Page 16 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

Sophia had worried the party was too small. There were only five guests: Mr. Burns, Philip, Miss Katherine Spencer, and Mr. Vincent, who was vicar. Nothing could be done for an event that had been planned with such haste.

At noon, Sophia and Philip had readied their horses and were waiting for the others to arrive. When there were horses to bridle, it was easy to be with him. Now that the work was done, they stood in silence.

“Sophia, what are you thinking?” Philip asked.

Sophia narrowed her eyes at him. “You know I dislike that type of question.” But she turned fully toward him and said, “I’m thinking about my uncle and what an imbecile he is.”

Philip raised his brows and laughed. “Your thoughts never fail to surprise me. I imagined, nay, hoped, that you were thinking about how you would introduce me to the man whose heart you will soon break in favor of mine.”

“I won’t even try to understand you, Philip—Mr. Eliot. But I know that the only reason you ever ask me what I’m thinking is so that you might tell me what is on your own mind. And your mind is full of fluff.”

“It’s ridiculous of you to call me Mr. Eliot. You never did before.”

Mr. Burns approached on horseback, and Philip grew still.

“Is that him?” he asked.

“If you’re asking if that is my fiancé, then, yes. That is Mr. Burns, whom I will marry.”

Philip put his hands behind his back and shifted from one leg to the other. He cleared his throat and looked up at the sky.

“You’re nervous, Mr. Eliot.”

Philip fixed his eyes on her with a smile that landed like a caress. He nudged Sophia with his shoulder. “Nervous about what, Miss Worthington?”

When Mr. Burns had dismounted, Sophia said, “I am so glad you’re here. This is Mr. Eliot, the friend I told you would be visiting. Mr. Eliot, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Burns.”

The men bowed to one another as Sophia repeatedly pulled a glove loose from her forefinger and pushed it back on again. Philip’s posture remained relaxed while seeming stiff in comparison to Mr. Burns. Philip was an inch or two taller, but Mr. Burns had broader shoulders. They were near opposites, one fair, the other swarthy, both irrefutably handsome.

“Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Burns,” said Philip. “You live near here, I understand.”

“Yes, just that way.” Mr. Burns pointed westward, his eyes darting between Philip and Sophia under furrowed brow. She stepped away from Philip, who stood near enough that they were nearly touching. It had always been thus between them. They were comfortable together and had always been close. She would break that old habit. What was appropriate for children was not acceptable for adults.

Philip made a few fruitless attempts at conversation with Mr. Burns while they waited for Miss Spencer and Mr. Vincent. Sophia would tell her mother later that her fears had been unfounded. Rather than there being ‘words’ as Mrs. Worthington had feared, the meeting was nearly silent. Philip rocked back on his heels, assessing Mr. Burns with an air of coolness while Burns looked silently between Sophia and Philip.

At last, Miss Spencer and Mr. Vincent arrived and assembled in front of the farmhouse. After introductions were made, they all mounted their horses. During their short journey, the conversation centered around the weather, which was happily warm and sunny. Soon they reached a little hill overlooking the farm. Their situation made a picturesque show of Sophia’s fields.

While the food and blankets were set out, Sophia pointed out the various fields and what she grew in each. She showed her guests where her sheep grazed in the summer and where they fed in the winter. For Philip’s benefit, she mentioned the location of the road that went to the fields and tenant houses, and the direction to Plymouth and to the sea. She marked the place where Mr. Burns’ property bordered her own.

When she finished, Sophia sat down as her guests filled their plates and cups. Sophia’s manservant brought her a plate of all her favorite things, but before she could take a bite, two pairs of legs stood before her. Craning her neck, she beheld Mr. Burns and Philip, each holding a plate of food out for her, but looking at each other.

“Thank you, gentlemen. I am famished.” She took both plates and arranged them in front of her. She patted the ground, inviting the two men to sit on either side of her.

Philip stretched out his long legs while Mr. Burns curled his legs to the side, leaning close to Sophia.

“I am afraid the two of you will need to fill the silence. My mouth will be full for a very long time.” She motioned to her plates.

They immediately began speaking of horses, but it didn’t last. Was the tension between them real or imagined? Philip conversed good-naturedly with everyone, including Malcolm, but surreptitious, appraising glances slid between them. Malcolm observed she must need more to drink, and Philip offered his handkerchief to wipe a drop of jam from her mouth. An invisible weight sandwiched her between them with each gallant gesture they offered.

To add to the awkwardness, Sophia was distracted with thoughts of the letters she’d found under her bedroom every night since Philip’s arrival. One of them had been written on Philip’s twenty-first birthday, over a year ago. Judging from the letter, Philip hadn’t received the letters she’d sent him. She didn’t know what to make of it.

Why did Philip slip the letters under her door, and how many more were coming? If he wasn’t going to tell her, she’d not ask, if for no other reason than her dread of being alone with him. She was strongly affected by Philip’s sudden visit and the turmoil it wrought inside her. Each letter was sealed when Sophia received it. Had Philip chosen to give her specific letters deliberately, or did he choose them at random? Did he remember what the letters said? If Philip had come on his twenty-first birthday as agreed, Sophia would have met him with much different expectations.

He was too late. She would marry Mr. Burns, who’d been there when Philip had not. Sophia relaxed her hands where they were fisted over the folds of her dress. She had longed for Philip’s return. Like a girl in a novel, she’d pined over him. Now, she was angry and too afraid to explore any deeper emotions.

Speaking with him about the past would touch parts of her heart that she had closed and recall hopes and memories she hadn’t visited for a long time. She was so angry with him that a serious conversation may cause an argument that could end a friendship which had meant so much to her for so long.

Mr. Burns had given up on talking to Philip and was asking Katherine about her brother’s upcoming visit. Gratitude and commitment surged within her. He’d helped her after she’d lost her father. He’d coached and tutored her through the time following her father’s death, when those who’d been happy to do business with Mr. Worthington, had turned away from her. Her relationship with Philip was immature in comparison. Sophia put her hand on Mr. Burns’ arm, and he squeezed her fingers.