Page 41 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

When Tate disagreed, Malcolm said, “Leave it, Tate. We have important things to discuss.” Malcolm rounded his desk, lowered himself into his chair, and motioned for Philip to leave.

Philip quit the room, turning at the doorway to smile and bow at his would-be murderers, hoping the beads of sweat on his forehead were not visible.

Should he tell Sophia about her fiancé? Without firm evidence, it would be awkward to explain the reason he was searching Burns’ house. Sophia had asked him to be a friend to Burns, not to invade his property. Until he had substantial proof, he would keep it to himself. Surely his mother and Mrs. Allen would uncover something.

Philip arrived at his destination and asked the butler if he might speak to Jonathan, Katherine’s brother, who was studying to be a barrister. He was taken to the library, where he sat near a low-burning fire. He didn’t wait long. After only a few minutes, Jonathan Spencer appeared. Mr. Spencer was possessed of an open face, a quick smile, and a fastidious appearance.

“Good morning, Mr. Spencer.”

“Mr. Eliot. Please, have a seat.”

Philip lowered himself back into the chair, and Mr. Spencer sat across from him.

After some small talk about school, London, and the weather, Philip asked, “Do you mind if I ask you some legal questions in confidence? I understand that you have another year of school, but I thought you might be able to help me with a delicate matter.”

“Certainly. What’s the problem?”

Philip had asked Sophia if he might look over her father’s will, and he pulled it out for Jonathan. He explained the situation between Sophia and Squire Thorpe and that her uncle was making things unnecessarily difficult for Sophia. “Is there anything we can do? Reinterpret the will, perhaps? Miss Worthington has gone to the local solicitor to no avail.”

“That makes sense. Mr. Cunningham wouldn’t help because the squire has him in his pocket.” Mr. Spencer removed his glasses and started shining them on his cravat. “A professor of mine—my mentor—told me about a lord who married a wealthy woman. Before their marriage, the woman’s fortune was tied up in some legal way so that, though it belonged to the lady, her male relative got hold of it. My professor helped this lord and his wife and may have some ideas for you. I will write and inquire on your behalf.”

Philip nearly hugged the man. “Thank you! That would be very helpful, indeed.”

“Now that I’m thinking of this, I go to London in a short time. Would you be willing to come with me? We can meet with the professor and see if we can resolve this problem for Miss Worthington.”

“That is ideal. Let me know the day, and I shall be ready.”

Philip left with rising spirits. Even if he couldn’t win her in the end, he would see to it that she retained her farm. He wondered for the second time that day what he should divulge to Sophia. He didn’t want to give rise to hopes that may lead nowhere. Once again, not wanting to burden Sophia, he kept the information to himself.

Talland, Cornwall

2 July 1750

Dear Philip,

I miss you. Yesterday, we had strawberry tarts after lunch. Each bite held a memory so real I could smell Bramblefields and nearly feel your hand in mine. One would think that a space of a year would erase the feeling of loss that comes when I remember your companionship, but today it is as poignant as ever.

I recently stowed away all reminders of you. My insect board, your drawings, my wooden sword and shield are all neatly packed in a small trunk. I left out one small drawing of Bramblefields, complete with two children peeking at each other from around a hedge. Those two children have a wonderful likeness to you and me. It is framed on my dressing table.

Yours always,

Sophia

Chapter 17

14 May 1753

Following Charlotte’s departure, Agnes noticed Mary becoming distracted over her sister’s well-being, forgetting about their plan to save Sophia from Mr. Burns, who, as Mary claimed, may not be a bad person at all. A scrap of paper with Mr. Burns’ name was not evidence enough for her friend. But Agnes could not have Mary’s attention divided.

So, Agnes took Mary to visit her sister. They found her doing well enough. Charlotte enjoyed the company of her sister-in-law and was expert at disappearing quietly whenever Squire Thorpe was in the room. Still, Charlotte was not entirely at ease.

“Mary, dear,” Charlotte said, “I hope you will trim the ivy. Or, at least, ask Betsy to do it. Sophia won’t have time, but it may grow over a window.”

“Certainly, I will, Sister. The lavender is turning green, and there are buds on the peonies,” Mary said.

“Ah, peonies. I hope I am home before they bloom.” Charlotte closed her eyes.

“Are you sure you are well here?” Agnes asked, leaning forward so as not to be heard by Mrs. Thorpe.