by Ella Edon
She peered at him over the rim of the cup, and then slowly set it down on the saucer. "Do you not think I have been as honest with you as you have been with me?"
"Oh, I am sure you have. It is just that – you say you want nothing more than to live in London and be the wife of some well-to-do man. But at the same time, you do seem to have a very fine life here in a very pretty little town. You are quite proud of the inn that you and mother have kept all these years, and rightly so.
"You have a home here, and friends, and family," Mr. Brookford continued. "Are you certain you would want to leave your mother and your home and this lovely countryside behind forever, exchanging it for the noise and smoke and dirt and crowds of the city?"
For just an instant, a different expression flickered over her face. She looked startled, the way a child looked when suddenly caught doing something they were not allowed to do.
Very quickly, she regained her composure and the serenity returned to her cool grey eyes. "Quite certain, Mr. Brookford. Indeed, I hardly think of anything else."
Merope passed him the basket of hot cinnamon breads again, and after he took one out, she set down the basket again. "Now it is my turn to ask a question of you," she said, reaching for her coffee once more. "You have lived in the city for at least a couple of years, as far as I know. You clearly liked it well enough to stay gone from your fine home at Albany all that time.
"Are you certain that you would not miss the excitement and beauty of the city, and all its entertainments and delights, should you choose to stay in a country home? Could you leave all that behind forever, exchanging it for the mud and manure and animals and loneliness of the country?"
He blinked, somewhat caught by surprise, and set down the piece of cinnamon bread on his plate. "And remember," Merope said, eyeing him with a rather smug smile, "you did promise to be brutally honest."
Finally, Mr. Brookford laughed and looked out of the window at the sunny street, where shoppers walked past on the boardwalk and horses pulling wagons and carts jogged down the cobblestone street. "I assure you, my dear Miss Robbins, that I would love nothing more than to leave this boring little town and – and live in the midst of the busiest part of London."
He tried to meet her gaze again, but almost immediately looked out of the window again, reaching for the last piece of cinnamon bread as he did so.
"Well, then, Mr. Brookford," Merope said, "I believe we have both done very well today. We have shown nothing but good sense in our conversations and are well on the way to establishing an honest and practical relationship, not an emotional and unpredictable one."
"I must agree, Miss Robbins." Mr. Brookford sat back and smiled at her. In his mind, though, he wondered how he could find her so very lovely, enjoy his time with her so much, and yet still be left feeling as though something – somehow – was missing.
"It's so strange to me, Merope, that you have no use for shopping in the pretty stores, but simply love crawling around in this rough and messy marketplace!"
Sally walked beside Merope beneath the shady trees of the Birdwell Marketplace, which was set up at the south end of the street in an open space alongside the Feathering River. Both the young women wore very casual skirts, blouses and aprons made of heavy cotton, along with thick-soled leather walking boots that could handle mud and rain. They hardly looked any different from actual servants as they walked past the temporary stalls and tables that lined the pathways under the trees.
"My mother wants a good twenty pounds of fresh beef sent to the inn, and about as much in fish and eels," said Merope. "I am to find the best to be had and have it sent over."
"And I am to get five pounds of beef and another five of ground flour," said Sally. "It's always supposed to be fresh here at the market, but of course, one must be very careful."
"Indeed. Let's take a look before the best of it is gone. It seems that every person within five miles has decided to come to the Tuesday market."
The two of them walked and looked and studied the merchandise in the pleasant day. Merope soon saw that as he usually did, Mr. Brown from the Worthington estate, had brought down some of the very best beef. It was fresh from the herds the earl had raised himself, offered at a very fair price.
"Twenty pounds of this, Mr. Brown," Merope said, and took the money from the small leather purse hanging from her apron sash. "Have it sent to the inn. Laurie is expecting it sometime this afternoon."
"Very good, miss. It'll be there just after noontime, wrapped in paper and ready for the roasting spits,” responded Mr. Brown.
Sally stepped up and got five pounds of the same good beef, taking it heavily wrapped in brown paper and placing it into her basket. "Now for the flour," she said. "I never thought of it before, but most likely the fresh-ground flour is from Mr. Brookford's family home of Albany. I do know that that is their primary business: growing wheat and grinding it in their own mill."
"I suppose it is," said Merope with a shrug. "But we do not need flour today, so you go on, and I will meet you near the front. I just have to order the fish."
Sally walked off to the other side of the market, and Merope made her way to the front, where the fish stalls were set up. "Oh, how very lovely," she said, stopping in front of the first one. "Bright silver and clearly fresh. How did you bring it here so well?"
Merope stood in front of a fresh and fat salmon laid out on straw right in the center of the table. "Caught it myself at sunset last night," said the man at the table. "Got it here packed in straw, soaked in the coldest water from the stream."
She nodded and paid the asking price plus a little extra. "It will certainly do. Can you deliver it to the Robbins Inn?
"Indeed, I will, miss. In fact, that's why I brought it here. I was told that the inn would most likely be happy to take it."
"Oh?" Merope said, putting away her small purse again. "Who told you?"
"Why, that man right there," he answered, looking over his shoulder and pointing out to the street.
Merope followed his glance, half expecting to see James Brookford out there. But it wasn't James. It was a very strong-looking farmer in a small wooden wagon drawn by a large, coarse, dun-colored pony with a gray-tan mane and tail and a thin white stripe down his face.
It was Daniel Bird.
"Daniel!"
Sally had just walked up to Merope, who was standing at the fish stalls, when she saw Daniel Bird drive up in his familiar pony wagon. Merope glanced back at Sally and then back out towards the street. "Why, so it is, so it is," she said, very casually. "I have not seen him in quite some time."
"Neither have I," said Sally, frustrated to find her voice shaking. "And I'm not sure I want to see him now!"
"Oh, Sally. Perhaps that is the very reason you should go and greet him."
"Why? So I can be a perfect fool in front of half the town?"
"Not at all," Merope said, in that maddeningly cool voice of hers. "You will either find no feelings for him at all, or you will find simply a friendship, or you will find that you still wish to pursue something more with him. In any case, it's best you find out now since it's obvious that he is back from his – what was it – his apprenticeship?"
"Yes," Sally murmured, still watching Daniel. "On a sheep and goat farm some three days ride from here, far in the mountains to the north."
"Sheep and goats?"
"Yes," Sally said again, watching him closely as he jumped down from the driver's bench of the wagon. "He grew up around hogs, but is quite fond of goats."
"Goats."
"He feels they would be quite useful for many of the smaller farmers. They are easier to keep and do not require much space. He wanted to learn all he could about them."
"I see." Merope glanced out at the street again, where Daniel was tying the pony to an overhanging branch of one of the great oaks. "Well, he is coming this way. I should go and tell Laurie to expect the deliveries of the beef and the salmon. And, of course, my mother will have other tasks f
or me."
Sally began to feel slightly relieved to know that if she was to greet Daniel once again after all this time, at least, Merope would not be there, too. "Fine, fine," Sally said. "Thank you for inviting me to go with you today. I am sure I will see you later."
"Of course." Taking her time, Merope turned and walked towards the open space leading to the street – just as Daniel walked right up to her.
Sally closed her eyes. As always, whenever Daniel was there, so was Merope. "Why, Miss Robbins," he said politely. "It is very good to see you again. How is your mother?"
"She is very well, thank you. And your family, Mr. Bird?"
"All quite well, I'm glad to say, and so are the hogs."
"Hogs? I hear that you may turn your fancy to goats, these days."
He looked at her a little quizzically. "Well, how did you know? You are quite right. I am hoping to convince my father to turn to goats on our farm, or at least, to let them replace some of the hogs."
"Sally Henson told me, of course. Don't you remember her? Come, Sally, and say hello to an old friend of ours."
It was too late to escape. Sally knew she really had no choice, but to greet him politely. "Hello, Daniel. I am glad your family is well."
"And yours, Miss Henson?"
She looked up at him, into his dark brown eyes with his black hair falling over them from beneath his flat woolen cap, and it was as though no time at all had passed since she had last seen him. "Well," she whispered. "They are all quite well. The vegetables do well and are nearly ready for sale. I'll be here with a table next market day."
"I am glad to hear that. Perhaps your father would like a few goats, too. They take little room and are wonderful for devouring the weeds."
"Wonderful," she said softly, unable to look away from him.
"My, my," said Merope with a laugh, and Sally suddenly blinked and turned away from Daniel. "Perhaps the two of you should take a page from the book that Mr. Brookford and I are following."
Sally frowned and Daniel looked puzzled. "Book?" she said.
"Oh, just an expression, Sally. You see, he and I have decided to pursue a relationship based entirely on honesty and the intellect – not simple emotion and passion. It is quite refreshing."
Sally had thought that Merope's words and actions could no longer shock her, but she had been wrong. "Pray tell, what are you hinting at? I am merely pleased at seeing an old friend return safely to Birdwell, and perhaps I like goats, too."
"Goats." Merope just shook her head and seemed on the verge of bursting into laughter.
Daniel smiled wryly as he looked at Merope. "Ah, up to your old tricks, I see. You are still the queen of Birdwell, Miss Robbins, and your family has the finest inn, but my family will always be the one who founded the town. That will never change, no matter how modest our farm or how many goats we own."
Merope only glanced from Daniel to Sally and gave them both a lazy smile. "The queen of Birdwell. How sweet of you to say! Perhaps I will have a sign made to put in the window of the Robbins Inn, the very first building in the town. Only later was the place named for your grandfather, Mr. Bird."
"But – "
"Oh, I would love to stay and talk longer, but I must be going. My mother will be waiting for me at the oldest and finest inn anywhere in the county. Good day to you both."
With that, she was gone, leaving Sally somewhat torn between great annoyance and stifled laughter. "My, she never ceases to shock me, no matter how long I am around her!"
Then she looked up at Daniel again, and smiled. "I am glad to see you, though it is quite unexpected. I recognized the wagon and I am almost sure that is old Pipit pulling it today."
He grinned at her. "It is, and he's not so old."
She nodded, smiling. "Though I have to say that on first sight, I supposed you might only wish to see Miss Robbins."
He looked down for a moment, as though embarrassed, and then looked her in the eye once more. "I do owe you an apology. I thought that she and I might – I thought we might be a match. But I was wrong. She was only playing a game. I know now that she would never want a mere farmer. In truth, her coyness does her no favors."
Sally hesitated, but then could not resist saying her thoughts out loud. "I missed you. I thought you had turned your face to her, and then left because she had moved on. I thought you left to forget her."
Daniel nodded slightly, and then looked away again. "I left because – because of my guilt over letting myself be drawn away by one such as her. I came back both because my family needed me, and – " He stopped himself. Sally hoped he might continue to include her in his explanation, but he did not.
She still felt better however, as though the sun had just come out after a very long, cold winter. Daniel had at least returned to Birdwell, and seemed to be over Merope. She smiled up at him as though there were no other people anywhere around them. "I am glad you are back," she said, feeling lost in those dark and beautiful eyes.
Then she took a deep breath and stepped back a pace. "But I must be going. I walked here this morning and will be walking back with this ten-pound basket of beef and flour, and so I had best be getting started. Truly, I am happy to see you."
She smiled once more and then started to leave – and was stopped by a very strong but gentle hand on her arm. "Miss Henson," he said, and seemed to be laughing. "I failed to tell you why I am here. Your father saw me drive past and asked me to bring you back so that you would not have to walk."
"Oh," was all she could manage to whisper.
Daniel reached out and took the basket. "Your grand carriage is right this way, Miss Henson," he said, and together they walked out of the market and back to the street where Pipit and the wagon waited for them.
Chapter Nine
Two days later, again at the middle of the morning, there was a knock at the door of the Robbins Inn. Again, Merope walked from the kitchen to open it . . . and again, Mr. Brookford stood there, smiling at her.
"Good morning, Miss Robbins. It is very good to see you again."
"Good morning to you, Mr. Brookford. Please, do come in. My mother is waiting for you."
He stepped inside and leaned down close to whisper to her. "How does she feel about this? Is she at all in favor of you spending time with me?"
She was conscious of little else, except the sun-warmed scent of him. Though she would never admit to such a thing, she found Mr.Brookford a little disconcerting. Until now, no man had ever made her feel the least bit off-balance or unsure of herself. Always before, the men were the ones who seemed to be left flustered or self-conscious, if not outright tongue-tied and stammering.
But now – as much as it discomforted her to think of it – there was no denying that Mr. Brookford's very handsome, steady presence was leaving her off-balance. She had to make a real effort to keep up her accustomed coolness and control whenever he was present . . . but she was not sure whether she despised this feeling, or liked it very much.
Merope finally managed to draw back, blinking, and smile at him in return as she answered his question. "Of course, my mother is pleased to have you call upon me. That is why she asked to meet you. You see – "
She paused for a moment. "You are aware, of course, that my father died many years ago. It has been so long, that I really have no memory of him. Therehere are no other male relatives either still alive or living within a hundred miles of Birdwell. That means my mother feels as though she must be a father to me as well as being a mother, strange as that sounds. She tends to be very protective where gentlemen are concerned."
"Of course. Of course," Mr. Brookford said quickly. "It is quite understandable. I will be very pleased to meet her and put her mind at ease as much as I can."
Merope simply nodded and then led him inside to a table all the way in the back. There were a few other patrons sitting at the scattered tables, enjoying tea or coffee with boiled eggs, toasted bread, fresh butter, and the apple preserves that Birdwell was famous for
.
Mrs. Robbins was already seated at the table. Mr. Brookford bowed over her extended hand. "Mrs. Robbins. I am so pleased to meet you," he said. "Miss Robbins has told me so much about you."
"Oh?" Mrs. Robbins said, glancing from Mr. Brookford to Merope and back again. "I hope she spoke well of me."
"Wonderfully well. And I will be happy to tell you whatever you might wish to know about me and my own family."
With a small wave of her hand, Mrs. Robbins invited the two of them to join her at the round table. The clean, white cloth was already set with a coffee service and she looked to Merope to pour it.
"My daughter told me that you seemed to enjoy coffee, so I have had it brought out for the three of us. There is cream, right here in this pitcher, and Merope ground the sugar in the bowl herself, just this morning."
