Page 51 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
“Emma, you’ve never been just a servant. I doubt the Claridges knew what to make of you, all skinny and ragged and covered with lice, from that voyage in the ship’s hold. But I know your kind.” He touched her arm this time, lightly, briefly. “When you want to talk to someone, I hope it is me.”
What good could you do me?she reflected as they rode along.You have to be flogged to do your duty, and you are busy now with wooing. If you are not lazy now, it is only a temporary thing. You will be indolent again, when you are bored.To her relief, Lord Ragsdale changed the subject and began to talk of his plans for the crofters.
“I should think it would be best to build the cottages in a more central location, instead of sprawled here and there across the estate,” he said as they rode along. “This area, for instance. It’s far enough from the cliffs to cut some of the wind and close enough to their work for convenience.”
They stopped in a pleasant clearing, a small valley tucked between the series of low, wooded hills that characterized the Norfolk coast. Lord Ragsdale dismounted and gestured with his riding whip. “See, Emma? Plenty of good water, and still some timber. We could erect barns close by for those who have their own livestock.”
He held out his arms to help her down, but she shook her head and settled herself more firmly in the saddle. He leaned against her mare, absently fingering the horse’s mane. “You don’t like the idea,” he said finally. He looked, to her mind, rather like a little boy in the throes of disappointment, too well mannered to show all his irritation, but not averse to a wry expression.
Diplomacy, Emma Costello, diplomacy, she told herself.You have already ruined the morning for yourself; see what you can do to give these people what they really want.“My lord, may I suggest that you ask your tenants whattheywant?”
She could tell by the look on his face that he had never before entertained the novelty of inquiry among those who worked his land.Oh, dear, she thought,this is probably more democracy than an Englishman can stand.She looked beyond his expression of slack surprise and smiled to herself, thinking of the Claridges and their Virginia neighbors, rich and poor alike, gathering to make decisions for their county. She remembered the noise, the hot words, the voices raised inclamorous agreement or disagreement, and then the rational calm that settled on the assembly when the majority spoke. True, not everyone went home satisfied, not even the major landowners, but there was harmony, because all had aired their opinion.
“It works in America, my lord,” she said, warming to the idea, feeling animation rise in her own heart. “You can hear some fearful rows at Hundred meetings, but most come away satisfied, because they have had their say.”
She watched him for signs of resistance but could see none. He rubbed his forehead thoughtfully and then mounted his hunter again. “It’s a lovely spot, Emma,” he said, drawing close to her. “Why would they object?”
She took a deep breath, at the same time wondering why she felt the inclination to fight for these people she hardly knew.Am I fighting for them, or am I concerned that they understand that you take an interest?she asked herself, and had no ready answer. “Sir, people do not like to be forced from their homes, no matter how shabby or inconvenient those cottages are.”
“Like you, Emma?” he asked softly, a smile of understanding playing around his lips.
“You will not let me forget, will you?” she considered. “Yes, my lord, like me,” she replied, her voice equally soft. “Present your argument for removal, but let them decide.”
“Won’t they think me a weak landlord if I succumb to their decision?” he persisted, and his interest sounded genuine to her.
“Of course not,” she responded promptly. “They will think that you care about them, and they will follow you anywhere.”
He mulled that one over, riding in silence for several minutes.
“I doubt even Sir Augustus has ever done anything that radical,” he said. “My neighbors will think I am daft and count it a certainty that my father left a weak heir.”
“Who cares what your neighbors think, John?” she said, blurting out his name before she even realized it. “They don’t work for you, and you don’t have to answer to them.” She blushed then, aware of her social blunder. “Excuse me, my lord,” she apologized. “I was forward.”
He smiled at her. “Nonsense! Emma, you are a flaming radical, don’t you know.”
She nodded, relieved at his light tone. “Aye, my lord. But only think: there are so many ways to solve problems. Why limit yourself to what’s been done over and over? Try something new.”
She held her breath as he regarded her thoughtfully. “Very well, Emma,” he said finally when she thought she would burst with waiting. “I’ll do it your way. Let’s return to the manor. I’ll make it Manwaring’s task to gather my estate workers tonight in the old barn by the threshing floor. You’ll take notes of the proceedings, of course.”
Emma grinned at him and clapped her hands, even as he wagged his finger at her. “See here, Emma, I’m going to the end of the plank for you on this one!”
“You won’t be disappointed, sir,” she replied happily.
“I wouldn’t dare be,” he said. He looked at her. “Well, speak, Emma. You obviously have something else on your mind. I am sure it is radical.”
She nodded, wondering if this was going too far, but willing to chance it. “My lord, let the women come to the meeting too, and let them speak.”
“Oh, that is radical,” he agreed, half teasing, half serious. “Why ever would I want to do such a thing?”
“The women will know better than the men what they want in a new cottage,” she said decisively. “Encourage them to speak, and they will defend you and serve you to their last breath.”
They were in sight of the manor house again. “I’ll do it,” Lord Ragsdale said. They rode into the stables, ducking through the open doorway. He dismounted and held hisarms out for her. She allowed him to help her down. He did not release her immediately but put his hands on her shoulders for a brief moment.
“What about you, Emma?” he asked, his voice quiet as Manwaring approached. “Will you ever speak your mind to me?”
She forced herself to meet his glance and felt an enormous urge to unburden herself completely, to tell him the whole miserable story and her dreadful part in it, until she was stripped right down to the bone. She hesitated, teetering on the edge, before she pulled herself back with a shake of her head. He released her and turned away.
“Maybe someday, Emma,” was all he said as he left the stables with Manwaring.
