The two men talked over one another with increasing volume until Mr. Gold brought his hand down on the table with a crack that silenced the room momentarily. “Stop this foolishness. We will come to no agreement in such a manner.”
“We must,” the first man insisted. “I must have the calves.”
“And so must I. It is absurd that he should claim all three.”
The shouting was about to recommence when a familiar voice rose above it, quiet but clear.
“I would like to propose a solution.”
He looked to his right. Helena was standing up, smoothing her skirts with the composed, slightly-braced expression she wore whenever confronted with raised voices and general aggression — which she had never liked, and which he suspected had something to do with her years with Huxley, though she had never said so directly. It was clear that on this occasion she had decided to put a stop to it herself.
“I do not think it is necessary to raise your voices at one another,” she said.
A murmur went through the crowd.
That’s the Duchess.
Her Grace — how is she here?
I wonder what she has to say.
She walked to the front. The three men behind the table stood immediately. “May I speak?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mr. Fisher said. “You must.”
She nodded, and turned to the thinner man. “Mr. Stevens — you have two oxen, and they are responsible for the calves of Mr. Hastings’s three cows. Is that correct?”
“That is right, Your Grace,” Stevens replied, rising to his feet.
“Have you other oxen?”
“Two more, yes — but they were on a different pasture that day.”
She nodded and turned. “And you, Mr. Hastings — do you have only three cows?”
“No,” Hastings said, getting up. “I have fifteen at present.”
“And do you have oxen?”
“Two. But they have given him no calves in years — they are too old and can hardly pull the plough,” Stevens added, with a gleam of satisfaction.
“Which is precisely why I need the calves,” Hastings said. “Two of them are male.”
Helena walked slowly up and down before the table, hands clasped behind her back, contemplating. Every pair of eyes in the room followed her. Gideon watched with quiet pleasure. They were respectful — giving her space while clearly curious about what she would produce. It was not a Duchess’s place to adjudicate such things, strictly speaking, but Helena had made her decision to insert herself, and when Helena had made a decision it was generally not worth arguing with. Her formidable nature was on full display, and he found he could not have been more glad of it.
“Here is what I propose,” she said, and turned so that she stood between the two men. “There appear to be two possibilities. Either Mr. Stevens receives one male calf and one female, and Mr. Hastings keeps the remaining male. Or—” she raised a hand as Hastings’s mouth opened “— Mr. Stevens receives all three calves, but in exchange he gives Mr. Hastings one of his youngest and most promising oxen, so that Mr. Hastings may begin breeding his herd afresh while retiring his two elderly ones.”
Silence.
The two farmers looked at one another.
“I do need a young ox,” Hastings said slowly. “And the calves will take time to be of use.”
“And I have no particular need of another young ox at present,” Stevens replied. “I had intended to sell him.”
“But is it not better to be unneighborly?” Helena said. “Is it not preferable to help one another rather than to be in constant competition?”
A murmur of approval ran around the room. Mr. Flannery clapped once, with considerable satisfaction. “I think that is a splendid idea. Hastings, Stevens — you used to be friends. Why not be friends again?”
