Page 51 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

Philip found Betsy in the parlor dusting the mantlepiece. “Do you know where Sophia is?”

“Aye, she went to visit her mother.”

He changed and waited rather impatiently for her to appear. Though Philip waited until past two o’clock in the morning, she did not return home.

Talland, Cornwall

25 October 1751

Dear Philip,

Apples! It’s fall, and our apple crop is excellent. I eat them fresh, baked, pied, preserved, and love them every way.

Do you remember tricking me into eating that unripe green apple? I was so angry, I didn’t speak to you for three days. You spent all that time with the stable hand. I was jealous until I realized the two of you were carving a wooden sword just for me. You always were good at apologies. You said, “Smite me with this sword and banish me if you must, but please accept my sincerest regret at having fooled you into tasting that apple.” I’m afraid my temper is much the same as it was when I was nine.

Yours always,

Sophia

Chapter 22

20 May 1753

Philip shoveled peas into his mouth. He, his mother, and Mrs. Allen had spent the day ruminating over Sophia’s absence. The two women were inexhaustible, but he couldn’t concentrate on the conversation any longer. He kept his eyes on his plate to avoid discussion.

When Sophia found out about Mr. Burns and dissolved their engagement, there might be consequences. One did not confront a man like that and walk away unscathed. It could be dangerous. Smugglers were notoriously violent in protecting their interests. And she and Mr. Burns were deep in business together. How would it affect her farm?

Dread and anticipation roiled in Philip’s gut. He wanted to be done with the explanation and convince Sophia to allow him to help her when she challenged Mr. Burns. He feared she would see his behavior as self-serving. It was. Sophia would not marry a smuggler, but she might marry an artist. Still, he did not delight in the sorrow the situation would cause Sophia.

Horse hooves thundered outside, and a few minutes later, Sophia walked in the door. She looked tired and had a crease between her brows. Philip suddenly wanted to protect her from the truth he was about to disclose. While he knew she could withstand even the most difficult trial, he wished to spare her from it. After losing her father, running the farm on her own, and dealing with her uncle, Sophia deserved a reprieve.

“Good evening. You are back, Aunt. Mrs. Eliot.” Sophia nodded at them both but didn’t smile. “How was your trip? Did you learn anything from Mr. Smith?”

After an entire day of deliberation, no one answered the question. Those seated at the table exchanged glances.

Philip stood and took Sophia by the arm, leading her into the drawing room. The others followed. “I have something unpleasant to tell you.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “Come, Philip, just say what is on your mind without the dark preamble. I am sorry for what I said to you the other day, if that is what this is about. I was terribly upset with Charles.”

They sat across from one another, and Philip took her hand. Sophia stilled under the pressure of his hand but soon straightened, removing her hand from his grasp.

“It isn’t that. It seems that Mr. Burns may not be the man you think he is.” Philip began with the list found at the milliners’ and the women’s visit to Mr. Smith’s shop.

As he spoke, Sophia’s mouth grew tighter, and she sat ever straighter. “Of course, Mr. Burns sells lace from France at the local shop. It is cheaper to sell it locally. And Mr. Smith is a broker. He sells all kinds of things. You are trying to incriminate him. Was Mr. Burns right? Is this a joke of yours?” The flare of her nostrils and high set of her chin showed Philip how angry Sophia was.

“It’s more than that.” Philip described his trip into the cave and watched with sorrow as Sophia’s face drained of color. “It seems as if he is using your wool as a cover for a smuggling operation.”

Sophia turned away from Philip and put her hands over her face. “Was the wool hard to find in the cave?”

“No. It was everywhere. There were mounds of it.”

Sophia dropped her hands. Her eyes were bright and her jaw tight, but the moment she took hold of his wrist, he realized her anger was no longer directed at him. “Please start from the beginning. I want to know everything, and I’m not sure I was completely listening the first time. Start with the milliner.”

As he spoke, Sophia drew herself up as straight and as still as a marble statue. She took hold of Philip’s hand but didn’t seem aware of it.

When his tale was over, she was motionless. He knew there was a storm inside of her. Guilt burned in his chest as if he were responsible for her distress. He wanted to tear Malcolm Burns apart. The man had taken advantage of Sophia under the guise of helping her establish her farm. What kind of man preyed on an innocent young lady who had no one to protect her?

Now that Sophia knew the truth, her future was uncertain. Without Burns, she would struggle to sell the goods from her farm. Her Uncle Thorpe could take possession of the farm as he was threatening to do. Philip would do everything he could to help.