Selina studied her sister as she plaited her hair in preparation for sleep. Most evenings they came together before bed to mull over the events of the day, but tonight Anabelle's thoughts were distant as she sat before the mirror, staring into the candle flame. Selina could guess their direction, but remained at a loss to know how to broach the subject. "Papa seemed a little happier when I visited him after dinner."

Belle nodded, her eyes fixed on the flickering light. "I am pleased to hear it. Too often he chafes at the restrictions that keep him confined to his room."

"A little fresh air would do him good. Surely it cannot be much longer before he can resume his usual occupations?"

"Only when Mr. Jones removes the splint can papa go downstairs with John's help, but not before," Belle said as she drew the fringe of her shawl through her fingers.

She worked each section of hair, her fingers moving in a steady rhythm as she reached the end. "It will be a great relief for you to be spared the work once he is able to take a hand in estate matters for himself.”

Outside an owl hooted as the wind buffeted the glass in the casement. Finally, Belle sighed. "Would it be wrong if I were not relieved?"

"No, not wrong. I think you have enjoyed the mental stimulation of solving the problems that arose. Doing the marketing and housekeeping never satisfied you half as much, did it?"

"You deal with them so much better. Mrs Latimer relies on you now. She hardly need lift a finger."

Selina secured the finished braid with a ribbon, determined to steer the subject of the conversation closer towards its intended course. "I overheard Mrs Jamison sharing her opinion of Mr. Fielding outside the bakery this morning. It sounds as though he is like a new broom, sweeping away all the neglect at Blackwood."

When Mr. Fielding’s name was mentioned, Belle’s reflection briefly met her gaze before drifting away again. Her sister picked up a pin from the table, turning it over in her fingers. "A carter called at Mrs Jamison’s cottage a few days ago with a delivery of new tiles. She sings the steward's praises to all she meets. He could not have made a more valuable ally."

"It shows a pleasing conscientiousness to his work."

"I can hear what you have left unsaid. You wanted to add that he ought to show a similar care over his appearance, but I cannot allow you to slight him for something as unimportant as a hastily tied neck-cloth."

Selina feigned surprise. "I had no intention of slighting Mr. Fielding. Indeed, I would never do so for he is almost frighteningly good-looking."

Belle gasped and dropped the pin as a tiny globe of blood grew on the pad of her forefinger. She caught it with her handkerchief. "Yes…yes he is."

"'Tis a shame he does not have a more promising future. Still, I am sure he will make someone a good husband one day."

Anabelle looked down, crumpling the embroidered square of lawn in her hand. "We know not what his future holds. Indeed, he may have expectations of which no one else is aware."

“You did not ask him?”

“I could not embarrass Mr. Fielding like that. It would hardly be polite for me to do so.”

Selina cast a sly glance out of the corner of her eye. Anabelle’s gaze had moved to the window, covered by the thick curtains to keep draughts at bay. She sat silent and thoughtful as though her thoughts had taken wing and flown away across the fields. If Belle had made light of the steward's situation it would have been a different matter. The fact that Selina’s mention of Mr. Fielding's position, and his lack of prospects, had not provoked the least desire in her sister to tease was a worrying sign.

She placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze. "I am not afraid to speak openly with you, Belle. I know you are far too sensible to fall in love with the first gentleman of marriageable age who arrives in the neighbourhood. However, I do beg you to guard your heart. I would not wish you to involve yourself, or endeavour to involve him, in an affection that his circumstances would make so very imprudent for both of you.

“I know nothing else to his detriment. Mr. Fielding is a well-favoured young man in many respects. He has gentlemanlike manners, to be sure, and if he had a gentleman's fortune even half equal to his looks I should think you could not do better, but as it is—"

"As it is, my dear Selina, you need not fear for me," Anabelle replied, fixing a smile to her face. "Of course I am not in love with Mr. Fielding, and I am sure he is not in love with me. Indeed, he told me that he will be leaving Blackwood, and I do not expect I shall see him again."

"Leaving? So soon?"

As Anabelle explained the circumstances to Selina, she laughed at her mistake of assuming Mr. Fielding would be a permanent fixture at Blackwood Hall. But her laughter sounded forced, and although her lips curved upwards the smile did not reach her eyes, and Selina was not fooled for a moment.

~<>~<>~

Despite being confined to his chamber, isolated in blissful solitude, Mr. Latimer still retained an awareness of almost everything that happened within the household. He heard the faint strains of Diana practicing her piano. He often caught the excited voices of the boys as they played with their soldiers in the nursery above. Anabelle kept him apprised of happenings on the estate, and his Selina made a point of passing a quiet moment with him every day. He also had the dubious pleasure of Mrs Latimer's company at night, as she punctuated her preparations for sleep with the latest gossip of the neighbourhood.

He had therefore assumed his awareness of Mr. Fielding's position at Blackwood Hall to be complete.

The description, collated from his family's knowledge, had been that of a young man with a fine countenance, an efficient if slightly haughty manner, and a sadly insufficient income for him to become a target for his wife's schemes. Upon meeting the gentleman he had found the picture to be mostly accurate, except in one important detail.

How on earth could his wife and daughters—and by common report many of the residents of the neighbourhood—have believed Mr. Fielding to be a man of so little consequence?

Thomas Latimer had, in some measure, failed his eldest offspring. He had kept Anabelle and Selina at home, rather than putting himself to the trouble and expense of providing them with the necessary social opportunities to find suitable husbands. Yet, despite these inauspicious beginnings, his reluctance had somehow yielded an unexpected dividend.

From the description of his holdings it appeared that Mr. Fielding’s situation was well above the quality of gentleman he had hoped that his daughters might attract. The estate he described—and claimed ownership of—was of a considerable size, making even Blackwood Hall seem modest by comparison.

It was clear that the young man appreciated many of Anabelle's better qualities. Likewise, Mr. Latimer had seen evidence of his daughter's predilection for Mr. Fielding, and he felt it would only take a little effort on his part to bring the two together, if he chose.

Had it been any of his other daughters, he might have left the matter in his wife's hands. As it involved the happiness of his favourite, he did not begrudge a small amount of exertion on her behalf.

When Anabelle came to see him the next morning, he noted the dark smudges under her eyes and her face appeared drawn. "Did you not sleep well, Belle?" She only smiled and shook her head. "I know something that will blow those cobwebs away. I would like you to carry a note for me to Blackwood Hall."

Her smile faltered. "I am sorry, Papa, but I cannot go out today."

"There is something I would like to discuss with Mr. Fielding if he will favour me with another visit."

She turned away then, toying with the inkstand on his side table. "I fear Mr. Fielding was quite correct about females being unequal to the task of estate management. I feel almost faint from exhaustion. A walk to the hall would be beyond me at this time."

"Of course, I would not ask you to walk. You may call for the carriage, for I can well spare the horses this morning."

"I have no intention of leaving the house, Papa."

Mr. Latimer shook his head. He knew that once Belle had made a decision she could be as stubborn as a donkey; a trait she unknowingly shared with her dear mother. "I do not understand. Is Mr. Fielding not a favourite of yours?"

"Mr. Fielding is…" She took in a breath, expelling it in a sigh. "He is an excellent man. I am sure the gentleman he has engaged to be Sir Henry's steward will be excellent also."

"I am relieved to hear that you have discovered your mistake. It must be obvious even to those of the meanest intelligence that Mr. Fielding was never employed at Blackwood Hall, but I did think you would find more pleasure in the news. You will not, I hope, subject us all to a fit of the sullens just because you misunderstood his circumstances."

Anabelle's chin rose. "I am sure I do not care what Mr. Fielding chooses to do. Please, Papa, ask John to take your message. I cannot."

Mr. Latimer did send John out, but not to Blackwood Hall.

While waiting for his man to return he sat in his chamber looking out of the window. He found it an entertaining spot to while away the hours, as his view took in part of the grounds as well as the drive coming down from the lane. From there he could watch the comings and goings of his family, whether it was Diana and Marianne returning from a walk to Haltford, or Selina collecting rose hips. If he leaned closer to the glass it also afforded him an opportunity to observe Anabelle wandering around her favourite part of the garden.

This morning she had not seemed herself, and this was borne out by her agitated pacing across the frost-bitten lawn, hands clenched by her side. She moved towards the gate, but then stopped, looking across the wall to the fields beyond; fields that separated Woodside and Blackwood Hall. It pained him to see Anabelle so upset, and he was about to send someone to fetch her when the housekeeper arrived, announcing a visitor.

"I am pleased to see you following my instructions," Mr. Jones said as he entered the room. "I did fear you would try to do too much during your recuperation."

"As much as I dislike having my movements restricted, one learns to make the best of the situation."

The apothecary unwound the bandages and examined the site of the break. He must have been pleased with what he found as he removed the splints and encouraged his patient to stand. "Well that is the first stage of your healing complete. I will rewrap your leg with lighter support and you may walk with the aid of John's arm and a stick or these crutches I have brought for you. The bone is not yet returned to its full strength and you should still rest whenever possible, but a little light exercise will strengthen your muscles. At least you can now go downstairs and spend some time with your wife and family."

"That hardly seems to be a fair recompense for adhering to your instructions so faithfully."

Mr. Jones laughed. "Well, it is not compulsory. I only ask that you are mindful of the limb for a few more weeks. No running, jumping or dancing until I declare it safe to do so."

"I think I can promise you there will be no dancing in my future."

Shortly after the apothecary left, John returned from the Haltford circulation library with a small brown volume.

Mr. Latimer took the book and turned it over in his hands, hoping that this New Historical and Descriptive View of Yorkshire would satisfy his curiosity about the family of the young man who had caused his daughter such unaccustomed anxiety.