"The young lady is gone, sir."
This was not news to Fielding, who had observed the gig from the window until it passed beyond sight. Glancing towards the youthful footman who hovered in the doorway, he said, "Where is the housekeeper?"
"Mrs North is still upstairs, sortin' the linens."
He sat down, laying his hand upon the worn wood of the old desk. "In that case I don't think we need to concern her with tales of unexpected visitors. Do you understand, James?"
"Joseph, sir, and no...I mean yes, sir."
"Be sure to pass the message to the stable hands, and anyone else that might have seen Miss Latimer here. You can bear witness that her visit was a matter of urgent estate business, but it would be easy for people to...misinterpret the situation."
"I'll tell 'em, sir. She was never 'ere."
"Very good. You may go." Fielding picked up a random document from the desk and focussed his attention upon it. Once the door closed he let the sheet slip through his fingers as his gaze returned to the empty chair opposite.
From the moment his father had first taken him into society, females had been throwing their handkerchiefs at him. Since he inherited his family's estate in Yorkshire, and the impressive fortune that went with it, they had progressed to throwing themselves instead. But during the past six years none had broken the rules of propriety so blatantly as to attempt to visit him alone, in daylight, and without friend or chaperone.
How had she known he was working in the steward's office, and why had she not gone to the front door to request assistance from Mountford himself? By agreeing to meet her he had placed himself in a difficult position. If she'd been of a mind, a single scream and some wild accusations might have seen him trapped into an uncomfortable marriage. Fortunately he was too clever to be snared by such paltry tactics, and the presence of the footman had been sufficient to satisfy propriety.
The door flew back on its hinges as Mountford blew in like a coastal storm, distracting Fielding from his suspicions. Henry checked his stride as he took in the disarray. "I was going to ask how much longer you would be, but from the condition of the room I already have my answer. When you offered to help inspect Blackwood's estate records I had no expectation that you meant taking the office apart."
Fielding leaned back, waving a hand towards the pile of financial ledgers. "Burgin had been stealing from your uncle for many years. Even a cursory inspection of the accounts reveals discrepancies. I can only suggest in the strongest terms that you report the thefts to the local magistrate."
His friend ran a flustered hand through his artfully dishevelled curls. "What good will that do? The rascal is likely across the other side of the country by now. We'll never find him."
"I don't expect you will, but it sends a strong message to your staff, tenants and neighbours that you are a landowner of decisive nature, and intolerant of dishonesty."
Mountford shrugged. "If that is what you suggest, I will be guided by your experience in these matters, although it hardly seems worth the effort." He made a cursory survey of the papers stacked on the shelf, before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the dust from his hands. "I thought we had come here to enjoy ourselves. You are meant to be my guest, not sitting down here playing steward. Will your investigations take much longer?
"It will take as long as necessary. You have a library now; read a book."
"Uncle George's library consists of five and sixty encyclopaedias, directories, dictionaries and court records. Not one single rousing adventure or gothic novel; not even a romance to pass the hours. It has been sadly neglected."
"As little as I wish to speak ill of the dead, your uncle has again slipped in my estimation. Everyone knows the mark of a gentleman is the quality of his library. It will take time and investment on your part, but within the space of two or three generations you may amass a collection you can be proud of."
"Like yours at Meltham?"
Fielding smiled, saluting his friend's hit. The grand library at Meltham Park was a continued source of pride within his family. "Before you think about books, you will first need to invest in more material matters. I fear Sir George's lack of oversight has left Blackwood in a perilous state, and some of the repairs cannot wait upon the appointment of a new steward."
Mountford dropped into the chair recently vacated by the female visitor. "Of course. Tell me what must be done and I will arrange it."
He picked up a list from the desk, written in his own bold hand. "I have already set the most vital repairs in motion, and these are the tasks that will require attention very soon. I also received a report that a stream may be blocked in the woods to the south. If it proves true then that matter will need attending to as a matter of urgency, but all it requires from you is a willingness to open your pocketbook."
"I suppose there is no choice if Blackwood is to be returned to good order."
"Meanwhile, I believe your time would be better spent securing your position within the area. If you are to gain the respect of your neighbours you must make yourself available for their inspection. Even in an out of the way place like this the local gentry will wish to maintain the usual formalities."
"Cards have been arriving all day, and I've already had one visitor—Mr. Harrison whose land borders Blackwood to the east; an odd bird, but cheerful enough and very welcoming. Harrison invited me to dinner. He has two daughters he seemed particularly keen for me to meet."
"They always have daughters, or nieces, or female cousins. It seems we cannot avoid them, even here. Take care you do not find yourself priest-linked to the first female they introduce you to."
Mountford frowned. "It would be much easier to deal with these people if you were with me. There is no one better for depressing the pretensions of cits and mushrooms."
"You will find none of that sort here. Blackwood is surrounded by the most worthy class of our gentry who live upon the land passed to them by their grandfathers and great-grandfathers. None can boast great wealth or status—except perhaps the respect they confer among themselves—and I doubt whether any can claim truly useful connections, but I am sure they are pleasant enough. You can manage without me until I have found you a trustworthy man to husband your patrimony."
His friend leaned forward, tapping a frustrated finger upon the desk. "If I'd wanted to entertain myself I wouldn't have invited you here in the first place. You have been hiding in this dingy office for two days. The least you can do is to come out with me tomorrow morning to shoot a few birds"
Fielding raised his eyebrow, quelling his friend's lament. "As you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?"
Ignoring the sarcasm, Mountford nodded. "In that case I will leave you to your work and see you at dinner."
In the silence following Mountford's departure, Fielding's gaze drifted once more to the empty chair, and the memory of Miss Latimer's visit. A study of his visitor had revealed cheeks tinged pink and windblown hair, and the mud on her half-boots—glimpsed under her serviceable walking dress—could not have come from a simple stroll across a well-tended lawn. Racking his brain he could not bring to mind one instance when a female had attempted to catch his attention in such an outlandish fashion.
Once he gave her his name he'd waited for the tell-tale flicker of recognition in her eyes, but there was none. When she explained the reason for her visit he had decided to humour her, waiting for her to betray herself. However, even when he unfurled the map—giving Miss Latimer an opportunity to move around to his side of the desk to view it the right way up—she had not taken the bait. Instead, she studied the topography before reaching over to follow a blue line representing one of the many watercourses that flowed through the grounds and tapped on the vellum.
No young woman of gentle breeding would walk all that way, let alone choose the route through the woods. Yet she seemed sensible enough and held the trust of her father—two rare qualities in a female—and she had explained her requirements in a straightforward manner, without resorting to coquetry or simpering helplessness.
Miss Latimer had been an unusual young woman, to be sure; not a stunning beauty, but pretty enough in her simple, unadorned style. Still, his distrust of the feminine sex held firm, and he felt certain that it was only a matter of time before she revealed her true intentions.
The man he set to the task reported back, describing the mass of trees that had fallen during the storm, diverting the course of the stream away from Sutton's farm. Even then he doubted that Miss Latimer's concern for a tenant's cattle was her principal motivation for visiting his office.
Fielding expected her to call again, ostensibly to thank him for freeing the obstruction and allowing the water to return to its course. In his experience it was the sort of opportunity any female in London's Marriage Mart would grasp without hesitation.
As they left the house early the next morning he smiled as he imagined Miss Latimer arriving at his door, full of effusive praise and feminine appreciation for his kind attention to her request. She would be sadly disappointed to discover that he had gone out shooting with Mountford, and that all her machinations had been in vain.
While they were out his friend maintained his usual level of inane chatter, which required little input on Fielding's part. He talked of guns and other sport, and then focussed upon his new neighbours. "Briggs provided me with some curious intelligence."
One of the beaters disturbed a partridge. Fielding took aim and fired; the bird dropped to earth like a stone. "I do wish you would not encourage your valet to gossip. It sets a bad example, particularly for the new staff."
"Oh, he only gossips to me. I like to be kept informed, and he does an excellent job of ferreting out the latest news and scandals."
"In town, perhaps, but here in the country his talents will be wasted."
"Au contraire, he has been immensely useful already. According to Briggs, who has his information from one of the local tap rooms, Uncle George has dropped me into a bear pit. Or perhaps a bear trap would be a more appropriate term. Do you know how many eligible bachelors of marriageable age currently reside within eight miles of our present location? I will save you the trouble of guessing; the answer is two."
Fielding laughed and shook his head. "You need not count me in your tally. I am no more than a passing visitor."
Mountford ignored him. "I thought spending time in the country would provide respite from that damned maternal man-hunt. Instead I find myself surrounded by desperate families who all have a daughter or two on the look-out for a husband. This will not do. I must return to town."
"Coward! I cannot believe you would run away with your tail between your legs. We have been here less than a week."
"True, but I find it deadly dull on my own with you hiding yourself downstairs, and if I am to be the target of every local mother it will take more than the two of us to distract them. So I hit upon a marvellous notion. We will go back to town tomorrow and persuade some of the others to join us. There's safety in numbers, after all, and maybe Sally will be bored enough to come play hostess."
"Your sister is always bored. She takes after you in that regard."
"She was begging to see Blackwood, so she will not mind in the least."
Fielding doubted that Sally Mountford would appreciate the tired and worn condition of the house once she arrived, but held his silence. More pressing was the problem of leaving the estate and the work he had been doing. "Someone must supervise the repairs to that roof and I am waiting on the responses to the advertisement for the post of steward. I would like to verify their references before you make the final decision."
"You mean before you make the decision?" Receiving no reply, Mountford said, "Well, if you are sure you do not mind being cooped up alone here in the country for a few days, of course you are welcome to stay. But what will you do for a valet while I am gone?"
Fielding had temporarily availed himself of the services of Mountford's gentleman while he had allowed his own man to visit his sick mother in Yorkshire, but Mr. Briggs would be following his master to town. Unfortunately he reposed no confidence in any of Mountford's newly hired staff to take on the task. The footmen in particular were none too bright. Fielding considered sending a note back to his town house, but soon discounted the idea. "Do you think me incapable of dressing myself?"
Mountford regarded him a moment, then laughed. "Very well, if you insist on playing the martyr and staying behind, I have no objections."