Winnifred nodded. “Yes, but he also believed that gypsum should be used to fertilize the soil. He believed that it sped the growing time of crops.”
“And does it?” Gavin paused, a nut halfway to his mouth.
“Well, no, not as far as our tests went, but his ideas have inspired many chemists to experiment in the same vein.” She poured herself a cup of tea and tapped her thumb on the rim of the cup
Sin waited until he could take it no more. “And? Any results that signified?”
“I’m afraid agriculture will always be a work in progress.” She settled herself back in her seat, her ankles crossed neatly. “There have been promising studies. I— my father believes nitrogen may show the most promise. It is a chemical found in both water and the air, but not in significant enough quantities to increase current yields. A few natural philosophers believe it is also found in the roots of legumes, which is why crop rotation systems that include those plants tend to show better results. Mr. Fraser, if you aren’t growing any legumes currently, I would encourage you to add them to your crops.”
Sin leaned forward. Had his father known this? He didn’t think Kenmore grew peas or beans in any significant quantity, but he’d have to discuss it with Tavish. “And this nitrogen, it travels from the roots into the soil?”
Winnifred nodded. “Just so. But we’ve been investigating whether it is also released when legume plant matter decays. Before …” She blushed and smoothed a hand down her leg. “Before my marriage, my father had been planning to experiment on this theory. I’d created a bin where I put chopped up peas and left it in the sun. I, we, were going to spread a thin layer of it over the soil while growing strawberries to see if it aided the process.”
Peas and beans he could get. “Would that help this harvest?”
Winnifred raised her shoulders. “An experiment like this would take much trial and error. And there would need to be fields left as they were to appropriately measure the variables. It could take years to see any results.”
Sin’s shoulders slumped. So, still no answers. Nothing was bloody growing and no hope in sight for at least a year. His people didn’t have a year.
He rubbed his forehead. “Gavin, were you in Glasgow when the riot broke out? The one where Lord Abercairn was injured?”
His friend blew out his cheeks. “I heard of the incident. I didnae witness it.”
“And?” His friend wasn’t stupid. He knew what Sin was asking.
Gavin shrugged. “Tempers are hot. Especially against the English. And anyone who supports them.” He gave Sin a measuring look. “You need to step lightly, my friend. I know where yer loyalties lie, but a member of the House of Lords, with a new English bride, will be a ripe target.”
“Has it really gotten so bad?” Winnifred set her tea down and clasped her hands together. “Was Lord Abercairn attacked just because he sits in the House of Lords?”
“You don’t have to worry.” Sin fisted his right hand, the knuckles cracking. “No harm will come to you.”
She turned her sky-blue eyes on him. “It wasn’t me I was worried about.”
There was a pregnant silence, until Gavin cleared his throat. “The talk is always there, but it’s louder now. I almost believe it will happen this time.”
“What will happen?” Winnifred asked.
“Rebellion,” Sin said grimly. The dream of every Scot.
“Self-governance,” Gavin moderated. “After the English returned British Java to the Dutch, hope has been renewed. Mayhap the English bit off more than they could chew, trying to control the world.”
“Self-governance won’t put food in our bellies.” Sin ground his jaw. In times of privation, it was necessary to enhance alliances, not break them asunder. The English had many faults, but in times of need they would support their northern brethren.
Unless the Scottish turned on them, inciting violence to the point where they cut off aid.
His mother breezed into the room. “Gavin! Dear, how are you?”
Gavin and Sin stood, and his friend pressed a light kiss on his mother’s upturned cheek. “Better, now that I’ve seen your bonnie face.”
She slapped his shoulder. “You always were such a flirt, even as a lad.” She turned to Sin. “Did you ever tell your wife about the time the two of you climbed through a bog to pick me some wildflowers. You came back covered in muck and smelling worse than the stables.”
“We were eight, mother.” But flowers weren’t a bad idea. Perhaps a bit of wooing would encourage his wife to be more open.
His mother pinched his cheek. “It still showed an unmatched level of devotion.” She shot an undecipherable look at Winnifred.
Gavin set his glass down. “Well, I must be getting back. My Maura will be missing me.”
“Before you leave, can ye take a look at my basil?” His mother gave Gavin the smile that had wrapped his father right around her finger. “You are the best plant doctor around.”
