Page 30 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

The first thing I did upon waking was saddle the horse and ride to the ocean. Poor Clarissa, she paid the price of the rain and had mounds of mud to trample through. However, I love the ocean following a storm, and after enduring so many days of nature’s wrath, all was made right at one glimpse of the glorious ocean. I will not spoil it with a description. Of the two of us, I am not the poetic one.

Yours always,

Sophia

Chapter 13

7 May 1753

Sophia woke feeling as bright as the sun that streamed through her windows. She took a deep breath, trying to remember what had made her so happy.

Philip.

Their conversation the previous evening had lightened a heaviness she hadn’t realized she was carrying. Perhaps it was merely that the embarrassment between herself and Philip had washed away in her overabundant tears.

However, before she could ride with him, she had to check on the pregnant ewes. Lambing was stressful for Sophia and busy for the shepherd, as casualties of both lamb and ewe were not uncommon.

After dressing and having a quick breakfast, Sophia stepped into the cool morning air and gave her horse a wrinkled slice of apple before trotting off to the same building in which the spring festival had been held just weeks earlier.

Spring was evident in the fresh, damp air and the abundance of glistening emerald grass that would nourish her sheep. Her flock was healthy and grew steadily. They were more than her livelihood. Sophia simply loved sheep, the lambs most of all.

Bleating ewes greeted Sophia as she approached. They could not be handled at this stage, but she checked their udders for cleanliness as best she could. It was essential that the lambs find milk soon after birth.

In the outbuilding, her shepherd, John Stanton, was building low-walled enclosures so each ewe would have her own place and contain any infection.

“Good morning, John. You’re at work early, and I thank you for it. This isn’t the easiest season for you.”

“You are right about that, Miss Sophia, but we’re ready. Those ewes are well-fed and fat enough. I expect things will go smoothly when the day comes. As soon as I finish these hay walls, we can bring them in.”

“It looks perfect. The ewes are clean, and this building is immaculate. Should you need help one of these nights, don’t hesitate to wake me. I don’t want you expiring from exhaustion.”

“I wouldn’t dare leave you out of the fun, Miss Sophia.” John grinned.

Satisfied with the state of her sheep, Sophia returned to the house to clean up before meeting Philip. She found him waiting for her in the entrance hall.

“There you are!” Philip’s cheerful mood matched her own. He offered her his arm, and they walked together to the stables.

She smiled up at him. “I hope you’ve recovered from your fall and are ready to mount a horse again. I neglected to show you around the house, but I will not shirk my duty in regard to the village. Prepare yourself for a full tour of Talland.”

“I am fully recovered, but even if I were not, I would suffer through the pain to ride with you.”

The two friends mounted their horses and rode side by side down the path, turning left at the fork in the road, the groom following at a respectful distance.

“This is not the way to town, Sophia. Where are you taking me?” Philip asked, excitement lacing his voice.

“To a lesser known but more scenic tour. Tomorrow, we are going to the fair, remember? Then we will pass the sheep and fields. You have seen the docks and the bustle of town. You may visit that area again at your leisure.” Sophia’s voice softened as she said, “Philip, thank you for talking with me last night. I feel much better. I admit that when I learned you were coming, I was uncomfortable at the thought of your visit.” It felt good to speak with him openly. Yesterday’s conversation had taught her that only through frank discussion could she continue her friendship with Philip. And so she proceeded with only a little trepidation. “Why did you come to Worthington Farm, and why am I getting old letters from you now? Did my letters not reach you?”

Philip hesitated. “It was my mother. She sent me to France just three days after you and Mrs. Allen left. She is not always kind, my mother.” Philip let out a breath. “She intercepted our correspondence. My letters were sent to her by my valet. You sent yours to Bramblefields, and she didn’t forward them. Without my letters, you had no way of knowing where I was.”

The nerve of that woman. “She didn’t forward them? How did the letters get back to you?”

“On my birthday I found a bundle of our correspondence on my bed. Everything I had written to you. Everything you had written to me. Believe me, had I known about your father, I would have come.” Philip stopped his horse and took ahold of Sophia’s reins, eyes over-bright, voice shaking.

“Because I didn’t hear from you, I doubted. I assumed you were not interested in knowing me. I thought perhaps I had been too forward or presumptuous. When I found the letters, everything changed, and I came to you directly.”

Sophia put a hand over his as he held her reins. The horses drew close together, and Sophia’s legs brushed Philip’s.

To distract herself from their nearness, Sophia channeled her emotion into her words. “Your mother is, as you say, not kind. To go to such lengths!” Mrs. Eliot’s actions were reprehensible, but she pushed thoughts of Mrs. Eliot aside to capture the warmth in Philip’s earnest expression.