An independent woman by nature, and solitary in her habits, it took a little getting used to. Sharing the breakfast table with a gentleman to whom she was not related…it turned out to be more exhilarating than embarrassing.
Finn’s willingness to help was evident, and Hecate was happy to accept his advice and suggestions, which she noted were readily given when requested, but not otherwise. A restraint she much appreciated.
Less than a week after that embrace—which neither had mentioned since—she was glad of his presence when a rap at the front door revealed two magnificently moustachioed men, standing erect, inquiring if there might be work to be had.
Finn had taken one look at them and demanded the names of their regiments.
Within moments, hands were shaken, salutes and laughter exchanged, and she left them to it while she ordered tea from Mrs. Trimmer.
Finn glanced at her as she returned and invited them into the salon, which now boasted a fire and a tray including small sandwiches.
“Thank you, Miss Hecate. They’re good men, these two.”
At that moment, both “good men” were looking nervous and unsure of what to do with themselves.
She chuckled. “Gentlemen, please make yourself comfortable. I have tea and some food here, and I certainly shall not be able to eat it all myself.”
Finn showed them the way, by pouring his own tea and filling a plate. “While you’re busy with all this, perhaps you can tell us what kind of work you’re looking for?” He returned to his seat. “I cannot believe a Hussar would settle for working as a groundskeeper…”
The taller man, whose name turned out to be Harvey Woodruff, shrugged. “We’ll take whatever we can get, Ma’am,” he said. “Neither Digby nor I can live on air, the army discharged us with little to live on, and there are too many others like us scraping for paying jobs. We’ve managed up to now, but this weather’s so bad that there’s no farm jobs anywhere. Everything else is either filled up or closed up.”
Digby—Hecate wasn’t sure if that was his first or last name—nodded in agreement. “Nothing but the truth, Ma’am. We even asked up and down the coast, since it’s likely there’s still fish to be had.” He sighed. “There’s ten men ready for each sailor’s boots.”
Hecate sipped her tea and thought about their problem, letting possible solutions dance around her mind, ignoring some, considering others. She listened with half an ear to their conversation with Finn, paying barely any attention while her mind roamed over any way at all she might be able to help.
And then, completely out of the blue, it came to her.
“Do you two know much about farming? I mean actually running a farm, not just working one. Planting, crops, yields, all that sort of thing?”
She noticed Finn’s head turn to her as she asked the question, but she wanted an answer before going any further.
Harvey spoke. “In truth, Miss Ridlington, and not to boast of my own capabilities, I could manage a farm quite well, I think.” He glanced down, his face colouring. “My father owned a fair acreage when I was a lad, and I had a hand in the running of it. He let me take care of the books, the buying and selling, replenishing stock…things like that. He was not in the best of health and as he failed, I took over more and more of it.”
“You never mentioned that…” Digby stared at his friend, his mouth agape.
“No, well there wasn’t much time for chat about backgrounds in the middle of the fight, now, was there?”
“I suppose not.” Digby still appeared shocked. “Well, for my part, I know a bit about the land. Although my family weren’t landowners…” he shot a frown at Harvey, “we were involved in some business with all the local farmers around where we lived. My father was what he liked to call an agent. He’d put farmers and buyers in touch with each other. If one farmer needed a good load of fresh hay, we’d send him to whoever had more than they needed. So I got to know about crops and planting. Which is why I can see how bad things are right now when it comes to the land.” He shook his head.
Finn looked at Hecate once more. “Those are excellent answers, lads. I have to wonder why Miss Hecate asked?”
She smiled. “All right. Here’s what I’m thinking.” She put her cup down, rose from her seat and reached for her cane, walking across the room and opening a desk. She withdrew a map, and brought it back to the group around the fire. “If I might ask you gentlemen to look at this…” She unfolded it onto a side table, muttering as it flopped over the side. “Too large, but that’s no matter.” She straightened it as best she could. “Here.” She tapped a finger on the map. “This is what I’d like you to see.”
Her finger rested on a marked lot of land at the boundary of Doireann Vale’s holdings.
“This is, or I should say, was, a farm at one time. I’d guess it has been without tenants for at least a year, and the fields have run amok. There are still some good stalls there, which is why it attracted my attention in the first place, and there’s even a farmhouse with good bones, although repairs are needed. Quite a few repairs.”
The two men leaned over as Finn came to Hecate’s side and watched over her shoulder. She could feel his heat against her spine and the sensation was pleasant if distracting.
“There’s water…” muttered Digby.
“And it looks like a road here, down to the village. Makes for easy transportation.”
Hecate let them comment and review the situation for a few more moments, unwilling to move away from Finn’s warmth. She turned away from them and toward Finn’s face. “They’re good men, you said?”
He nodded. “The best,” he breathed.
“Very well.” She put her hand on the map once more. “Gentlemen, if you are in agreement, I would like to ask you to take over this property.”
