Page 49 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

Daisy drew herself up taller. “And what will happen to the tenants, Mr. Devon?”

At last his hand dropped completely, his fingers curling into a fist. He rapped the fist against his thigh, studying her with obvious confusion. “I am hoping they will all be happy in their new homes.”

She pulled in a pained breath at his callousness and nearly shouted at him. “New homes? Some of them do not even know where to go.” Her entire body trembled as anger flooded her.

Harry raised both hands, making a calming gesture. “Daisy, it sounds as though there has been a misunderstanding.”

“Then please, do explain.” Daisy did nothing to disguise the bitterness in her words, and she ignored the way her heart jerked most painfully. “Explain how, exactly, casting families out of their homes when at winter’s edge could possible qualify as an improvement.”

“Casting out—?” Harry’s rather confused expression altered when his eyes darkened. “Has anyone spoken to Ellsworth? He is aware of the plan. And I’m sure if you asked—” He cut himself off, his wide eyes slowly narrowing while his brow drew down. “You believe that I’m tearing down the cottages, without regard for the people who live within, and nothing more. Am I understanding the situation correctly?”

Her frustration mounted. Do I know him at all? She had convinced herself, at first, of a misunderstanding. But nothing he said contradicted that yet. Nothing at all.

“The whole village believes you would do such a thing,” she said, hearing and hating the defensive note in her voice. “You left, a man came to examine the buildings for demolition, and Mr. Ellsworth vanished—”

“He left on an assignment from me. It must have taken him longer than he expected.” Harry spoke dismissively, as though it was unimportant that his steward was away, leaving rumor to run rampant. He had withdrawn into his own thoughts, a clouded look in his eyes. He’d turned pale, too.

A knot around her heart tightened. “What of the tenants’ situation?” she asked. A winter wind snapped at her cloak. “How could you do this to them? They will leave, and I had hopes for their daughters—” She broke off as angry tears choked her. She’d dreamt of each of those little girls learning to read and write, doing sums, and bettering themselves through learning. Without homes, they would leave the area, and she would lose half the scholars she hoped to have in her school. They would lose the opportunities she anticipated presenting to them.

Harry drew back a step, his eyes focusing on her once more. His blue eyes, so bright but minutes ago, now dark and hard. “When these rumors started, you said nothing against them? Nothing in favor of my character?”

“How could I?” Daisy asked. “No one knew of our connection.” Something I am glad of now, she added silently.

“Yes. I remember your abhorrence of rumor and gossip. Your desire to avoid linking your name with mine.” He did not sneer or chide. The frigidity in his tone was more painful than both those things, but she pushed away the hurt and used her anger instead.

It was true. She might have spoken of Harry’s character, given a reference outside of his family. Cast doubt on the rumors. But Daisy had not. She had listened, rather, to every ill word anyone said of him. Partly in horror that it might be true and she had nearly bound herself to him, and partly in defense of her heart.

Harry started pacing, taking a few steps away, then back.

“A woman’s reputation is all she has, Harry. I’m not about to risk myself in that way, not when I know nothing of your plans, and that horrid man you had measuring the cottages said—”

He interrupted her, coming close once more. “You do not trust me at all, do you? I have never been anything but honest with you, I have tried to be a better man. It was easier for you to believe the worst of me than to hope the reasons behind my actions were motivated by a desire to do what was right.”

Everything constricted, all her thoughts and doubts accusing her of exactly what he said. I am not at fault. I cannot be. Everyone has been shocked by his behavior. How could tearing down the cottages be right? And her father, the vicar, had said what everyone had been thinking. His words rose to her lips with ease.

“Your father would not have hesitated to do a thing which gave him a profit,” she said. Her pride wounded, she meant the words to shield her from further harm. To protect her from his accusations.

When Harry drew back, his face pale and his mouth parting, she knew her shield had instead been a spear. And the words hit a fatal mark.

“I am nothing like my father.” His voice was a whisper, his eyes empty. “Though it seems everyone in Annesbury is ready to condemn me for having the misfortune of being born his son.” He took a step back. “Thank you for showing me exactly why I never wanted to return to Whitewood. Good day, Miss Ames.”

“Harry,” she called, her arm suspended in the air as though she could snatch him back, along with her unkind words. But why, if he was the monster throwing families into the cold, did she feel as though she had done something wrong?

He did not turn around, and in a moment was gone from her sight.

Though she longed to chase after him, to force him to change his mind about the tenants, Daisy remained where she stood.

Perhaps they did not suit one another after all.

Chapter Nineteen

Remaining at Whitewood, after knowing how the people of the village regarded him, was out of the question.

Harry used the desk in the library and wrote an explanation of what was to be done about the cottages and tenants. If Ellsworth had returned, Harry would have dispatched the man at once to clear up the matter. He had no wish to go himself to the tenant cottages, to see accusation in their eyes, the distrust and anger. Never mind it was all misdirected.

He called the butler and gave the servant the letter. “Have a footman deliver this to the tenants and read it to them.” He said nothing else. He’d done all the explaining he intended to do in his letter.

Even if the people living upon his land lacked trust in him, he could not let them live in fear of losing their homes.