Page 12 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

“Of course, Miss Worthington.”

At four o’clock, Sophia handed her mother a cup of tea. Philip still hadn’t returned from his morning ride.

“What do you mean ‘he raced away’? Was there no one to send after him?” Mrs. Worthington asked.

“I couldn’t spare the time, and I needed Mr. Gregory’s help at the meeting. However, I don’t believe we have anything to worry about. Philip…” It was no longer appropriate to call him by his Christian name. “I mean, Mr. Eliot is a grown man. I’m sure he can navigate this small town.”

“I do hope so. It seems rather cruel to leave him on his own just after he arrived.”

Sophia sipped her tea with pretended calm. “Mr. Eliot is likely at the pub, becoming acquainted with half the village. After the pub, he’ll go to the inn and meet the other half. He will return in time for dinner. When he does, he will look, act, and talk as though he’s had a harrowing day. In reality, he will have enjoyed himself thoroughly.”

Mrs. Worthington raised her brows. “If you are sure, then I won’t worry.”

After tea, Sophia and her mother parted ways. Mrs. Worthington went to rest before dinner, and Sophia closed herself in the library to attend to business. Despite Sophia’s assertion that Philip would be fine on his own, she began checking the window for his arrival. She grew tired of getting up from her desk to look out on the front garden, so she sat on the window seat to listen for Philip’s approach.

The numbers on the ledger would not come into focus. Where was Philip? Now was the only time she had available to balance her accounts. Her days were full, doubly so now that Philip had arrived. She returned to her desk, placing her hands over her ears to improve concentration.

Just as Sophia predicted, Philip returned twenty minutes before dinner. Sophia called her mother to join her in greeting their guest in the hall. He looked a mess, with a torn sleeve and muddied boots.

“I apologize for my tardiness, Sophia,” Philip said with a proper bow.

“No matter, I should have followed you. I hope you were not truly lost. You look as if you might have slept in the woods for a few days.”

Philip laughed. “Do I look as bad as that? You look very well.”

“What nonsense,” Sophia said. “Philip, rather Mr. Eliot, allow me to introduce you to my mother, Mrs. Worthington.”

Philip bowed. “Mrs. Worthington. I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”

Mrs. Worthington seemed to absorb Philip, no doubt observing the various scrapes and mud splatters that covered him. “Yes, but I feel a terrible hostess. You have been in town all day and have had no rest. From the looks of you, there has been a battle!”

“One might call it a battle,” Philip replied. “But it was only me getting a little too confident in a competition.” Philip’s eyes followed Mrs. Worthington’s, which were examining at his torn jacket. “Ah, no harm done there.”

“Hoohoohoo! Are you bruised? Do you have any scrapes?” She leaned toward him with a knitted brow and pursed lips, eyeing him as if he were a small child who had a fall.

“Nothing but wounded pride.” Philip backed away, but Mrs. Worthington stepped closer, her face full of concern. “It’s nothing. I merely fell off a horse.”

“Merely fell off a horse?” repeated Mrs. Worthington.

Philip’s smile grew more sincere, and he took Mrs. Worthington’s hand. “Truly, I am not hurt. Cornwall is a wonderful place. I’ve had a very pleasant day.”

Mrs. Worthington nodded slowly, frowning.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I see you are nearly ready for dinner, and I do not wish to keep you waiting.”

“Of course. Your things are in your room. Betsy will direct you to it.” Mrs. Worthington motioned to the maid, who stood at the top of the stairs. Philip bowed to his hostesses and went up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Sophia and her mother went into the drawing room, where they could wait comfortably. Sitting beside her mother on a small sofa, Sophia said, “We will need to invite our neighbors to dinner during Mr. Eliot’s visits. Truly, I wish we had some company tonight. It feels very awkward.”

“Drivel. You are the only one who is not at ease. Mr. Eliot is delightful.”

“Really? I’d have thought you’d welcome a few gossips to help us with the conversation. With only the two of us, we will have to find a great deal to say.” Sophia nudged her mother.

“I think the conversation will flow just fine. And who would we invite? We have become two reclusive women, if we do not count the time you spend with the tenants.”

Sophia laughed, surprised at this observation. “How right you are! I hadn’t noticed, but we have socialized very little since—” Sophia stopped, realizing it had begun with her father’s death. Recovering, she said soberly, “Since I took over the farm. I suppose it is only natural, what with all there is to do. Do you think the Spencers would come? It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to Katherine, but we are still friends.”

Katherine was a few years younger than Sophia, but if there was one woman Sophia considered a friend, it was Katherine, even if she was a bit of a flirt. Other than the Spencers, Sophia didn’t know who else they could invite. She had neglected their neighborhood social circle, declining invitations in favor of work.