Determined to prove himself worthy, Derek slid off his horse then walked toward Mr. Thompson, a welcoming expression on his face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand to the man before him.
For a moment, Mr. Thompson seemed as though frozen in place. Only his eyes had narrowed at Derek’s approach as they had shifted to his offered hand, distrust and suspicion clearly visible in them. Finally, his head seemed to nod up and down, and he slowly extended his hand as though afraid Derek might cut it off. “Same here, my lord,” Mr. Thompson mumbled as his own dirt-stained hand closed around Derek’s.
Releasing the man’s hand after a hearty shake, Derek stepped to the side, eyes gliding appreciatively over the repairs Mr. Thompson had made to the side wall of the shed. “These look expertly done,” he observed, then glanced at the man’s tools laid out in the grass, most of which had seen better days and looked close to falling apart. “Especially with tools as these.”
Turning to look at Mr. Thompson, Derek could see a mixture of pride and apprehension on the man’s face as he absorbed Derek’s words, trying to determine why the new Baron Ainsworth would speak to him so and what his intentions could possibly be.
Knowing these thoughts only too well as Derek had found himself in that very same situation more than once, standing before a member of the ton, torn about what to do and believe, he met Mr. Thompson’s calculating gaze openly. “I can see that you have suffered hardship these past years,” he said honestly. “From what I’ve heard, the late baron had other matters on his mind than providing for his tenants.” Derek swallowed. “I myself have had an obligation to tend to, which has kept me from assisting you in the manner you deserve. For that I am truly sorry.”
Some of the tension left Mr. Thompson’s shoulders as he studied Derek intently, his watchful eyes taking note of every evidence of truthfulness in Derek’s bearing.
“As I did not inherit my title, but had it bestowed upon me for my deeds in battle for our country,” Derek explained, hoping that open words would lay the foundation for future trust between him and his tenants, “I’m afraid I do not possess the means to restore the estate to its former glory.”
Mr. Thompson’s gaze narrowed.
“However, you do have my word,” Derek went on undeterred, “that I will do my utmost to assist you in restoring your farm. I consider it my duty, and I have every intention of fulfilling it.” He took a step toward Mr. Thompson, holding his gaze. “It would help if you could tell me about this land and the problems you are faced with so that I can use the small funds I have in the right place. Will you assist me?”
For a long time, Mr. Thompson looked at him, his eyes wide awake calculating, assessing, and Derek knew that he was being weighed. His own shoulders tensed as he waited for the man’s verdict, hoping that today was the day that they would take the first step toward a better future for both sides.
Scratching his chin, Mr. Thompson inhaled deeply before he spoke. “I shall tell you what I can, my lord.”
“Thank you,” Derek replied, his relief evident in the way his body relaxed. “I truly appreciate your help.”
Over the course of the next two hours, Derek followed Mr. Thompson around the small farm and looked at the state of the house as well as the barn and the shed. Mr. Thompson told him about the condition of the soil as well as the weather, which both seemed quite favourable. However, as expected, they were lacking tools of any kind to make even the smallest repairs, often trading the few tools they did possess with other tenants to help. What presented an even bigger problem was the lack of raw material. As the late Baron Ainsworth had forbidden them from cutting down trees without compensating for them, his tenants had not been able to maintain the condition of their homes, which seemed to deteriorate with every year that passed.
“What nonsense!” Derek exclaimed, annoyed with the late baron’s selfishness. He knew only too well that the man had scraped together every penny and gambled it away like all the ones before. “Please, cut down all the trees you need. I will not charge you for it.”
Mr. Thompson scoffed, “With what, my lord? We no longer possess the tools needed for it. When it became clear that the late baron wouldna change his mind, we sold ‘em while we still could. A good saw is costly and not easy to come by.”
“I see,” Derek grumbled to himself before turning to Mr. Thompson and assuring him that he would find a way to help them fix their homes. Then he mounted Arion and rode away, hoping that the slight signs of hopeful trust he had seen in Mr. Thompson would blossom into more. If only Derek stayed true to his word!
Before returning home, Derek stopped by a small cottage located a short walk north of the main house. Even from a distance, he could see two children running around, chasing each other and laughing. By the side of the cabin, a young woman knelt in the dirt, tending to what he presumed to be a small vegetable garden.
At the sound of his approach, she looked up, and a small smile came to her face as she rose to her feet, the familiar hint of mischief in her eyes. “My lord, welcome home.”
Jumping to the ground, Derek strode over to her, his gaze taking in the strain on her face, the tension in her shoulders as well as the stiffness of her bones as she tried to straighten her back. “Call me Derek as you always have,” he insisted, instantly annoyed with himself for the harshness in his tone. It was hardly her fault that these living conditions were not conducive to her health!
“Don’t look so grim,” she chided, then stepped forward and gently placed a dirt-stained hand to his cheek. “It is good to have you home.”
Derek swallowed. “How are you, Meagan? How are the children?” Glancing over her shoulder, he saw six-year-old Matthew and his younger sister Erin staring at him, their game of tag all but forgotten.
“We’re fine,” Meagan said, brushing her hands on her apron, trying to rub off the dirt. “It’s not easy, but we have a roof over our heads and food on our table.”
As she tried to walk past him, Derek grabbed her arm and pulled her back. His gaze sought hers as words failed him.
A knowing smile came to Meagan’s soft face. “I know,” she whispered as her eyes began to mist. “When I looked up a moment ago and saw you, for a split second I thought it was Edward. I guess a part of me still cannot believe that he is truly gone.” Holding his gaze, she nodded. “I know how you feel. It is good to stay busy, to have something to do to occupy one’s mind. It helps. But sometimes…”
Derek inhaled deeply. “Will you not come and live with us at Huntington House? You’d have it more comfortable there and?”
“No.” Shaking her head, Meagan held his gaze, pride and determination gleaming in her blue eyes. “I don’t need comfortable. I need…”
“I promised Edward,” Derek ground out, remembering a gloomy afternoon when his friend had begged him to look after his family…should something happen to him. And then it had, and what had Derek done? He had brought them to this place and then left them alone to fend for themselves. “He would not want you to live like this.”
Meagan sighed, “But he’s not here, is he?” A tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek before her hand could brush it away, leaving a trail of dirt on her cheek. “Don’t worry about us. Sean helps as much as he can?”
“As much as you let him,” Derek interrupted, never having known a prouder woman than Meagan Dunning.
Glaring at him, she went on, a sharp tone to her words, “We are very lucky to have him…and you.” Her gaze held his, and he could see the same sadness there that he felt in his own heart. Edward had been a good man, torn out of life much too young, leaving behind a widow and two small children.
No, life was not fair.