Page 5 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

Philip set his anger at his mother aside and cracked the wax seal on the first letter with shaking but deliberate hands. His breath caught at the sight of the familiar curl and slope of her script. Her words closed the gap of time, drawing him in until he could almost hear her speaking.

She wrote about making calls to the neighbors with her mother, describing everything with a pithy humor that so typified her. But he wanted to know what she was doing now. He searched through the pile of letters, which were woefully out of order, until he found a more recent date.

His throat thickened as he read about her father’s death. She had suffered loss and prevailed over hardship while he’d been trifling away his time on the continent. Philip read through Sophia’s grief, his body becoming heavier with each word until he dropped the letter to cradle his face in his hands. How could he have allowed his insecurities to prevent him from trying harder to communicate?

Curse my interfering mother.

In her calculating fashion, she’d ruined his life, kept him from the one person who brought him joy. He groaned and threw a pillow across the room. The draft scattered the letters, and he rushed to pick them up.

Philip began to anticipate the moment he would inform his parents of his plans to renounce his inheritance. The guilt he felt, the reticence he suffered, was gone. Philip had lost any remorse that may otherwise have accompanied his announcement. Indignation was weapon enough against all the tricks his mother might use to keep him bound to her.

A slow breath gave space for hope. Soon he would have the freedom to do what he liked, to see whom he liked. Not bothering to change, Philip lay down for sleep, though the sun had already risen.

With only thirty minutes to spare before the midday meeting with his parents, Philip’s valet woke him. His first thoughts were of Sophia. He splashed water on his face and allowed his valet to tie his cravat. He slid a few letters into his waistcoat pocket before leaving his room for breakfast. After scaling his throat with coffee and choking down a piece of toast, he wiped himself free of crumbs and headed to the library to meet his waiting parents.

“Good morning! Or is it afternoon? I hope everyone is recovered from last night.” Philip took a seat in a chair across from his parents, feigning relaxed indifference. “What would you like to discuss?”

Mr. Eliot spoke as if he had practiced a monologue. “Your mother and I would like to review the terms of your inheritance.” Mr. Eliot cleared his throat and looked over his spectacles. His hair was greying here and there, and wrinkles surrounded his eyes and mouth, but all this added to his stately appearance. Mr. Eliot continued, speaking slowly, as was his way. “As you know, you have come into your majority, and we will no longer oversee your finances. You will receive a generous annual sum, enough to support a family if you so choose. Upon my death, you inherit the estate in its entirety, as well as the business.”

“This is nothing new, of course,” interrupted Mrs. Eliot. “Your father means to say that there are stipulations to your inheritance.”

Philip was ready, but he kept his voice even and light, though the words were cutting. “There are always stipulations. The inheritance has already been delayed two years, and I’ve reflected on the situation.” Philip paused, bitterness filling his mouth. It stung more than ever that his parents had withheld his inheritance. He had promised Sophia that when he turned twenty-one, they would marry. With his inheritance suspended, he had been unable to leave Europe and go to her.

Philip swallowed hard. “Before you waste your breath describing how you will control my life, I have something to explain to you. I have no need of your money, as I have obtained employment. I don’t intend for this to breach our relationship. However, I do not wish to be under obligation to anyone.”

Silence.

It was the one response Philip hadn’t anticipated, at least not from Mrs. Eliot, who, though not loquacious, never lacked for words. Mr. Eliot, in contrast, rarely spoke. Philip shifted in his seat, feeling the burden of their silence.

Finally, his mother asked, “What are you saying?”

“After my twenty-first birthday, when the money that would make me independent was withheld for yet another year, I realized I needed to make my own money if I wanted to choose my own path. Which I do. I began seeking a patron. And I found one in Lord Elston. He is a wonderful connection, the very center of the art world here in England. He knows everyone. It is quite an honor that he has chosen to champion me.” Philip looked at his dour-faced parents and repressed a smile. “This is a fact the two of you will, no doubt, fail to appreciate. However, I’m making my own decisions, regardless of your opinions. Though I wish my parents to celebrate my success with me, I will not trade my happiness for yours.”

Mrs. Eliot fidgeted with the sleeve of her gown while glancing at her husband meaningfully. Mr. Eliot was still and didn’t look at his wife to apprehend her pointed looks.

Philip continued. “I’ve sold two paintings and am working on a third. I’ll never be as financially successful as you, Father, but I was paid quite well. I have the money from Grandmother, and it’s enough to fall back on, should I need it. For now, since I’ll not be able to afford my current lodgings, I’m moving to a less expensive part of town. I will scrape by well enough.” He was rambling now. “I canceled my membership to various clubs to save money. I beg you to keep my horse here, as I cannot afford to keep him. It is quite prestigious, really. Lord Elston is the best patron I could have hoped for.”

Philip stopped talking. His parents could ask questions if they wanted to know more. “If that’s all, I will excuse myself and go for a ride on the aforementioned horse.” Philip stood to take his leave. When he reached the door, he turned and said, “To be clear, I relinquish my inheritance in exchange for personal freedom. I fervently hope and, indeed expect, we will maintain the comfortable relationship we’ve always enjoyed.” He walked out of the room.

When Philip returned from his ride, he found his mother waiting for him outside the stables. He ignored her, but she followed him all the way to his horse’s stall.

“Philip, I cannot help but think that all this talk of renouncing your inheritance is connected to Sophia Worthington,” Mrs. Eliot said.

“It is, in part.” Philip dismissed the stable hand with a nod and removed the saddle himself. “I don’t think you realize what she was to me. I could not play with the servants’ children. There was no one in the village you and Father deemed good enough to associate with. I was lonely, even more than I knew. And then Sophia came.” Philip turned to face his mother after hanging the tack. “To a friendless boy, she was a miracle. She was more than a companion to me. I care about her. I love her.”

Mrs. Eliot huffed and waved her hand at her son. Philip turned his back on her and began brushing the horse. “I don’t understand what makes her, in your eyes, an unworthy friend. Didn’t you come to know her during all those months she spent in our home? She was not only a young boy’s match in energy and mischievousness, but she was also intelligent, caring, empathetic. I do not know how you failed to notice. My heart broke when she never came back. I am devastated and frankly furious at your interference.” Philip’s brushing became increasingly vigorous. “You intercepted our letters.”

“I did what was best for both of you.” Mrs. Eliot jutted her chin. “You are from different worlds. While your father and I get along tolerably, marriage is not blissful for us. One of my greatest regrets is not marrying the man my father intended for me. Had I done so, I would have had entrance into any door in England.”

Philip scoffed. “That is not important to me, Mother. Your dream is not mine. I care nothing for society. And Sophia is the daughter of a gentleman.”

“Ha, yes. He is a country gentleman with barely enough land to survive. Society is more important than you can know at your age. The two of you could not⁠—”

Philip interrupted his mother. “How can you speak so equably? It is very possible you have ruined my happiness. You’re no judge of my feelings, and your merciless manipulation of my life is unacceptable. Lennox gave me all the letters. I found them on my bed last night.”

Mrs. Eliot gasped and looked at Philip with wide eyes, opening her mouth to speak, but Philip continued. “I can never make my own decisions if I’m entwined in golden obligation to you, forever being pulled along because you hold the money bags.” Philip tossed the horse’s brush into a bucket. “You know you like having your own way, Mother. We all do, but I will no longer allow you to orchestrate my life according to your plan…” He broke off, softening his tone to finish. “However lovingly done. I will work to live, and I will live my own life.”

“She is betrothed.”