She stopped and examined her thoughts. Why was she so concerned that Henry and Martha Atkins would come after her? In truth, they were most likely relieved to have one less mouth to feed. But then she remembered Martha’s outburst. Who were the Uxleys?
Somebody had paid the Grimms to look after her for as long as she could remember. Was it someone in the Uxley family? Could be she was a by blow. But if that was the case, they’d have stopped paying for her years ago. Nobody cared about bastards – especially female ones. George had wrestled with just such thoughts since she’d first heard the name. And always she came to the same conclusion. Her real name was Georgiana Uxley, and deep down, she didn’t believe the Grimms would simply let her go.
∞∞∞
‘I’m given to understand that my father has already mentioned my hope that you’ll come to work for me once your ankle’s restored.’ Anthony was carrying two bowls, one of which George hoped contained her supper. She was right. He put one on the floor for Nelson and handed the other one to her.
She took it eagerly, dug the spoon in and shovelled a spoonful of the hot stew into her mouth. She was bloody starving.
She didn’t see Anthony lift his eyebrows at her voracious appetite, but if she had, she wouldn’t have given a damn. In George’s world, if food was offered, it was eaten as quickly as possible.
‘Seemed to me there were no‘opeabout it,’ she said at length, her mouth still full.
‘Despite my father’s less than subtle phrasing, I would not force you to come and work for me.’
‘I’d like to see you try,’ George scoffed, finally placing her empty bowl on the floor.
Sighing, Anthony sat down next to her, and Nelson immediately snuggled up at his side.
‘You are, of course, free to leave whenever you wish. There is no obligation. You certainly don’t have to come and work for me.’ He paused and shrugged, ‘But you said you were looking for work, and I am looking to employ somebody, so…’ He trailed off and absently stroked Nelson’s ears.
‘What’s Bovey Manor?’ George asked.
‘It’s my home,’ Anthony responded. ‘Or it will be. There is some … restoration work needed to make it fully liveable.’ George didn’t miss the pause. Likely the bloody house was all but falling down.
‘I’ve already employed two men to help me put the outside to rights,’ Anthony continued, and I have a housekeeper of sorts who will come in daily to see that we’re fed. Now I need a labourer. One willing to work hard in return for a roof over his head, food in his belly and ten shillings a week.’ She saw him look at her critically. ‘You’re quite small, but doubtless you’ll grow some more, and you told me you’re strong.’
Ha, he’d be lucky to see her grow another bloody inch, but ten shillings a week was more than she’d likely earn in Plymouth and that was without food and board. For as long as it lasted. ‘What’ll ‘appen when the ‘ouse is finished?’ she questioned. ‘You just throw me out?’
Anthony frowned and shook his head. ‘I’m not in the habit of throwing those who serve me well onto the street. There will likely be a multitude of daily tasks to be done around the house - especially once I marry.’ He gave a dark chuckle and shook his head. ‘Doubtless you’ve had little experience with the fairer sex up to now, George, but you won’t stay a lad forever, and if you wish it, there’ll be a place for your wife too if you decide to get leg shackled.’
Georgiana didn’t hear pastonce I marry. For some reason, she didn’t want to think about her rescuer taking a wife.
‘Where is the ‘ouse? Is it ‘ere in Blackmore?’
Anthony shook his head. ‘It’s about ten miles away give or take. Just outside the village of Little Bovey. The house stands in about twelve acres which I intend to farm…’ He paused before finishing with, ‘So what do you think? Will you come and work for me?’
In truth, George had little choice. What else was she going to do? She looked down at the stable floor and picked at a piece of straw. She had to at least look as if she was actually considering the matter. After a couple of minutes, she looked back up and caught him staring at her, a thoughtful look on his face. Face flaming, she drew herself up haughtily and agreed to give him a six-month trial.
∞∞∞
A six-month trial. Anthony couldn’t help chuckling. The bloody cheek of the lad. Still he was a likeable young rogue, and Anthony couldn’t in all conscience simply abandon the boy. There would be little work in Blackmore, and though he knew neither his father nor Grace and Nicholas would see the lad without a roof over his head, George wasn’t their responsibility.
Anthony didn’t know why he felt so strongly that he had to take the lad with him to Little Bovey, he only knew that it felt the right thing to do. Ever since he’d spied the distant figure hobbling down the road, he’d felt an urge to take care of the boy. He supposed it meant he’d likely make a good father at least. He grinned to himself. Two waifs and strays in as many weeks. Peter would think him dicked in the nob.
∞∞∞
They arrived at Bovey Manor just as the sun began to sink, casting long shadows over the unkempt driveway. George wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t a house that looked as though it had come straight from the pages of a fairy tale with its crumbling grey stone walls and mullioned windows.Needs refurbishmentwas a complete Canterbury tale. It needed knocking down more like. She glanced over at Anthony who exuded excitement. ‘What do you think?’ he quizzed turning towards her.
‘It’s a bloody dump,’ was on the tip of her tongue, but instead George managed a faint. ‘I reckon we’ve got a lot o’ work to do.’
‘I think it actually looks worse than it is,’ Anthony chuckled, climbing down from the cart and grabbing hold of a wriggling Nelson. ‘Go and unlock the door, then you can help me unload the cart.' He handed over a large ornate key, and with a sudden inexplicable surge of excitement, George took it and hurried over to the large front door. The lock was stiff, but after a few seconds, she managed to turn the key and force the door open.
The door opened up into a large hall, but before she could step inside to investigate, Anthony shouted, ‘Get your arse over here, George. I want to get everything inside and the horse bedded down before we lose the light.’
Both the horse and the cart had been a last-minute gift from Nicholas. ‘In part because I naturally wish to see you arrive at your destination safe and sound,’ he’d commented, ‘but also because my wife would never have spoken to me again had I allowed you to walk the ten miles carrying everything you own on your back.’
An hour later they’d piled the whole of the cart’s contents on the floor in a room that had evidently been a study in a former life. Nelson had been very little help, spending the whole time running backwards and forwards in a fever of excitement. At one point, George had had to stifle her laughter as the mongrel nearly sent Anthony arsey varsey into the bloody fireplace.
