A Rumored Engagement

by Lily George

  “Mr. Hale. I am so glad to see you.” Donaldson rose and executed a brief bow. “And may I congratulate you on your engagement to Miss Siddons.”

  “Thank you,” Daniel replied, bowing slightly in return. “I’ve no use for formalities today, Donaldson. I hope you can understand. I may seem brusque, but I am trying to get at the heart of what is ailing Goodwin. My fiancée has brought the plight of the tenants to my attention, and I want to help them as much as we can without bringing Goodwin to ruin. You’ve had some suggestions about how to improve things in the past, and I must admit I was loath to listen. Now you find me with a mind clear and willing to accept suggestions. Please tell me your thoughts.”

  The estate manager seemed as relieved as Daniel to let go of the usual chatter, for his shoulders relaxed and he nodded briskly. “Well, the mill and the lands are producing adequately.”

  Daniel sat before the fire and motioned Donaldson to follow suit. “Everything on the estate is at a minimal standard, then?”

  He sat and faced Daniel, his countenance open and honest. “Minimal, yes. But it could be much better. The tenants’ living conditions could use a definite improvement. And, as I mentioned to you before, the lands around Goodwin could produce better if we followed a more rigorous standard of changing out the crops and even allowing some fields to lie fallow just long enough for the soil to recover. Some of the crops we raise here deplete the soil of valuable nutrients, which can make it difficult for them to produce well season after season.”

  Well, that suggestion made sense. Why not let some fields rest so that they could produce well the following season? “I like that idea. I’m sorry I never gave much credence to it until now. I wonder why my brother or my father never followed through with it.”

  Donaldson cleared his throat. “The suggestion was made to them, sir. But it was too radical a notion for them to entertain. Your brother told me quite clearly that allowing a field to lie fallow was a shameful waste.”

  Daniel gave an inward chuckle. Yes, that did sound like his brother. Hidebound and glued to tradition, just as Father had been.

  “Well, you will not find me so recalcitrant. It makes sense, this plan of yours. I should like to go over the plan for the crops, to see which fields will rest and what crops will be used. I intend to be involved in the management of the estate quite closely from now on.”

  Donaldson nodded, a sigh of something like relief emanating from him. “Very good, sir.”

  Daniel leaned forward. “And the tenants?” Surely something could be done to assist them. Susannah had been right. Allowing them to skimp by on the very bare necessities was shameful when he had so much.

  “Well, as I said, the tenants’ lives and homes could be improved. Many estates around Tansley care for their people in a similar manner. But I will say that the happier and healthier your people are, the more they will, in turn, contribute to the estate. Already Goodwin is producing enough to cover its needs—in fact, even without making a single change to our plans, we could rebuild some of the more tumbledown cottages, repair the roofs and the like.” He pulled a ledger book out of his leather saddlebag and opened it. “If you care to take a look.”

  Daniel accepted the book and peered closely through the columns of numbers, all written in his estate manager’s meticulous hand. A few months ago, the mere sight of these figures would have sent him on a raging drunk—but now, now they made sense. “I see what you mean. But if we increase the productivity of the fields and the mill, we can improve the lives of everyone at Goodwin—including the tenants’.”

  “Absolutely. And a few changes could be made to bring the mill more up to date, changes that are again outside the norm of what has been done in the past but which I feel are simple enough to implement. Come, I’ll show you.” Donaldson walked over to Daniel’s desk and withdrew a long scroll from the saddlebag, which he unfurled with a flourish. “You see? Here—” he pointed to a drawing of a machine “—and here.” He launched into a brief yet thoughtful explanation of the changes that could be made to make the machines more efficient.

  Daniel listened, giving the man his full attention. When he paused to draw breath, Daniel peered over the drawings. “You have obviously given this a great deal of thought. I am impressed. I wonder if you’ve considered simply rebuilding, rather than repairing, the cottages. When I worked on a merchant vessel, I often worked with wood that had grown rotten with time. Often, ’twas cheaper and better to simply replace a piece of decking than to try to repair it once more.”

  “I think that rebuilding could be more profitable—certainly with some of the more tumbledown cottages.” Donaldson nodded, adding a few figures to the columns. “I’ll draw up some estimates for the work.”

  “Excellent.” Daniel straightened and looked squarely at his estate manager. “I am in awe of your tenacity, my good man. Any other fellow, when confronted with my father’s and brother’s hidebound ways, and my own indifference, would have given up in despair.”

  The young man gave a rueful smile and shrugged. “I love this land,” he explained simply. “Goodwin has the opportunity to be quite a grand estate. All it needs is a bit of—”

  “Care.” Daniel sighed. “I’ve neglected it far too long.” He rolled up the parchment scroll and handed it back. “You have my leave to begin working on the crops and the mill. I’ll draw up some plans for new cottages if you can provide estimates for the building materials.” He paused. Since Goodwin was going to be Susannah’s home, too, he must involve her in the decision-making process. She was as much a part of Goodwin as he was. She had, in fact, a better claim on it than he, for she cared about his people when he did not. “As for the tenants themselves, I should like to have my fiancée in on the discussion. I’ll have her come over tomorrow afternoon, and we shall talk over the matter together, if that is all right with you.”

  “Certainly, sir.” A dawning light of—what was that? Respect, perhaps?—was kindled in Donaldson’s normally serious eyes as he answered. “I shall come over tomorrow around three o’clock, if you wish.”

  “Yes, fine.” Daniel extended his hand. “Until then.”

  Donaldson grasped his hand and shook it, and showed himself out of the study. As the door closed behind him, Daniel stood quiet for a moment, bowing his head. He leaned his weight against the massive oak desk for support. He had done it at last. Goodwin was finally his. Funny, he hadn’t accepted tradition as his own. No—he had bucked tradition, in fact.

  He was allowing Goodwin to progress, to grow with the times. Outmoded practices, outdated machinery and the old-fashioned way of caring for one’s tenants—they were gone. He had banished them and in doing so, he made the Hall his own. ’Twas no longer a millstone about his neck.

  Goodwin and Susannah. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing thoughts of his fiancée and his home to wash over him. The two things he’d run away from, that he had callously abandoned in his youth, were now the dearest things in the world to him.

  “God, make me worthy.” He uttered the words aloud. The first time he’d ever prayed by himself in his life. Somehow, saying the words brought comfort. The situation he faced wasn’t as daunting—in fact, it was a challenge that, perhaps, he could meet. With help.

  He’d begun the process of making things up to Goodwin, starting today. And he would spend the rest of his life trying to make Susannah happy. She deserved happiness. After the years of anxiety and terror she had endured, after the years of hardship and deprivation, he would see to it that she would spend the rest of her days in comfort and peace at Goodwin Hall. With him, of course. And that meant he must radically change who he was. No more running, no more fear, no more indifference.

  He would have to face the things he had done and change what he didn’t like. ’Twould be a difficult process, and a painful one, but worth it. The empty shell of his life was slowly filling up, w
ith light, love and grace. He must continue to grow as a man and in faith. He must start now, without delay, for Susannah’s sake.

  * * *

  Susannah squinted in the late-afternoon light and carefully sewed another stitch in the pale green silk bunched in her lap. In a few days’ time, ʼtwould evolve in beauty and become her wedding gown. Although the engagement had not been officially announced, word spread fast through the village. And, as the news of her impending nuptials spread like wildfire throughout the countryside, her life was easing somewhat. For one thing, she had gone to see Bess in peace, without any townspeople shunning her or making cheeky remarks. And while business hadn’t picked up, at least people dawdled past their shop window now, instead of avoiding them completely.

  All in all, she reflected, matters were considerably better, and she had Daniel to thank for it.

  Gratitude to Daniel. An odd feeling indeed. And one that she wasn’t sure how to return. He hadn’t propose to her out of love, of course. He’d proposed to help her. And what was she doing in return? Nagging him about his drinking and his tenants.

  She picked up another stitch and shook her head. When would she ever learn to stop bossing people about? Daniel would flee to London the first chance he got rather than face the prospect of being cooped up at Goodwin with a shrewish wife. And she would be alone, and somehow that thought was even more daunting than the thought of marrying Daniel.

  “Sue, a carriage has stopped outside,” Nan announced from her perch near the window. “It looks like Miss Glaspell’s. Do you suppose she’s sent a servant to cancel her order, as well?”

  Oh, how perfectly perfect. Naturally, once one gentry canceled, she should expect them all to cancel. “Yes, I imagine so.” She rose and rolled the fabric she’d been working on into a ball, tucking it in her sewing box. “How far have you progressed on the tweed tam-o’-shanter? Is it ready? I know Becky is still upstairs, working on the feathers for the trim.” Might as well take stock of how much money they were about to lose.

  “I was going to finish stitching the side, but I’ll wait.” Nan cast the tam aside and stood. “Should I go and get the door for her ladyship?”

  “No, run upstairs and tell Becky to stop working on the feathers. And stay up there until Miss Glaspell’s servant is gone. You two have handled enough of this nonsense when you dealt with Miss Prestwidge’s servant.” She squared her shoulders and clenched her fists, preparing to remain as civil as possible under the circumstances. At least she had Daniel. The family would not be destitute. Daniel wouldn’t allow her sisters to starve. Funny, she was coming to rely upon the one thing she’d fought against her whole life. The support of a man. And yet—given all they’d promised each other yesterday, she and Daniel were more of a team, weren’t they? He would be her helpmeet in this trouble, just as she would be his as he fought his urge to drink.

  “Are you certain?” Nan hesitated, biting her lip. “I should hate to have you be insulted, Sue.”

  “Nonsense.” Susannah gave her a forced smile and smoothed her apron. “I am certain I can handle this matter. I shall be polite, and nothing she says will provoke my temper. Besides, it’s probably only a servant she sent—I am sure she wouldn’t lower herself by crushing my dreams in person. I shall be fine. Go on.” She shooed her sister upstairs with a wave of her hand.

  Better to be done. She crossed the room in a flurry of footsteps and wrenched the door open. Perhaps they could just handle the transaction on the threshold, and she wouldn’t even have to allow them into her home.

  “Oh, mercy,” a cultured voice exclaimed, and Miss Glaspell herself fell back a pace on the front step. “You startled me!”

  “Miss Glaspell,” Susannah gasped. “I didn’t think it was you. I figured you had sent a servant.”

  “No...” Miss Glaspell held her gloved hand over her heart. “May I come in?”

  “Yes, of course.” She grasped after her manners as she would a straw tossed on the wind. She opened the door and held it for her ladyship.

  Miss Glaspell walked over to the hearth and held her hands out to the blaze as Susannah closed the door. “Well, I shall come straight to the point, Miss Siddons. I am not canceling my order. In fact, I would like for the Siddons sisters to be my exclusive milliners from now on.”

  Had she heard aright? She drew her brows together and glanced over at her ladyship. “Are you quite certain?”

  “Quite,” Miss Glaspell pronounced briskly. “I thought Annabella was being ridiculous, and told her so myself. Whatever was she thinking, canceling her order because of gossip? I kept my order in with you, as did Evangeline, because we love what you do with bonnets. We do not care about your past or about idle gossip.”

  Which was, of course, what human decency would demand. But somehow, hearing it from the gentry made it all the more extraordinary. “Thank you.” It was all she could muster at the moment. She had been so certain of disaster.

  “And now that you are engaged to Daniel Hale, all is forgotten. Annabella has changed her mind and wishes you to reinstate her order. And, of course, Evangeline and I shall continue to order from you exclusively.” Miss Glaspell cast her a winning smile. “So, there you have it. Is anything of mine ready?”

  A sudden surge of rage and despair welled within Susannah. Miss Glaspell was talking about the matter so casually, as if it hadn’t meant a thing to anyone involved. But it had meant the world to herself and to her sisters. It was, after all, the reason she had accepted Daniel’s protection.

  “I suppose you are saying that, if I hadn’t become engaged to Mr. Hale, I would be in danger of losing your business.” She struggled to keep her voice even, her tone disinterested and polite. It was the truth. Bess had warned her so.

  “No, not at all.” Miss Glaspell shook her head. “Annabella, perhaps. She sticks with tradition. And she adheres too much to gossip, I believe. What you do in your own life is your own affair.”

  “I see.” She should be grateful to Miss Glaspell for her rather progressive views, but bitterness and anger still filled her soul. Susannah struggled to remain cool and businesslike; after all, Miss Glaspell was not only keeping her orders but had managed to persuade Miss Prestwidge to do the same. Her sisters would do very well. The shop would see a tidy little profit this year.

  And yet, she was still bitter.

  “I do understand how you must be feeling right now.” Miss Glaspell removed her wrap and laid it on the hearth. “May I sit down?”

  “You may.” Susannah drew the worn old velvet chair up to the fire. It was one of the shabbier pieces of furniture they owned, but it was by far the most comfortable. One had to be hospitable, if nothing else.

  “Thank you.” Miss Glaspell accepted the chair with a smile and sank down. “Upon my word, this little shop works like a tonic on me. The first moment I saw it, I was enchanted.” She turned her dimpled grin upon Susannah. “I had hoped only the best for you. And, given your impending marriage, I can see that my wishes are coming true.”

  If only her ladyship knew how very little she had to congratulate Susannah on. After all, the marriage was a mock one, arranged to save her family’s reputation and their livelihood. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “You seem unhappy, though, which is why I wanted to stay a little longer, and to be frank with you. You see, your engagement to Mr. Hale is wiping out all the gossip in the village, but I do believe it would have died out in time. Evangeline and I had already decided to support you, and with our patronage ’tis quite likely that all of this ridiculous chatter would cease.” She held her gloved hands out to the blaze, tucking herself into the chair more comfortably.

  So...what was the Honorable Miss saying? “I don’t understand you.”

  “Well, a twice-broken engagement would be cause for a lot of talk, but I would say that the chin-wagging can die out again. If marrying
Mr. Hale is making you unhappy, then don’t do it. My papa tried to force me into marriage once. And I gave him the tongue-lashing of a lifetime. We women are pushed about entirely too much for my taste. Do you not agree?” She turned a warm, sympathetic gaze upon Susannah.

  “So what you are saying is...” Susannah tried to wrap her mind around her patron’s words. “You will continue to support me whether I marry Mr. Hale or not. And with your assistance, my shop is sure to survive.”

  “That is precisely what I am saying.” Miss Glaspell rose and grabbed her wrap from its place on the hearth. “Now, you never answered my original question. Is anything ready for me yet?”

  Susannah blinked several times. She must clear her mind. She must remain focused and professional. “Not quite yet, your lady—I mean, Miss Glaspell. We are putting the final details on some of the bonnets now. Next week, perhaps?”

  “Oh, bother. I was hoping they would be ready for me to take home.” She tugged her shawl over her shoulders and grinned. “Well, I shall be all the happier for seeing them next week. Goodbye, Miss Siddons. And I still wish the best for you.”

  “As I do for you,” Susannah murmured in reply. She showed her ladyship to the door and watched, her head propped up against the cold plate-glass window as the woman’s carriage traced a half circle across the moor.

  She didn’t have to marry Daniel. The shop would be fine. The little life she had struggled so hard to create for herself and her sisters was still hers to take up, at any time she chose.

  And yet, somehow, she had no desire to stay in that little life. Daniel needed her, and Goodwin Hall and its tenants called out to her. They had become partners in this new venture—life together. As hard as it was to give up her shop, it had become harder still to think of turning her back on her fiancé and his home.