Chapter Thirteen
By the time Isaac finished reviewing the latest repair estimates, it was clear the estate’s practical needs could no longer be postponed.
"I am going to ride into the market town to arrange for tools, livestock feed, and the building materials for the tenant repairs," he announced over breakfast.
Tom, who was seated across from him, set his cup down on its saucer.
"I'm coming," Tom announced.
"It's not necessary," Isaac said. "I am sure there are matters here that could use your attention—"
"I'm going with you," Tom interjected. "Someone's got to keep these Yorkshire merchants from robbing you blind, seeing as how you're still new enough to the business of buying anything you haven't had to fight for first."
"I can manage my own negotiations, Tom."
Tom grinned. "We'll see."
Isaac placed his napkin on the table, not bothering to argue the matter further. He pushed his chair out and stood up. But as he did, Mrs Ellis appeared in the doorway.
"Good morning, My Lord," she said, bowing her head.
"Morning, Mrs Ellis," Isaac replied. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"I understand you're going to the market town this morning?" she asked.
"That's right," Isaac said. "Was there something you wanted brought back?"
"Several things, as it happens, though I'd rather trust the choosing to someone with a proper eye than write it all down and hope for the best."
Mrs Ellis folded her hands before her.
"There's fabric wanted for new linens, and the pattern matters a good deal more than any list of mine could explain.
And a handful of kitchen supplies besides, the sort of purchase I'd not care to leave to a stranger's judgment.
I'd like to send Nell along with you, My Lord, if you've no objection.
She's a good eye for such things, and she could do with a morning away from the house besides—she's been at her duties without a proper break for some weeks now. "
Tom cast Isaac a sideways glance, which he chose to ignore.
The truth was he'd hoped to get his mind off Nell for the day, but how could he tell Mrs Ellis that he did not want Nell to accompany them? If he did, it would only make the housekeeper suspicious and perhaps get Nell in some sort of trouble.
"If you think it's for the best," Isaac said.
Mrs Ellis was already turning to go. "I'll fetch her directly."
Isaac and Tom headed outside to organise the carriage.
When they were ready to go, Nell appeared, a folded list and a small purse for the household's purchases in hand.
Isaac could not help but feel a bit nervous in her presence and quite unsure how to act.
"Morning, Nell," he said.
"My Lord," she replied, not meeting his eye.
"We should get going," Tom said.
Nell approached the carriage and Isaac offered her a hand up, but she chose not to take it.
This is going to be a long morning, he thought to himself.
***
When they arrived at the Market an hour later, it proved a good deal livelier than Isaac had anticipated.
There were stalls crowded three deep along the main square, merchants calling their wares over the general din of farmers and travellers, and a small knot of entertainers performing some manner of juggling.
The whole scene was alive with a noise and colour that reminded Isaac, not unpleasantly, of London's better markets.
He spent the better part of the morning in careful negotiation with blacksmiths and grain merchants, working through the estate's considerable list of needs with a patience he had not possessed when he'd first arrived at Rowan Hall.
Tom trailed alongside, offering a running commentary on the apparent dishonesty of every trader they encountered.
"Robbery," Tom declared, following their third such negotiation. "Plain and simple robbery, dressed up in an apron and calling itself commerce. I've seen highwaymen with more honest faces than that grain merchant."
"He gave us a fair price, Tom."
"He gave us a price he thought a former prizefighter with more money than sense wouldn't trouble to argue with."
It was somewhere amid this ongoing commentary that Tom's attention turned to Nell, who had approached a small herb stall to purchase items from Mrs Ellis's list. She accepted the first price the elderly merchant named without the slightest attempt at negotiation.
"No, no, no."
Tom crossed to her side before the transaction could complete, waving off the merchant with cheerful authority.
"You can't simply hand over whatever coin the man asks for, Nell. Every trader in this square expects a bit of haggling—it's practically an insult to pay full price without at least pretending to object to it first."
"I didn't know," Nell admitted, looking faintly mortified. "I've never had occasion to purchase anything of the sort before."
Isaac frowned. It was quite strange that Nell had ever purchased from a market town. But he didn't have much time to dwell on it as Tom launched into an enthusiastic, improvised lesson on the art of the bargain, demonstrating with the herb merchant himself as an unwitting example.
First, he expressed his shock at the proposed price, gesturing toward a competitor's stall as though seriously considering taking his custom elsewhere.
Then allowing a long, meaningful pause before the merchant reluctantly agreed to the bargained-down price.
It was all delivered with such theatrical relish that even the merchant himself seemed more amused than offended by the performance.
"Now you try," Tom said, gesturing Nell toward the next stall.
Nell opened her mouth and then closed it again, a crease resting between her brows.
"It's all about confidence," Isaac assured her. "That's the whole of it. Look the man in the eye, act as though you'd be perfectly content walking away without a single thing from his stall, even if you'd no such intention at all."
Nell attempted it, with the earnest, over-careful concentration she brought to every unfamiliar task. The results proved more entertaining than either Isaac or Tom had anticipated.
She approached the next stall where an elderly man was selling a modest collection of vegetables, onions and winter greens arranged in neat rows before him.
"How much for the onions?" she asked.
"Two pence a piece," the man informed her.
Nell glanced over her shoulder at Isaac.
"Go on," he mouthed.
She turned back to the man, and Isaac watched as she drew herself up with a fierceness that bore no resemblance whatsoever to Tom's easy theatrical charm
"Two pence for a single onion," she informed him, "is an outrage, sir, and I'll not be made a fool of. I've seen finer onions sold for half that at every stall between here and the church, and I'll thank you to reconsider your prices before I take my custom elsewhere."
The old man stared at her for a long moment, and then threw both hands into the air.
"Take the whole basket for nothing, then, if you're so determined to ruin an honest man's morning! I'd sooner feed the lot to my chickens than argue prices with such an impossible customer!"
Tom laughed so loudly that several people turned to stare and Isaac found his own composure slipping rapidly despite his best effort to maintain some professional dignity. But it was useless after seeing Nell's mortified expression.
"I am so sorry," she apologised, her face flushed. "I will take all your onions at two pence a piece."
The merchant grumbled something under his breath as he handed Nell the onions. She turned and hurried back to where Isaac and Tom stood watching.
"I may have been somewhat too aggressive," she admitted.
"You may need some more practice,” Isaac agreed, smiling.
To his surprise, Nell smiled too, shaking her head.
"Ladies are never expected to argue over the price of onions and candles, you understand," she said. "I've evidently no natural talent for it."
"No natural talent whatsoever," Tom agreed, still grinning, "though I'll grant you considerable enthusiasm. Give it another year of practice and you'll have every merchant in Yorkshire fleeing at the sight of you."
The morning's pleasant mood carried them through several more stalls. Nell's confidence seemed to improve with each attempt, although her technique remained more intimidating than persuasive.
Tom's easy lightness had an effect on all of them, and Isaac felt Nell's chill towards him thawing a little as the day progressed.
Near midmorning, they were passing a stall selling fabrics when Isaac saw a richly dressed gentleman, of perhaps sixty years, making his way through the crowd.
Isaac thought nothing of the man until he suddenly stopped in his tracks and stared at Nell.
The gentleman's expression moved slowly from simple curiosity into something closer to genuine astonishment. He took several steps nearer, studying her face with an intensity that made Isaac's own hand tighten, unconsciously, around the parcel he was carrying.
"Forgive me," the gentleman said.
Isaac could not help but notice how his voice carried the particular cultured precision of a man accustomed to London's better drawing rooms rather than rural country markets.
"But have we met before?" he asked. "You look very familiar, although I cannot seem to place your face. Perhaps we met in London?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Isaac watched Nell go still.
It lasted only an instant, the barest hesitation, before she lowered her eyes.
"I do not believe so, sir," she said. "Although I have been in service my whole life, and perhaps you visited one of the homes of my employers in London."
The gentleman studied her for several more uncomfortable seconds, his brow still faintly furrowed, before something in his expression finally eased.
"Although I do not make a habit of remembering servants, perhaps you are right."
He offered a small, apologetic bow, tipped his hat, and continued on his way through the crowd, leaving the three of them standing in a silence that felt, to Isaac, heavier than the moment strictly warranted.
He glanced at Nell's hands, still holding the edge of Mrs Ellis's list, and saw them trembling.
"Are you well?" he asked quietly.
"Perfectly, My Lord. Merely startled."
She did not meet his eyes as she said it, and the remainder of their business through the market passed in a silence unlike the easy laughter of the morning.
Nell only spoke when directly addressed, her gaze drifting more than once over her own shoulder as though half expecting to find someone following at a distance.
The journey back to Rowan Hall carried the same subdued quiet, and the moment their carriage drew up before the manor, Nell excused herself with a haste that bordered on flight, disappearing up toward the servants' quarters before either Isaac or Tom had fully descended from the carriage.
Isaac watched her go, the fear he had glimpsed in the market square settling uncomfortably in his chest, and realised he was less able to dismiss the incident than he suspected a sensible man ought to be.
***
It was later that evening, seated with Tom over a shared drink in the study while they reviewed the day's purchases, that the subject finally surfaced properly between them.
"What happened in the market?" Tom asked.
Isaac sat back in his chair, his glass clasped in his hand.
"I don't know."
"Come now, Isaac. You saw her face the same as I did, when that old fellow thought he recognised her."
Tom set down his glass, his usual easy humour absent.
"Nell looked like she'd seen a ghost. Her hands were shaking. She could scarcely get a word out the rest of the afternoon."
"People panic when strangers question them, Tom. Doesn't mean anything beyond simple nerves."
"Does it not?"
Tom studied him with an expression that suggested he found this explanation no more convincing than Isaac himself actually did.
"Think it through properly, Isaac, rather than however you'd prefer to think it through.
That girl speaks better than half the gentry we entertained at your own dinner table, however hard she tries to flatten it down to something plainer.
She knew every rule of that dining etiquette better than you did.
She recognises fine wine, knows how a noblewoman's meant to hold herself in a ballroom, and now goes pale as milk the moment some lord so much as glances at her twice in a public square. "
Isaac's hand tightened around his glass as Tom spoke.
"Those aren't coincidences piling up," Tom continued. That's a pattern, and I'd wager you've seen it the same as I have, whatever you're telling yourself to avoid admitting it."
Isaac said nothing for a long moment.
In truth, he had been deliberately avoiding these kinds of questions for weeks, but he'd noticed it, of course he had. But he had been unwilling to connect the dots, because if he did, it would mean that Nell had been lying to him. And he did not want to believe that she was a liar.
"Maybe there is something she's not telling us," he finally admitted.
"Maybe?" Tom said. "I'd bet on it."
"But is it any of our business?" Isaac countered.
"Of course it is," Tom insisted. "What if the girl has fled something serious and someone comes looking for her? She's living under your roof and answering to your name in this county."
Isaac sighed.
"Fine," he said. "Make some quiet inquiries, then. The village, the neighbouring towns—nothing that draws attention, but enough to know whether we've unknowingly taken in someone dangerous, or someone the law's got cause to be looking for."
Tom nodded.
"I'll go into town tomorrow," he said. "Start asking around."
With that, Tom drained his glass and got up to go, leaving Isaac alone with his thoughts.
As the fire crackled in the grate and the clock ticked by on the mantel, Isaac poured himself another drink, unable to ignore the heaviness sitting like a stone on his chest.