“We can afford new furniture.”
“Can we?” He nodded. “Still, we shouldn’t throw these pieces out.” She went over to the bed and knocked her knuckles on the post. “It’s a solid piece, only in need of a few repairs.”
“Hm. I suppose I can use some of these pieces for the tenant houses.”
She smiled.
“That would be a wonderful idea. After they’ve had a good polish.” She took a step towards him, but her foot landed on a soft spot, and she tripped forward. Bracingly, she was caught in Rhys’s arms and hauled up instantly. She looked behind her at the spot on the floor. “Perhaps we could redo the floors as well,” she said turning back to face him. He gave her a look and seemed to hesitate. “Yes? What is it?”
“It’s just that, now that you’re here, I’m not terribly pleased with the idea of putting you to work. I had planned to have a house ready and working in proper order before I sought a wife. It wasn’t my intent to do this.”
Louisa’s smile faltered only slightly. He didn’t want her to work like some sort of servant, and yet, what else was she supposed to do?
“I assure you, I’m plenty capable of cleaning. And come this time next year, we’ll have a properly functioning estate, and it will be all the sweeter having worked on it ourselves, don’t you think?”
He appeared equal parts pleased and irritated by her words. Then, to her eternal shock, Rhys bent down and kissed her cheek. She gasped.
Slowly, he pulled back.
“I’m sorry, I just… I felt overwhelmingly lucky to have married you this moment and…” He shook his head. “That was ungentlemanly of me.”
“No,” Louisa said quickly, unsure why she wished for him to be anything but gentlemanly with her. “It’s… fine.”
Not the greatest word to buoy his spirits since he appeared deflated.
“Come, there’s more to see.”
Once Louisa was back in Mrs. Crawford’s company, she was shown the portage gardens and the greenhouse. It was still early in the season, but Louisa was pleased to see so many roses and herbs. From the garden, which sat on top of a little hill at the back of the property, Louisa could see several fields more than she could have from the carriage. It was vast and untamed. Green fields with thousands of wildflowers stretched out everywhere to the trees that lined the ancient plots. It would take twenty men to manage the work that Rhys was getting himself into and yet, he was planning to do it all himself.
It made her curious as the day faded into twilight. Why should a man, who had money, want to do all this sort of work himself? And with nary a servant or employee to help?
By the time dinner was set, a humble meal of stew, bread, and berries, cheeses and the sort, Louisa thought to ask him.
“Rhys,” she said after finishing her meal. The Crawfords had gone for the day, having a smaller cottage down the road. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Was it always your dream to run a tenant farm?”
The question must have caught him off guard because he paused, reflecting on her question.
“No. It wasn’t always my dream. But it was one that developed later. On the battle fields.” Louisa only watched him, hopeful that he might say more and knowing it was not herplace to pry. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “When I was younger, a regiment came through our town. Dressed in their bright-red coats and shiny buttons, I was in awe of them. I began to have grand dreams of finding glory on the battlefield. To be a soldier in His Majesty’s army, well. There was nothing quite as valiant in my young opinion. My parents, particularly my father, supported my dreams and bought a commission.” He blinked and refocused on Louisa. “But then dreams are so often the opposite of reality.”
“The war was not what you expected?”
“No. But then, it was exactly what I wanted. In my naivety, I thought the explosions and soldiers’ camp, and the gunpower and the blood were all part of the heroism. In reality, it was nerve-breaking and miserable. The winters we froze, the summers we boiled. I came to loathe the smell of gunpowder and became desensitized to the sight of men, bloody and limbless, crying out for their mothers.”
The room was darkly lit and though it was likely this was not the sort of conversation polite people had, Louisa was fascinated by this man’s speech.
“Throughout the misery and death, I started to dream about home. But not my father’s house. I didn’t want to be surrounded by the parties and the balls, the pageantry of it all. I only wanted for a small plot of land, in a quiet part of the country, where I might find solace in the plainest of activity. Till the land, plant seeds, watch them grow.” He glanced at her. “Undoubtedly the most boring sort of a life a person could wish for.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t?”
“On the contrary, it is the sort of life many wish they had.” She paused as another question bubbled within her. “Rhys?”
