It was my turn to frown. “Neglected or not, this is Hawthorn land.”
“I’ve confronted a few of them, my lord, made it clear where our boundaries lie. But these are stubborn folk, and words may not be enough. I shouted at one. The vicar’s daughter. She waved her pencils and papers at me, claiming she had important things to do.”
I blew out an exasperated breath, following his finger to where he pointed. “We can’t let others encroach.”
A feeling of certainty crept through me the longer I stared at the two figures. That woodland sprite with her nose pointed to the sky, answering me with such disdain, had found her way onto my property.
“Have no fear, Mr. Spencer. I will sort the issue within the hour. Surely, two women can’t keep you from your duties.”
How she had chided me the evening before. Clearly, she had no regard for my family, not that I did either. Why then, should her opinion nettle me?
Their behavior was strange for two women, particularly a vicar’s daughter. My pulse thrummed at the idea of encountering her again. A foolish response, really.
All the same, I leaned into Chaucer and let him fly.
6:Bridget
They say that knowledge is power—I used to think so, but I know now they meant money.
LORD BYRON
The next morning, Abigail and I walked across the damp grass toward the dig site. As we approached the covered area, something caught my eye—small sections of freshly turned earth. Mr. Perry had clearly been at it again, though I tried to push aside the irritation that prickled at me. We had more important matters to attend to, such as making the mosaic the talk of London after I submitted my research to the Society of Antiquaries and the Dilettanti.
A realist, my friend didn’t share my confidence that we would avoid Mr. Spencer’s determination to fight the land border issue.
Abigail propped her fists on her hips as she stared at the abbey across the fields. “That’s if the new viscount doesn’t take Mr. Spencer’s advice. I visited with Lucy early this morning at the abbey after dropping off a basket of eggs since her hens refuseto lay. Apparently he’s been in a foul mood since his arrival. She complained that he’s making them air out the unused wings of the abbey.”
I had kept my disastrous encounter with Lord Hawthorn hushed, not daring to relive it aloud. But no one could deny the state of the abbey. “She shouldn’t complain,” I said, forcing a smile. “The abbey needs a good airing out.”
“It does. The Hawthorns have been a taint on our valley for many years. Brutes, the lot of them. Papa says the younger brother, the new lord’s father, often whipped his horse. He could hear the whinnies clear across the fields on a frosty morning. Only a cruel man hurts his animals.”
I winced, remembering how the young lord barreled down the road, headed straight for me. Peerage didn’t ensure that a man had honor. Or wisdom.
She continued, despite my silence. “I asked Lucy if he is anything like his father and uncle, but she’s too enamored with him to say anything bad.”
I kept my features neutral. Father always said a closed mouth caught nary a fly.
Abigail eyed me. “She swears she heard a floorboard creak in one of the cloister cells one afternoon when she was alone at the abbey. And then, one night, she heard sounds in the attic.”
I huffed as I folded my arms across my chest. “No doubt there is a bat caught in the eaves.”
Abigail chuckled. “I should have thought you of all people would enjoy a good gothic tale.”
“I enjoy a lurid tale or two, but rarely does life match the adventures caught within the pages of a book. It is far too complicated to end up wrapped in neat endings.” I must have sounded bitter, considering how Abigail arched her eyebrows at my declaration. She waited, as if to hear an explanation for my mood, but Iwasn’t about to describe why my leanings drifted away from the tenets of faith I once held dearly.
Abigail leaned closer to me, almost conspiratorial in her manner. “Will the vicar meet the new lord today? I should like to know both your opinions on the man.”
I fidgeted with the frayed ribbon of my bonnet. “I doubt anything could keep Father from meeting his patron. I suppose time will tell if the viscount is a decent sort.”
“Ah, of course.” Abigail shot me a sly look. “Why speak ill of the hand that feeds you?”
Yes, vicars needed the support of their benefactors, but I disliked her comment immensely for it sounded mercenary.
“Do you think we’ll find any more Roman coins like you and Daniel did?” Abigail sounded wistful. “It feels so much quieter without him pestering us. If only I had known the value of those denarii.” Then, softer, under her breath. “It’s a pity he never found something worthwhile to keep him tethered to Bramnor. But your brother was always a free spirit. Not wanting marriage, I suppose.”
The raw ache in her voice brought a swell of sympathy. “At least we have this dig.”
She huffed a laugh, blinking rapidly, perhaps to hide the tears sheening in her eyes.
