Answering Harry’s question would be almost like confiding in him. As friends, she ought to be able to do so without any worry of what he would think. She considered for another moment before answering him.
“Mr. Haskett is a good man, and he takes his position as curate quite seriously.” She sipped at her cup again. “But I do find, from time to time, that his conversation becomes more detailed than I wish.”
The gentleman above her did not laugh, but she could see the merriment in his eyes as his posture relaxed. “I see. In that case, I am glad I came along when I did.” He adjusted his position against the tree, settling his back against it. “Although I did wish to speak to you about something.”
“Lovely. I have something to talk about as well. You may go first.” She sat taller on the old worn bench, giving Harry her full attention. He had a rather handsome profile. His straight nose neither long nor short, his jawline pronounced just enough to appear firm. His dark hair peeked from beneath the brim of his tall black hat.
“I have obtained Mr. Ellsworth’s services as my new steward.” He glanced at her briefly and she nodded her approval. “And I am making numerous other changes on my estate. So many, in fact, that I thought it best to settle in more permanently. All my belongings are at Whitewood now. The staff is, as you guessed, most approving. Though I do not think caring for a bachelor will be nearly as exciting as they wish.” His smile was self-deprecating. “I wanted to thank you for encouraging me to take an interest in my property and responsibilities. I am not certain I would have made such decisions without your help.”
The cold in Daisy’s fingertips was chased away by a satisfied, warm contentment that crept through her as Harry spoke. “Although I have been most forward in our conversations, if this is what such behavior leads to, I am not sorry for it. I am glad you will stay, Harry.” Even if it meant she continued to experience the complex reactions to his presence. She had hoped they would fade with time, but knowing he would be a permanent fixture in their community did not seem to decrease the way she felt.
“Thank you. Now. What is it you wished to say?” His expression turned inquisitive.
“I wished to ask about the rumors of you staying,” she admitted. “Though many people have confirmed them, I did not think it wise to believe it until I spoke directly to you.”
“Ah.” He looked away again, a smile teasing at his lips. “Your abhorrence of gossip and rumor. I remember.”
She took in the way he stood and considered how it might appear to others in the area. They were, after all, in plain sight of anyone at the fair. But Harry seemed aloof rather than attentive, and he stood a few feet away from where she sat.
He is even now honoring my wishes. No one watching us would think us anything more than mere acquaintances.
Somehow, the thought both pleased and disappointed her. She frowned down into the remnants of her cider, which had turned cold. The leaves above her head shivered with a gust of wind, and several drifted down to land on the village green.
“How are the plans for your school coming?” he asked, watching a leaf float to the ground.
“Very well. I spoke to your cousin, Lady Annesbury, and she is a strong supporter of the project. I am most grateful for that. With ladies such as her and your sister championing the school, I think it must be a success.”
At that Harry laughed, the sound low and soothing more than surprising. “The ladies I am related to are all well practiced in being champions and rescuers. We are both fortunate to have them on our side.”
Daisy rose from the bench, another breeze coming by to ruffle her bonnet and hem. When she peered upward through the branches of the tree, she saw gray clouds moving to absorb the blue sky. “Oh dear. It looks as though it will rain again.”
Harry glanced up as well. “May I escort you home?”
She shook her head. “I ought to help Mrs. Bramston, our housekeeper, and our cook. They will wish to pack their things and go home before the rain ruins everything.”
“I will assist you. Is there a cart I could fetch?”
“Yes. In the pasture behind the inn, we tied up a little pony and dogcart. Thank you, Harry.” She laid her hand on his arm, trying to give extra weight to her gratitude.
Harry briefly covered her hand with his and his eyes turned darkly serious. “Of course, Daisy. Anything for you.” Then he was gone, before she could decide what he had meant by such a statement. There really was no time to consider it, either, for she still had to return the cider mugs and help her servants.
Yet, even as she ran to help pack up their wares before the rain began, Daisy knew the earnest gleam in Harry’s eyes would be with her for quite some time.
Chapter Thirteen
The weather had turned from bright sunshine to darkened gray skies with a rapidity that would have discouraged Harry, had he not so much to do. The days of the fair were the last that the village enjoyed the sunshine. October was nearly over, and November would be filled with cold days and even colder nights.
Which was why he and his new steward were out on an important errand. Mr. Ellsworth drove a gig he had found in Harry’s carriage house, and Harry sat up in the seat beside his employee.
“I know it isn’t the best time of year for such projects,” Mr. Ellsworth said, flicking the reins. “But it isn’t the best time to live in a house with a patchy roof and drafts either.”
“This is the sort of thing I should have looked into first.” Harry tried not to grind his teeth at his own stupidity. He’d been enjoying the comfort of the study at Whitewood, taking his walks almost daily, but never once had he gone to inspect the tenant houses on his property. “Or Keyes ought to have said something.”
“He has been ignoring the repairs for years.” Mr. Ellsworth had only seen the problems of the housing himself the day before, when going about to interview tenants to make certain their rents were the proper amount in the books. He’d returned to Whitewood flustered and angry, and gave Harry a detailed account of what he saw.
Harry needed to go out and see for himself. He needed to understand the depth of his own neglect and his former steward’s lack of care.
They stopped before a small row of cottages, all nearing a century old. The cottages were low, small buildings with thatched roofs. There were gardens in a few yards, full of the practical sorts of plants one found about cottages.
Even from his place on the road, Harry could see places where repairs had been made but appeared insubstantial. “It looks as though someone has tried to bandage up a flour sieve,” he said, a weight pressing against his heart. “There are families in all of these houses?”
“Yes. Paying a rate similar to what the earl’s tenants pay. But the earl’s properties are in far better repair, and newer, than these.” Ellsworth’s disgust was apparent in the frustrated growl of his voice. “What do you want to do, Mr. Devon?”
“My father has only been dead four years,” Harry said quietly, not moving from his seat. “These houses have obviously needed attention for longer than that.”
The man beside him said nothing, leaving Harry to stare at the crumbling stone wall between him and the cottage in silence.
“I want to tear them all down.” Harry jumped out of the gig without a backward glance and strode through the crooked white gate of the first house. He went straight for the door and banged on it, his frustration urging him on to action.
The door swung open to reveal a startled looking woman, perhaps near Harry’s age, wearing an apron over a stomach swollen with child.
“Mr. Devon, sir,” she half-gasped. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were comin’ today. Is there somethin’ you need from my mister, sir?”
Harry shook his head and lowered his eyes, the shame choking him. He met the startled stare of a little boy, holding onto the woman’s skirts and staring up at Harry with wide, frightened eyes.
“Only tell him, and the others in these cottages, that there will be no rents paid
this winter.” It was the least he could do. But he certainly meant to do more. He touched the brim of his hat and left her staring after him, her mouth gaping at him.
He climbed back into the gig. Ellsworth spared him only a glance before taking up the reins and moving the horse along. “That was kind of you, Mr. Devon.”
Harry snorted. “It was the right thing to do. The worst of it is that woman knew exactly who I am, and I could not for the world tell you who she or her husband are.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Dempsy,” Ellsworth supplied. “He is a tenant farmer.”
“Thank you.” Harry groaned and covered his eyes with a gloved hand. “We need to do more, and soon. Make inquiries. See about hiring a team of men to build new cottages. We can set them across the road from the old, so the tenants won’t have far to go. When we tear down the old buildings, perhaps we can salvage the stone for something else. I don’t know.”
Ellsworth hesitate in speaking long enough that Harry uncovered his eyes, casting the man an expectant look. “What, Mr. Ellsworth?”
“It will be expensive, and difficult, to build at this time of year.”
“I am certain I can afford it.” Harry thought of Daisy, of her desire to better the lives of entire families through the somewhat simple act of educating their daughters. She saw such a thing as creating stronger families, better people. It was like—
“It’s an investment,” Harry said out loud, his mind wrapping around the thought with ease. “Better homes mean better tenants. Those cottages, they are falling apart, but you could see the care taken in the gardens, in the painted gates. Those people want homes they can be proud of. If we supply those houses, make the rents fair, we will have happy and loyal tenants.”
“You do not need to convince me, sir.” Ellsworth’s tone lost some of its edge, though he remained slightly hunched in his seat. “I will make inquiries and let it be known quality and speed are of the utmost importance to the project.”
“Money is the least important factor.” Harry sat back, crossing his arms. “I would like to see at least some of the families settled before the snow begins falling.”
Ellsworth nodded tightly and said no more. His brow was puckered, his lips turned down in an earnest frown, and Harry knew his steward was making plans. Though they had been working together for a short time, Harry knew and understood Ellsworth quite well. It spoke highly of Ellsworth’s character that he would bring his concern to Harry with such speed, rather than take it for granted that Harry knew the state of those cottages.
How could my father have left property, property he ought to have taken some pride in, to rot in such a horrid manner? There were children in those dilapidated structures. Families who needed warmth in the winter and a roof to keep out rain.
Harry had never been particularly close to the elder Mr. Devon. Now, he wondered if there was anything at all he liked about the man who had fathered him. Certainly, nothing came to mind. He had never shown even a shred of affection for any of his four children. They were assets, not receptors of love. In truth, it was their mother that saved the Devon children from becoming weak, withered things. Mrs. Devon had raised her three daughters on love, and they in turn had given Harry the ability to be himself, despite the dark shadow cast by his father.
Mr. Devon senior had left behind a legacy of wealth and greed, pride and snobbery, and it was left to Harry to make things right.
Chapter Fourteen
Seeking Daisy out for a private conversation was out of the question. It would be totally inappropriate for Harry to write her a note, to request to meet with her. If he went to her home, to call upon her, that could alert her father to their less than conventional friendship. With so much weighing on his mind and heart, he found himself longing for her opinion, perhaps even her approval. Despite his attempts at creativity, he could come up with nothing better than lurking near her home in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her.
That would not do, of course.
He went to Christine.
“Would you like to invite Miss Ames for dinner one evening?” he asked. “Or to come spend an afternoon with you when Thomas is away?”
Christine, who had been standing in the middle of the nursery when Harry walked in to make his request, stared at him as if he’d escaped from Bedlam.
“What was that, Harry?” She put the tin soldier she had been holding on the floor for her sons. They had an impressive array of animals and soldiers lined up for war. She stepped over their battlefield, lifting her skirts to avoid knocking their toys about. “You wish for me to invite Miss Ames here? Why?”
“It doesn't really matter what you invite her to do,” Harry said, “only that you send me with the invitation. I need to speak with her, but if I call on her directly her father may not approve.”
Christine took him by the arm and pulled him from the nursery, down the hall, and into an upstairs parlor. She said nothing as she dragged him about, but acted with her usual vigor. After she placed him before a chair, and took one of her own, she finally spoke. “I can see you are upset. Is it because you need to speak to her, or do you need to speak to her because something has upset you?”
Harry tried to untangle his sister’s words. Apparently, neither of them had been blessed with the ability to speak clearly when disturbed. “The latter. I think.”
She regarded him most seriously, her eyebrows drawn down, an incredulous smile in place. “I see. She is someone in whom you can confide. Is that all?”
He did not need to hide his feelings from his sister, not really, except that she may take it upon herself to meddle. Christine was quite a notorious meddler. But it would be far safer if she knew exactly what was in his mind and heart rather than going about with her own suppositions.
“I have come to care for and admire Miss Ames a great deal.” Harry clasped his hands before him and bent forward. “I have not, however, given her any indication of feeling more toward her than friendship. I do not think she is ready or willing to hear declarations of that sort from me. But you should know, I have every intention of asking her father’s permission to court her.”
Christine’s expression bloomed into one of delight, her grin unrestrained. She seemed at a loss for words, which was incredibly rare for the most outspoken Devon sister.
“Say something, Chrissy,” he prompted at last, though his own grin had spread. “You are making me rather nervous.”
When she spoke, the pitch of her voice was high and her words came quickly. “I cannot even begin to tell you how excited I am by the very idea of you courting. Miss Ames is as close to perfect for you as anyone could be. She is kind, and sweet. Your nephews adore her. She is also intelligent enough to think for herself. The only mark against her is that ponderous father of hers, but as he is a vicar, some leniency must be given.”
“I am glad you approve.” Harry, despite his concerns over the matter, relaxed. “Telling someone about this is something of a relief.”
“Why haven’t you told her of your interest?” Christine asked, sitting back and crossing her arms. The pose wasn’t exactly lady-like, but it suited his sister. “You must tell her.”
Harry dropped his face into his hands, then scrubbed his fingers through his hair, likely leaving it a horrid mess. “Miss Ames has consented to being my friend only recently. I cannot say she entirely approves of me yet. I am hoping that as I make improvements to the estate, to our family’s reputation, that she will see I am not the directionless fool she thought I was when I returned.”
“I would say you are making tremendous strides in that endeavor.” The approval in his sister’s voice buoyed his spirits, but not by much.
“The other matter to consider is that I do not believe her father approves of me. That dinner with them, almost a month ago, he all but said it to my face.”
“Keep working to change his mind. You are a good catch, Harry.” Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Every unwed girl in the neighborhood has practically come right
out and asked me if you were considering marriage. What was that book that Rebecca loved—the one that said ‘a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.’” She chuckled. “I think some must truly believe such things.”
There was not much to say to that. It was nearly the truth, after all. He wanted for nothing that money could buy. His wealth ought to be a mark in his favor, but thus far Daisy had only indicated something like disdain for his income. She rose in his estimation for that.
Christine stood and went to a writing desk in the corner of the room. “I will write her a note at once, inviting her to dinner tomorrow evening. You ought to come, too. Then I can amuse myself by watching the two of you together.”
“I accept your invitation. Thank you.” He tapped his foot where he sat, then rose and went to the window, standing near his sister. “Will you invite her father, too?”
“I think that would be the most sensible thing to do, especially if you think he doesn’t care for you. Perhaps his opinion would soften seeing you among family.” She wrote out the invitation in silence, the only sound in the room that of her pen scratching against the paper.
Harry distracted himself by looking out the window, over the grounds to the stable yard. He could see his brother-in-law in conversation with a groom. Thomas Gilbert had taken the family by surprise. Somehow, the quiet man with the dry wit was the perfect match for their adventurous Christine. Harry had seen all three of his sisters show true love and admiration for their husbands. The thought made him happy, but also a touch wistful. Memories of his mother were rare and vague, and he could not conjure an image of his parents together no matter how hard he tried. Theirs was not an amiable marriage, due to his father’s cold nature.
If Harry hoped to have a union based upon more than mutual tolerance, he had to look to his sisters’ examples.
“Do you think Julia and Rebecca would approve as you do?” he asked, somewhat cautiously. His old school chums would think him soft, wishing for the approval of the women in his life on such a thing. But he had no parents to please, no one to advise him, except for the sisters. All three had practically raised him, after all.
Courting the Vicar's Daughter: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 6) Page 13
