Chapter Seven #3
“On the contrary, I particularly wanted to see Mrs. Townsend’s fenugreek.” She turned back to the woman. “I’ve been told your tinctures are the very best to be had.”
Mrs. Townsend beamed. Then, however, she darted a nervous glance at her husband. “Well, I don’t know—”
“Please, Mrs. Townsend.” Harbury flashed his most charming smile. “My wife could talk of nothing else on the way here.”
Cassie hadn’t mentioned the plant on the drive, as Harbury well knew. But she and her husband shared another moment of unspoken communication. As far as she was concerned, he’d just given her carte blanche to make her own alliance.
“Well, then,” Mrs. Townsend finally agreed. “Come this way, Your Grace.”
Cassie glanced back at her husband with an encouraging expression. “We’ll return shortly.”
As they passed through the kitchen to the rear door, the Townsend’s maid-of-all-work stopped what she was doing and curtsied deeply. Cassie wished they hadn’t encountered any staff. Her intent was not to win notice, but to establish a mutual regard with Mrs. Townsend.
So, she listened attentively as they wandered through the tidy plots, inserting a question or two when they came upon a bed with a plant she did not immediately recognize.
While Cassie had more knowledge of the topic than some, Mrs. Townsend was, indeed, quite the accomplished herbalist. A Townsend treatise would be much more useful than Harbury’s father’s pedantic description of ornamental grasses.
“If I were to put together a journal of sorts, would you be interested in contributing a description of your methods?”
Mrs. Townsend blushed, stammered and demurred.
“You have valuable knowledge to share,” Cassie insisted.
“I will consider a contribution to the scheme if my husband agrees,” Mrs. Townsend replied carefully, referring to the same husband whose raised voice interrupted their conversation at just that moment.
Both ladies pretended not to hear. Instead, they examined plant leaves until Mr. Townsend again fell silent. Cassie strained to hear her husband’s response, but his conversational tone was so low and quiet, she couldn’t make out any words.
Well done.
She was proud of Harbury’s calm appeal to reason. Gentle ponies weren’t the only thing he didn’t feel the need to dominate. Unlike Mr. Townsend’s apparent need to dictate his wife’s actions.
“Surely,” she said, looping her arm through Mrs. Townsend’s, “your husband could have no objection.”
Mrs. Townsend chuckled. “You haven’t been married long, have you, Your Grace?
” Her face softened with a smile. “My husband is no tyrant, mind you. He’s happy enough for the gifts we receive in exchange for my tinctures.
But neither would he relish the idea of his wife’s name on a journal in the big house. ”
“I’m sure your husband would have unique knowledge to share as well. For instance, we could ask him to contribute favored methods of, say, animal husbandry.”
“Showing us favor might cause an uproar among the other tenants.”
“I see,” Cassie murmured.
“And here we are.” Mrs. Townsend came to a stop in front of the largest bed in the garden and beamed proudly. “My fenugreek.”
The spindly plants were full of long, thin, pea-like pods. Though the plants looked healthy, many pods were already browning. Mrs. Townsend pinched one off and then carefully peeled back the stem. Small yellow seeds fell into her palm.
“The seeds,” Mrs. Townsend explained, “not the leaves, are used to make the tincture. The pods must be carefully collected, the seeds removed just so, then left to thoroughly dry. Then, the seeds are lightly crushed with a mortar before being added to a strong spirit.”
“Sounds like a good deal of work.”
“Oh, it is. The seeds ripen during the summer months, and, as you can see, are near ready to be harvested.”
Cassie cast a critical gaze over the bed. She couldn’t imagine the length of time required to remove every pod without damaging the plant.
“I hired day help last season,” Mrs. Townsend said. “This year…” her voice trailed. “Let’s just say I hope I won’t have to let any go to waste. The priority is, of course, the grain.”
Cassie glanced up in surprise. So, despite the appearance of prosperity at the Townsend Farm, things were tighter this year than they had been the last.
“Perhaps I could be of service?”
“You?” Mrs. Townsend exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes. Unusual, I know. But my interest is a longstanding one. My mother was known for her salves. And, as my husband said, your tincture is considered the very best. I’d be very interested to see the process, and if I am to observe, I absolutely must insist on helping. I hate to be in the way.”
“You’re welcome, of course. Fair warning, the seeds won’t be properly dried for a few days, longer, perhaps, this year.”
“I will come twice, then,” Cassie replied.
“Even after the grinding and mixing, it’ll be four to six weeks until the spirit can be strained.”
“Oh!” Cassie sighed. “I hope to be in London by then. Harbury has kindly offered to show my younger sisters the sights and to introduce them to some friends during the little Season. All three of them should have been out by now. But with five daughters—”
“Five?”
Cassie nodded, letting the rest go unspoken. By now, Mrs. Townsend should understand that she, though adequately provided for, had not come from great wealth.
“What a fine thing, then, you have the duke.”
From inside the house, Mr. Townsend’s voice rose again. Cassie made out the word prices. A moment later she heard the word greed and then, quite clearly, no regard.
“Oh dear. Oh dear.” Mrs. Townsend’s hands bunched in her apron. “I told Mr. Townsend to hold his peace.”
Cassie hesitated, then laid a hand over the woman’s. “Don’t you worry yourself, Mrs. Townsend. If Harbury had taken offense, he would have summoned me to take leave. And if something has gone wrong, the duke needs to know.”
“But he must know already.” Mrs. Townsend’s brow furrowed. “We have been given to understand there was to be no rent relief come Michaelmas on the duke’s order.”
Cassie could neither confirm nor deny the woman’s assertion, but she doubted he would refuse to hear his tenant’s concerns. After all, he’d been the one to suggest they come today.
“Has relief been requested?” she asked.
“Oh yes! Anderson tells us the duke will not budge.” She shifted her weight. “Pray forgive me for speaking plain.”
“There’s no need for forgiveness,” she replied. “Especially if you are in distress.”
“Not Mr. Townsend and me,” she replied. “Things are tighter, yes. Profits are down. But our fields aren’t as prone to flood as some of the others, and Mr. Townsend, well, he’s a fierce one concerning economy.”
“His care and attention show,” Cassie offered encouragingly, hoping to learn more.
“He spends time every day reconciling his expenditures and his income.” Mrs. Townsend held up her fingers and counted on them.
“A strict quarter reserved for rent and salaries, a quarter for clothes, food and other expenses, a quarter for upkeep, the tithe to the church, and the rest kept in careful reserve.” She dropped her hand.
“His planning is why we have been able to keep all our employees even though prices have dipped and why we were able to send our youngest son to university. He’s a London solicitor, now, and manages several small estates. ”
“Does he?” she asked, surprised. “How wonderful. But what of the other tenants? Has the refusal of rent relief caused unrest?”
Mrs. Townsend’s eyes dropped. “There hasn’t been any trouble as yet. But Mr. Townsend and I both fear the peace is temporary. There’s growing anger among some of the tenantry.”
“I see.” Cassie cast a troubled gaze over the fenugreek, thinking. “When, exactly do you plan to harvest?”
“If I can find the help, I would harvest later this week. The seeds should be dried by Thursday next.”
“I will see what help can be spared from the Hall for the harvest, the grinding, and the processing.”
“Any help you choose to send would be much appreciated, Your Grace.”
“Are there any other wives in the area you think would be willing to join us?” Cassie ventured hopefully.
“Well”—Mrs. Townsend squinted as she thought—“Let’s see. Mrs. Grayson and Mrs. Bottlesworth have both expressed interest in my garden.”
“Would you be willing to invite them, too?”
Mrs. Townsend shrugged. “Many hands make light work. Some have wanted to know my secret for years, you know. The trick, however, is never as much in the recipe as in the care taken during preparation.”
Cassie shared a conspiratorial smile. “Perhaps you could promise each a special bottle? Paid, of course, by me.” She’d use her own pin money if she must. “And, I’ll have Cook prepare a light luncheon.”
“You’re quite determined, aren’t you?”
Cassie nodded. “I’d like to become acquainted with my husband’s land…and the people.”
“Ah, so your interest isn’t just about fenugreek.”
“No,” she replied. “I’d like to develop trust, so that any concerns the wives may have can be shared and understood in comfortable environs. You know how men are. They must posture. And they must be in the right.”
“I have to say, the other wives won’t appreciate my having been free with my tongue.”
“I’ve no intention of getting anyone into trouble,” Cassie reassured. “Just the opposite, in fact.”
Mrs. Townsend lifted her brows. “There has been a growing frustration between the tenants and Mr. Anderson.”
“I suspected as much,” Cassie confirmed. “Frustration leads to anger, anger to distrust. And then small problems become impossible to solve.”
“Are you certain you wish to get involved?”
“But of course,” Cassie replied. “This is my home now. The Hall can hardly thrive if the rest of the estate is suffering.”
Mrs. Townsend studied Cassie. Finally, she nodded. “I will see what I can do. Provided Mr. Townsend agrees, mind you.”
“Of course.” Cassie replied, concealing her sudden fear Mr. Townsend would prevent the meeting.
Her own father had never wanted her mother to call on their neighbors without him. Since he’d only rarely visited Willowhurst, that meant her mother and sisters formed few friendships outside their family circle.
She’d never considered asking Harbury for permission before she made this plan. Would he have denied her if she had?
He didn’t seem inclined to control her movements, but he had shown a propensity to be protective. Perhaps she needn’t tell him yet.
If she didn’t ask, she couldn’t be refused.
First, she would discover whether or not her efforts were likely to produce fruit, then she’d let him know of her plans. She was far too excited at the prospect of being able to make a valuable contribution to be unnecessarily thwarted now.