup of tea and two of the finger-sized sandwiches but she thanked him in a distracted way and continued to add up figures and pore over the notes in the margins of the ledger.
As Charles was leaving the room, he glanced back at the small figure leaning over the ledgers. The sunlight streaming through the window bathed the young woman in a pool of light and gilded her shining hair and delicate skin with a soft glow of warmth. The light made her appear almost angelic and Charles smiled to himself. He very much liked the new mistress of the house and he hoped that she could breathe life into the property once again.
“She is a lovely person, is she not?” Rachel asked quietly as she joined Charles in the doorway.
The older man smiled and nodded. “Indeed. I am quite pleased with His Lordship’s choice.”
Rachel glanced into the room to see Rosy sipping at her tea and squinting at an entry in the ledger. She smiled gently. “I feel as though she is an angel sent to save this place.”
∞ ∞ ∞
“Charles told me that you have been in here all day.”
The voice was Rob’s but Rosy at first could not make sense of what he had said. She half turned in the chair, her neck stiff from being held in one position for too long. “I apologize but I did not hear you. What did you say?” she asked fuzzily. Her throat felt dry and she reached over for her cup of tea to wet it.
Rob smiled fondly at her confusion. “I see that Charles was correct and you have been here in this room almost all day.” He crossed to the tea tray and picked up a small sweet from the edge of the tray and nibbled at it. “Whatever are you doing?”
She closed her eyes and rolled her head on her neck a few times to loosen the kinks. “I have been looking at the ledgers for the property.”
Rob’s eyes narrowed somewhat. “The ledgers? How do you happen to have the ledgers for the estate?”
Rosy grinned at him. “I went and got them from Mr. Bruxton. I should admit that he did not much want to let me have them but I was able to convince him to let me borrow them.”
Rob’s expression grew more grim. “Rosy, why would you want to look at the ledgers? I told you that Bruxton has been here for my whole life. He knows more about this estate than anyone else. Why should you wish to look at the ledgers?” He did not want to admit out loud or even to himself that he was embarrassed to let her see how poorly the estate was performing financially. He was barely comfortable with her knowing that he needed her father’s money to help balance his accounts. It could not help but make him look yet more foolish to her if she saw the deficit on paper.
Rosy’s eager look had not abated. “I went to get them because of something that one of the tenants told me. I wanted to see if I could find evidence of what they reported to me.”
Rob’s annoyance gave way slightly to confusion. “A tenant told you something that made you get the ledgers? What would a tenant know about the estate other than the vegetables they grow in their garden and the work they do to keep the fields or the livestock?”
Rosy rolled her eyes. “Oh, for pity’s sake, Rob,” she scoffed. “Do you not think that the tenants would know the deepest workings of the estate as well as any property owner? Sometimes they know them even better! That is why I went to go speak with them about some improvements I would like to implement and to ask them about how they were earning their own keep.”
Rob shook his head. He crossed the room to stand before her chair. “Rosy,” he said tightly, “I really do not think that attempting to blame my steward for the poor incomes of my estate will solve anything. Nor will it help me to better my situation to interview the tenants about matters far above their education and awareness.”
Rosy looked into his blue eyes for a moment and read the frustration she saw there very clearly. She knew that he did not want her to see him as a failure or to prove to him that he had been neglecting the estate for many years now. He wanted instead to believe that the estate could not sustain itself without an infusion of money from her dowry. Being poorly educated in such matters, he simply wished to have more capital overall so that he might ignore the things that needed to be done to help maintain their fortune in the future. She felt empathy for his wish to leave well enough alone, but she knew that someone had to take care of what needed attention and if he would not do so, she would.
“Listen to me, Rob,” she said in a softer voice. “I can show you something that should convince you.” She turned back to the ledgers and flipped to the beginning of the current year. She glanced to the side and saw that Rob had come to stand where he could see what she was pointing at. “See this entry? This is the month when rents should have been collected for the first quarter. See how there is nothing noted about rent collection? All that is noted are expenses and Bruxton’s salary.”
Rob straightened away from the desk a bit and looked at her in bemusement. “I already told you that I have not been charging the tenants any sort of rents. The last time they paid rent was in my father’s day.”
Rosy turned away from the expenses penned into the ledger with an excited gleam in her eye. “Indeed, I remember you telling me that. However, today when I was speaking to one of the tenants, she told me Ms. Bruxton collects their rents each quarter in coin. She told me that Ms. Bruxton will not accept barter. If that is the case, then where is the notation each quarter for the rents?”
Rob’s eyebrows drew down a bit. “Surely the woman was wrong. I had told Bruxton not to collect rents from the tenants until I could secure enough income to make sure that their homes could be repaired at my expense and the like.”
Rosy shook her head. “No, she was not wrong. It all makes sense. There is no other way that the Bruxtons could afford to send a boy to University if they were not getting income from somewhere besides Mr. Bruxton’s salary.”
Rob turned away to stalk across the room, raking a hand through his hair. “Rosy, I simply cannot believe that the Bruxtons would steal from me. You can see for yourself from the evidence of the ledgers that the property is simply not rich enough in resources to sustain itself. That is no fault of theirs.”
“I have thought of many possible solutions for that portion of our worries as well,” Rosy said happily. “I think that we should bring in some Merino sheep. The woman I spoke with today knows how to card and clean wool, so I am sure she could be trusted to process the wool and then it could be sold in the village or possibly even farther away. One of our tenants makes very nice pottery and his wife is a fair hand at decorating the items that I saw today. We could expand the pottery production and easily help generate income. There are also many acres at the edges of the property that are not being worked in any way at this time that could either be seeded with a crop or else let out to neighbors.”
Rob’s hand had come to rest on the back of his neck and he was rubbing it as if he were in pain. Rosy noted this and rose to come stand behind her husband and wrap her arms around his lean waist.
“Have you a headache?” she asked kindly, enjoying the feel of his warmth and strength.
“Not at all,” Rob said roughly, pulling out of her arms abrup
tly. “Unless one could count the pain of frustration that I feel when confronted with so much meddling.”
Rosy felt the words as though they were a physical slap. She realized that she was standing in the middle of the room with her arms akimbo and folded them protectively over her chest. “Meddling?” she echoed.
“Yes!” Rob ground out, stalking back and forth in front of the fireplace. “Do you think that I wish to spend money I do not have on possible industry that will not generate nearly enough income to be worth the effort? Can you imagine that I should be happy to be confronted with your accusations towards my beloved and trustworthy steward that you have met only twice now?”
Rosy frowned, the ache in her chest at his casual dismissal giving way to the heat of righteous indignation. “You do not wish to spend money?” she said harshly. “You who have gambled and played fast and loose with the tattered remnants of your family fortune would dare to tell me that you do not wish to spend money to save this estate? Need I remind you that it is no longer your money that you are spending but that of my father? Am I to have no say in the future of this property or its management? You surely seem not to have any interest in behaving as a proper Earl should. Am I to be condemned to be a silly Countess with no more sense than a doorknob simply to suit your wishes in this matter?” She realized that she was shouting and felt the panting rasp of her breathing grating on her ears. She strove for a modicum of calm but found that she was entirely too furious to calm down.
Rob’s eyes bored into her face, his mouth tight with bottled up rage. “I did not marry you so that you might make me look a fool before my tenants and servants whilst throwing my constraints in my face. You need only to become pregnant with a daughter to fulfill my dearest wishes with regards to the future well-being of this estate. I do not require your other efforts.”
