Chapter 21 #2
They were approaching the Morgans’ farmhouse now.
It was a pretty cottage, with an abundant garden at the front.
As they drew closer, Theo spotted a woman in the garden, bent over a row of plants.
Nearby, three young children, an older boy and two younger girls, were playing, the boy shouting instructions while the girls ran around, giggling.
“Mrs. Morgan?” Theo called, and as the woman straightened, her hand going to the small of her back, he saw her belly was rounded with child.
Mrs. Morgan’s eyes widened with recognition. “Good day, Mr. Caldwell,” she said. Her voice was tentative and unsure.
“Good day,” Theo replied, relieved that she recognised him. “Is your husband here?”
She blinked. “No, sir. He’s working up at the north field.”
Beside Theo, George was silent, but he smiled at Mrs. Morgan in a friendly way, and when her gaze landed on him, her own mouth curled in an uncertain smile.
“Well,” Theo said. “I suppose we could head up there to see him.” The only trouble being that he had no idea where the north field was. Still, it couldn’t be too difficult to find.
“I can send Michael to fetch him,” Mrs. Morgan offered. She turned to the children, who had stopped running around to observe the newcomers. “Michael, go up to the north field and fetch your da. Tell him the landlord’s come.”
“No need to send the boy, ma’am,” George said, stepping forward. “I’ll go.” He smiled and gave a slight bow. “I’m Mr. Asquith, incidentally. Pleased to meet you.”
She blinked at him, assessing. “Likewise,” she said, though she was clearly wondering who he was and why he’d want to tromp up to the north field.
“Which is the best way to go?” George asked.
She quickly gave him directions, then turned to Theo, saying, “Would you like to come inside to wait, sir? I can make tea, or I’ve got ale or cider, if you prefer?”
He would have preferred to go with George, but it would be rude to refuse her invitation, and perhaps George wanted to go alone. So he smiled and said, “You’re very kind, ma’am. Some tea would be most welcome.”
While George set off up the hill, and the children recommenced their noisy game, he followed Mrs. Morgan into a small but cheerful kitchen.
A pot jar crowded with sweet peas of all colours sat on the windowsill, their sweet scent filling the room, and every surface was taken up with some half-done job.
The well-scrubbed kitchen table was covered with piles of peeled and chopped vegetables, bowls, pots and several cloth-covered mounds.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” Mrs. Morgan said, pinkening, “This is my baking day. I’ve got loaves proving.” She quickly moved a number of items to clear one end of the table, gesturing at a chair. “Please, sit. Ned won’t be long.”
“Thank you,” Theo said, settling into the chair she had pointed to. “And I’m the one who should apologise—for interrupting your work.”
“No, no,” she said, smiling tightly, as she busied herself with setting the kettle on the range. “It’s no trouble, sir.”
While Mrs. Morgan bustled around her kitchen, Theo looked around with interest. A rather disreputable rag doll sat expectantly on one of the other chairs at the table, a wooden spoon imperfectly balanced between its floppy arms. On the table in front of the doll, a writing slate was covered with letters of the alphabet, written in an imperfect childish hand.
Theo smiled, then startled as something warm and sinewy encircled his ankle.
Pushing his chair back, he looked down to find a sleek, black cat beneath his chair.
“Oh, Soot!” Mrs. Morgan said crossly, grabbing a broom and prodding it in the cat’s direction.
“Get out from under there!” Turning to Theo, she said, “That cat gets underneath everyone’s feet.
I’d strangle it, but the children love it to death.
” Despite her martial words, Theo noticed that she only gently nudged at the cat with the broom—and that it was a well-fed, shiny-coated animal.
“Don’t chase it away on my account.” Theo said. “I like cats. They’re clever creatures.”
She looked relieved. “That’s true,” she said, setting the broom aside. “And she’s good at keeping the mice in check.”
“Ah, useful as well as clever? An excellent pet then.”
Mrs. Morgan smiled shyly, her stiff politeness easing a little, and went back to making tea. Theo did his best to make small talk with her while they waited, asking the children’s names and ages and what vegetables she was growing in her cottage garden.
As she was setting down a plate of fruitcake and cheese, Theo glanced out the window and saw two figures walking towards the house. Even at this distance, he could recognise George, something about his gait and the angle of his head as he listened to his companion. The other figure must be Morgan.
“I think I see your husband, ma’am.”
She stood up and looked out the window. “Yes, that’s him. He’ll be gasping for his tea, and starving besides. He’s been up and working since five.” She shook her head fondly. “I have to feed that man about six times a day.”
I know what you mean, Theo thought, hiding his smile. He could just imagine how George’s eyes would light up when he saw Mrs. Morgan’s fruitcake. The man loved sweet things.
The arrival of Morgan was greeted with shouts of “Pa! Pa!” from the children outside, then shrieks of laughter as he swung them off the ground. When he and George entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Theo stood.
“Mr. Morgan,” he said, reaching out his hand, “it’s good to see you again.”
Morgan took his offered hand, sliding his cap off his head with the other in a respectful gesture, punctuated with a deferential nod. “Mr. Caldwell, sir.”
“I’ve made tea, Ned,” Mrs. Morgan said then. “Sit down and get a bite to eat. You too, Mr. Asquith. There’s cake and cheese. I’ll fetch some butter.”
As Theo had anticipated, George’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cake, and he had to stifle a chuckle.
The next few minutes were taken up with the refreshments which were quickly consumed, George complimenting Mrs. Morgan’s fruitcake so fulsomely, she blushed.
When they were done, Morgan cleared his throat, met Theo’s gaze, and said, “May I ask, sir, are you here because you have something particular to raise with me?”
Theo was aware, quite suddenly, that the other man appeared somewhat anxious.
He glanced at George questioningly, wondering if he had any idea why this might be so, but George’s expression remained neutral.
Returning his gaze to Morgan, Theo said, “No, I just called to see how you were doing. Looking in on my tenants, while I’m here.
I’ll be going to see Martin after this.”
That didn’t seem to reassure Morgan any. His brows remained stitched together.
“Is there a reason you ask?” Theo added.
Morgan and his wife exchanged a look. She seemed worried too, and gave him a little nod of encouragement, as though to say, go on, tell him.
“Well,” Morgan said slowly. “There’s been some rumours, sir.”
“Rumours?”
“People have been saying you’re going to sell up to Albert Prentice.”
Theo frowned. The last time he'd come to Blackfriars, Norris had mentioned something about a local man who might be interested in purchasing the estate, and the name Prentice had a ring of familiarity to it, but there was no reason for any such rumour to have arisen.
Now Mrs. Morgan said, “When Mr. Prentice bought Dovecot farm last year, the first thing he did was evict the tenants. Gave them barely any notice.”
“Annie—” Morgan said, darting a worried look at Theo.
“Ned’s been here ten years,” Mrs. Morgan went on, her voice trembling with distress, one hand resting on her prominent belly. “And I’ve been here eight, since we got married. This is our home.”
Theo reached for something to say. Something true, and reassuring both. “Mrs. Morgan, I’ve had no discussions whatsoever with this Mr. Prentice about selling Blackfriars—I’ve never even met the man. I’ve no idea why someone would have said such a thing. Where did this rumour come from?”
Morgan said, “We don’t know—”
“Frank Norris,” Mrs. Morgan said, without hesitation.
George looked at Theo. “Norris? Your agent?”
Theo gave a tight nod.
“He works for Mr. Prentice too,” Mrs. Morgan said, her gaze still worried.
Theo felt a stab of irritation and resolved to speak with Norris.
“Well, Mrs. Morgan," he said. “I can tell you this: Mr. Norris has no reason to think such a thing. I’m sure it’s just some misunderstanding. You are in no danger of being evicted.”
Mrs. Morgan stared at him for several moments, as though gauging the truth of his words. Then she gave a tremulous smile. “Thank you, sir. That’s a relief, I can tell you.” Morgan looked easier too, the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders seeming to seep out of him.
They made polite conversation for a little longer; then George told Morgan they’d walk back up to the north field with him, since it was on their way to Martin’s farm. By the time they took their leave of Mrs. Morgan, she was singing to herself, happy in her cheerful kitchen.
On the way to the north field, Morgan spoke about his crops, and the work he did each day around the farm. He mentioned, too, the labourers who worked both for him and for Martin from time to time, and who lived in a row of old cottages at the edge of the estate.
“Mayhap you will take a look at their cottages, Mr. Caldwell,” he said, when they reached the north field. “In case they are in need of repair.”
In other words, Theo interpreted, the cottages were falling apart.
Hiding his dismay at this news, Theo said, “I will certainly do that. Now, am I right in saying that Martin’s house is just over this rise?” He pointed at the steep path ahead of them.
“Yes,” Morgan replied. “You’ll see it when you get to the top. It’s at the bottom of the other side of the hill, past the fields where he grazes his sheep. That’s about all those fields are good for, being so steep and rocky. He’s got his crops planted on the other side of the house.”
“Right, well, we’ll be off then,” Theo said, but before he could turn away, Morgan spoke again.
“Ah, Mr. Caldwell, sir—”
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to say that—” Morgan hesitated for a moment. “That is, I know Mr. Martin can come across as quite brusque. In point of fact, he can be right ill-tempered—but he’s a good man. He’s helped me out many a time, sir, and he knows this place better than anyone.”
Theo wondered if Morgan knew about the disaster of his last meeting with Martin. Probably.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate you coming to see us, and what you said.”
Theo smiled then, pleased. This visit had gone far better than he’d hoped. The Morgans were likeable, and it had been gratifying to be able to set their worries at rest. And now, as he and George set off again, he felt a bit more confident about their next call.
It was a changeable day and breezy, the sky full of cottony clouds, scudding across the sky.
One moment, the sun was blazing; the next minute, it was gone behind a cloud.
As they walked, Theo looked about himself and felt unaccountably happy.
The land here was not as dramatic as the mountains, but it was pretty in a bucolic way, green and rolling, with a wide, open sky.
When they reached the top of the rise, he saw Martin’s house and farmyard below, and further in the distance, the nearest village with its church and village green. His heart lifted at the sight.
It wasn’t just the landscape making him happy, though.
It was George. George, who was so interested in everything and everyone that he somehow managed to spark the same interest in others.
George, who was polite to everyone, regardless of rank.
There were not many men like George in this world. Not that Theo had met anyway.
“Theo,” George said, beside him, interrupting his thoughts.
Theo turned to him, smiling. But for once George wasn’t smiling back. He was tight-lipped and frowning when he spoke again.
“You oughtn’t to have misled to the Morgans,” he said. “It’s not fair.”