The Steward of Blackwood Hall

Chapter twelve - Mr Latimer takes the reins

Selina studied her sister as she plaited her hair in preparation for sleep. Most evenings they came together before bed to mull over the events of the day, but tonight Anabelle's thoughts were distant as she sat before the mirror, staring into the candle flame. Selina could guess their direction, but remained at a loss to know how to broach the subject. "Papa seemed a little happier when I visited him after dinner."

Belle nodded, her eyes fixed on the flickering light. "I am pleased to hear it. Too often he chafes at the restrictions that keep him confined to his room."

"A little fresh air would do him good. Surely it cannot be much longer before he can resume his usual occupations?"

"Only when Mr. Jones removes the splint can papa go downstairs with John's help, but not before," Belle said as she drew the fringe of her shawl through her fingers.

She worked each section of hair, her fingers moving in a steady rhythm as she reached the end. "It will be a great relief for you to be spared the work once he is able to take a hand in estate matters for himself.”

Outside an owl hooted as the wind buffeted the glass in the casement. Finally, Belle sighed. "Would it be wrong if I were not relieved?"

"No, not wrong. I think you have enjoyed the mental stimulation of solving the problems that arose. Doing the marketing and housekeeping never satisfied you half as much, did it?"

"You deal with them so much better. Mrs Latimer relies on you now. She hardly need lift a finger."

Selina secured the finished braid with a ribbon, determined to steer the subject of the conversation closer towards its intended course. "I overheard Mrs Jamison sharing her opinion of Mr. Fielding outside the bakery this morning. It sounds as though he is like a new broom, sweeping away all the neglect at Blackwood."

When Mr. Fielding’s name was mentioned, Belle’s reflection briefly met her gaze before drifting away again. Her sister picked up a pin from the table, turning it over in her fingers. "A carter called at Mrs Jamison’s cottage a few days ago with a delivery of new tiles. She sings the steward's praises to all she meets. He could not have made a more valuable ally."

"It shows a pleasing conscientiousness to his work."

"I can hear what you have left unsaid. You wanted to add that he ought to show a similar care over his appearance, but I cannot allow you to slight him for something as unimportant as a hastily tied neck-cloth."

Selina feigned surprise. "I had no intention of slighting Mr. Fielding. Indeed, I would never do so for he is almost frighteningly good-looking."

Belle gasped and dropped the pin as a tiny globe of blood grew on the pad of her forefinger.  She caught it with her handkerchief. "Yes…yes he is."

"'Tis a shame he does not have a more promising future. Still, I am sure he will make someone a good husband one day."

Anabelle looked down, crumpling the embroidered square of lawn in her hand. "We know not what his future holds. Indeed, he may have expectations of which no one else is aware."

“You did not ask him?”

“I could not embarrass Mr. Fielding like that. It would hardly be polite for me to do so.”

Selina cast a sly glance out of the corner of her eye. Anabelle’s gaze had moved to the window, covered by the thick curtains to keep draughts at bay. She sat silent and thoughtful as though her thoughts had taken wing and flown away across the fields. If Belle had made light of the steward's situation it would have been a different matter. The fact that Selina’s mention of Mr. Fielding's position, and his lack of prospects, had not provoked the least desire in her sister to tease was a worrying sign.