“Yes.”
“How? How can you?”
Steadman nodded with a tremulous smile and wiped the moisture from his eyes. “Because I have recently found something more powerful than vengeance. I have found the love of a magnificent woman.”
His father sniffed and returned the smile. “Whoever she is, I am happy for you.”
“What if she is poor? A tenant’s daughter, or a swine herd, or a milkmaid? What if she wears men’s clothing?”
The baron shook his head. “I mean what I say. If you love her, then I will, too.”
The mounting wave of epiphany crested and broke, and Steadman gathered his father into an embrace for the first time in his life. His father returned the clench, but tighter. In seconds, other arms encircled him. He looked up from his father’sshoulder to find his mother and Evelyn with their heads buried in his back, crying. He was glad to have his family surrounding him, for he surely would have collapsed to the floor without their physical support. His family had always been too proper for shows of emotion and loving embraces. Unknowingly, Morgan had changed them all. He wished she were present to witness the miracle of her mad creation.
After what seemed an hour, the embrace softened, and they pulled apart. Steadman wiped his eyes with embarrassment, even while chastising himself for feeling that way. He sniffled and addressed his abashed father.
“So, Dunwoody fooled you?”
“He did, and I was desperate to believe his lies. I needed to improve our financial situation for the sake of your mother and sister before it is too late.”
Steadman peered deeply into his father’s eyes, hearing the unspoken. “What are you not telling me?”
“I am dying, son. So the doctors tell me.”
The news stunned Steadman. Shock and sorrow settled into his soul as he considered that death always has the final word on justice. What could he do? What would Morgan advise? An answer came with the resolution of a new dawn.
“We must choose another path, then.”
His father squinted with suspicious interest. “What other path? My reputation is in tatters and tenants will not work our land. Our means of income are limited, short of selling your heritage to Lord Radnor or others.”
“Make amends,” he said. “Beginning now.”
“Amends?” asked Evelyn. “What can be done after all this time?”
“We shall sell the wheat back to the farmers for half the price they paid. That will recoup half of your liquid funds.”
His father shook his head. “Would that not simply hasten our final ruin? And leave your mother and sister in dire straits sooner?”
“Let him speak, John,” said his mother softly. Steadman smiled at her and kissed the top of her head.
“Use the goodwill of selling at half price to gain an audience with the farmers and farm workers. Form a collective effort to help all the local families through the difficult winter ahead. And dedicate ourselves to preserving the small family farms. People are the true richness of England, not the land. We will recover.”
Only after speaking did Steadman realize how thoughts of “them” had changed to visions of “us.” His father’s slow nod became more enthusiastic as he pondered the plan. “Yes. Yes. That is exactly what we will do.”
“Very well.” Steadman straightened his desperately crumpled cravat. “I will gather men tomorrow and we will return the wheat, you and I together.”
“And then what?”
“And then I must be off to London to win again the favor of a certain young woman who currently thinks me the worst of cretins.”
Evelyn put a hand to her mouth. “The woman I saw with you at Broad Chalke?”
“The very same.”
His sister smiled sweetly, uncharacteristic for one of her mettle. “She is lovely, brother.”
“I agree, though she is much more than just a pretty face. And I nearly let her go. As God is my witness, I will not make the same mistake twice.”
Chapter Twenty-One
