Page 27 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

Christine turned toward him, her brow creased. “She came to return your handkerchief. Then we discussed her plans for a girls’ school.”

“I am sorry I missed her visit,” Harry said, deflating slightly. Had she asked after him? She likely guessed he would be at Whitewood, since he told her that’s where he spent his days. Daisy, for he could hardly think of her as anything else, had purposefully come when he would not be present. Had he offended her again somehow?

His sister was staring at him with a peculiar, tight-lipped expression. Harry swiftly latched on to the latter part of her explanation. “A girls’ school?”

“Mm.” Christine regarded him a moment longer, looking as though she meant to puzzle him out. “She wishes to open a school for the village girls, to give them a basic education in reading, writing, arithmetic, etiquette. To help better them and their future prospects for employment and families. I think it is a marvelous idea.”

“It sounds forward-thinking of her.” Thomas tipped his head to study his wife. “Although I imagine such an undertaking would require a bit of work on her part.”

“Yes. She was quite discouraged when she first spoke of the idea.” Christine went on to describe the difficulties Daisy had faced in the doubt and amusement of some of their neighbors, then said, “I told her she had my support. I will happily contribute funds and whatever influence I can to her cause. But there are women with more influence than I have who might help. Like Cousin Virginia.”

Harry listened with real interest but said nothing. Daisy dreamt of opening a school for girls, a school that sounded as though it would be more of a charitable organization than one based on payments received. It was a noble plan, showing her kindness and practicality in a way he could not help but admire.

I wonder if there is anything I might do to help? The coffers his father had built up over the years were substantial. If he could manage to find a steward to his liking, a portion of his money could be appointed toward good causes, such as the school.

“Have you decided what to do about the estate yet?” Thomas asked, interrupting Harry’s thoughts. The abrupt change in conversation gave him pause.

Whitewood. It had hardly been home during his school years. There were few warm memories of his parents there, though he could readily picture his sisters in the gardens and rooms. He’d hardly done more than enter the study since he’d returned. He met with the men under his employment and was gone again before dinner.

Daisy’s words came back to him, about the servants’ happiness to have him there. “I am thinking, more and more, that perhaps I should reopen the house,” he said slowly.

Christine jolted forward, eyes large and mouth falling open. “Really, Harry? You might stay?”

“I might. For a time.” He could not imagine his affairs coming into order speedily. Though he’d now spent three weeks working through ledgers, books, and interviews with farmers on the side of the road, he felt he had yet to attain more than a primary education on what it meant to have holdings such as his father left him.

“We would be delighted to have you in the neighborhood.” Thomas’s expression remained somewhat neutral as he spoke. “Though I caution you against raising the hopes of people round about. A man with your amount of lands and finances would be considered an important one, should you stay, and that would extend your responsibility in other ways. People would watch you, Harry.”

Harry wanted to groan and say it had been nothing but a wild thought, not an actual decision. But Daisy’s low soprano voice, the expectant tilt of her head when she spoke to him of sheep and shepherds, entered his mind again.

“Then I had better make very few mistakes.” Harry forced a smile. “I will begin preparations to move back into the house. I will tell the staff tomorrow. I imagine they will want to take on a few more servants.”

Christine moved to the edge of the couch, her hands clutched before her in something like glee. “The fair. It is next week. Your housekeeper and butler can hire anyone they need. The groundsmen, too. And there are to be carriage-makers. It is the perfect time for you to set up house.”

Thomas, still leaning back in his corner of the couch, appeared to be admiring his wife’s enthusiasm. “The house is set up, Chrissy. It just needs filling.” He redirected his grin to Harry. “And with more than servants. If you intend to stay, every young woman in the county not spoken for will set their hopes on you.”

Though he laughed at the teasing, Harry’s heart picked up speed. If Thomas’s prediction included a certain vicar’s daughter, Harry found he did not mind the idea of husband hunters as much as he otherwise might.

A month ago, he hadn’t a thought about courting anyone. Yet Daisy’s presence in his thoughts, her opinion growing in importance to him, bent his thoughts in that direction. He’d secured her friendship. What would it be like, and would it even be possible, to secure her heart?

And did he want to?

Chapter Ten

The image of Miss Ames’s indignant frown when Harry called her by her childhood name stayed with him, amusing him throughout the day. A time or two, he had nearly thought of her as Augusta, but the name did not suit her. Not so well as Daisy.

He needed that picture in his mind to get him through the day. His solicitor, Mr. Carew, had brought a box full of paperwork. There were contracts from every investment his father had made, lists of people who owed Mr. Devon money, and reports from overseas where his father had invested heavily in the West Indies and Americas. The sums were enormous, the variation in schemes too much for Harry to understand the reasoning behind all of them.

Trying to organize his thoughts on his estate and his father’s investments had left him with something of a headache. After days of sorting through numbers and percentages, Mr. Carew and Harry agreed to meet at the inn to speak of which investments could be dropped and which maintained.

A new steward needed to materialize quickly. Harry couldn’t continue managing everything on his own.

Clouds hung heavily in the sky when Harry prepared for his trip to the village. He ordered the old family coach to avoid coming home in the rain. But, once in Annesbury village, Harry thought of other errands he might see to before meeting with his solicitor.

“Simmons,” he addressed his coachman. “I have a few things to see to today. Why don’t you take an hour to visit with your sister? She lives nearby, does she not?”

The coachman’s eyes widened. “She does at that, sir. Thank you.” Then he glanced up at the sky. “Though it looks like rain might be falling soon.”

“Better make it two hours, then.” Harry grinned and waved the man along. “I’ll be at the inn if the sky starts to fall.” He turned on his heel and strode away before the surprised Simmons could utter another word of thanks. Though it was happening slowly, Harry learned more about his servants with each passing day. It was time to show them they were worth more than second-hand boxing gifts and a minimal salary.