Page 39 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

“I won’t leave you to solve this problem by yourself,” Philip murmured into her hair, and Sophia found profound comfort in hearing his voice from where she was against his chest.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet, but we will fix it. She may be at Thorpe’s for a time, but we’ll get her back. Can you think of anything I can do to help?”

“Yes.” Sophia straightened to look at Philip in the face. She’d been thinking about this very thing during their ride home from the fair. “I’d like you to make friends with Mr. Burns.”

Philip shook his head, but Sophia insisted.

“Go fishing or shooting or something with him. You must know that unless you gain his friendship ours will fade away. I can’t lose you. And as soon as I’m settled as Mr. Burns’ wife my uncle will keep his end of the bargain and my mother will return.”

Philip sighed. He put his hand on the back of his neck and looked toward the house. “If that is what you wish. Friends it is.”

Three days later, before the dew had time to dry on the bright leaves of spring, Philip and Mr. Burns set out together to see what game could be found. Spring was not the season for hunting anything but rabbits, but the two men went begrudgingly under Sophia’s command.

Philip enjoyed the morning exercise, regardless of his loathsome companion. He was happy with his mount and chose to enjoy the morning, determined to do his best to befriend Burns. Philip also wanted more insight into the man Burns was, so he would be as friendly as possible and try to satisfy that curiosity. Philip expected little by way of reciprocation, so he was surprised when Mr. Burns began a conversation.

“Mr. Eliot, I understand you are an artist. What do you paint?”

“Portraits. Mostly because that is what people will pay for. However, I prefer landscapes and am working on a pastoral scene while I am here. Portraiture is frustrating because people don’t really want to know what they look like. With portraits, the patron will ask me to change this or that.” When Burns made no comment, Philip continued. “One woman simply would not believe her nose was as large as it appeared in the portrait I did of her. But I assure you, no one recognized the woman in the painting after I exchanged her true nose with a petite imposter.”

“Interesting,” replied Mr. Burns flatly. Philip wondered why he bothered with conversation at all. He racked his brain for a subject a man like Malcolm would enjoy talking about.

“And you?” questioned Philip. “I heard you were a pirate. Are you still?” Philip bit the inside of his lip.

“Hah!” Mr. Burns laughed in genuine mirth. “You heard that, did you? And what if I was?”

“Does Miss Worthington know your occupation?”

“Former occupation,” Malcolm corrected without looking at Philip. “She does. You see, Mr. Eliot, being a pirate is sometimes a matter of obligation. I never chose piracy. The ship I worked on was attacked by pirates, and I was taken captive. I performed all my duties as a midshipman on the pirate ship, but it was not to my liking. I escaped when I had the chance. I landed in Brittany, where I scraped by doing odd jobs until I became employed by a shipping merchant. I discovered I am a good merchant.”

Philip wondered at Burns’ smooth explanation. It seemed to satisfy Sophia, but Philip remained suspicious. “Sounds like an adventure. Do you miss traveling?”

“Sometimes I feel a little restless. But now I have Miss Worthington, and I will never leave. I employ other men to travel for me.”

Philip didn’t like the way Burns spoke of Sophia like a possession, but he persisted in his questions, determined to pour salt on his own wound. “You care for her deeply, then?”

“Of course I do. Do you doubt me?”

“Miss Worthington is a dear friend. I want her to be happy in marriage.”

“I assure you, Mr. Eliot, I love her at least as much as you do.”

Philip laughed at Burns’ candor. “Perhaps.”

Malcolm’s tone darkened. “Perhaps it is time for you to leave. Why do you stay when you are so clearly not wanted?”

Philip had lost sleep the night before, wondering the same thing. “I would like to retain my friendship with Sophia, but that may be difficult after she is married.”

“No doubt it will,” Mr. Burns scoffed.

Philip was unintimidated by his companion’s animosity but was quickly losing hope that he and Burns could be amicable. “For now, I stay at the farm because my mother will not leave. She has also been reunited with an estranged friend. She and Mrs. Allen are having a delightful time together.”

Malcolm adopted a mocking tone. “You are a big boy. You needn’t wait for your mother. Why not go to London or back to the continent since you are so keen on painting? France is the place for painters, isn’t it?”

“I see the worry in your eyes. You are not sure where Sophia’s affection lies.”

“It is no mystery that she will marry me in a few months. I don’t doubt Miss Worthington’s loyalty. Now, how long has it been since you have hunted?”