Chapter 9 #3
He’d not pursue his mysterious lady, but he’d have to look into the matter of his abduction. On the surface, it made no sense. He’d been involved in a routine inspection of a property he might want to buy.
In his usual habit for such trips, he’d dressed simply and ridden to the area on a hired horse.
He liked to find out the true situation, not the one presented by an anxious seller.
He didn’t deceive anyone on these trips, though, and even used his own name.
The sort of people he was interested in talking to—innkeepers, farmers’ wives, laborers, craftsmen—wouldn’t recognize the name Malloren.
If they mistook it for Mallory, however, he didn’t correct them.
He’d not expected any surprises, for his local agent had looked into the property thoroughly. However, now that he thought of it, as part of his enquiries, he had been asking questions about a neighboring estate. Rawston Glebe had recently been taken over by the New Commonwealth.
As he’d said to his lady, he didn’t totally disagree with the Cotterites.
They were good farmers, and they took in farm workers displaced by the changes in England.
Apart from the inclusion of families, their strict communal life was almost a revival of the great medieval monasteries of this area—Jervaulx, Rievaulx, Fountains—and no one could deny that the monks had created agricultural prosperity out of harsh lands.
The only thing Brand had against the New Commonwealth was that when they took over an estate, they forced evictions on those unwilling to convert.
It wasn’t right for people to be turned off their land, land they’d worked for generations.
Moreover, stability and continuity bound together the English countryside.
It served no good purpose to disturb things, and the Cotterites were turning the north upside down.
Of course the current tenants were allowed to stay, but only if they followed the sect’s strict teachings. Brand didn’t much care for fashionable decadence, but there was no sin in laughter and play.
His mind slid to his mysterious lady, who seemed a stranger to laughter and play. Could she be a Cotterite? She didn’t wear their uniform, but her dress was more modest than fashionable. If there was some connection between the New Commonwealth and his abduction, might she have been part of it?
He shook his head, unable to see George Cotter condoning unlawful sex. If Cotter wasn’t at least honest in his beliefs, Brand had lost all judgment of people.
Brand had found the man surprisingly intelligent and undoubtedly sincere.
He argued passionately and cogently that land wasted on parks and pleasure gardens should be given to sober, hardworking tenants.
That was hard to argue with. In fact, Brand had experienced a similar meeting of minds with Cotter as with his mysterious lady.
Cotter, too, was an ardent but clear-sighted believer in agricultural improvement.
As with the monasteries, he was using his disciplined followers to bring about change far faster than usual.
Faster than Brand could, having to deal with the countrymen’s stubborn adherence to ways of the past. He was often pushed to his limit by phrases such as: “What were good enough for our fathers should be good enough for us, milord.” And: “That’s not the way we’re used to doing things round here, milord. ”
Commanding total obedience certainly had its appeal.
Brand shook away his wandering thoughts. His mysterious lady couldn’t possibly be part of any plan of George Cotter’s. In fact, the New Commonwealth had nothing to do with his affairs other than the fact that they owned an estate next to one he might buy for his brother.
And, of course, the fact that his brother was coming north with the King’s commission to investigate the sect for subversive tendencies.
Brand leaned back to contemplate that. Could word of Bey’s mission have spread? He was ordered to meet his brother in Thirsk tomorrow at noon, which is why his amusement here must end at dawn. No matter where this place was, it must surely be no more than six hours’ ride from Thirsk.
Bey doubtless wanted Brand’s impressions of the north and the New Commonwealth.
Once done with that, Brand would have a hectic schedule to catch up with.
Including, he thought with sudden interest, visits to various stockbreeding estates.
Might he turn up at such an estate and come face to face with a certain mysterious lady … ?
He’d like that.
Very much.
Too much.
He put down the unread book and stood to pace the confining room, fighting the knowledge that, despite her wishes, he couldn’t walk away from this. He needed to know more, if only to be sure that she suffered no harm from this adventure.
Perhaps he could convince her to trust him. Perhaps he could become a discreet friend. If her husband really was elderly and indifferent, perhaps they could—
He stopped himself. That way lay madness. A man couldn’t become obsessed with a woman whose face he’d never seen, whose name he did not know.
Clearly, he could.
A married woman, he reminded himself, making himself sit down to read the solid book.
Damn, the pages were still uncut.
Damn it all to Hades!
He grabbed the razor-sharp knife and began to slice open pages, wishing he could slice through reality as easily, slice through to a place where his mysterious lady wasn’t married, and wasn’t secretive. To a place where they could enjoy delightful conversations of all kinds, whenever they wished.
For the rest of their lives, before, during, and after delightful lovemaking.