ChapterSix
It was, in fact, several days later before she saw Piers again.
He’d been called to London, and barely had time to pen her a brief note, simply saying there was sheep business afoot and he had to leave.
“Sheep business,” she muttered as she read the words. “Of course. Sheep. Always sheep.”
They’d come first, she realised, but they were his life’s work, so it was expected that they took priority over everything, including his father, Crawford Hall, and herself.
However, the time apart gave her the opportunity to fully focus her attention on the matter of the Crawford estate, and she found herself enjoying a regular conversation with Sir Gerald, where opinions and thoughts were freely exchanged, where discussions often turned into good-natured arguments, and where the basis for the growth of the Crawford heritage took shape.
She showed him areas where he could expand his holdings and adjust his investments accordingly. The mill a mile up the nearby river, was going under the hammer upon the death of the last miller. It would be pricey, but they both decided it would be worth it, since there were Crawford tenants who would leave a field for a mill, and there would always be a need for grain.
Again Sir Gerald betrayed his caution, but also his willingness to listen, and she found herself at his side as the week drew to a close, watching his glee at successfully purchasing what would now be known as Crawford Mill. She had arranged with the bank to set funds into an auxiliary account; they would be disbursed for the repair and maintenance of the mill itself, while the tenants would have their usual rents suspended for the time it took to get everything into good running order.
It was a plan that worked for the now and for the later, and she was justifiably proud of it. Sir Gerald was optimistic, happy to be involved in a new project, and the two of them declared themselves most satisfied with the way matters were progressing under Jessie’s guiding hand. It was pretty obvious that her presence as Estate Manager was something of a novelty in the village, and she received a few frowning glances from one particular party during the sale of the mill.
“I’m not sure I’m the most popular person here,” she whispered to Sir Gerald, under the pretext of pointing out a feature of the mill workings.
He looked casually around. “Ah, well, yes. The Fernsides. Your arrival has spiked their guns, I’m afraid.”
She blinked. “How so?”
“They see you as a threat, my dear. You are a lovely, intelligent and capable woman. And you are residing far too near Piers for Mrs Fernside’s comfort.”
“Are you serious?”
“Indeed.”
“Well…I…I don’t know what to say to that. What nonsense.” Jessie’s heart raced at Sir Gerald’s words.
“So much of what passes for polite social intercourse is nonsense, Miss Nightingale. I thought you would have recognised that by now.” He raised an amused eyebrow in her direction. “Never fear. The Fernside household is renowned for pursuing any avenue that might lead to a match for Miss Fernside. It’s been going on since she came of age.”
“Poor thing.” Jessie couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. “Women are continually auctioned off, aren’t they? Just like this mill. The highest bidder wins. Be it a wife or a piece of property. To so many, the two are indistinguishable.”
“That, my dear, is a sad truth.” He sighed. “But come. ‘Tis time to sign for our latest purchase. And that makes me one very happy man indeed. I trust you are pleased?” He led her to the small shelter where the transaction was to be finalised.
She accompanied him, little short of ecstatic.
At last someone was not only listening to her opinions, but taking them seriously and even acting upon them. She could not have been prouder of that mill had she bought the thing herself.
But that night she couldn’t help wondering what Piers would think. There had been no word from him for the time he’d been gone, but his father had noted that this was not unusual at all. Once sheep were involved, he told her, everything else was left by the wayside.
She’d nodded, understanding Piers’ commitment. So it was with a certain amount of shock that she heard a key in the lock of her front door late that evening.
She had already prepared herself for bed, Ben and Thompkins had taken care of their last duties, and she was alone, wearing her only nightgown and wrapped in a long warm woollen shawl.
Hoping it was Piers, but nervous that it might not be, she quietly picked up a poker from the fireplace and stood behind her bedroom door as footsteps sounded on the stairs.
“Jessie…”
The door swung open and she managed tonothit him on the head.
“God, Piers, you frightened me.”
“So I see,” he said dryly, removing the poker from her clenched fingers. “Let me take this, sweetheart. I’d rather we use it to stoke up the fire. But my compliments on your forethought. It would have rendered me senseless, had I been a thief.”
“I doubt a thief would attempt to break into a humble cottage. He’d go straight for the Hall.”
