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“Well, sir, I will have you know that I would like to do what I can in your efforts. If you are in need of anyone to oversee the property—”
“You are generous indeed, sir, but I do believe Mr. Young has everything well in order.”
“Mr. Young, did you say?”
“Aye, your nephew of course. Quite a talented blacksmith, I must say. He’s generously offered to look after the work in the foundry while…”
Stockton continued speaking, but Philo heard none of it, while his mind chased and bound what he’d not dared even to consider. Joseph? Here with Hannah and posing as a relative?
Rage, disbelief, and confusion suffocated him, filling his lungs with their vile stench enough to force him to cough it free. It had to be Joseph. Who else could it be? Had they been together all this time? Had Ensign known of their continued love affair and sold to him for that purpose? Were they even married, or living in sin?
“Reverend, are you well?”
Philo coughed again, waving his hand in the air. “Aye, forgive me.”
He wouldn’t reveal her now. He couldn’t. If he wished Eaton Hill for himself, his hand must be played with ever more caution than before. He must find a commonality with this man, something to break the tension and form that bond that was the basis of trust. Only then would he be able to carve the needed path that would make Eaton Hill his own. With the war upon them, what of deeds and bonds? This man alone had the power, and Philo must harness it.
“If I may be so bold, Reverend…”
Philo peered up at Stockton’s sudden change of subject. “Aye, sir.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“She is eight and twenty and so much like her mother.” Though he hadn’t seen her in far too long, he knew such a statement to be more than true.
Stockton gazed to the window, a dreaminess in his soldierly expression. “I find it strange she has not married.”
Realization dawned, the spikes of light rising into the black corners of his remaining questions. He might have known Hannah would be the very thing that would unlatch the shackles and send Philo’s chains into a blissful free fall.
Philo stood, emboldened by this newfound knowledge. “I suppose…I suppose she never found a man to her liking.”
“Hmm.” Gaze unwavering from the window, Stockton nodded in thought. “I wonder what she shall do when the conflict is finished.” He looked to Philo with a minuscule slant of the head.
A more perfect interlude could not have been crafted. “There will need to be someone to care for the property—and for Hannah—for I doubt my nephew will stay on much longer.” For I shall throw him out.
Stockton’s quick shake of his head noted his agreement. “His trade takes him far and wide, I understand.”
Trade? What lies had the man told? “I worry over it, and my daughter.”
Striding to the lowboy in the corner, Stockton poured two drinks. “She seems an intelligent, capable woman. Not to mention her angelic beauty.” He handed Philo an amber-filled glass, secrets in his genial grin. “I daresay I must keep her from my soldiers, or she’s like to be stolen away by one or more of them.”
Bringing the cup to his mouth, Philo chuckled in politeness. However, the statement settled with little amusement. He took a sip of the tepid liquid. “I almost wonder—forgive me for speaking so openly—but I do almost wonder if my brother’s passing was not meant to be. I have long wished to mend what I have lost with my daughter, and it seems now is the chance. But…”
He paused, staring into the glass, hoping the man would bite at his dangling bait.
“You worry she will not trust you?”
Philo strode to the window. “I must have more time with her.” He turned back around, sighing in perfect choreography to his words. “But how to ease it upon her. I have made so many mistakes…”
Stockton’s jaw ticked, and he remained quiet before he leaned his head back and drained the rest of his drink. A flash of some unspoken grief flared, then died in his eyes. “I believe every parent feels the depth of their inadequacies.” Again he was silent, pensive. “I cannot speak for her of course, but…if you feel it needful, and as she allows, I will permit you to visit the property.”
“You are most generous, Major.” Wings of elation took flight, driving straight to the heavens, but he kept it hidden behind the slightest of smiles. “I should like to do my best to begin to mend my wrongs.”
Chin down, Stockton stared into his empty glass. “There is a ball this Saturday eve.”
“A ball?”
“’Tis for officers and other such of the king’s men, but Miss Young will be there as my guest. The presence of a Reverend would be prudent, would it not?” Stockton made a quick gesture before bringing the cup back to his lips. “You are welcome to attend if you like.”
