Page 22 of Grasp the Thorn
She still frowned, but she nodded. “You have made up your mind, and I must obey,” she groused.
Not a good loser, his Rosa. Bear suppressed a smile and said peaceably, “In this, I will have my way. On other occasions, it will be your turn.”
Rosa gave a sheepish smile. “I am being silly, am I not? Very well, Hugh. Send your servants. I suppose I will have to get used again to being always under someone’s eye.”
How quiet a life she must have led, Bear reflected as he and Jeffreys drove away toward the village. She’d been without servants, caring for her father on her own, for the six years since Lord Hurley died. As far as he could tell, she had little to do with the neighbours. For six years, it had been only her and her father, and he absent in his own mind. No wonder she was so self-contained.
He would be changing all of that. He hoped she would find it a change for the better.
In the village, Bear sent Jeffreys to secure rooms at the inn and to see to the horses while he visited the Rectory.
“Mr Gavenor,” the rector said when he was announced, “you are speedy about your business, sir.”
“To some effect, I am pleased to say.” Bear took the offered seat. “Miss Neatham has done me the honour of consenting to be my bride. We would like the banns called, Dr Whitlow.”
“Immediately? Starting at tomorrow’s service? Certainly, Mr Gavenor. May I say how pleased I am? I wish you both very happy.”
“Yes, immediately, and with the wedding as soon as possible.” It would be at least two weeks; a time that stretched before Bear like eons. Not that he didn’t have plenty to do, he reminded himself.
“On Sunday after Matins, then, two weeks from tomorrow.” Dr Whitlow rewarded Bear with a benign smile. “Congratulations, Mr Gavenor. I shall call on you and Miss Neatham to discuss the obligations of marriage, as is my duty, and to arrange the details of the service.”
“If we set a time, I shall let Miss Neatham know and arrange to be there myself. I have moved into the village until after the wedding.”
The rector inclined his head and nodded slightly. “A good idea. That, and the wedding, should serve to still some of the tongues. I regret to say that Sir Gerard and his lady wife are set in their convictions, and Miss Pelman stands with them. Mr Pelman said all that was proper, but I feel no conviction as to his sincerity.”
“Mr Pelman is a snake,” Bear grumbled. “Dr Whitlow, I have another mission today. I intend to hire some help for my betrothed, who has been managing all the work at Rose Cottage, including looking after her father. I would like at least two maids to live in. I want a cook, too, and a handyman to do repairs and other jobs, and perhaps a little bit of gardening. The handyman would be a casual hire, coming when my betrothed needs him.” A bit of mending, a bit of gardening. The handyman would definitely not be living in; not, at least, until he and Rosa were married. The busy tongues of her enemies needed no more ammunition.
“Hmmm. The two middle Hesketh sisters might be interested. Some extra money in that household would be helpful. With the harvest so poor…perhaps the Colley son? A cook, you say? That might be a little more difficult.”
Bear had intended to offer Rosa a choice, but perhaps it was better to depend on local expertise. “How should I proceed, rector? I had thought of putting word out in the village and setting a time for interviews. I also need local labour for the work on Thorne Hall. I have a skilled team coming across from Liverpool, so the men here don’t need to be experienced, but they do need to be willing and strong.”
The rector considered that, his hands steepled under his chin, his fingers tapping his lips. “Write me a list, Mr Gavenor. The position, the quality and skills needed. The servants for Miss Neatham are urgent, I take it? When will you need the work crew?”
“I would prefer Miss Neatham not to be alone with the full care of her father. If we could find her at least one maid, as soon as possible, I would be easier in my mind.”
The rector nodded. “Then, I suggest we visit the Heskeths. If you are satisfied, and they are willing, you will have met the immediate need. And the work crew?”
“My foreman will select and hire the men. I expect him any time in the next week. We will be taking men on for casual hire through the next six months, I imagine. Perhaps nine.”
The rector looked pleased at that, and well he might. Bear would be providing wages for the rest of the dismal summer and well into winter, perhaps even spring. “When would you be free to visit the Heskeths, sir?” Bear asked.
“No time like the present.” The rector stood. “They live just a five-minute walk away, on a small holding near the river, and I imagine we will find them at home, in this rain. Will you excuse me while I find a hat and an umbrella, sir?”
The Heskeths, so the rector explained as they walked, had farmed here since time immemorial, owning enough land to make them prosperous in good years, though seasons like this stretched their resources.
“Two fewer mouths to feed, and the girls’ wages, will help,” Bear commented.
“Yes, and old Mr Hesketh lives with them yet, and is in his second childhood, so they are accustomed to the elderly.”
At the farmhouse, a rambling place that looked as if successive owners had added on since before the Norman Conquest, they were ushered into a tiny but pristine parlour, where the rector presented Bear’s request to Mrs Hesketh, a comfortably cushioned lady perhaps a decade older than Bear. She frowned, her fair brows drawing together over her nose.
“Mind, I don’t hold with the gossip. I never saw Miss Rosa up to anything a lady shouldn’t, nor her mother before her. My own mother worked at Thorne Hall before she wed, and my sister more recently.” She examined Bear carefully, peering at him as if weighing the risk of her next words. “I do not wish to offend, sir, but I’ll not have my girls going into a house of sin, Mr Gavenor, and the whole world knows that you and Miss Rosa have been living there together.”
Before Bear could respond, the rector spoke up, “Now Mrs Hesketh, Mr Neatham and Mr Gavenor’s manservant have both been there all through, and Mr Gavenor assures me he has been merely boarding at the cottage to be close to Thorne Hall. Nothing untoward has happened. Not, at least, at Rose Cottage, though I am disappointed in the spiteful tongues of some in the village. Mr Gavenor has now moved into the village to await his wedding to Miss Neatham.”
Bear thought it time to take a hand. “My betrothed had a fall several weeks ago, Mrs Hesketh, and I worry for her alone in the cottage with her frail, elderly father to care for. The rector here told me what people were saying, and I hoped to save Miss Neatham from further embarrassment. If you could see your way to permitting your girls to offer their help, I would be very grateful.”
At that point, the door to the parlour opened, and three young women, each a younger copy of their mother, carried in refreshments: a tea pot, plates of scones, a tray with cups, milk and sugar.
