Page 61 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

“Can you guess how many cases of spirits were there? I would like to check with Burns’ records. He paid taxes on his imports, but it seems that he never fully unloaded his ship. We have questioned every fisherman in the village, but they are as tight-lipped as anything. The man your cousin spoke to in the tavern is not to be found.”

Sophia did her best to answer his queries, but as Mr. Tuttle probed, she realized he seemed unsure of his direction. The investigation was likely obligatory. Though Mr. Tuttle took his role as magistrate seriously, he had little incentive beyond receiving recognition to solve the case. Magistrates were not paid for their work, and Sophia knew Mr. Tuttle was busy with his own affairs. Smugglers were notoriously slippery, and their gangs were both loyal and afraid to speak.

Sophia turned her palms up and said, “It seems that without the man in question, very little can be done. I wish I could help you find him, but I have no idea where he could have gone. However, if I find anything at all, I will tell you.”

“Thank you, Miss Worthington. That is all I could hope for.”

The conversation eased an illogical guilt she felt at being associated with such intrigue. If Mr. Tuttle did not suspect her, no one else should, either. She had only to forgive herself for being so misled.

Sophia spent the next several days taking long walks, reading, and chatting with her mother. Compared to her usual schedule, it felt like nothing at all. She’d taken Philip’s drawings of the farm with her and looked over them for unreasonable periods of time. Again and again, she was awed by the life that grew on her own farm, not just the animals and plants, but the people. Every member of her little community served the others. When next given the chance, she would appreciate them better.

Gregory arrived several days later with news of the farm. He had Clarissa with him, which made it even sweeter.

“Gregory, I cannot express my gratitude! I’ve missed my rides with Clarissa. How is the farm?” Sophia stopped short of embracing him but shook his hand with more vigor than the occasion deserved. She was gratified her steward had sought her out.

“Say nothing of it. The horse is nervous without you. As for the farm…” His speech slowed. “I wish to discuss that with you. We received payment for this year’s wool, so finances look good for the present.”

Sophia looked down and said, “Gregory, I realize I haven’t always appreciated all you do for me. I want to thank you.”

With a furrowed brow, Mr. Gregory bowed his head. “Ah, Miss Sophia. It is nothing but a pleasure. I complain here and there that I don’t have enough to do, but I shouldn’t. You do a fine job.”

“No, I have muddled everything. I should have let you help me more in the beginning. Had I relied more on you, we would not be in this mess.”

“That is what I’ve come to talk to you about. We don’t have buyers for the fall crop…” Mr. Gregory frowned.

“Out with it, Gregory. Is it worse than I thought?”

He looked up sharply and shook his head. “Oh, not bad. At least, I hope not. I took the liberty of inquiring for you, and, at your word, I can strike a deal with Mr. Braithwaite for the grain.”

Sophia slapped a hand over her mouth. She’d tried doing business with Mr. Braithwaite in the past, but he’d declined on account of her being a woman, and she’d not allowed Mr. Gregory to intervene on her behalf. This was one way she had become so fully reliant on Mr. Burns. With her folly fully before her, Sophia understood Mr. Gregory’s discomfort. He didn’t think she would accept his help.

“I accept and thank you, Mr. Gregory.”

Her steward broke into a smile. “Very well. I will make it official. I would also ask, since you have your horse now, if you would come to the farm. Mr. Charles doesn’t do much, but what he does is…” He paused, seeming to search for a word. “…Foolish. If you came, it would remind everyone who runs the farm.”

Sophia laughed. “I would like nothing more.”

After that day, Sophia returned home two or three times per week. She found everything running smoothly. If her tenants had not greeted her with such enthusiasm, she might have thought her presence unnecessary. It was humbling to realize that she shouldn’t have been surprised at the competence of her workers.

When she and Mr. Gregory looked over expenses and discussed improvements, Sophia listened to him more and found she was learning. Mr. Gregory was capable and wise, and her tenants were hard working, loyal, and eager to please their mistress. Nothing had changed except that Sophia valued them more fully. Instead of re-doing shoddy work, as she might have done in the past, she would now explain problems and ensure that everything was done properly.

It was not all miserable at the squire’s estate either, and Sophia found a routine that was both productive and tranquil. She went to the farm, and she spent time with her mother, who was among those people she had taken for granted. Her mother had found her own solace in a sorely neglected portion of the garden, and Sophia joined her mother there every morning.

“Do you miss him?” her mother asked.

Knowing who her mother was talking about but not ready to comment, Sophia asked, “Who?”

“Philip.”

Since she had nothing to lose and no one else to confide in, Sophia said, “Every minute of every day.”

“Have you written?”

“Yes. But there is no reply. Letters have not helped us in the past.” Sophia told her mother about the letters Mrs. Eliot had withheld.

“I don’t think you have anything to fear from Mrs. Eliot anymore. She tried hard to befriend you, and she loves her son very much.”

“She annoyed Philip and pestered me. Perhaps one must be a mother to see it as you did.”