“Of course. That does not surprise me in the least. Miss Darling has a tendency to worry about others far more than herself, does she not?” He reached for another roll and sliced it in half to slather with jam.
Aunt Clara watched him. “She does. It is the humility within her. She has always been this way.”
He remembered it well from when they were younger. She had done selfless things many times, even when she had still been privileged. Sacrificing the last of the berry tarts for another. Choosing a less comfortable seat in order to leave the cushioned chair for an older woman. Giving up her place of pride in a musicale so her anxious friend could perform earlier.
Emma had been primed to step into the role of companion because of her kind and charitable nature.
Owen could not abide his aunt’s focused stare any longer. “The estate can withstand the expense if that is your concern.”
Aunt Clara’s eyes warmed with affection. “My concern is that if we do not hire the servants quickly, Emma will run herself into the ground. Mrs. Rowley told me at church last Sunday that there is a hiring fair at the market in Danesbrook this morning.”
He had been considering taking off for Leeds to manage the letter burning a hole in his pocket, but he had waited so long already. He could put it off another few days. This was the more pressing matter.
While he was in Danesbrook, perhaps he could inquire about nearby properties available for his school as well.
“I can take you to find your servants, Aunt Clara. Or would you prefer I took…who is your housekeeper? Mrs. Bates?”
“I do not need one. The house is too small.” She fiddled with the edge of the serving dish holding cream. “Emma can join you. She will know precisely how many people we need and whether anyone at the market seems to be of good quality.”
Owen took a bite of his roll, chewing slowly so he would not appear eager. “I am happy to take Miss Darling with me if you think she will not object.”
“Take the wagon, Owen, and no one could object. You’ll be in the open on country roads for the entirety of the ride, and if all goes according to plan, you shall travel home with a few additional people.”
Aunt Clara made a valid point.
“She has gone to visit the Presleys now. You may fetch her on your way.” Aunt Clara stood. “And tell her I will enjoy my solitude today. I need to rest after all the excitement of moving.”
Owen chuckled. “I take it you’d like for me to leave immediately?”
Aunt Clara filled a napkin with rolls and handed it to him. “If you do not, all the good servants will be chosen. We’ll be left with the idle ones.”
He stood. “Very well. I will fetch my coat and be on my way.”
Owen dressed warmly and fetched extra blankets for the wagon as the men in the stables hitched the horses. He pulled on his driving gloves and great coat, then stacked the blankets on the driver’s bench beside him and took the reins. Danesbrook was nearly an hour’s ride away, and if he was being honest, the forced time together was not going to be a hardship.
If anything, he was eager for it. Though he knew perfectly well he ought not to be.
The Presleys’ house was down the road a fair distance. A stone cottage with a small fence around the vegetable garden to keep out animals, and smoke curling from the chimney. Owen pulled the horses to a stop and brought the reins to the fencewhere he looped them. He hadn’t thought of what he would say when he interrupted the visit.
In fact, it was an odd thing to do, wasn’t it? His fist was poised to knock, but he paused, considering how best to approach the situation, when the door swung open.
Emma stood there, backed by Mrs. Presley with a baby on her hip.
“Owen!”
He lowered his fist. “Good morning, Miss Darling. Mrs. Presley.”
Emma’s cheeks stained red, her hand finding her heart. “You gave me a fright.”
“My aunt has sent me to fetch you.” There, that felt honest and vague. “I worried I would be cutting into your visit, but it appears I’ve arrived at the perfect time.”
Emma turned back. “Thank you for the tea. Let me know if the cough worsens, and I will speak to Mrs. Clifton. She had a remedy that helped me immensely as a girl, but I cannot recall what was in it.”
“I’m certain it is nothing.” Mrs. Presley smiled at both of them, her copper hair dull in the shadow of the house. The babe in her arm buried her face in her mother’s shoulder when Owen tried to smile at her, so he stepped back.
“Have a good day, Mrs. Presley,” he said.
She closed the door behind them when they reached the wagon.
