is both comfortable
and content here. In her words, Ackerslea Farm
"beats the dower house all to flinders."
We are going to invite the vicar to tea
after church on Sunday. Lady Guillemot says that
it will perfectly correct to do so in spite of our
both being in mourning.
Your loving sister,
Alanna
When she stood, Lisanor felt fully a stone lighter. Alanna
was safe, she and the dowager were compatible, and Fishman was
gone. She still had to find someone to replace him; Tumos Hakon was
too old to assume full responsibility for Ackerslea Farm. She
wondered how one went about finding a bailiff. Perhaps her husband
knew another ex-soldier, one a trifle less interesting than
Gadget.
* * * *
Lisanor entered the master suite without knocking, as she
usually did. "The entire house has been thoroughly searched. The
stud book was not found. Could it be in the hands of your father's
solicitor?"
Her husband looked up from the pamphlet he was reading.
Despite her annoyance, she was pleased to recognize it as one on
fertilizer methods she had given him. "That's possible. I shall write to
him."
"In the meantime, there are forty-six horses out there, eating
their heads off. What do you intend to do about it?" She knew she
should not confront him while she was angry, but she had restrained
herself for too long. The estate was wasting money on the stables
that would be far better invested in improvements, seed, and
livestock.
"I have written to an agent my father used. He should be
here in a week or so. We'll sell off the two- and three-year-olds. It's
the wrong season, so we'll not get as much as we should. But it will
reduce the drain on our funds."
"How many?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"How many horses will that be? Thirty? Forty?"
"Good God, no. Twenty-one, if they all sell. But we cannot
count on that. Perhaps fifteen. Fa didn't breed his mares every
year."
She dropped into a chair and worked to hold onto her
temper. "I have been questioning Simms. He says that having six
stallions at stud is unusual. I believe he wanted to say more, but was
afraid to."
"Most of them are at stud." A small hesitation. "That means
mares are brought to them for breeding."
"I know what it means. But I don't know when." Clenching
her fists in the folds of her gown, she reminded herself that one
catches more flies with honey than with vinegar. "Simms says only
one mare has been brought to be bred in the past year, and in the
year before that, only three. My opinion is that those stallions are
worthless. They occupy one man's efforts almost exclusively, they
serve no useful purpose, and they are costing us money we could
better spend on something useful ."
The hardening of his jaw told her she had gone too far.
"You admitted you know little of managing a stable."
"Indeed. But I know quite a lot about managing a farm, and
let me tell you, my lord, this estate is not a farm. It is a bottomless
well down which money is poured. I believe my grandfather was
cheated."
"Cheated?" He pushed himself to his feet.
Part of Lisanor's attention was diverted when she saw how
easily he rose, how steadily he stood, albeit with the aid of the
amber-headed cane. But only part. "Your father bargained for a farm
manager when what he needed was a keeper. He was clearly
deranged. For more than two years he mismanaged this estate and
his other holdings so badly that they may never recover. It is just too
bad that they are entailed. If I were to have a choice, I'd sell the
lot."
His eyes narrowed. "But you do not have a choice, my dear."
His voice was silky, dangerous.
"More's the pity." Overwhelmed with anger, she spun on her
heel and escaped. If she were to remain with him, they would both
speak in anger, saying words that could never be called back. Never
be forgiven.
Clarence remained standing for a moment, staring at the
door his wife had slammed behind her. How dare she take him to
task? Call his father a cheat? Had not her grandfather approached Fa
with the offer
and content here. In her words, Ackerslea Farm
"beats the dower house all to flinders."
We are going to invite the vicar to tea
after church on Sunday. Lady Guillemot says that
it will perfectly correct to do so in spite of our
both being in mourning.
Your loving sister,
Alanna
When she stood, Lisanor felt fully a stone lighter. Alanna
was safe, she and the dowager were compatible, and Fishman was
gone. She still had to find someone to replace him; Tumos Hakon was
too old to assume full responsibility for Ackerslea Farm. She
wondered how one went about finding a bailiff. Perhaps her husband
knew another ex-soldier, one a trifle less interesting than
Gadget.
* * * *
Lisanor entered the master suite without knocking, as she
usually did. "The entire house has been thoroughly searched. The
stud book was not found. Could it be in the hands of your father's
solicitor?"
Her husband looked up from the pamphlet he was reading.
Despite her annoyance, she was pleased to recognize it as one on
fertilizer methods she had given him. "That's possible. I shall write to
him."
"In the meantime, there are forty-six horses out there, eating
their heads off. What do you intend to do about it?" She knew she
should not confront him while she was angry, but she had restrained
herself for too long. The estate was wasting money on the stables
that would be far better invested in improvements, seed, and
livestock.
"I have written to an agent my father used. He should be
here in a week or so. We'll sell off the two- and three-year-olds. It's
the wrong season, so we'll not get as much as we should. But it will
reduce the drain on our funds."
"How many?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"How many horses will that be? Thirty? Forty?"
"Good God, no. Twenty-one, if they all sell. But we cannot
count on that. Perhaps fifteen. Fa didn't breed his mares every
year."
She dropped into a chair and worked to hold onto her
temper. "I have been questioning Simms. He says that having six
stallions at stud is unusual. I believe he wanted to say more, but was
afraid to."
"Most of them are at stud." A small hesitation. "That means
mares are brought to them for breeding."
"I know what it means. But I don't know when." Clenching
her fists in the folds of her gown, she reminded herself that one
catches more flies with honey than with vinegar. "Simms says only
one mare has been brought to be bred in the past year, and in the
year before that, only three. My opinion is that those stallions are
worthless. They occupy one man's efforts almost exclusively, they
serve no useful purpose, and they are costing us money we could
better spend on something useful ."
The hardening of his jaw told her she had gone too far.
"You admitted you know little of managing a stable."
"Indeed. But I know quite a lot about managing a farm, and
let me tell you, my lord, this estate is not a farm. It is a bottomless
well down which money is poured. I believe my grandfather was
cheated."
"Cheated?" He pushed himself to his feet.
Part of Lisanor's attention was diverted when she saw how
easily he rose, how steadily he stood, albeit with the aid of the
amber-headed cane. But only part. "Your father bargained for a farm
manager when what he needed was a keeper. He was clearly
deranged. For more than two years he mismanaged this estate and
his other holdings so badly that they may never recover. It is just too
bad that they are entailed. If I were to have a choice, I'd sell the
lot."
His eyes narrowed. "But you do not have a choice, my dear."
His voice was silky, dangerous.
"More's the pity." Overwhelmed with anger, she spun on her
heel and escaped. If she were to remain with him, they would both
speak in anger, saying words that could never be called back. Never
be forgiven.
Clarence remained standing for a moment, staring at the
door his wife had slammed behind her. How dare she take him to
task? Call his father a cheat? Had not her grandfather approached Fa
with the offer
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