Page 32 of Miss Determined
“You have become an expert on this village in three days?”
“Villages, be they English, French, German, or otherwise, have the same basic attributes if the place is in good working order. The denizens close ranks against outsiders and live in each other’s pockets. I don’t know how it is with brothers and sisters, but I suspect a village is like a big family. Half exasperating, half wonderful.”
Like Miss Amaryllis DeWitt was half exasperating and half wonderful, though the feel of her hand in Trevor’s had surpassed even wonderful and left magnificent sitting in a dazed heap by the side of a thoroughfare leading to breathtaking destinations.
“Do go on,” Sycamore said, propping his stockinged feet on a hassock. “I have a mere eight siblings, well, nine and counting if we bend the rules a bit. They each bring in-laws into the picture, and I’m an uncle a dozen times over. Pray enlighten me about the qualities of a family life.”
Trevor would rather smack dear Sycamore, though the man was wicked fast with his fists and carried more knives than he had siblings.
“Using an alias was nearly unavoidable,” Trevor said. “Admittedly, I should have chosen something other than Jeanette’s married name.”
“Which is also my name, the Earl of Casriel’s family name. The name of the increasingly famous Hampshire portraitist, the successful children’s author, the renowned trainer of canines who—”
“Pour l’amour de Dieu, ferme ta bouche.”
“If you must tell me to shut my mouth—en français—at least address me politely.”
“I will politely dunk you in the Twid if you let on in any fashion that I am a peer. Lord Tavistock is universally reviled in Crosspatch, and for good reasons.”
Sycamore leaned back his head and closed his eyes. “His lordship never bothered to check on the chickens, for one thing, and when he should mince about, dispensing repairs and new breeding rams, he instead lurks behind the Dorning name, sneaking about the hedgerows.”
“I’m too blessed tall, blond, and well dressed to sneak anywhere. I learned that in France. What, by the way, brought you to this bucolic little Eden just as Town is preparing for the annual madness?”
“My instincts bring me here, and I trust them utterly. Why do the locals dislike you, beyond the obvious?”
Trevor lowered himself to the window seat. “What obvious? I am certain I forbade the solicitors to raise rents before I left for France. I also directed them to mind the repairs, but plain English clearly defied their comprehension.”
Dorning, eyes still closed, crossed his feet at the ankles. “Say on. You’ve inspected your properties and found them approaching ruin?”
“I haven’t managed inspections. I’m supposedly looking for a small estate where I can perfect my beer-making skills.” Though there was less and lesssupposedlyabout it. Why not? Why not brew up the best beer John Bull had ever tasted and offer it to him at an affordable price? Why not bring the same dedication and science to making beer that had for centuries been brought to the making of wine?
“Every butler and housekeeper knows how to make beer,” Sycamore said. “Every estate has its own little distillery or shares one with the neighbors.Iknow how to make beer, more or less, and you already own thousands of acres. Besides, I thought your passion was wine.”
The less talk of passion, the better. “The Continental climate offers better conditions for growing wine grapes, but we do a solid job by our grains here, andeverybody—duchesses, dressmakers, dancers, drummers, and drovers—enjoys a good beer.Dorningsenjoy a good beer.”
“That, we do. You see a larger British market for beer than wine and without any importation bother, but the beer market is also crowded.”
“Correct, thus one must distinguish one’s product by its quality and affordability, as the winemakers long since learned to do, but all this has no bearing on why I came to Crosspatch Corners.”
“By the time I’m fast asleep, you will surely get around to that part.”
Trevor was tempted to kick Dorning’s feet off the hassock, but a braver, more honest part of him admitted that he was glad to see a familiar face. Sycamore did have formidable intuition, and he was formidably well connected too.
“I’ve made the acquaintance of the DeWitt family,” Trevor said. “They are my tenants at Twidboro Hall. Got myself invited to tea, had a casual look around the public rooms. The repairs are behind by several years, and the DeWitts are a household of women. The scion of the house went missing some two years ago, and the family finances are growing muddled.”
“Damsels in distress are notorious for having muddled finances,” Sycamore observed, settling lower against the cushions. “Not their most endearing trait.”
“The DeWitt ladies haven’t the authority to muddle their own finances—lest we forget that detail—and the news grows worse. They have been warned that the rent will go up this autumn, and I have given no instructions to raise any rents. The peace created all manner of economic havoc, then the harvests were thin. The DeWitts have been good tenants, Twidboro Hall is home to them, and yet… I cannot trust my solicitors, Dorning. Lark’s Nest, by contrast, is occupied by a Mr. Phillip Heyward, though my solicitors forgot to include Lark’s Nest on my list of holdings. The dwelling is older and more modest, also in better repair than Twidboro, with which it shares a property line.”
“You suspect Smithers and Purvis of taking advantage of the DeWitt ladies?”
Trevor rose, turned, and stared across the shadows lengthening on the green. St. Nebo’s leaky roof was on display in the fading light, standing seam tin grown rusty over most of its surface. A roof took years to yield to the elements like that.
“I suspect the solicitors are preying on the ladies and other vulnerable tenants, which is to say, the weasels are taking advantage of me.”
“And?” Sycamore was the picture of masculine repose, eyes closed, hands folded on his flat belly.
“Whydoes Purvis think he can play skittles with a marquess’s money? Yes, he knew me when I was a lad, but I’m clearly not a lad, and thanks to Jeanette, I’m not stupid. Gullible, but not stupid.”
