“Is something the matter?” asked Phoebe, her brow furrowing as she studied Thea.
Only the lady’s brother, but that was not a conversation to be had with her sweetheart’s sister.
“Nothing I wish to speak about at present. Now, where is this fellow of yours?” Turning her head this way and that as though looking for the man, Thea couldn’t help laughing when Phoebe’s eyes widened.
“Hush! He’s not my fellow,” she whispered sharply, though there was a hint of a smile that betrayed the fact that she wished he were.
“Well, I would like to meet him at any rate,” said Thea, then motioning toward Mina, she added, “And I would love for you to meet my cousin, Miss Mina Ashbrook.”
The two ladies dipped into curtsies as Phoebe beamed. “Thea speaks often of you, Miss Ashbrook. I have been most eager to meet you.”
“And I, you,” said Mina with a responding smile.
Then grabbing both ladies by the arms, Phoebe added in a whisper. “You will have to help me evaluate the gentleman. I fear I am already far too smitten to be sensible.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Thea with a laugh, though it faded as Phoebe met that with wide eyes.
“He is far too charming and handsome for my good.” Shaking her head, the young lady grimaced. “He is purchasing some gingerbread simply because I mentioned in passing that it is my favorite. I need your help, or I fear I shall fall headlong into loving him.”
“That sounds serious, indeed,” said Thea with all the solemnity such a confession deserved—though she couldn’t help casting one final look at Frederick as Phoebe led the trio back toward the stalls.
*
Holding fast to his smile, Frederick watched the three ladies thread their way to the bustling stalls, though Thea cast a lingering glance over her shoulder as the sound of his laughter echoed in his ears—and it struck him harder than he wished to admit. She had come here for him, to stand at his side, and all he’d given in return was a performance.
Yet still, his expression remained fixed in place for the men who studied him from every corner of the green.
Stomach knotting, Frederick tucked his hands behind him and wandered around the livestock, doing his utmost to ignore Mr. Osmet as he checked the teeth of yet another lamb. Such things were natural. Expected. Sensible people made certain there were no flaws or blemishes before purchasing an item, let alone something that could be carrying diseases or blights into one’s farm.
Of course, anyone with sense knew better than to bring a sick animal into the heart of the Spring Market. It was the quickest way to be run out of town.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” said Mr. Gleason as he drew up beside his master. “You are bound to do good things for the parish.”
Frederick’s shoulders itched to slough off the words. “I am happy to be of service, but I hardly think being chosen as churchwarden is a great accomplishment. I was already fulfilling the responsibilities in my father’s stead, so it was only sensible for the parishioners to vote me in as their representative.”
Mr. Gleason hummed in consideration, though he didn’t seem to agree or disagree with that assessment. “The sale is going well.”
“Just as you predicted,” said Frederick with a nod whilst studying the farmers as they evaluated the offerings this year.
“The wool and lambs are fetching a good price, but I fear the barley and wheat will sell for a fraction of what they ought,” said the steward with a frown. “Too many held onto their harvests last autumn, so the market is flooded with grain. As we had such a poor yield, I think we’d be better off selling at one of the later markets if we wish to turn a decent profit.”
“A poor yield?” asked Frederick, frowning as he tried to recall Father’s words about the harvest last autumn.
“Several of our tools broke. Harvest is a busy time for the smithies, and it took far too long to mend them, so they weren’t able to bring in all the crop,” said Mr. Gleason with a sigh. “Should I hold back the grain? We may get a better price if we wait a month or two.”
Thoughts spinning with the possibilities, Frederick weighed out what was owed. No matter how good a yield or high a price, it wouldn’t undo the damage Father had done, so he supposed there was little reason to quibble whilst the creditors gathered at the gates—metaphorically and literally.
Frederick shook his head. “Better to be done with it. This is the best market of the season, and we risk the price falling further if we wait.”
Mr. Gleason nodded slowly, his eyes taking in his new master with a curiosity that had Frederick’s skin itching. They needed the money now, and he wouldn’t gamble with his family’s income. There’d been enough of that to last the Vosses a lifetime.
Frederick’s gaze swept across the green, taking in the restless stir of livestock penned for sale. Calves lowed in rough-hewn enclosures, their dark eyes rolling as buyers prodded flanks and lifted hooves, and a pen of yearling sheep pressed close together whilst their owners barked out prices above the bleating. The scent of trampled grass mingled with the sharper reek of dung, underlined by the coarse laughter of drovers who moved among the pens with sticks in hand.
Nearby, sacks of barley and oats stood in neat stacks, their weight measured and re-measured, and farmers’ faces, browned and furrowed by weather, bent close as they murmured terms, their voices low but their gestures sharp. A deal might be struck with the clasp of hands, or else abandoned in a muttered oath. For all that the rest of Haverford embraced the festivity of the marketplace, there was little of it here—only the hard bargaining of men who knew what each penny meant to the year ahead.
This was where fortunes were measured in hooves and hides, in sacks of grain and the promise of a good harvest. And it was here, among the muck and the harsh cries of trade, that he must find a way to set his house to rights.
As he lingered by the pens, Frederick felt that prickle of attention that had become impossible to ignore. Men paused in their bargaining long enough for their eyes to rest on him, not with open challenge but with a calculating watchfulness.
