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Chapter 5
The conversationat the hazard table picked up once more, and finally, the topic of Lady Nightingale seemed to have come to an end. Alice relaxed a bit and turned her focus to listening silently. A few other ladies were brought up; apparently, Lord Brooks and Lord Robins had a mutual friend who would very soon be engaged. Lord Sempill crowed that he was seriously looking for a wife since his estates had done exceptionally well that year.
This brought the conversation around to the year’s profits. A few of the men boasted of their gain. Many more complained that the unexpectedly wet spring had ruined more than one field of crops. Alice could relate. Several of her farmers had come to her with multiple issues. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d faced the problems head on, consulted with everyone under her charge, read every book she could get her hands on, and in the end, they’d managed to save most of their crops.
Alice listened closely to best learn who was wise with their holdings and who was simply sitting on their hands, expecting those who leased the land to figure out the problems themselves. Several of the men fell into the first category, none of whom she remembered by name. Next time she would certainly have to do a better job at recalling names after being introduced.
“It was a rough year, indeed,” Lord Robins said. “Wouldn’t you say, Brooks? You lost more of your crop than I did, I know.”
Alice wasn’t sure what keeping a man like Lord Robins around as a friend said about Lord Brooks. It was quite clear the man couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended upon it.
Lord Brooks lifted a hand and half shrugged. “The spring corn took it the hardest.”
Alice found herself nodding. Several of her farmers, too, had struggled with their spring corn.
“I told you to do as Townshend recommends and rotate your crop,” Lord Robins chided, shaking a finger at his friend.
“Good, ol’ Turnip Townshend,” one of the other men said with a chuckle. “Where would England be without him and the four-field crop rotation?”
More laughs. Though Lord Brooks smiled along with them, Alice could see weariness in his eyes, too. He didn’t appear to be a man who cared but little for his loss of crops.
“Brooks doesn’t subscribe to Townshend,” Lord Robins continued.
The other men looked at him, most in surprise. Alice could not stop herself from doing the same. Townshend was regarded a brilliant mind and many a landowner had him to thank for their profits.
Lord Brooks gave his friend a pointed glare before responding. “Most of my land is divided out into farms too small to rotate through four different crops.”
“So, get rid of some of your farmers,” one of the men scoffed. “Condense the holdings.”
Robins laughed. “That’s what I keep telling him. But Brooks doesn’t listen well. He’s too worried about the farmers’ families and health and babies and well-being.”
“You’ll only drag the lot under,” Lord Sempill said. “You’d be better off by letting a few farmers go so that the others can live better.”
“Not to mentionyou’lllive better,” another man said. “Speaking of, did I tell you all my brother’s news?”
Again, the conversation shifted, this time drifting off toward news of families. Scandal and unexpected deaths. Hunting trophies and promotions in the army.
Lord Brooks returned to his paper beside Alice. The conversation had made it clear that he struggled financially, no matter that he was titled and owned land. She couldn’t help but be touched that, despite his own tight situation, he’d not passed his hard times on to others, requiring them to pay the price for his own comfort. So many men she’d known had done exactly that; it was easy to assume that’s howallmen acted.
She knew a sudden desire to help him—this man who her own father had hurt.
The late Mr. Grant had used people his entire life. He saw them as nothing but steppingstones, as rungs on a ladder. Alice’s mother he’d used for her connections and wealth and to bring a title into his family. He’d used Alice much the same way, marrying her off the moment she was old enough to be a temptation to one of his associates. He’d used her to further his own influence and positions. She may not have known much about his dealings with other gentlemen, but she imagined he’d used them as well. Any chance he got, any person who showed the slightest signs of being of use, Mr. Grant had taken advantage.
She didn’t often feel called upon to right her father’s wrongs, but if she could make a small penance to this man for what her father had done, she shouldn’t let the opportunity pass her by.
“Have you read Mills’sA New System of Practical Husbandry?” she asked Lord Brooks in a quiet voice.
He peeled the paper back a small bit, eying her. “I am in possession of volumes one through three.”
She’d forgotten to take into account that Lord Brooks already hated her. He probably assumed she was being condescending or overly forward. Then again, she was a man just now. So perhaps not?
“Mills is an advocate of small farms,” Alice explained. “There are volumes four and five in the library at Evergreen Cottage. I am sure Lady Nightingale would not mind if I loaned them out to you.”
His cold demeanor didn’t thaw. “Much obliged to you, I’m sure.” He flicked the paper back up into place, blocking her view of him once more.
Alice watched the paper for several minutes. It was acutely painful to know there was at least one person in England who thought she was exactly like her father. As the other men ended their game of hazard and drifted off toward other entertainment, the excitement began to wear on Alice, making her more tired than anything.
After a moment, she stood, bid farewell to the few gentlemen still speaking with Lord Robins, and headed toward the door.
