by Lara Blunte
There was a lot of gossiping, which reached the Earl's ears: John had gone to Brazil and had made good money in the last six months trading in gold, silver and emeralds. Or, at least, money enough to buy a farm twenty miles from the castle and set himself up there.
Hugh believed that John had gone to Brazil, because John had made sure that someone like him boarded a ship towards that vast country using his name before the highwaymen had begun to attack. And the German Rogue was still at large, because Marcus had refused to stop using the tidy outfit they had created. "We are experienced and even famous!" Marcus had cried.
"It's precisely because you are famous that you ought to stop," John had told him and the four other men who made up the band. Two of them were soldiers who had fought with them in India, and the other two their brothers. "We have had a good clean run, count your money and be done!"
"The more I count it, the less there is!" Marcus protested.
"Because you are spending it all!"
"Did I not say, you have the soul of an accountant! We will not continue long! Those rides over the moors get more and more tedious, even if it's now once every three weeks!" Marcus had assured him.
John had shaken hands with them and left, hoping that one of the other soldiers could take over the planning of the attacks with as much care and strategy as he had, for Marcus would ride at anything that moved, and pray that he made it out.
When, therefore, John settled in the farmhouse he could afford, with money left over for animals, seeds and instruments, he realized by the look of disuse of the land that he had a lot of work to do, and that he would need knowledge and help. Perhaps he, like Marcus, had gone at something and just prayed he would make it work.
He therefore put an advertisement in the paper, looking for an experienced farm hand and a servant, to start with.
The Earl, however, saw the advertisement and spread the word: whoever helped or worked for John Crawford would be doing him an injury.
A great house like Halford Castle cast a long shadow over the place where it stood, but John would not go further afield because this was his homeland, and he did not want to be too far away from Georgiana. He did not, therefore, get postulants for the jobs, except for a very drunk man as a farm hand and a reformed prostitute of forty-five as a cook, neither of whom had anything to lose by angering the Earl.
They were hired, and the cook, Abby, did her best to show her loyalty to John, who had understood her desire for change, and her fear for her future. The farm hand, however, though forced to stay away from the bottle of gin during the day by his master, did not know much about modern agricultural methods, and scratched his head every time he was asked a question.
John read books, rode through other men's lands, picked up what talk he could hear, but the year was getting on; it was August already, and he knew he needed to start planting if he were to have winter harvests.
He was in a grim mood, between the fact that Georgiana was once more with Hugh, and the malicious coward was ensuring that he should never prosper. He was fighting a desire to go to Halford and give Hugh the same treatment he had given him in London, or worse, when a small carriage bearing his crest, the walking leopard holding a rose over seven castles, appeared outside the house.
John stood up and rushed to the door, thinking it was Georgiana, who could not bear her life with her husband any longer and was coming to him.
He managed to see through the light reflected on the window of the carriage that there was a woman inside, and he quickened his pace; but he knew even before the door opened that it was not Georgiana.
It was his cousin, Hester Stowe.
She opened the door herself, stepped down without help, and stood looking at him with the hooded black eyes which were strangely beautiful. She also stretched her hand to him again and he shook it: hers was dry and strong.
"Has something happened at Halford?" he asked with concern.
"Not at all," she replied, "Everyone is in excellent health. Will you ask me in?"
He motioned towards the house and she moved past him. He walked behind her noticing how straight her back was, how unyielding her frame. It seemed as if her legs were not moving naturally, but gliding. Her dark hair was gathered in a very tight bun, though it shone in the sunlight.
There was nothing girlish or carefree about Hester.
When they were inside he asked Abby to prepare some tea, and it was Hester who poured it for both of them when it came.
She didn't drink hers, but with her hands on her lap said, "I have come about your advertisement."
"What advertisement?"
There was only one, but he couldn't understand what she meant, or what she would have to do with it.
"The advertisement for workers at your farm."
"Do you know of anyone willing to sidestep Halford's threats?"
"Yes," she said calmly. "Myself."
He frowned. "You?"
"Indeed," she assured him. "My father was a farmer and I made it my business to know everything that he was doing. I often oversaw the men working, and even tried my hand at the work to know more. We had sheep, cows and we planted grains and even vegetables. It was a land not unlike this one."
John set down his cup, and decided to speak as straightforwardly to her as she had done to him.
"There are many things about this that I don't understand," he said. "For one, why would you be defying Hugh when you depend on him?"
"Because I don't plan to keep depending on him. I want to make my own way in the world and I know I am capable of it. Certainly, if anyone can understand, it ought to be you, even if I am only a woman!"
"But you would lose your reputation if you worked with a man, and lived on his land."
"You offered a house on the grounds," she said. "And that would suit. As to the scandal, it does not bother me. I do not mean to marry, but to make my own way in the world."
"You would be cut off from your rich cousins, should things ever go wrong!"
"I do not see why they should go wrong," she said with confidence. "It's fertile land, and you have a good stretch of it. Things can go wrong with the weather, but I suspect you are too clever to depend on your first crop. I suspect you have reserves. It is bound to be a success."
"I don't require anyone to be looking at account books or running a household, I require someone strong, who can work next to me," John warned her.
"I know what is required, and I am strong," she said.
John was looking at her without saying anything. She stared back at him for a moment with eyes that seemed not to blink; it rather seemed like a heavy curtain fell over them sometimes.
She said, "Farming has changed over the last years. My father was successful in incorporating the new techniques, and I would be passing that knowledge on to you. You could have a healthy business with sheep and cows, and your land can yield four crops a year, but you must know what to plant and when, so as to keep the earth as fertile as possible. I know these things, and I could guide you."
Hester poured him more tea, and her pulse did not tremble. She continued, "I can find the best seeds in the market, no one will cheat you or give you less than the best, and I can negotiate the price. I can find the best tools. I can put that drunk man I saw lolling about to work, I have done it before. I can work alongside the two of you with my own hands. We will all work."
He still said nothing and she kept talking, no word wasted, no change in her tone, "You will start modestly, but I don't doubt that when you have had some success you will be able to get other people to work with us. People are frightened now, because they think you shall make a mess of it, and they will have courted Hugh's wrath for nothing. They need to see you succeed." She added in a matter-of-fact tone, as if this were of no great concern, one way or the other: "People are like that. You can't expect anything else from them."
John was watching her as she talked, and now asked, "And what is it you want in return?"
"Fair wages, a rent-free
house, and if you find my work good, in time, I would want a small part of the profits, that I may put away towards my old age."
John didn't want to say anything about the oddity of her deciding so young that she would not marry or have children, when she was a beautiful woman, even if her character were cold and dry. She seemed to have come to the conclusion that she would work hard on the land, live in a stone house alone, save, grow old and die.
Yet, she also seemed competent and honest as she sat before him, and he had not found anyone else for the job. He needed to plant immediately, and he didn't want for there to be a mistake in what he attempted. She was right that people needed to see him succeed, and it was not a matter of pride for him, but of love. He needed to go forward, to feel that he was getting closer to his goal, which was to lure Georgiana to him by being able to provide for her and for her sisters.
Hester was strange, but he was not afraid of her. What could she do? He had understood that she knew what she was talking about, though she was a woman, and that she would work hard and be honest, and he did not have the luxury to think beyond that.
"All right," he said, "I shall give all that you ask. We will put it in writing, if you want."
"No need," she said, and stretched her hand out again, like a man.
He shook it.
Twenty-One. The Storm
John Crawford was the only man Hester had ever met who was worthy of the name.
She had known this with the same immediate certainty that she knew everything, the very day that he had walked into Halford House and braved England's high society to slap his half brother on the face for treating his mother cruelly.
After that, John Crawford had shone above all men in his pride, in his determination never to be subdued, never to sue or ask for anything, in his courage. He had walked through a hundred other men who had cowered before him in Halford House, he had burst through the gates on his horse to throw the Earl's bloody wig at the Countess, he had gone away and come back with the money to start his fortune in spite of all the obstacles Hugh had thrown at him.
Here was finally a man, and he had no weakness, except love for a woman who did not deserve him.
What would Hester have done, had she had a man like him and anyone had tried to force her to forsake him? She well knew that a woman belonged to her father or husband, she was his property and he could beat her, lock her up, declare her mad, take every comfort away from her; but even had she been forced to marry a man like the Earl, Hester would have braved all of that and more, and nothing would have kept her from John.
The moment she had seen his advertisement, she had realized that there was no place for her but by his side. She had come, and had worked next to him on his farm, she had showed him what to plant and how, had pulled the plough like an animal when it was stuck, sowed seeds by digging each hole with her hands so they would take. She was up before he was and stopped working after he did.
The crops of wheat and barley were planted, and healthy cows grazed on the land. Later they would plant turnips, whose roots would give nourishment to the earth and prepare it for another crop. Hester milked the cows and made butter and cheese, and helped shear the sheep for wool. She had put William to work, and Abby kept a good house for her master.
This was what Hester could do, and it was much for a man who needed to make his way like John. She did not begrudge him anything, nothing would ever be too much, but he would not have a house, a land, a life to give to Georgiana. He could not have a mind and a heart such as he did, and want her. That was a desire unworthy of him.
That morning, even as she thought these things, Hester had smelled the water in the air, and knew that what was coming would not just be rain, but a storm.
She heard the barking of the shepherd dogs outside and, when she went to them, she saw they were nervously warning her of imminent danger.
Where were the sheep? Not in the pen! And John was out in town, buying supplies, though she knew that he would hurry home when he saw the weather. It had turned very quickly, though she should have been more attentive to the signs that a storm was gathering.
William, the farm hand, was cowering in the barn with an almost empty bottle of gin. He was afraid of lighting and had taken advantage of John's absence to seek comfort in drink.
"I will have your hide!" she screamed at him.
"I am nae shepherd!" he shouted back. He was in no state to help.
It was his job to walk the sheep back, and instead he had hidden in the barn to drink and the beasts were in the fields, lost. She ran to the house and told Abby to let John know that she was going in search of the sheep. If something happened to them, he would lose a third of his investment.
The dogs guided her, running in front, their tongues hanging out. The sheep had wandered far! Damn William and his drunkenness, she would give him reason to fear lightning when she threw him out with no roof over his head.
There was no rain yet, but lightning appeared as if the sky were cracking like a crystal bowl. She saw the sheep ahead: they were frightened, and had moved to the edge of a cliff.
God help me, they might jump over the side! she thought desperately.
Hester motioned for the dogs to move, to get between the cliff and the sheep. "Come on, boy! Go! And you!"
One of the dogs went, barking in fear as the thunder became so loud that it sounded as if the heavens would explode. The other dog cowered, though she beat it to make it obey.
She would have to go there herself.
Hester felt the first fat drops of rain and ran to stand between the cliff and the beasts, her long black hair riding the wind. She reached her arms out as if to catch any sheep that went forward, or to keep them back with the power of her will.
This was what John saw when he rode over as swiftly as he could, once Abby told him what had happened. His eyes met Hester's and she seemed like a sorceress who could command nature, with her white face and her mad hair. Lighting crossed the sky behind her and yet she stood, keeping the sheep from the long drop, unafraid.
John rode towards the edge of the cliff, far from the sheep so as not to scare them, and then came around the edge slowly, driving them back. The animals started to turn and run towards the house, and the dogs took heart and found their place on either side of them, guiding them back.
"Ride with me," John said, extending his hand to Hester. The rain was very strong now, falling in white sheets.
"No," she cried, "I must make sure they don't lose their way again!"
The wind was so high they could barely hear each other, but he saw that she was helping to drive the sheep back towards the pen, while the dogs kept them on their course.
He rode behind her to catch any stray sheep, or stop a stampede that might still occur because of the tempest.
But the frightened animals, led by the dogs and pushed forward by the woman on foot and the man on horseback, kept running towards safety. They went into the pen jostling each other in terror, leaping, running, and huddled together under the roof, their tails turned towards the rain.
Hester closed the pen and looked towards John, taking her hair, heavy with rain, away from her face with both hands. She had no time to say anything before lightning struck a tree so near him that this horse rose on its hind legs in fear.
John had been about to dismount, and had not expected the sudden movement. He was thrown off in a curve and feel heavily on the ground, his head striking a flat rock.
Hester screamed and ran to kneel next to him. There was blood coming from a gash on his head, and he was unconscious, but he wasn't dead. She looked around in despair, but there was no one outside to help her. She thought she might run to get the drunkard, or Abby, but then she suddenly just took John's arms and began to drag him towards the house with enormous strength for a slim woman.
Halfway through her progress she heard Abby's voice through the storm and saw that the cook was running out to help her. Together they managed to pull John through
the threshold. They were breathless as they pulled him before the fire in the parlor -- a man like him could weigh a great deal. Hester got on her knees, holding a cloth to his head to staunch the flow of blood.
She inspected the wound by the light of the candles -- his skull was not broken, there was only a gash; it would bleed until it clotted. She opened John's lids and saw that though he was unconscious, his pupils were responsive. Hester knew the signs of danger after a fall from having lived in a farm, where accidents often happened.
"Help me drag him to his room," she asked."There is a fire there. He is in no danger of life, but I must clean the wound and keep pressing a cloth to it."
Abby did not demur, she helped Hester and they got John to his bed. There was, of course, nothing of a man's body that Abby had not seen and, though a virgin, Hester did not seem to have much maidenly modesty. The two women managed to take off John’s wet clothes and dry him, covering him with a sheet and blanket.
Abby went to get boiled water and brought it with a fresh cloth for Hester to clean the wound. She stood by the foot of the bed, watching as the other woman parted John's hair almost with tenderness and dabbed at the blood.
"Thank you," Hester said in a sharp voice, "you can go now. I will tend to him."
Abby threw her a look, wondering if Master John would want to be in Hester's hands while unconscious, but she knew the woman would take good care of him, and she did not need a storm inside the house, as well as outside.
She left the room and closed the door. Hester stood up and locked it after a moment, when she thought Abby would not hear the key turning. She had started to shiver in her wet clothes, and removed them, standing only in her wet undergarments.
Sitting next to John, she kept dipping the cloth in water, wringing it, and holding it against his head.
The blood still ran down his cheek, but in a rivulet now. It would soon stop. She looked at his face; she had never seen him sleeping before. He was always so alert.
She started to stretch out alongside him. He wouldn't know she was there, because he wouldn't wake up for a while. She put her head next to his on the pillow, still holding the cloth to his head. She could feel his heat, which seemed much more intense now that he was naked. Her breasts strained against his arm, and her leg went over his as if it had a will of its own.
