by Sahara Kelly
Hecate sipped her tea and thought about their problem, letting possible solutions dance around her mind, ignoring some, considering others. She listened with half an ear to their conversation with Finn, paying barely any attention while her mind roamed over any way at all she might be able to help.
And then, completely out of the blue, it came to her.
“Do you two know much about farming? I mean actually running a farm, not just working one. Planting, crops, yields, all that sort of thing?”
She noticed Finn’s head turn to her as she asked the question, but she wanted an answer before going any further.
Harvey spoke. “In truth, Miss Ridlington, and not to boast of my own capabilities, I could manage a farm quite well, I think.” He glanced down, his face colouring. “My father owned a fair acreage when I was a lad, and I had a hand in the running of it. He let me take care of the books, the buying and selling, replenishing stock…things like that. He was not in the best of health and as he failed, I took over more and more of it.”
“You never mentioned that…” Digby stared at his friend, his mouth agape.
“No, well there wasn’t much time for chat about backgrounds in the middle of the fight, now, was there?”
“I suppose not.” Digby still appeared shocked. “Well, for my part, I know a bit about the land. Although my family weren’t landowners…” he shot a frown at Harvey, “we were involved in some business with all the local farmers around where we lived. My father was what he liked to call an agent. He’d put farmers and buyers in touch with each other. If one farmer needed a good load of fresh hay, we’d send him to whoever had more than they needed. So I got to know about crops and planting. Which is why I can see how bad things are right now when it comes to the land.” He shook his head.
Finn looked at Hecate once more. “Those are excellent answers, lads. I have to wonder why Miss Hecate asked?”
She smiled. “All right. Here’s what I’m thinking.” She put her cup down, rose from her seat and reached for her cane, walking across the room and opening a desk. She withdrew a map, and brought it back to the group around the fire. “If I might ask you gentlemen to look at this…” She unfolded it onto a side table, muttering as it flopped over the side. “Too large, but that’s no matter.” She straightened it as best she could. “Here.” She tapped a finger on the map. “This is what I’d like you to see.”
Her finger rested on a marked lot of land at the boundary of Doireann Vale’s holdings.
“This is, or I should say, was, a farm at one time. I’d guess it has been without tenants for at least a year, and the fields have run amok. There are still some good stalls there, which is why it attracted my attention in the first place, and there’s even a farmhouse with good bones, although repairs are needed. Quite a few repairs.”
The two men leaned over as Finn came to Hecate’s side and watched over her shoulder. She could feel his heat against her spine and the sensation was pleasant if distracting.
“There’s water…” muttered Digby.
“And it looks like a road here, down to the village. Makes for easy transportation.”
Hecate let them comment and review the situation for a few more moments, unwilling to move away from Finn’s warmth. She turned away from them and toward Finn’s face. “They’re good men, you said?”
He nodded. “The best,” he breathed.
“Very well.” She put her hand on the map once more. “Gentlemen, if you are in agreement, I would like to ask you to take over this property.”
Two mouths dropped open.
“It will not be easy, but I am prepared to advance you a small loan which I hope will get you started and with luck render the farmhouse liveable over the winter.” She returned to her seat and leaned the cane up beside it, sitting and folding her hands in her lap. “There should be enough for a couple of cows if you can find some at a fair price, and seed too, but planting this year? Probably not. So I would suggest the first thing would be to repair the house, grow whatever you can in the way of late vegetables, and perhaps set up a hen house. Chickens seem to be in ready supply and are easily bred.”
Two pairs of eyes remained fixed on her face.
“What say you? I am not offering much, I’m afraid, but with hard work and luck, you might be able to make a go of it…”
“Ma’am,” sputtered Harvey. “I don’t know what to say…”
“Me neither, Miss Ridlington,” agreed Digby. “’Tis more than we could have hoped for…”
“I want to return Doireann Vale to its former health, gentlemen. I see signs of the estate it used to be, and I believe it can return to that condition with the help of the right people. Should you be able to work that farm, then I will ask that you regard yourselves as Doireann Vale tenants, until such time as you have provided us with fair and equal amounts of grains, meat and other supplies that will equal the value of farm. At which time it will become yours. I will still expect provisions, and the land will still belong to the Vale, but the farm will be yours.”
“You mean we’ll own the farm? Not just work it?” Harvey struggled.
“I do,” nodded Hecate. “There are several more farms that could use fresh blood. But now is not the right time to look at each of them and talk to the farmers, since none of us can control this damned weather.” She glanced out of the window at the grey skies. “It won’t be easy. But it could be worthwhile…”
“Ma’am, if you’re serious, then yes. Yes, indeed. We’ll do it.” Digby’s voice broke.
“We will indeed, Ma’am. We’ll give you the best farm we can, and the best in the county if the sun ever shines.” Harvey’s eyes glistened. “Thank you. You’ve saved our lives, you know.”
“She does that a lot, I’m coming to realise,” grinned Finn.
“I will ask Dal to attend to the financial end of things for you,” she said. “He will let you know when the matter is done. In the meantime, if you’d prefer to stay here…”
“You’ve done too much already, Miss Ridlington,” said Harvey with a small bow. “I think I speak for both of us when I say that right at this moment, we can’t wait to get to this farm.” He looked at Digby. “Our farm.”
“Sabrage Farm,” Digby grinned.
“An unusual name?” Hecate raised an eyebrow.
“But an appropriate one,” Finn interjected. “Sabrage is the act of opening a champagne bottle with a sabre. A feat, I might add, that is the specialty of the Hussars. The rest of us pop the cork off like everyone else.”
Hecate held back her snort. “Then Sabrage Farm it shall be.”
Cheers and back-slapping took place, followed by a period of awkward and profound expressions of gratitude she waved away. “You’ll work hard, sirs. Don’t thank me yet.”
Finally, they took their leave, and she smiled at the sound of excitement in their voices. A far cry from the sense of desolation which had surround them a scant hour or so before.
“You are an angel in their eyes, now, you know.” Finn came back into the room after seeing the two new farmers on their way. “A guardian angel.” He retook his seat and sneaked a biscuit from the tray. “Is that to be your lot in life, Hecate? Ministering to those in need?”
“You make me sound like a nun, Finn.” Flustered at his comment, she shifted in her chair.
“And we both know you’re not,” he smiled gently. “You kiss much too enthusiastically to be cloistered away.”
“I-I do?”
“Mmm hmm.” His smile was pure Irish charm, his blue eyes filled with laughter as he watched her confusion.
“Well then.” She swallowed.
He rose and gathered the tea things. “I’ll take this down to Mrs. Trimmer. No sense in her rushing around when I need the exercise.”
“All right.” It was a weak response, but he’d caught her off guard. Again.
These flirtatious moments had to stop. They were unnerving, and she liked them far too much.
Chapte
r Nine
Finn’s health was definitely improving. Every day he pushed himself to do a little more, sleep a little less and attempt to return to at least some semblance of the healthy man he used to be.
His headaches were fewer and further between, and his muscles were starting to feel as if they belonged to a human being instead of a useless jellyfish.
But the one thing that was driving him slightly insane was this constant need he’d developed for his hostess.
Every time he thought of her, a bolt of arousal shot through him with unerring accuracy, landing right between his legs. Every time he scented that delicate fragrance she left in each room, he yearned, and when he watched her lick her lips after a tasty morsel at any meal, he ached.
He desired her in all the ways a man could desire a woman, and then some.
But here he was, obliged to her for his very existence. How could he turn around and promptly seduce his saviour?
He was on the horns of a dilemma, without a doubt. But the worst horn was the one that accompanied him everywhere, reminding him that he was a man with a bad case of lust. And that his male parts were now working very nicely, thank you.
She fascinated him, intrigued him and charmed him, simply by being herself. She had a strangely comprehensive knowledge of obscure things, like plants—which to him were things you either ate, sniffed or ignored. Her reading of character was spot-on, even though she’d asked his opinion about the two Hussars. He had a feeling that her request was more for his benefit than hers.
However, the lads themselves were turning out to be exemplary workers, as both Finn and Hecate found out one afternoon when the clouds lifted to give a brief glimpse of sun.
“May we walk somewhere, Hecate?” He stood at the window, staring out. “I would love more than just a quick breath of fresh air, and I believe I’m well enough for such a thing.”
She looked up from her chair and put her book aside. “A good idea. I’ve been wanting to visit our two new farmers. It’s been over a week now, and I’ll admit I’m curious to see how they’re managing.”
So it was decided and a short time later Finn and Hecate set out toward the boundaries of Doireann Vale. Dal had been informed, but judged Finn well able to make sure Hecate didn’t get into any difficulties along the way. She had her cane and Finn’s arm…that would suffice.
He had to wonder if this was usual for the country, since an unattached gentleman walking an unattached lady would give rise to a considerable amount of gossip in London. But then he saw how the few people they passed greeted Hecate with warm respect, and even gave him a friendly nod.
He’d forgotten the difference between Society and the real world. And now, at this point in his life, he realised which he preferred.
It was a scant twenty-minute stroll to the farm, and Finn was pleased to see a steady stream of smoke rising from the chimney. “It looks like they’re settled in,” he said, pointing to the sight.
“I’m glad,” answered Hecate.
He had kept his pace slow to match her steps, and kept their arms entwined. But that was more for the pleasure of her nearness than anything else, since she was perfectly steady even though her gait was uneven.
Approaching the building, Finn looked it over, noting the repaired roof, the swept porch and the clean windows. There were still one or two with boards across them, but there were signs of fresh stonework around others.
“They have put a lot of work in to this already,” he commented as he knocked.
Hecate nodded. “I think this will turn out to be a good thing.”
The door opened on the worried face of Harvey Woodruff. When he saw who it was, he relaxed into smiles. “Miss Ridlington, Mr. Casey. Please come in.”
He stepped back and they walked inside, Finn’s eyes taking in the simple furniture, the bright fire in the hearth and the wonderful smell of some kind of stew.
“How lovely,” exclaimed Hecate. “You’ve done wonders, Mr. Woodruff. Congratulations…” she turned to notice Digby smiling in the doorway to the kitchen. “And to you too, sir. Well done.”
“We came to see how you were going on,” added Finn. “This is reassuring. We wouldn’t have left you lads if you’d been cold, wet and starving.”
Harvey chuckled. “It wasn’t too difficult to set this place to rights. Good bones to this cottage, Miss Ridlington. You were right. A few repairs and we were snug as can be.”
“And you’re doing all right for food?” She sniffed appreciatively. “Although given what I’m smelling, that is a redundant question.”
Harvey sighed. “We’re doing a little too well for food, Ma’am.”
Finn blinked. “Uh…”
Digby put his cloth down and came over to stand by the fire. “It’s like this, you see. We’re two lads who are new to the area. We have a farm we’re going to be working, and no families.” He looked at Finn. “Word got out.”
Realisation hit Finn and he chuckled. “Let me guess. Every single woman in the county has gotten wind that two bachelors are now in their area.”
“Oh good grief,” Hecate burst out laughing. “I never thought of that.”
“Neither did we, Ma’am,” said Harvey. “But almost every day we’ve had either food or other provisions delivered by a parade of ladies who ‘just happened to be in the area’. Why they would be out walking with pies…” He shrugged. “Some very good pies, though, I have to say.”
“And you thought we were more pie-bearing ladies?” Finn couldn’t help the chuckle.
“At first, yes,” grinned Harvey. “Thank you for not bringing any.”
They chatted for a little while, Hecate refused the offer of tea, and then they left, Finn still grinning at the predicament the two Hussars had found themselves in, which he described as every bit as frightening as a full-on battle against the French.
Hecate threw him a glance as they headed for home. “Laugh while you may, Finn. Wait until the neighbourhood learns that you are single. I predict my door knocker will be quite active in the coming weeks and months.”
He shuddered. “Don’t even think it.”
Unfortunately, she was right.
*~~*~~*
“And how are you feeling today, Sergeant Casey?” Mrs. Gilley smiled at him fondly, as did her daughter, Lavender.
“Very well, thank you, Ma’am,” replied Finn politely.
“We were saying just the other day how delightful it is to know that we are hosting a brave soldier in our midst,” added Mrs. Francis. “Susan and Dora are quite in alt to have met you, as is Lavender, of course.”
The two blushing young ladies thus referred to, tittered, and next to them Miss Lavender Gilley pouted.
Hecate was hard pressed to restrain her amusement, although the morning-calls were turning out to be a bit of an interruption to her day’s schedules.
“Sergeant Casey has made a wonderful recovery, ladies. He and Dal are working together now on plans for the winter. Storing what we need, and so on.” She turned the conversation away from Finn. “May I ask if you are all doing the same thing? This has been such a terrible year; I shudder to think of what we might face as winter draws nigh.”
Talk moved to practical matters, as Hecate had hoped it would. Mrs. Gilley and Mrs. Francis were but two of the mothers of hopeful daughters, but they had become the most persistent over the last ten days.
Hecate shot Finn an amused glance as both women casually mentioned the two young farmers that were now living in Doireann Vale. A passing comment, but for a brief second Hecate could have sworn she scented a pie.
As was his wont, Dal usually allowed about fifteen minutes or so of conversation before poking his head in and requesting Finn’s presence. Finn, apologetically, bade farewell to the guests, leaving the room with relief evident in his firm stride.
The sighs followed him as the door closed behind him.
If only he wasn’t so damned handsome.
“He is a testament to your healing s
kills, Miss Ridlington,” observed Mrs. Gilley. “I suppose you learned about such things during your own recuperation?” She glanced pointedly at the cane leaning against Hecate’s chair.
“My interest began long before my carriage accident, Ma’am,” she answered calmly. “I’m just happy to be able to assist those in need where I can.”
“So Sergeant Casey was wounded?” Lavender Gilley leaned forward, an eager expression on her face.
Once again, Hecate found herself repeating the fiction they’d come up with to explain Finn’s presence. “Yes, Ma’am. He survived Waterloo without injury, but a few months ago he ran into a skirmish with an armed gang of thieves, just outside London. He managed to find his way to my sister’s home, and she immediately recognised him as a friend of Richard’s. Together they contacted me and asked if I could help in Sergeant Casey’s recovery.” She met the curious eyes with relaxed complacency. “I was more than happy to do so.”
More sighs greeted this explanation, and since the man himself showed no signs of reappearing, the ladies rose and began to gather their things.
“Well he’s a very lucky lad to be here, to receive your ministrations.” Once again, glances dropped to her cane.
“I’m fortunate to be well enough to assist in his recovery,” repeated Hecate, although she made a point of rising very slowly to her feet and immediately reaching for the carved head of her cane. It didn’t hurt that they’d ruled her out as competition for Finn’s affections.
She limped. Therefore, she was flawed in their eyes, and clearly no rival when put up against such perfect specimens as Dora, Susan and Lavender.
To Hecate’s surprise, there had been barely any gossip, either. It was a good thing overall, but she couldn’t help but feel angry at the widely-held view of her feminine appeal.
Apparently she didn’t have any.
It was fortunate that the occasional look she caught in Finn’s eyes told her otherwise.
Enjoying the silence after the guests had gone, Hecate pondered her present and her future. She liked to have a plan, a sense of where she was headed, and some vague idea of what awaited her when she got there. That kind of vision had led her here, to Doireann Vale, and to Finn as he lay in the woods.