Following the stream along the boundary of the field, Anabelle came to the line of trees that separated Mr. Sutton's farm from the edge of their neighbour's land. Had she walked directly from home she could have chosen an easier route, but cutting across country would be quicker than returning to the village. She hoped she might also be able to spot the location of the problem before meeting the new steward.

Her father did not have a bailiff or a steward. Woodside's holdings were neither large enough to need one, nor its income generous enough to support one. Instead her uncle dealt with all the legal work while her father oversaw the remaining issues. She knew an educated, professional man often held the position on a larger estate. At the Hall she also hoped to find him a reasonable one.

Most of the leaves had already dropped as she threaded her way between the trees, carpeting the forest floor with shades of gold, green and brown, while the skeletal branches clawed at the autumn sky. Anabelle spent less time than she would have liked appreciating the glorious sights of nature, for she was wary of where she placed her boots. The slippery leaves could hide a multitude of nooks and crannies that might turn her ankle in a second. Having left the course of the stream as it veered away to the left, she began to fear she was well and truly lost. However, the trees thinned and after a time she glimpsed the sight of the Blackwood Hall stables in the distance, and the large house beyond.

She passed through the yard where two stable hands bustled about their tasks. Anabelle stopped by one of the young men as he washed down the glossy paintwork of his master's chaise to ask for directions to the steward's office.

Had her stepmother known her destination she would have instructed Anabelle to appeal directly to Sir Henry for help, reminding her to stand up straight and offer him a sweet smile as she did so. Yet she was not here to disturb that young gentleman's peace. Her business was with his steward. She knocked at the back door and waited until it was opened by one of Sir Henry's new footmen—a gangly young man with sandy hair and freckles. "I would like to speak to the steward."

"S...steward, miss?"

"Yes, the gentleman who has taken over Mr. Burgin's duties. I need to see him on a matter of business."

He frowned, glanced over his shoulder and asked for her name. Then he left her on the doorstep as he hurried down the corridor and turned out of sight.

While she waited, Anabelle paced the cobbles of the rear yard. As a young woman of respectable birth she was not used to being kept waiting outside, but then she smiled, remembering that most young women of respectable birth would not dream of helping their fathers manage their estates.

After a few minutes the young man returned and escorted her through the dingy corridors, the bare plaster walls and uneven stone floors causing Anabelle's footsteps to echo. He came to a plain brown door and knocked twice, waiting upon a summons from within. When it came he opened the door, said, "Miss Latimer, sir," and invited her inside.

Anabelle entered a room as cluttered as the hallway had been sparse. Ledgers, almanacs and books on farming practice overflowed from the shelves running along one wall. Opposite, drawers and cabinets stood open, as though someone had been searching for something. The dirty windows, looking out over the stable yard, cast their meagre light upon a large oak desk where a figure sat, his face unlined and his dark hair showing not a trace of grey.

Shadowed eyes met hers for an instant before his gaze moved on—a scrutiny designed more to intimidate rather than welcome. Then he flicked his fingers towards the chair opposite; as much an invitation as she was likely to receive.

Mr. Burgin had been a short, corpulent, balding man with a sublime sense of his own importance, strutting around as though he owned Blackwood Hall rather than merely having charge of its land and tenants. The man who had taken his place—though clearly younger than the old steward's fifth decade—had already proven himself far more worthy of the authority that emanated from him.

As she settled herself she said, "You must be very busy. I apologise for interrupting, Mr...?"

The tick of a mantle clock marked the otherwise silent pause before he responded with a curt, "Fielding." A shorter stretch of uncomfortable silence followed, punctuated with an audible sigh. "What business may I help you with, Miss Latimer?"

Anabelle had not expected a warm welcome, but neither had she thought to be the recipient of such an impatient, disagreeable tone either. Still, his manners mattered little as long as he offered the assistance she sought. "One of my father's tenant farms bounds this estate to the south. Do you know of it?"

"I am aware of all the contiguous holdings."

"Good, because an issue has arisen that requires immediate action on your part. The brook that waters the pasture on Mr. Sutton's farm has been blocked and the obstruction is somewhere in the woods. It is of the utmost importance that you set someone to clear it without delay, lest it cause the cattle further suffering. I am sure I have no need to tell you the importance of water for animals."

One of his eyebrows rose at her words. "No, indeed." He leaned forward, clasping his hands together upon the desk. "Your father, Mr. Latimer. Why is he not here, or his man of business? Why does he send a...his daughter to deal with something that is rightly a man's office?"

The brief spark of curiosity in his eyes cast a light into the void, making him seem far less imposing than his cool welcome had first suggested. His features—cast from a noble mould—were arranged in such a way that few females would not find appealing.

Had they been introduced in a ballroom rather than over a desk within a dusty office, Anabelle felt certain she would have considered him one of the most handsome gentlemen she had ever seen.

"My father is recovering from a riding accident and is under orders to remain in his chamber. Because of this he is unable to attend to estate matters and I am acting in his stead."

He frowned. "Has he no sons or nephews? No male relations or friends of any sort who can assume this role?"

"My brothers are barely breeched and still in the nursery, but my father trusts my judgement. He believes that I am more than capable of dealing with a few minor issues in his absence."

Shaking his head he reached to the side of his desk and unrolled a large map across its top. She recognised the plan of the Blackwood Estate. "Can you show me the location of this brook?"

Anabelle leaned forward, studying the map, and pointed to the watercourse in question. "It is this one, I am sure of it. I followed it to the boundary and through here." She traced the line through a wooded area. "But at the point where it turned to the right just here I decided it was best to come and lay the matter before you."

His eyes widened. "You mean to tell me you...you walked through these woods alone?"

She began to think his incredulity now bordered on insolence. "Why should I not? I was already at the farm, and it would have taken me twice as long if I returned home first. This issue needed resolving without delay. The animals do need watering twice a day, you know."

"I am well aware of the fact."

Anabelle was conscious of his intense study as he reclined back from the desk, his fingers laced bar two, which he tapped against his lower lip. After another frustrating silence, he said, "Very well. If you will leave everything in my hands, Miss Latimer, I will ensure the problem is investigated."

She released the breath she was holding. "Thank you, Mr. Fielding. That is all I can ask for."

The footman, who had remained in the room throughout the interview, held the door open for her as the steward addressed him. "Please arrange for someone to take Miss Latimer home."

Anabelle was almost in the hallway, but turned back upon hearing his order. "Thank you, but there is no need to put anyone to such trouble. I am quite capable of taking myself home."

He sighed as he massaged his temple. "I do not doubt your capability, madam. However, as it is not my habit to allow young ladies to walk unaccompanied in the countryside, I hope you will humour me on this occasion."

Reluctant to cause a scene in front of the footman, Anabelle conceded. Yet, while she waited for a horse to be harnessed to the shafts of the gig, she silently cursed the high-handed and presumptuous nature of all stewards.

As they drove away, Anabelle glanced back towards the house. The new steward had been a surprise in more ways than one. His mode of dress aped the style of any gentleman of fashion and he seemed competent despite his fewer years. Ink on his cuff and dust along the underside of his sleeve—revealed when he had reached for the map—showed he was willing to get his hands dirty when necessary. His demand that she should be driven home suggested a consideration that Mr. Burgin had never once evinced.

In short he seemed exactly the sort of man that Blackwood Hall required. She only hoped he would take a request from a mere female seriously.

When she reached home, Anabelle tugged at the ribbons that tied her bonnet, freeing the constriction around her throat. She dropped it in a housemaid's waiting hands and climbed the stairs to her father's room. There she found him where she had left him just after breakfast, reclining in a chair, his bandaged leg extending before him as he looked through the window.

"Belle, did you discover the cause of Mr. Sutton's problem?"

"Yes, Papa." She explained the difficulty and described her visit to the Hall and her hopes that the new steward would rectify the issue.

"Burgin's disappearance does not surprise me in the slightest. I warned Sir George he was selling seed rather than using in the fields, but by then he was too old and too tired to take an interest. I hope that his nephew will repair the ravages that time has wrought."

"Mr. Fielding seemed surprised that you would put your trust in a female, and a daughter at that."

"Well, my dear, he does not know you as I do." Her father looked towards the window, where the late afternoon sun was already sinking towards the horizon. "Thank you for your help today. I do not know what I should have done without you. Now, you best go and change before Mrs Latimer catches sight of that mud on your petticoat."