“Do, please, Mr. Devon.” Mr. Ellsworth bowed before retaking his seat. “I have yet to speak with you since your return, which is a shame.” He turned to Daisy. “After meeting him again at the ball, I recalled a time from our childhood when we went fishing together.”
Harry spoke slowly, as though the memory came upon him in that very moment. “Even though we were mortal enemies,” Harry added, sitting down slowly. “Yes. I recall now. I was a Harrow lad, and Ellsworth was Eaton.”
“I think we fished together more out of a desire to best each other than anything.” Mr. Ellsworth sat back, amusement lighting his eyes. “But occasionally we forgot ourselves, and the rivalry, to compare bait and stories about school.”
“That is true.” Harry seemed to relax, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Daisy looked between the gentlemen with some interest. They had all grown up near one another, yet she had never known Mr. Ellsworth and Harry had spent time together. Of course, being a girl meant she didn’t spend much time in any boy’s company.
“What brings you back to the neighborhood?” Mr. Ellsworth asked. “Rumor has it both that you have come to settle down or come to sell the estate for a finer one north of London.”
Harry chuckled. “The rumors are more interesting than the truth. I have been trying to take stock of my estate and holdings in order to actually make a decision.” Yet the way his eyes slid to the side as he spoke made Daisy raise her eyebrows.
“Ah. Mr. Keyes still keeping the books for your estate?” Mr. Ellsworth raised his eyebrows a touch skeptically. “If you will excuse me for saying so, Mr. Devon, I have always been less than impressed with his business practices. There are not many with a kind word to say about him.”
Daisy gulped and tried to ascertain if this offended Harry, wondering if she ought to say something, to divert the conversation.
Sighing deeply, Harry turned to face her. She saw a sort of pained acceptance in his expression rather than any kind of upset. “I haven’t much to say of the man’s charitable nature. If he has one. I wish I had a steward with all the intelligence of Mr. Keyes and more heart.”
Mr. Ellsworth nodded as though such a desire made perfect sense to him. Daisy looked between the men somewhat incredulously. Could they not see the solution to both their difficulties lay in each other? Mr. Ellsworth said nothing of his search for employment. Perhaps he only though it presumptuous to say anything, given his lack of personal connection to Harry. It would be the very height of impropriety for her to enter into a discourse of business with them, yet perhaps—like the Biblical queen she was named for—she was sitting between them in order to facilitate this very thing.
“Why not ask Mr. Ellsworth if he would take the position?” she said at last, steeling herself against a look of rebuke from one or the other of the gentlemen. “As a local man, he understands the neighborhood and its inhabitants, and I believe his Oxford education makes him well-equipped for the position. Not to mention, he wishes to stay near family.”
Mr. Ellsworth spoke quickly, but without censure. “Miss Ames is too kind. I wouldn’t presume to press myself upon you, Mr. Devon.” Mr. Ellsworth’s cheeks pinked.
Harry looked between them again, his eyebrows drawn tightly down. “Are you looking for a position, Mr. Ellsworth? Would you be interested in being a steward?”
“Go on, Mr. Ellsworth,” Daisy said before the man could protest. “You were telling me a moment ago that you wished that very thing.” She turned to Harry. “It would not hurt anything to discuss the possibility, would it? Or to allow Mr. Ellsworth to look over the books, to determine if the position is one he could improve upon?”
Harry’s lips pressed together, but she could easily see he was resisting a smile rather than a grimace. Mr. Ellsworth had control over his blush and wore instead an earnest sort of frown.
“If you wish to fill the position, Mr. Devon, I would like to put my hat in the ring, as it were.” The hat in question was being bent at the brim in his hands. Daisy tried not to feel pleased with herself. Though she had facilitated the conversation between the men, it would all rest on Mr. Ellsworth’s capabilities and Harry’s decision. But she had rather a good feeling about the situation.
She turned her attention to the rain outside the window, listening with only half an ear as the men set up an appointment to discuss the possibilities later, at Whitewood. The rain had eased somewhat by the time the details were settled, with few enough drops falling that Daisy was of a mind to return home. She waited for an opportunity to speak.
“Gentlemen, it was very good to see you both today. I believe I am ready to brave the elements and return home now, if you will both excuse me.” She stood, tucking her parcel beneath her arm.
Both men came to their feet.
“Very good, Miss Ames,” Mr. Ellsworth said. “Do you wish me to accompany you?”
Harry Devon spoke before she could, as though in a rush to get his words out. “But you are going in the opposite direction, Mr. Ellsworth. Miss Ames and I must travel the same way. I will be happy to see her safely home.”
Daisy raised her eyebrows. “Really, it isn’t necessary—”
“Nonsense. I am on my way home anyway.” Harry offered her his arm. “We can share the road for a time.”
Mr. Ellsworth bowed to them both. “A practical suggestion, Mr. Devon. I look forward to our meeting tomorrow. Good day, Miss Ames.”
Rather surprised to be on Harry’s arm, Daisy made her goodbye before he whisked her out of the inn and into the light mist that had taken the rain’s place.
“Did you walk to the Shield and Sword today, Mr. Devon?” she asked when they had left the inn’s yard.
“No, I took my carriage since I had rather important documents to give to my solicitor.” An impish gleam appeared in his eye.
“Your carriage?” Daisy tried to halt, but Harry kept walking down the lane. “Shouldn’t you retrieve it?”
“The driver is visiting his sister. He will not mind the extra time with her. At any rate, I couldn’t escort you if we had the carriage.” He tilted his head back to regard her. “It wouldn’t be seemly to ride without a chaperone.”
Daisy couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “You make it sound as though I have improper intentions toward you, Mr. Devon.”
“Do you not, Miss Daisy?” he asked, sounding most doubtful.
“Most certainly not.” Daisy tried to sound as affronted as she ought to, though it was a difficult farce. “As you well know. And you mustn’t call me that. I haven’t given you leave—”
“I suppose not. You could, though. And if you let me call you Daisy, I will allow you to call me Harry.” He held himself magnanimously, as though bestowing a knighthood upon her.
She laughed again, this time without trying to stop the sound up. “You are perfectly incorrigible, Mr. Devon. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Only when we are not in company, Miss Ames. I promise no one would think us too familiar with one another.” He took on the expression of a piteous puppy, all large eyes and sad frown. “Please?” Their walk slowed nearly to a halt.
“Does wearing that expression usually get you what you want?” she asked. When a boy had three older sisters at home she imagined he must be creative in order to get his way. Incorrigible. That is the only word for him.
“More often than not.” He kept the pleading expression on another moment before releasing a rather dramatic sigh. “However, I do find that I encounter difficulty with the hard-hearted.”
Daisy tossed her head. “Is that what you are accusing me of, sir?” What was it about him that made her feel playful? When she spoke with other gentlemen, she could remain staid and polite, but it seemed as soon as Harry opened his mouth, she was capable of meeting jest for jest. That sort of openness from her was usually reserved for the children of her acquaintance.
Harry’s expression sobered as he regarded her, and he stopped walking to stare down into her face. The
mist had turned his hair a trifle damp where it peeked out from under his hat, causing it to curl beneath the brim. That detail made the sudden seriousness of his expression all the more unexpected.
“I have it on good authority you are a woman in possession of great kindness and compassion.” He looked down at the road a moment. “My sister told me of your desire to start a school for the local children.” His voice had changed timbre as well in his solemnity, deepening enough to send a shiver through her.
Here she had thought him a playful sort of person and he immediately contradicted that idea by turning considerate.
“It is nothing but a dream at present,” she said, shifting the parcel in her arm.
Harry mutely held out his hand and she handed the package over to him without a thought. He tucked it beneath his other arm and then continued down the lane.
“Christine told me of your difficulties. You need more support, from the people. If there is anything I might do to help, Miss Ames, I hope you will tell me.” The sincerity with which he spoke touched her heart.
“Really, you must call me Daisy,” she said quietly, staring down the road rather than see his reaction, though she did feel his arm tighten beneath her hand. “And I thank you for your kind offer.” Why did she give in to his request so easily? Her Christian name was said by almost no one. Her childhood name never even heard anymore.
Perhaps that was why she granted him that familiarity. She missed the sound of her name.
When he spoke again, it was as though nothing of significance had passed between them.
And nothing has, she told herself firmly.
“I am most adamant that you allow me to help. Once I have a greater understanding of how such things are done, I would be pleased to make a donation to the cause.”
Somehow, that disappointed her. When a man had funds readily at his disposal, and Harry Devon undoubtedly did, giving money to a cause could not really count for much in his heart. Not that she was concerned about Harry’s heart.
Daisy frowned at the trees stretching above them, leaves turning from yellow to brown. “Thank you,” she said at last. “That is a generous offer, Mr. Devon.”
“Harry,” he corrected. “And what have I done wrong this time?”
Her eyes sought his with surprise. His brows were drawn together, his lips thin, and the lines of his jaw hard. His perplexity was as genuine as his playfulness.
“Nothing,” she answered quickly. “You have been most kind.”
“I can see it, Daisy.” He faced forward again, still leading them down the path one step after another. “Your nose wrinkled, your gray eyes went dark, and it was as though your whole body wished to be away from me. I upset you.”
Again, he startled her. Despite his lively nature, the man was most observant.
“I am grateful for your offer,” she said, but when he cast her an incredulous glance she hurried her words. “It was only a silly thought, Harry.” His name fell a trifle reluctantly from her tongue. “I am less worried about the funds than I am about the support of people in other ways. What I wish for is encouragement, for myself and the families who would benefit most from this. I wish for people to take an interest that goes beyond handing me a purse and bidding me good luck.” She closed her lips over the last word and winced.
She certainly didn’t sound grateful, even to her own ears.
Harry said nothing for several steps, and he kept his gaze before them. Daisy did her best to bite her tongue, but the misty weather wasn’t the only thing dampening her spirits.
“I am sorry,” she whispered at last. “I should not have said anything. I am ridiculous.”
“No, Daisy.” His arm drew her closer to him. “I am the ridiculous one. It is as you said, about the way I have managed things thus far in my life. I hand my money over and trust a good job will be done with it, rather than put any effort along with it. I see that now.”
Despite her earlier thoughts, Daisy’s estimation of his character rose. “Do you? What has changed?” When she’d met him, after all, he’d seemed to have few plans and even less direction. He had heaps of money but little regard for what such a blessing meant.
“You helped me to understand my responsibilities to the people under my care, as servants and tenants. My duty to the community. I will not say I have a course of action decided just yet, but learning all I have—” He broke off, shaking his head while that perplexed expression returned to his face. “I cannot say all that I intend to do, or to change, because I am not certain. But I have a good feeling about Mr. Ellsworth. Perhaps he can assist in more than just ordering the estate’s finances.”
Daisy bit her bottom lip and said nothing, though her heart lightened considerably to hear him speak with real intent. Truly, it wasn’t her place to say more. Or was it? They had agreed to friendship, after all.
“I am impressed.” The compliment, though it was simple in nature, seemed to settle upon him like a warm blanket. His whole being relaxed and his smile reappeared. He glanced down at her, a gentle look in his eye.
“Thank you. That means a great deal coming from you.” He nodded to the side. “Here is the vicarage.” He released her arm. “And here is your parcel.”
She accepted it, hugging the brown papered box to her chest. “Thank you. For seeing me home.”
He regarded her in silence, one corner of his mouth slightly higher than the other. He opened his mouth to speak, but a boom of thunder above interrupted him.
Daisy peeked up at the clouds. “You had better hurry home.” She lowered her eyes to his, catching a strange emotion in them that was gone before she could identify it.
“I suppose so. This rain had better stop soon, or the fair will be rained out. Good day, Daisy.” He touched the brim of his hat.
“Good day, Harry.” She turned and hurried up the path to the front door of the vicarage. She looked back with her hand on the door handle. He waved at her one more time before turning and going on his way.
Slipping inside, Daisy closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Though she had obtained the safety and warmth of her home, her heart beat a hasty rhythm within her breast. As though she were afraid, or anxious, or excited—
“Augusta? Is that you?” her father called, halting her examination of her feelings.
“Yes, Father.” She pushed away from the door. “And I have something from Lily.” She tugged off her damp shawl just as the maid appeared to help her with her bonnet.
Daisy attempted to put Harry from her mind, but his infectious grin and serious blue eyes were not easily dismissed.
Chapter Eleven
Have you heard, miss?” Katie, the maid of all work, helped Daisy in the kitchen. They were putting the finishing touches on pies for the fair. “They’re hirin’ on at Whitewood again. My sister, Betty, she’s goin’ to try for a position during the fair. Folk will have to go to the house to try for it.”
Daisy had been brushing the tops of the pie crusts with egg whites, an essential step to make them glisten, and she stilled, her hand hovering over a spiced apple pie.
“Whitewood? Mr. Devon’s property?” She studied the girl’s hopeful expression, wondering how Katie had come upon the news before Daisy had.
“It’s true enough. I have heard it from more than one source.” Mrs. Bramston, the housekeeper, was sitting at the table tying ribbons to little parcels of soap. She spoke with authority, as she usually did. The soaps were one of her specialties, and she’d always done well selling them during the larger fairs. Annesbury had only two, one in spring and another in autumn. Everything from ribbons to oxen were sold and traded, and even the great houses would bring out wares to sell. The first day was devoted to the selling of cattle and sheep, then other wares, and the final day was for hiring farm workers. The larger houses would advertise if there were positions to be filled, too.
“Do you think that means Mr. Devon intends to stay?” Katie asked, cutting out another leaf from the pie doug
h.
“I do not know.” Daisy clutched the brush tighter, remembered what she was doing, and hastily used her apron to
clean the table. Several large drops of clear liquid from her brush had fallen during her inattentive moment. She tried to concentrate on the pie again.
Cook came over to take the completed pies to the oven. “I’m not so sure I’d trust that kind of position. That old steward, the second the young gentleman’s back is turned, will send everyone packing.”
“Mr. Devon is hiring a new steward,” Daisy said without thinking, then bit her bottom lip when three sets of eyes looked up at her.
“How did you come by that news, Miss Ames?” Mrs. Bramston asked, her eyes curious beneath the lace cap she wore. “You aren’t usually given to spread rumors, so it must be true.”
“I hope it is,” Cook said, wiping her hands on her apron as she returned to the table. “I’ve got a nephew who’d like his chance as a gardener at a big house.”
Daisy put the brush down in the bowl and handed the last pie to her cook. They’d cut out leaves to cover the tops of every variety. It had become something like a signature on Cook’s masterpieces. On fair days, everything from their kitchen was covered in leaves. Already, an entire tray of shortbread baked in the shape of oak leaves sat to one side of the table. With the pies, it made for quite an impressive spread.
“I am afraid that is all I can do for the day. I am to visit the countess this afternoon and must clean up.” Daisy ran her hands down her apron, then reached up to check that her hair was still in its pins.
“You go on, miss,” Cook said with a wave. “And thank you for all your help.”
“I will be up shortly to help you dress,” Mrs. Bramston added. “I have but three more soaps to tie.”
Daisy nearly bolted from the room, the need to hurry away from her own servants unaccountably strong. She had been startled by the maid’s revelation, but it was more disconcerting to have it confirmed by both housekeeper and cook. When had Harry decided to hire more servants? He hadn’t said anything to her on their walk home after the storm.
Courting the Vicar's Daughter: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 6) Page 11
