Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sweat dripped steadily down Ellie’s neck as she laid another footing stone into the trench beside her.
They’d been at the trenching and footing of these walls for hours, and she was exhausted.
The sun beat down on them with a harshness that was unusual for this late in the summer, but there was nothing to be done about it.
She had actually opted for a cloth bonnet today to protect her face and neck from the sun, which was very much not her usual way when working in the fields, but she was glad for it now.
The kerchief around her neck, however, was serving only to catch perspiration.
But then, the stays she wore beneath her linen shirt was also doing that, no matter that it was intended as a structure and support.
“Right, Miss Ellie, that should be enough for this row,” one of the farmers’ sons shouted from his position farther along the border. “Can you walk along them for pressure?”
She grinned, shaking her head. When she had first started helping in the Fenmore fields shortly after her arrival, there had been repairs needed on one of the existing dry-stone walls, and they’d taken a section down to the trench for repairs.
The only task the men had let Ellie do was stand on the footing stones due to her more petite size and delicate weight.
She’d been so eager to assist in any task at all that she’d been overly excited over such a small thing, and their entertainment over her reaction had become a running joke for all.
Now it was tradition for her to do the same thing, in spite of helping with a great deal more, and some sort of a blessing upon the wall’s foundations.
She was not claiming that it worked, but they had not needed to repair any of the walls since her first time.
The coincidence should not be ignored, just in case.
“Ready,” she called back, wiping her brow.
She stripped her gloves off of her hands, shoving them into the pocket of her trousers.
No external coat today, given the heat. And the gloves were simply a pair of old driving gloves she had found in a charity box by the church two years ago.
It kept her hands from getting suspiciously torn up during her work on the farms. She needed some people to believe she was a lady from time to time, and hands could only be so rough before they told tales.
“What is going on here?” West’s voice called out in an almost jovial tone. “And why wasn’t I invited?”
Ellie bit back a laugh, knowing only a few of the men out here today would know who he even was.
She looked in the direction he had called from and noted he and Fred were dressed for work, though West had more of the stature for a working man.
His clothing did not hide the athletic build, and in the case of his trousers, rather enhanced it. Fit his frame so perfectly that . . .
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry, indeed.
Fred, on the other hand, was slender and lean, but the look on his face told her he was not afraid of the work ahead of them either.
An interesting day might be ahead of them all.
“Trenching and footings, my lord,” she called out brightly. “Men, if you don’t know already, this is Lord Bickham and his cousin, Mr. Gates. And if the way they are dressed is any indication, they are ready to work with us!”
Fred groaned dramatically. “Ellie, I was hoping to just look handsome, not actually be useful.”
Ellie shrugged and stepped down into the trench onto the footings. “I didn’t want to just be the dainty little woman who walked on footings the first time we did this, but that was all these blokes let me do. We just have to live with our disappointments in life, don’t we?”
West coughed a laugh into his fist but watched her with some interest.
Fred, on the other hand, looked bewildered. “Forgive the utter ignorance, I know my way around a blow and a shovel and the like, but what, in the name of St. Anne’s healing wells, are you doing?”
“Securing the footings into the ground without depressing them too much,” she recited like a willing student.
She wobbled just the slightest bit on one of the stones, causing at least three men to lean towards her in concern, but she waved them off, balancing her weight evenly on both feet and rocking back on her heels to dig the stone in a little.
Then she backed up a few paces and proceeded forward, nodding firmly when she no longer wobbled on that footing.
Continuing on, she made similar adjustments twice more before reaching the end of the line.
West stepped forward to help her out of the ditch, though it wasn’t all that deep, and her bare palm tingled the moment his touched it.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her face hot as she let her hand slide from his.
“You walk well,” he told her in a low tone that made her spine heat. His eyes were so blue against the brilliance of the sky, and when they were locked on hers, her lungs turned to delicious ice.
He frowned suddenly, then shook his head and laughed. “Apologies, that is a ridiculous thing to say.”
Ellie replayed his words for a moment before laughing herself. “Oh, I don’t know, sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to truly master. I appreciate the compliment, and the knowledge that I have at last done something in my life well.”
His eyes darkened noticeably. “That is not the only thing you do well, Elena. Not by half.”
She shivered as he turned from her and began moving to the quantities of stones that had been gathered for the day’s efforts.
“So this is for the walls of the trenches,” Fred was saying as he spoke with a farmer, “and the smaller ones fill it in?”
“Yes, sir,” came the easy reply. “The hearting. Helps with drainage, especially during a freeze. Water can go through the wall rather than being forced over or back. Prevents flooding, when done right.”
“Fascinating!” Fred exclaimed exuberantly, grinning when West clapped him on the back.
Ellie watched them both with a small smile.
She still did not know how successful West’s visit to London had been, but clearly, he had learned of her wedding to Leonard.
And to her surprise, he had not been overly upset about it, once she had explained the situation.
He had not treated her any differently, he had not expected her to leave, he had not threatened her or called her scheming .
. . He had been surprisingly rational and reasonable about it.
Supportive, even.
So that was one secret now gone between them. It might have been the smaller of the two, all things considered, but it was out in the open now. Between the two of them, anyway.
And it would seem she had proven that he could trust her, perhaps because of what she had given to the estate he adored so much.
Whatever it was, she was going to do everything she could to prove that trust would not be wasted.
She liked the version of West that smiled at her. That helped her out of a trench. That laughed with her in kitchens.
That touched her freezing lips.
She shivered again at the memory.
“You can’t possibly be cold right now.” The words came from Frank Tucker, George’s oldest son, who had settled as a tenant on the estate recently with his young family and was likely going to become as knowledgeable and successful as his father.
He had also taken to adopting Ellie like a younger sister of sorts, complete with teasing, sarcasm, or direct confrontation of a problem.
It was refreshing and welcoming, and a taste of normalcy that she had missed since the passing of her parents.
“Not cold,” Ellie said quickly. “Just a reaction.”
Frank narrowed his eyes at her, the corner of his mouth quirking almost imperceptibly.
Almost.
“Careful, Ellie-girl,” he rumbled warmly. “You’re going to blush.”
As though instructed, her cheeks began to heat. Her pale complexion meant that any sort of blush was almost immediately visible upon her skin, just as any sort of exertion made itself known long before she would have wished it to.
Frank chuckled to himself, but Ellie ignored him, striding away in a huff. Not quite a dignified exit from the situation, but dignity did not exist in the same conversation as her embarrassment at this moment.
She moved over to the pile of stones, put her working gloves back on, and began laying the ones set aside for the heartings into the trench, one on each side.
She worked silently but efficiently, the activity and heavy work doing exactly what she needed it to as regarding her swirling thoughts. And her flushing cheeks.
She could blame the coloring on her work and not her emotions.
“Should you be out here doing this?” a low voice asked close to her ear.
Too close.
She jumped, nearly face-planting across the trench. Her arm was caught hard, and she was prevented from that disaster before gently being pulled into a safely upright position.
“Sorry.” West laughed as he released her arm. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
Ellie swallowed and turned slightly to look at him, one hand at her throat. “I did not even hear you approach.”
His grin was swift and bright. “I shall endeavor to walk with a heavier tread in the future.”
“That would be much appreciated,” she quipped easily, even as her heart continued to race, showing no signs of slowing. She took in a slow breath, then released it, hoping that would assist her. “Now, what did you ask?”
“If you should be out here doing this,” he said without hesitation, his smile retreating into something softer, his brow creasing just the slightest.
Something sharp and unpleasant prickled behind her breastbone, and Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Why should I not be?”
West blinked at her before his mouth turned down slightly, the crease deepening. “Because you’re a woman.”
“Now that is a surprise,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “Why is it no one has addressed this with me before?” She looked around dramatically, as though this was a new revelation.
“Elena.”
She adjusted the gloves on her hands, shaking her head and snorting in derision.
“If the men actually doing the work out here have no complaint about my being here, then neither should you. If I were putting anyone in harm’s way or hampering the workload at all, I would recuse myself from participating.
My pride does not outweigh my good sense. ”
Her temper was almost certainly getting the better of her, her voice rising in volume and in sharpness, the heat of indignation curling viciously in her stomach.
West’s brow slowly cleared as she spoke, though he said nothing and his stance did not change a jot.
He waited a moment after she nearly spat the final words at him, then asked, “Are you finished?”
“With what?” she retorted.
“Your argument,” came his calm reply.
That was as maddening as his original statement, but she nodded all the same.
He folded his arms, his bright eyes squarely upon her.
“I did not mean to imply that you are incapable of the required actions here. I know you well enough to know that you are fully aware of your abilities and limitations. I am asking, Elena, if you—a petite woman—should be laboring away in the heat and the sun like this without much of a reprieve, no significant shade to rest in, and minimal water for drinking at hand.”
His voice grew harder and sterner the more he went on, almost to the point of distress and anger.
“I am fine,” Ellie insisted stubbornly, her voice smaller than she intended.
He scoffed a laugh, looking away. “Yes, I suspect you always are, regardless of the truth of the matter. You were fine when your lips were turning blue from bathing in the lake.”
“That again?” Ellie asked him, smiling just a little.
“Yes,” he bit out. “Elena, I do not want to restrict you. I am trying to care about you, in my way. I apologize if showing my concern comes across roughly or coarse or critical, but I don’t know how to do this.
Any of this. You . . .” He exhaled a laugh, running a hand over his hair.
“You tie me up in knots, Elena, and I think I am constantly making missteps where you are concerned.” He shook his head, then lowered his hand.
“Forgive me. I will leave you to your work. Please let me know if you need anything that I can provide, even if it is bringing water from the stream.”
Without another word, West walked away from her, down the line of the trench to help the others with the process of laying the heartings.
Ellie watched him go, torn between continued irritation and a fluttering, fleeting sense of delight over what he had said.
He wasn’t constantly making missteps with her, despite what he thought.
He had made a few, granted, but she was also prone to reacting rashly and thinking clearly after the fact.
It was a combination of the two of them meeting each other in a faulty place.
He did not know her secrets, and she did not know his intentions.
She was so used to defending herself at any given time that she could not see an inoffensive word or action for what it was.
She could be better, and if he was being sincere in his attentions towards her and starting afresh, she really needed to meet him where he was.
Not where she had been, or where she was afraid she would be.
She spent the next few hours working alongside the others, not bothering about sweat or confusing men or complicated situations.
Just this. Just effort. Just honest work.
It would have to be enough.