No. They would have to make do for tonight and then come to some arrangement with a local supplier who could offer favorable terms of credit in order for them to quickly have something decent to drink.
Rhys peered out at the apple trees. There were still a few leaves on the topmost branches of some trees. The rest lay scattered about the orchard floor.
I wonder when the first snow will fall. It can’t be far off if the chill winds are any indication.
Deri rose from his chair and came to Rhys’s side. “Don’t trouble yourself about getting anything for me. I won’t be staying. I have decided to travel on to London tomorrow morning. The weather might close in and I wouldn’t want to be on the road if it did.”
Rhys sighed. “I thought you might stay on for a few days at least. Or did you suddenly become possessed of the burning need to see Miss Gerald?”
The prospect of being here on his own was not particularly appealing. Rhys raised an eyebrow as a sheepish look appeared on his cousin’s face.
“Out with it, man. I can see you are like the cat that got the cream,” said Rhys.
Deri grinned. “I wasn’t just intending to see Sophie when I head to London. The relationship is more serious than I had led you to believe in Carno.”
“And?” replied Rhys, raising both eyebrows.
Deri broke into a soft chuckle. “And I am planning to ask her to marry me. I thought I could manage a few days here, but it’s killing me. If I don’t hightail it to London and propose to her, I shall go mad. I know it’s terrible of me to abandon you to the charming Miss York, but it has to be done.”
This was the most excellent of news. Deri had always wanted a wife and a brood of children. “I am beyond happy for you, and never let it be said that I stood in Cupid’s way. I just hope the poor unfortunate girl has the good sense to accept.”
“I have already confessed my affections, and the letter I received from Sophie just before we left Carno confirmed that she feels the same way about me. With luck, we will be wed early in the new year,” replied Deri.
Rhys clapped him on the back, then took one look at the mostly full bottle of wine. This was a moment for celebration. “Come on. Let’s get our coats. We can walk into the village and have a pint or two and some supper at the Royal Oak Inn. Your future happiness should not be toasted with gnat’s piss.”
He was truly happy for his cousin and would dance long at his wedding. If only his own problems could be so easily overcome. As the owner of two near-bankrupt estates, he wasn’t exactly a prize catch.
What a pity that the only woman I have got within five feet of in the past six months is the same woman I am about to send packing.
Chapter Six
Deri departed from Kington House the following morning, leaving Rhys to deal with the question of what he was going to do about the estate and Miss York. After another morning spent going through the estate records and not being able to make complete sense of them, Rhys finally decided it was time to talk to his estate manager.
“Have a seat please, Miss York,” he said.
Wister stood in the doorway of the sitting room, lips pursed, clearly nonplussed at being summoned by him. When he motioned to the chair in front of the desk where he currently sat, she gave a derisive sniff.
She walked over and stood between the desk and the chair. After placing a piece of paper in front of Rhys, she stepped back and stood with her arms crossed, glaring at him. She was definitely not in a convivial mood. “If you are going to dismiss me, could you please just get it over and done with? The coach for Birmingham passes through the village at midday and I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
Rhys gritted his teeth, doing his best not to get angry over her defiant stand. Someone had to be the adult here. He glanced at the note. On it was written a number which made him decidedly uncomfortable. One hundred and fifty guineas.
“That is the total of my outstanding wages. If you pay me, I will go immediately to my room and pack,” she said.
Wages? She was the estate manager. Why hadn’t she been paying herself?
He picked up the note, examined it closely once more to confirm the number, then frowned. “You haven’t been paid in over three years? I don’t understand.”
She sighed. “Lord Kington wasn’t one for taking care of his estate or his staff. That is why there is only the two of us remaining. Polly takes most of her wages as eggs, milk from the cow, and some of the food that she bakes.”
But if Miss York hadn’t been paid in all that time, why had she stayed? No sensible person would have remained while not being compensated.
“You are wondering why any servant would stay here when they were owed money,” she said.
He nodded.
“If you look closely at my note, you will see that it covers the two roles I have occupied during my time at Kington House. The first two years were as the late Lady Kington’s companion, while the last year or so was—”
“You were employed as a lady’s companion?” Rhys interrupted.
“Yes. But after Lady Kington passed away, I was asked to take on the role of managing the house and land. That led from one thing to another, and I have been more or less keeping the place going single-handedly since then,” she replied.
Her words had Rhys sitting back in his chair, more than a little surprised. He hadn’t realized she had been managing things for all that time. He had assumed she had taken on the role as a temporary measure when Lord Kington’s health had begun to decline. Women didn’t run estates—it simply didn’t happen.
Of course, there was the occasional mature-aged chatelain who oversaw the workings of a grand house, but not the entire estate. Females, in his experience, didn’t know enough about crops and livestock to be able to handle the role. “And you haven’t had the services of any male servants or staff during the past year?”
When she met his gaze this time, he caught the hint of discomfort on her face. Miss York clearly wasn’t used to people asking difficult questions—ones which might expose and undermine her.
Her employment history was interesting enough, but it still didn’t answer the question as to why she had remained at Kington House when the tight-fisted Lord Kington had not seen fit to pay her. She was a young woman, attractive, and she seemed to have a degree of intelligence. So why would she stay?
And then a cold sliver of dread slipped down Rhys’s spine.
Could she have had other reasons to want to remain here? With him? And just who was using who? Lady Kington has been gone for well over a year, and I suppose these things do happen.
Had an invisible line been crossed between Lord Kington and Miss York—an employer and employee relationship transforming into a sexual liaison? It certainly would make sense of many of Rhys’s private concerns.
The thought made him feel ill. From what Rhys had been able to gather, Lord Kington had not been a feebleminded old man who could have been easily manipulated. Which left him now considering the other unsavory possibility. Had a young, vulnerable woman been placed in a position where she had been forced to give up her virtue in order to keep a roof over her head?
This could be very awkward. How the devil am I going to ask her that sort of question?