Tuppence (The Tipton Hollow 3)

“It might help if you attend the late harvest ball just to prove to people that everything is all right,” Mark edged. He secretly felt quite pleased at his inventiveness but mentally made a note to warn Harriett that he had been a little less than honest while achieving his mission.

“I am not going, for you, Harriett, or any scurrilous gossips. I don’t care what the locals are saying about me. If they have so little faith in me, well, they can go to Hades,” Tuppence snorted, throwing him a dark glare before returning to her chores.

“But if you go and show everyone that all is well the gossips will be proven wrong and will stop talking about you. If you don’t do this, Tuppence, I think Lord Aldridge is likely to be deeply offended. You will be the only person in Tipton Hollow who doesn’t attend. He will see that as a slight, Tuppence. The whole village will.” Mark mentally prayed that Isaac Chester, would forgive him for his lie. As his friend, Mark knew that Isaac was just as worried about Tuppence as he and Harriett were.

“Why would he do that? I doubt Lord Aldridge cares about me and whether I attend his ball or not.” Deep inside, Tuppence wished that Isaac were concerned about her, but she knew that her presence at the ball wouldn’t matter one bit to a man like him.

Isaac.

While staring at the ground beneath her boots, Tuppence rolled his name around in her mind. It seemed that every time she spoke it, mentally of course, it lingered, clung to the walls of her deepest memories, the darkest parts of her heart and soul, and refused to move. He hovered on the fringes of her consciousness like a spectre in the night waiting to haunt her.

And he will. I don’t doubt I shall dream of him tonight as I have every other night for as long as I can remember.

“It matters, Tuppence,” Mark insisted.

“Why?” Tuppence dragged her thoughts away from Isaac and planted her fists on her hips while glaring at Mark. “Because I am his neighbour, and it wouldn’t do his good name any good for my cattle to die or my crops to fail because word would get out that he hadn’t been a good neighbour?” Tuppence watched Mark’s changing facial expressions and waited.

Mark was aware of Isaac’s deep and abiding adoration of Tuppence but had no intention of betraying his friend’s confidence by telling her how interested Isaac was in Tuppence’s welfare and why. Mark knew that if anything happened to Tuppence, Isaac would never forgive himself, and would be condemned to a life of misery. But he didn’t tell Tuppence that. “He is a neighbour,” was all he said.

“Who is waiting for me to fail,” Tuppence persisted, even though the last thing she wanted or needed was for Mark to confirm it.

“People are concerned about you,” Mark offered gently.

Tuppence, who was unused to anybody’s consideration, glared suspiciously at him. She knew he had come to the farm because his wife had told him to otherwise Mark wouldn’t have called to visit her. He never did.

Let’s face it, nobody calls to visit me, not even Harriett, or Beatrice for that matter.

It was a sobering thought because it warned Tuppence that she had done most of the work to maintain her friendships whereas her friends had remained at home and had expected Tuppence to do all the travelling and visiting.

As if I am not already busy enough.

With that thought also weighing her burdened shoulders down, Tuppence sighed heavily. She felt an awkwardness enter the soft torchlight of the barn which put more than a physical distance between her and Mark, and even Harriett in her absence, than ever before.

“You can tell Harriett that I thank her for reminding me, but I have no intention of going to the harvest ball now or at any point in the future. I have work to do here,” she intoned politely, her gaze distance, her entire demeanour withdrawn and closed.

Although physically still before him, Mark realised instantly that Tuppence was mentally many moons away. He opened his mouth to say something else to try to persuade her but the implacable expression on her face warned him that he wouldn’t get anywhere.

“Thank you for calling this evening, but I won’t be attending the ball. Mind the mud as you leave,” Tuppence added before leaving him in the barn. She marched across the yard and stormed into the storeroom beside the stables only to remember that she had no light to see anything with. With a heavy sigh, she stomped back out again only to find herself face-to-face with her second visitor of the evening.

“God, not again,” she hissed, glaring through the darkness at him.

“Good evening, Miss Smethurst,” the overly jovial guest boomed as if unaware that she was scowling darkly at him.

With a heavy sigh, Tuppence dug deep for her patience because her elderly neighbour was a lifelong family friend too. “Mr Lewis.”

“I hear we have snow coming,” Mr Lewis continued, smiling at Mark. When he saw the worried look Mark slid at Tuppence, Mr Lewis’s smile fell. “I am sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

“I was just leaving.” Mark made no attempt to climb back into his carriage. He eyed Tuppence questioningly as if silently asking if she wanted his presence or not.

While Tuppence wanted to send them both on their way, especially Mark, she crossed the yard to stand before Mr Lewis. “What can I help you with?”

“I came to have a private word with you, if I may?” Mr Lewis sniffed and shivered.

“I am busy, Mr Lewis. If you have come about what I think you have come about then you should know that my position has not changed.” Tuppence tipped her chin up and glared at the elderly man. “I have no intention of selling the farm.”

“This foolish notion of yours is all very well and good, my dear, but you aren’t capable of running a farm like this by yourself.” Mr Lewis frowned at her. “It is all very noble and all that, but you aren’t cut out for a life like this. I can understand that you should wish to continue your family’s heritage, but it isn’t going to be as easy as you think. This isn’t just about feeding the animals, my dear. What are you going to do when you need to reap the harvest, and have no labourers to help you?”

“There is no reason why the labourers shouldn’t help me too, Mr Lewis. I can pay a man a wage as well as you can.” Tuppence sucked in a deep breath of annoyance when Mr Lewis looked doubtfully at the yard that they were standing in. He was clearly looking for problems he could use to support his argument. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to see the gate half-hanging off the low stone wall bordering the front garden of the farmhouse, or the cold and unwelcoming atmosphere that hung over the simple abode like a sinister cloud. Tuppence knew he hadn’t missed the fact that the stable yard hadn’t been swept in several days either, or that the water troughs had a thin sheen of ice still covering them.