“More than fair,” Maxwell repeated, as the pungent smell of burning vegetation wafted through the air. Seeking the source, he turned to see Louisa Northcott chatting to a fellow by a walled corner of the garden, where a small bonfire dispatched a thin spiral of smoke skyward. “The resident gardener, I presume?”
“Yes,” Aldous replied. “My daughter has a fondness for him. He’s quite the storyteller, apparently.”
At that precise moment, any remaining doubts about leasing Northcott Manor drifted away, much like the spiraling smoke. While not prone to fanciful notions, Maxwell nevertheless felt, for want of a better word, a sudden sense ofrightnessabout the place. He put the feeling down to his well-honed business instinct. This was, after all, a business transaction.
“I’ve seen enough, Captain,” he said, turning to look Aldous in the face. “I’ll take a twelve-month lease beginning in April. As we’ve discussed, and as part of the agreement, I shall maintain the manor and cover all expenses for the duration, including the wages of those staff already here. Any additional staff will be interviewed and employed at my discretion, though you will be kept notified of any new hirings.”
Smiling broadly, Aldous held out a hand. “Excellent, Mr. Harlow. I’m truly happy to hear it.”
“As am I,” Julian added, with genuine ardor. “Excellent, indeed.”
Maxwell shook Aldous’s hand for a prolonged moment, appreciating the solidity of the man’s grip, something he recognized as a measure of sincerity. “I trust you’ll send me the necessary documentation.”
“I’ll have my solicitor prepare the papers within the week,” Aldous said. “To be sent to your Sheffield office, I presume?”
Maxwell nodded. “Aye, thank you. I look forward to having you as my landlord, Captain.”
“Business agreements aside, Mr. Harlow,” Aldous said, “I hope you and your future wife will come to look upon the Northcott family as friends and neighbors.”
*
Louisa witnessed thehandshake that affirmed Northcott Manor had acquired a new tenant. Reuben noticed it too.
“Getting a new master, it seems.” The gardener piled more damp debris on the fire, invigorating the plume of smoke. “Captain’ll be happy, I reckon.”
“Yes, I’m sure he will,” Louisa replied, her heart beating just a little bit faster than it had a minute ago. Maxwell Harlow’s decision was not, however, a great surprise. She’d had an inkling he’d take the lease, judging by his demeanor as his inspection of the manor progressed. “I’m sure you’ll like Mr. Harlow, Reuben. He’s a nice gentleman.”
“I get along with most folk, Mistress, be they pleasant or otherwise.” He leaned on the handle of his garden rake and gave her a wink. “But I only care to spend time with the pleasant ones.”
Louisa laughed. “A good philosophy.”
“Louisa,” her father called. “We’re leaving.”
“All right, Papa,” she replied and turned her attention back to Northcott’s ancient gardener. “I’m leaving for London next week, Reuben, so I’ll say goodbye for now. I’ll see you in three months, or thereabouts.”
“Don’t rush into it, Miss,” came the reply. “Be sure he’s deserving of you.”
She blinked “Who?”
“Whoever you decide to wed.” The column of smoke faltered as he added fresh fodder to the fire. He gave her another wink. “Let him chase you till you catch him.”
*
After the carriageride back to Highfield, Maxwell Harlow bid farewell and left a little before noon, riding off on his big, black horse with the dapple-gray mare in tow. According to Louisa’sfather, by the time everyone returned from the Season, the new tenant of Northcott Manor would be in residence. And, since his marriage to Miss Chessington was due to take place at the end of April, the lady would undoubtedly be living there also.
After lunch, which she barely picked at, Louisa wandered into the library, grabbed a book, and curled up on one of the settees. She sought a distraction, something to steer her thoughts away from a man whose departure that morning had left her feeling irritatingly bereft.
Several hours later, if anyone had asked what her book was about, she would not have been able to answer with any great accuracy. She had merely turned the pages while her thoughts flitted about like bothersome flies.
If anything, meeting Maxwell Harlow, and saying farewell to him, had strengthened her resolve to find herself a husband before the end of the Season. It seemed unlikely she’d find someone who affected her quite the way Maxwell had. At least, not initially. But surely a slow blossoming of mutual attraction was better than this chaotic jumble of emotions that currently weighed upon her.
Dinner that evening had been something of a celebratory event, her father’s delight at having secured a tenancy for the manor quite evident. His mood had been infectious, and by the time Louisa climbed the stairs with her mother to light Uncle Julian’s candle, her melancholy had lifted somewhat.
She watched her mother light the wick and tried not to think about the previous night’s conversation, in that exact same spot, with Maxwell Harlow.
“You’ve been very quiet today, my darling,” her mother said. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine, Mama,” Louisa replied, smiling. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”
