Page 17 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

Katherine was saying, “Jonathan, my brother, will be here any day. His visit is long overdue, and we miss him very much when he is away. He can seldom visit.”

“We look forward to his lively company,” Sophia said. She’d eaten one too many fruit tarts, and her plates were still full. She slid the remaining food on one plate and dumped it on Philip’s before standing up to give her legs a break from sitting. She laughed as Philip piled three little sandwiches into one and took a big bite.

“Yes,” Katherine continued, “he is studying to become a barrister. Father doesn’t like it. He wishes Jonathan would go into the church, but Mamma says one never knows when a barrister will become a necessity.”

“I quite agree,” Sophia said. She knew this better than anyone. “When will he finish his studies?”

“He has another year, but he has so many connections. He will be a great success.”

“I believe he will.”

The party quieted. The responsibilities of hostess demanded that Sophia keep the conversation going.

“Mr Eliot, you are new here. The four of us have exhausted our conversation through years of familiarity. Why not tell us something of your adventures abroad?”

“I’ve little to tell beyond what I learned of color theory and composition, Miss Sophia. I wouldn’t wish to bore your friends.”

Sophia raised a brow at him. Philip seemed to take the hint, but his conversation didn’t take the direction Sophia hoped.

“However,” Philip addressed the group, “I’ve known Miss Worthington for a long time. I could tell you stories about her that would shock you all.”

Sophia rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps you should keep the details of Miss Worthington’s childhood to yourself, if she does not wish to share,” said Mr. Burns. He stood and linked arms with Sophia.

“You may be right. Why not tell us about her current success, Mr. Burns? I’d love to hear about it from an observer. I’ve only had the very humble descriptions she has given to me herself.” Philip darted a glance at Sophia’s arm entwined with Mr. Burns’.

“Please,” Sophia said, “let’s talk about something else. You all know humility is not my virtue. I will bore you with the details of my victories and expound on the merits of my sheep. I’ll lecture on why rye is better than oats, which breed of cow gives the best milk, and whether selling mutton or wool is more profitable. And that does not scratch the surface of my vast knowledge. However, I’ve been instructed by my very lady-like mother that these are topics not to be discussed in company unless I want my friends to leave or fall asleep. Today is my day off, and I’ve already spoken more about the farm than I wish.”

“Fair enough,” said Philip. “Let’s discuss horses, then. I’d like to buy your horse, Miss Sophia.”

“Not in your life, Master Philip! I broke her myself, and she’s quick, beautiful, and very temperamental with everyone except for me. As you’ve proven time after time, you’re not a careful rider and certainly cannot be trusted with her.”

“Clarissa has much in common with her owner.” Philip threw his hands in the air. “I can’t help it. Just one story.”

“Do, tell, Mr. Eliot.” Katherine glanced an apology at Sophia.

“I met Sophia when she was a tiny seven-year-old. Since I was a year older, I was eager to show off my horsemanship, but every time I suggested we ride, Miss Worthington made excuses. Later I discovered she was terrified of horses, ponies, and possibly sheep and pigs, but at the time, she pretended to know all about horses. I couldn’t do anything but go along with it.”

“Mr. Eliot, that is quite enough,” Sophia said. “No one cares to hear details of my childhood.”

“You are mistaken,” cried Mr. Vincent. “I declare, it’s quite amusing to think of Miss Worthington being fearful of animals.” Everyone looked at Mr. Vincent with surprise. He’d been so quiet, they’d forgotten he was there.

“Too true, Miss Worthington. You are so accomplished a horsewoman, I can scarcely imagine you not knowing how to ride,” said Miss Spencer, nodding at Mr. Vincent in a way that indicated she had not forgotten him.

Under that encouragement, Philip continued. “One morning, I chanced to wake very early and look out my window. There in the yard was Sophia—er, Miss Worthington—with a stable hand. She was attempting to mount a pony, waving off any proffered help. I didn’t know her well at the time, so I was astonished when she succeeded so quickly. She was regal as a queen on that pony’s back.

“The following morning, I woke early and looked out the window again. This time Miss Worthington cautiously mounted and rode. For the next several days, I made sure to look out my window when there was barely a hint of dawn. She worked until she could ride most of the animals in the stable like she was born atop a horse. She was so determined.” Philip laughed. “Meanwhile, I asked her every afternoon if she wanted to ride, and she continued making excuses. After some weeks of practice, Sophia finally accepted the invitation. She saddled the pony herself, mounted it without help from me or the mounting box, and galloped away like a jockey. She was unstoppable.”

“She has changed very little,” Katherine said.

Sophia colored deeply but said, laughing, “I would retaliate, Mr. Eliot, but I’m afraid it would do me little credit, as I was beside you in each of your naughty ventures. I’ll only mention that your ability to stay seated on a horse is the same as ever, as evidenced by your misadventure at the inn.”

Sophia caught Philip’s eye, and he looked at her a little too fondly and for a little too long. Malcolm cleared his throat and stated the obvious. “Miss Worthington is a proficient horsewoman. Everything she does, she does well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Burns.” She appreciated the compliment, though it felt out of place, and she was tired of the conversation focusing on her.

Sophia looked over her guests, searching for a topic to discuss. Malcolm stood close to her but was glaring at Philip, who leaned back on his arms with his legs crossed in front of him, his face to the sky. Mr. Vincent sat straight as a tree, darting glances everywhere except at Katherine, who gave him coy looks between picking at the grass. Nothing inspired conversation. While the birds sang and the wind whispered its way through the trees, the party lapsed into silence for long enough that it became painful. Sophia had the urge to check on the ewes who would lamb soon. She shifted and pulled on her skirt, irritated at the time she was wasting.