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Chapter 10
The Taste of Summer Apples
The life of a farmer was a busy one, Laurence knew. In the summer most of all, when there was always some chore that needed doing. Though he had enough skilled, seasoned hands to take care of it themselves, Laurence would rarely be seen sitting idle at this time of year.
Crops would need water, fences would need mending, the flocks would need minding or to be moved to a new patch of grass. It was a wonderful talent he had cultivated that he could always invent a chore to help keep his mind occupied or escape conversation with a boring acquaintance.
But try as he might to invent a chore for himself, on this particular afternoon Laurence found himself quite unable to think of anything productive to do with himself. In fact, there was really only one thing on his mind.
“I don’t suppose you’re busy this afternoon, Miss Ramsbury?” he asked as he poked his head around the corner into the upstairs library.
Laurence blinked in the bright sunlight flooding into the narrow, dusty room, and it took him a moment to realize Alicia was sitting in a different chair than where she had in their previous meeting there. When his eyes adjusted to the light and sighted her, he saw that she was virtually glowing in the room’s yellow radiance.
“As a matter of fact, I was.” She held up the spine of the book that was lying open in her lap.
“Tom Jones!” he said, feeling his eyebrows inch up his forehead. “Quite a scandalous read for a cultured young lady.”
“Oh yes, entirely. I was wondering just what it was doing on the bookshelf of an upstanding young man,” Alicia answered with an arch grin.
Giving an uncharacteristically uncomfortable laugh, Laurence rubbed the back of his head ruefully. “Yes, well,” he explained. “Apart from the literary achievements of Mister Fielding, which are quite remarkable…”
“Yes?” asked Alicia, smiling wickedly.
“It’s also one of the most positive, loving portrayals of country life I’ve encountered,” Laurence continued with greater confidence. “Tom’s country squire adoptive father may be a bit of a scallywag, but he and his children enjoy country life to its fullest. To be honest, I was entirely surprised by how much I enjoyed the story given its reputation, but now I find myself returning to it quite often. To, ah… certain parts of it, that is.”
Laurence only noticed Alicia’s look of impressed surprise when he finished his oration, at which point she adopted a more casual expression. “Actually, I had only just started reading. The last time Grace caught me with an ‘improper’ novel it was tossed into the fireplace. But I’m glad to know there’s so much to enjoy in it, and I look forward to…certain parts of it, at least!”
“Well,” said Laurence with an oddly melancholy sigh, “I shall leave you to it, then. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on—”
“Actually,” said Alicia brightly as she stood, book in hand. “I was thinking it was getting a bit stuffy in here. I was hoping you might come round with any other chores I could help with—well, not you, exactly, but someone, certainly.”
Laurence’s mouth curled in an eager smile, charmed by the blush that rose to Alicia’s rosy cheeks at her protestations. “In that case, we are both in luck, I should say.”
With one hand he held up the large, heavy basket he had carried upstairs with him. “What are your thoughts on…apples?”
* * *
“I confess, I had never heard ofsummerapples.”
Laurence tried so hard to keep the smile from his face, but Alicia did not make it easy as she took another eager bite of her apple. “I can’t imagine why not. There’s really no equal to them in flavour.” From the pleased-sounding noises coming from Alicia, he decided she must concur.
Pausing in thought as he plucked a fat, ripe yellow apple from a branch and dropped it in their basket, he amended his proclamation. “Come to think of it, I wonder if they’re not just one of our well-kept secrets out here. If the city people knew about our summer apples, I don’t think we’d have any left for ourselves. That would be quite a shame—they’re really the best part of the season. And they grow so well in these parts that I don’t even mind bringing a few back for Mary-Anne.”
Alicia finished the last bite of her apple and tossed the core into the grass, then wiped her mouth on her sleeve and resumed her picking duties. The basket was nearly full, but the boughs were still full of the first harvest of the season.
“That’s something I have been so very impressed by since coming here,” she said thoughtfully.
“Summer apples? I might have guessed after we finished our second and third ones,” Laurence said with a chuckle.
“Not just that,” Alicia laughed good-naturedly. “Seasons.”
“Do you not have seasons in London, then?”
“Not the way you do here. Summer in London is a ghastly affair, most of the time. With the heat, everything grows quite sweaty, and all the dirt and dust clings to the body most horribly. To say nothing of the smell.”
Laurence made a disgusted face in sympathy for this plight.
“Here, though…” Alicia continued, a note of wonder coming to her voice. “There’s so much that seems so lovely about this season! I know that I don’t have much to compare it to other times of the year, but you and Mary-Anne are forever pointing out some special food or flower or smell that can only be enjoyed at this precise time in the calendar. Not that I need your expertise to notice, even—it’s like everything around us here is just so…bursting with life, and beauty, and…”
