The spinster and the wastrel (15 page)

Hastily roused neighbors clustered in despairing silence, watching the destruction of the cottage. Buckets and rags to prevent the fire from spreading hung from their hands, but the cottage was lost. Already the roof and walls were ablaze with the orange glow.

At Sir Gerard's approach, their sullen stares swiveled towards him. No one moved to hold his horse as he dismounted. Holding the reins in his hand, he strode forward. With all of their eyes focused upon him, he felt like he walked into a wall far more substantial than the smoke hovering over the yard.

This passive distrust was a part of his uncle's legacy. For too long, Sir Nigel had snatched the fruits of their labor and never returned a farthing he was not forced to. Now, when one of their own faced destitution, they did not expect help from the baronet.

Sir Gerard squared his shoulders. He was not his uncle. "Which one of you is Tim Farmer?"

A stout man with a soot-streaked face and begrimed clothing pushed himself forward. "That's me."

Conscious of the other listening ears, Sir Gerard said, "I am sorry to see this destruction. How did it happen?"

The other man took a deep breath and straightened to his full height. "It were the chimney. It's been bad for years, but no repairs ever got done on it. Fire started in it. Could have smoldered for hours and us never know it. It always gave off smoke." With a final condemnation, he added, "And no repairs done even though I asked."

A low growl from the crowd emphasized the truth of the man's words. They probably had similar stories. Sir

Gerard could feel their hostility, as if the fire had burned away the restraints of civilization even as it consumed the home. Danger threatened. Perhaps he should not have come, but this man was one of his tenants.

"That neglect was shameful. It will not happen again."

Tim eyed him truculently. "Fine words from a baronet."

"I mean them," Sir Gerard said. "Is your family safe?"

"Me wife and son got out. We're not hurt." Tim's fists were clenched, but he made no threatening move.

"I am glad they escaped." Sir Gerard's lips thinned as he looked at the destruction. "I will make sure your home is rebuilt."

"Aye, and raise my rents to boot, I'll be bound."

"No, I mean to make up for the hardship you have suffered in the past. Your cottage will be rebuilt, and the chimney will be safe this time."

Disbelief and hope warred across the farmer's blunt face. "But what am I going to do now? How will I care for my family? It is winter."

The urge to help this man rushed through Sir Gerard. Against the backdrop of crackling flames, he wanted to encourage Tim's hope. He gazed beyond the crowd, seeking a solution. "The barn looks like it is still standing. Could you live in it until the new cottage is built?"

"The barn is all I got left."

"It would work. For a little while." Sir Gerard pushed through the crowd. With an uncertain hesitation, the people parted before him. "It would be a place to start."

Tim came, too, and his glance swept over the building. "But it is winter. How would me wife and son stay warm? I ain't risking another fire."

The enthusiasm for providing this help flared higher

within Sir Gerard even as the roar of the blaze behind him began to subside. He would not let such a small objection about the lack of a chimney prevent him from assisting one of his people in need.

Still pulling Silver Shadow, he strode towards the barn. Tim followed, and behind him the crowd trailed, eavesdropping on everything.

Muttering to himself, Sir Gerard studied the barn, seeking an answer to the problem. The weather-beaten barn sagged from old age like most of the buildings belonging to Hathaway Hall's lands, excepting only the baronet's own house. The flickering light displayed the splintering boards and the cracks in the wall. The cold wind could still whistle its way in. Such a structure might shelter the oxen as a windbreak, but people needed more than a pile of straw to stay warm.

Looking at it, he was reminded of Miss Courtney and her school constructed from a dilapidated warehouse. Were all the buildings of the area on the verge of falling down? He wished he had some of her ability to build something from nothing available now.

Then he was reminded of something else about her school. A broad grin spread across his face. "I've got the answer. You need a stove."

"A stove, sir?" Tim's puzzled look reflected the murmuring of the crowd.

Sir Gerard clapped the man heartily on the back. "It is the perfect solution. I will buy you a stove that will keep your family warm while you are living in the bam. Once your cottage is rebuilt, we can move it into your new home."

Hope sprang alive on the man's ruddy face. "Do you

The Spinster and the Wastrel 139

mean it, sir? You're not just speaking words to me, are you?"

"I mean it," Sir Gerard promised. No matter what he had to do, he was not going to disappoint this man, even if it required building the cottage with his own two hands.

Grabbing his benefactor's hand, Tun shook it as if he were priming a pump. "I'm your man, sir. For all the rest of me days. You don't know what this means to me."

It took some effort, but Sir Gerard managed to free his hand. "Perhaps I do," he said softly, but Tim did not hear him.

He was too busy proclaiming the goodness of Baronet Westcourt. Now the other men pushed forward, wanting to shake Sir Gerard's hand.

The attention embarrassed him, but there was no escape from the now friendly crowd. Several of them attempted to speak of their own problems.

"Not now," Sir Gerard said to those. "It has been a busy night, and everyone needs some rest. I want to help Tun here first. Bring your concerns to me later at Hathaway Hall."

A sudden crash diverted attention back to the fire. One of the cottage walls had fallen in, sending red sparks flying into the night. Some of them landed on the barn, but ready workers slapped the emerging flames into oblivion with their wet rags.

Sir Gerard stepped back while they worked, glad that they managed to save the barn. Already tonight he had promised more than he could pay for. He needed a stove immediately, a cottage quickly, and his own debts were due at the end of the month. This was already late February. He would not have the quarterly funds available until the end of March, and even that amount would not cover

all that he now owed. Yet, Tim Farmer and his family could not live in a barn without that stove for the six weeks or more of winter remaining.

Distracted, he ran his hand through his hair. Silver Shadow nudged him, and he spoke quietly to his horse, "What am I going to do, old boy? These people are counting on me. I want to help them. I promised it, but how am I going to keep that promise?"

The horse nickered as if he understood the concern lacing his master's voice.

"You saw how he depends upon my position for relief. How they all do. If only I could get that money." He gave a bitter laugh. "Who am I kidding? Even if I had the quarter funds, it would not be enough to cover my word."

Patting the horse's neck, he continued, "You do not have a very honorable owner. It is a good thing you are only a horse and don't know any better."

As if to belie his words, Silver Shadow nudged him with such strength that Sir Gerard nearly lost his balance.

"Hey!" he cried. "I apologize. I did not mean to offend you. Guess you know a bit more than I realized."

Silver Shadow shook his mane and stamped his hoof.

Sir Gerard chuckled. "I'm glad I'm forgiven." Then he grew serious again. "I am in deep trouble this time. I need the money, and I certainly will not go to that moneylender again."

The horse's snort announced his agreement with his master's opinion.

"If not money-lenders, where else can a man obtain money? Who has some?"

Rubbing his hand along Silver Shadow's nose, Sir Gerard watched the fire. The immediate threat from the sparks had been thwarted, and now the flames finished consum-

ing their prize. The crowd also gazed at the destruction of the cottage, but there was an easing of the tension, as if they, too, realized the immediate battle was over.

Yes, their fight was finished, but Sir Gerard knew his war still continued. The people relied on him to provide, and he did not have any solutions.

Silver Shadow's breath warmed his fingers, returning feeling to Sir Gerard's cold, numbed hand. He mulled over the people who had wealth. They acquired it through lands and other business interests. He had title and land, but still no ready cash. Only money-lenders and bankers had that.

"Bankers," he breathed in sudden realization. "Banks have the money. I can go to a bank for the money I need. I no longer must deal with money-lenders. I am respectable enough for a mortgage—after all I own property."

In his happiness, he hugged his horse with so much enthusiasm that Silver Shadow neighed nervously. Sir Gerard just laughed. He had found his solution. He would place a mortgage on his land. He could pay it off from the quarter rents. No longer would he have debts hanging over his head like a gallow's noose. Despite the smoke pall lingering over the yard, the dawning of the day appeared very bright to Sir Gerard.

The sound of an approaching carriage turned everyone's attention towards the new arrival. A sturdy chestnut pulled a landau into the farmyard. Annette Courtney held the reins. By her side, a blanket covered a lumpy pile.

Sir Gerard strolled to the carriage and bowed. "Good morning, Miss Courtney. You are certainly out early this morning."

Her frank gaze swept over him in astonishment. "Sir Gerard! I am surprised to see you here."

He helped her down from her seat, feeling the curve of her waist as his hands went around her. "When one of my tenants is in trouble, certainly you would expect me to help?"

Stepping back from him, she straightened her gloves. "I may expect such duties from a baronet, but I have not experienced them in the past."

He smiled at her. "I told you before, I am not my uncle."

"So you have said. I am very glad you are not." She cast a glance up at him, and he spotted the humor glinting in her eyes.

He realized she flirted with him like any London lady, and it amazed him. An answering merriment arose within him. He wanted to stay beside her, to continue the art of coquetry that sparked between them. "We covered why I am here, but what brings you out so early?"

"I brought some supplies to assist the Farmer family." She gestured towards the lumpy blanket pile. "I have some jellies and a dressed chicken for them. Of course, they are going to need these blankets, too."

Admiration rushed through him. "Very practical. They do need food and blankets to get through these next few days. But how did you manage to get a chicken ready so quickly?"

"Good housekeeping. A smart woman uses the winter cold to keep her meat from spoiling."

"You mean the chicken was to be your dinner today?"

She shrugged. "Lucille and I really do not eat a whole chicken in one meal."

More and more he recognized what a jewel this woman was. "Then I must insist that both of you join me tonight for dinner."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "That is not necessary."

"Yes, it is. I am trying to watch out for the people who depend upon me, which includes Upper Brampton village. You reside there, thus placing you under my care. Will you let me make certain you do not go hungry?"

At her blush, he savored the raillery between them even more. He stepped closer.

She took an unsteady breath and turned to toss the blanket aside, revealing the basket filled with jars and the towel-wrapped chicken. Several tightly rolled blankets surrounded the basket to keep it steady on the seat. A light wisp of steam wavered from the crock of hot soup. It smelled like a good thick chicken broth, confirming to Sir Gerard that Annette would never water down a gift of food.

'Tim Farmer," she called. "I have brought these items for you and your family."

Sir Gerard knew she was avoiding a response to his dinner offer, but he did not press the issue. Instead, he stood silently by the landau, watching as she distributed her goods to the distressed family. The man's profuse thanks and his wife's gratitude could have been overwhelming, but Annette responded graciously.

Her capable hands distributed the largesse. In addition to the supplies on the seat, she had stored items on the floor. These proved to be more foodstuffs, along with dishes and cooking utensils. Neighbors helped to unload everything, but Sir Gerard could not help wondering if Annette had stacked everything in the carriage by herself. Once he had said she did everything for these people; now he saw her generosity in action.

He watched as she spoke with Tun Farmer. "These

items should tide you over for a few days. I will be back by then with more." She glanced at the smoldering cottage. "Do you know what you are going to do?"

A bright grin carved Tim's stern features. "We're going to live in the barn."

"The barn?" She assessed it with a quick glance. "Yes, I can see that is the only solution for now, but you will need many more blankets to keep warm."

"The baronet, he has it all worked out," Tim informed her.

"He does?"

"We are going to live in the barn with a stove, but only for a bit. Then he is going to build me a new cottage— with a working chimney this time."

She glanced over at Sir Gerard, the disbelieving question plain on her face.

Sir Gerard answered, "Yes, I will do all that."

She blinked as if in disbelief, but her smile was filled with approval. "You will? How good of you! How very good of you."

Sir Gerard heard the lilting note of approval in her voice. Like music, it struck a responding chord within him. He liked gaining her regard and wanted to linger in it longer. "Come with me. Please."

Grasping her hand, he tugged her away from the landau and the crowd. She went with him willingly. When they were a little ways apart from everyone else, he stopped. Silver Shadow's reins remained looped around his master's arm.