"You're the new hire, ain't ya?"
Catriona nodded to the man wearing a flannel shirt and straw hat. He didn't seem thrilled at her appearance, but he didn't seem too bothered by it either.
"Just as well," the man said. "I lost half of my workers this week. I don't know why Mr. Griffin puts me in charge of the staff when he keeps driving them off. My name is Chudley, by the way."
Catriona introduced herself. Chudley clicked his tongue.
"Never thought I'd see the day when... oh well, nevermind it. It doesn't matter what kind of hands get dirty. They all get dirty eventually, I suppose. "
He shoved a large basket at her.
"Today we harvest!" he cried like he was going into battle. "Nothing like a cool autumn Tuesday to take grapes off the vines. We have quite a few rows to get to, and with only half the staff, it'll take us a few good autumn Tuesdays to get it done."
Chudley shook his head to himself. He handed Catriona some pruning shears and saluted her. After some instructions about how to snip the grapes from the vines, she and the other staff were sent into the vineyards to harvest the grapes.
She attempted no conversation with the others as they all harvested. It took her some time to realize she was the only woman on staff, the others all men of different ages. None were younger than thirty, she guessed, making her the youngest one there at twenty-three.
She kept her eyes on the grapes, half-listening to the conversations of the men at work, and half thinking of her sister. Had Sara made it home? Would she return to Griffin's estate? Would she be able to feed herself?
Even though Sara was the one with work, it was Catriona's income that always went to food and rent. It had always been that way, and whenever Catriona tried to bring it up, Sara would go into a long trail of self-pity.
"Oh, I work so hard yet it comes to nothing!" she would say. "Do you hate your sister so? I certainly wish I was of more use to the household, I do."
Catriona could never stand her sister's self-hatred, so after a time, she stopped bringing up. But the resentment within her had built over the years, and Catriona momentarily wished that she had left her sister here to work in the vineyards instead. At least then Catriona would know that her sister had a proper job.
"Can you believe they all quit like that?" one of the men at the vineyards said to another on the other side of the wooden lattice as they clipped the grapes. "At a time like this?"
"Not like they were doing much to begin with," the other replied. "It's been a week, already. Let it go, Tom."
"Yes, but at least they could have cut more grapes. Can you imagine doing this entire field? Oh, my hands ache just thinking about it! And Griffin... the man won't pay us extra for it, will he?"
The man on the other side snipped more grapes. "You agreed to the terms. Don't complain about it. That's what Griffin would say, anyways."
"Tough as nails, he is. I don't know whether to stand up to him, or grow up to be just like him."
The men chuckled together until they caught sight of Catriona.
"You there, Miss," the first man said, pointing his shears at her. She stepped back. "I haven't seen a woman in the field before. What's your story?"
Catriona's head dipped as she tried to come up with an explanation. She didn't want to shame her family by telling the truth, and she couldn't make herself dishonest. At the silence, the men started to create their own answers.
"A thief, maybe?" the first one said. "Or a beggar? Griffin hates peddlers. I wouldn't be surprised if he put you to work for it."
"Perhaps she wants to be a famous vintner like Mr. Griffin?" the second jested.
"Don't get lost in your romantic foolery. Griffin doesn't hire dreamers." The first man clicked his tongue. "I've only ever seen the man hire the least of us. If she's on her hands and knees in the dirt, she did something to earn it."
Her heart weighing down in her chest, Catriona snipped the grapes in front of her and dropped them into the basket. She put the basket on her head - as she had heard people often did - and walked to another part of the vineyard.
She was no criminal. No thief nor peddler. Without a shred of evidence, they had created a story for her. She wished to hide in the deepest part of the vineyards so that no one could find her at all.
She walked mindlessly, interrupted by a dark humming. The tune was low and melancholy, and though the singer was not in perfect key, it was definitely the song of a man who had spent a lot of time singing to himself.
She followed the sound, distancing herself from the other staff step by step. She peeked around the lattices to see the singer. She only saw his back for a moment, his shirt rolled up to his elbows and a handkerchief around his neck. He was certainly fast at snipping off the vines, throwing them into the multiple baskets around him as he sang. Curious of his face, Catriona tried to get closer, coming up around the vines.
It was Griffin.
She dropped the basket in surprise and it crunched against the ground.
He stopped his song, turning around to see his spy. His forehead and neck were drenched in sweat, reflecting the hot sunlight beating down on the both of them. He had no real expression as his eyes dropped to the grapes on the ground and then back to her.
"Are you going to pick those up?" he asked. "Or are you going to keep staring at me?"
Catriona remembered herself and dropped to the ground to retrieve the grapes. Blood rushed to her face. She hurried the grapes into the basket.
"Forgive me, sir," she replied. "I was just curious about who was singing."
"You wandered off from the others to find a tune? You must have the hearing of a bat."
"That wasn't the reason I -" She stopped. She continued to put the grapes back in the basket, not meeting his eyes, but feeling his curiosity linger over her.
"Did they insult you?" he asked after a moment.
She didn't answer.
"Did you say something in return, or did you simply run?"
She bit her lip.
"Do you feel better for your silence?"
When she came back to her feet and didn't answer again, he shrugged and gave a sigh.
"You don't have to return with cruelty, but running won't solve your problems either. If you're going to work with my men, you'll need to face them. Now, come here."
He wiggled two fingers in command, telling her to come forward. She obeyed, waiting for her instructions. He snorted.
"So obedient," he muttered, unimpressed.
He handed her the pruning shears, nodding to the vines. With his eyes on her, she felt small and watched, like a mouse being hunted by a snake. She clipped the vines delicately.
"Too slow," he said. "Faster."
She tried to clip faster.
"Now you're not clipping close enough to the branch. Fix it."
She obeyed again.
"Now, stand on one foot," he commanded.
She turned her head back, unsure she heard him correctly. His face indicated that he wasn't joking.
"You want me to -"
"Stand on one foot," he commanded again. "Come on."
Arms crossed, face serious, he didn't budge. She inched her foot off the ground, leaning to one side. Swaying from side to side, she continued to clip the grapes.
"Now, sing a song," he said. "Preferably a folk song."
She nearly dropped the shears. "Sing?"
He nodded. "There are many studies that show that the vibration of the sound helps plants grow. If you work in my fields, you must sing. Why do you think I was doing it?"
His expression unchanged, she flipped between confusion and horror.
"I'm not a good singer, sir," she replied. "The plants might be worse off if I try."
His eyebrow twitched, but he seemed uninterested in her reply otherwise.
Not seeing a choice, she tried to pull up a song from her childhood. On one foot, hopping down the line of vines, she sang horrifically off-key as she cut the vines and threw them into the basket. She was halfway through the song before he snickered behind her.
She stopped, turning to see him pat his smile away with the back of his hand. Even with a bare glimpse of his smile, she was taken aback - his persona a complete flip from the scowling beast she had met on the staircase in the dark.
He shook his head at her. "You obedient fool. You can't tell when a man is deceiving you?"
She planted both feet on the ground, unsure of what to say.
He sighed. "Such timidity is going to get you into a world of trouble. At least question someone when they make a fool out of you, hmm?"
His eyes sparkled in the sunlight, making her head spin.
"Mr. Griffin!" a frantic voice called.
His playfulness dropped as he spun towards the voice. Mrs. Greene was holding her skirts, running to meet them.
"Come quickly, Mr. Griffin!" Mrs. Greene huffed. "They've returned."