Anthony Fielding stood at the window, staring through the rain-washed panes as the remains of his breakfast sat congealing on the table behind him. What maggot had crawled into his brain that he had chosen to remain behind at Blackwood Hall, rather than returning with Mountford to town? It was incredibly uncomfortable to stay alone, in someone else's house, without company or conversation during the long autumn evenings. Solitary card games bored him, the sparse entertainment found in the library was barely worth perusing and he could only write so many letters to friends and family before he ran out of things to say.

He briefly regretted offering to sort out the disorder they had found upon their arrival, but Mountford knew no one else with the same breadth of experience, and he could not in all conscience call himself a friend if he had not stepped in to help.

How many hours had he spent as a boy with his father's steward? The serene calm permeating Meltham Park belied the industry that went on out of view, like the webbed feet paddling beneath the surface providing momentum to the stately swan. The current steward at Meltham was an excellent man, who cared a great deal about both the land and its people. It was only right that he should take the time to set Mountford's feet upon the same path at Blackwood.

While waiting for replies to his letters of enquiry, he had begun an inventory of the holdings, more for something to occupy him than for the benefit of the man who would take on the position. However, this simple task could not occupy his full attention, or prevent him from reflecting upon his female visitor. He had not been more than a few minutes in her company when she had called to ask for his help, so why did Miss Latimer still linger in his thoughts?

He could only put it down to the deplorable lack of stimuli, and maybe also curiosity. A young woman of marriageable age, who was not bursting her stays with the effort of gaining his attention, was a novel and rather pleasant experience for him. A pity, then, that there were not more ladies like her.

The door opened and the housekeeper poked her head into the room. She looked at the disordered table, sniffed, and then withdrew. Although he took little notice of other people's servants, the older woman—an archaic remnant of Sir George's reduced household—seemed to have taken him in dislike. Perhaps she objected to waiting upon a guest while the master of the house was away from home, but as long as she continued to do her work in an efficient manner he cared not a whit for her good opinion.

Later that afternoon, while continuing his progress through the previous steward's almost indecipherable accounts, Joseph interrupted him. A young boy had been sent with a message, begging for his presence as mediator. Sheep had strayed through a broken fence, damaging crops belonging to a Blackwood tenant.

Having familiarised himself with the lay of the land, and those who worked it, Fielding knew that Mr. Green, the injured party, was the latest member of a family who had leased land from the Mountford family for at least two generations. The errant sheep had allegedly escaped from a neighbouring farm that was part of Mr. Latimer's holdings.

The rain had ceased, leaving lighter grey clouds hanging overhead, so Fielding agreed to view the damage. As he mounted his horse the thought flashed through his mind that he should send another in his place. He was not the steward here and was under no obligation to deal with this problem, but a lack of anything else to occupy his mind provoked him to get involved.

Upon his arrival at the farm, Mr. Green showed Fielding where the damage had occurred. The old farmer detailed at length the many issues that had arisen between himself and his neighbour over the years, painting Mr. Jacks as a slovenly fool who barely knew a horse from a hay rick. On the face of it the case was clear. Half an acre of winter crops had been trampled or eaten, and although the animals responsible were nowhere to be seen, the sight of their wool snagged on the broken spars of the fence offered damning evidence.

"The old squire that 'ad Blackwood afore yer master was a very generous man, sir. The last time this 'appened he gave me Da some money. 'E called it comp...comping..."

"Compensation?"

The man's grizzled face brightened. "Aye, sir! That's what it was."

Fielding was about to correct the man's assumption that he worked for Mountford, when a noise behind caught his attention. He turned to find Miss Latimer stood on the other side of the broken fence.

"Good day, Mr. Fielding. Might I have a few words with you?"

"Yes, of course." He turned to the farmer, explaining that he would consider the matter and let the man know his decision.

As Fielding stepped across the broken timbers, he reflected that Miss Latimer appeared even more dishevelled than she had been at their last meeting. Her glossy walnut locks now fell in irregular tendrils around the nape of her neck. Her cheeks were coloured from exertion, her breathing laboured and her eyes bright. In short, she appeared to be recovering from a run, rather than a walk. "Are you quite well, Miss Latimer?"

Her hand came to rest upon her heaving chest as she favoured him with a weak smile. "I came as soon as Mr. Jacks told me."

"Told you what?"

"That George Green was up to his old tricks again. I was visiting with Mrs Jacks when we heard about it. I hope you did not agree—"

He held up his hand to forestall her. "I have agreed to nothing yet. Do you take me for a green boy?" Fielding smiled to soften his words, gratified that she would go out of her way to ensure he was not fooled.

Miss Latimer's gaze flicked over his shoulder to the place where he had left the farmer. "I am afraid the Greens were hoping to take advantage of your generosity by playing off your ignorance."

Her suggestion that his knowledge might be in any way lacking stung his pride. He stiffened, and his tone was noticeably colder as he said, "I believe I have a tolerable understanding of the matter."

"Did Mr. Green say that his neighbour's sheep had broken the fence and trampled his crops?" When he nodded, she pointed into the distance where blobs of white dotted the far green hillside like apple blossom. "Mr. Jacks has been grazing his sheep on Barrow Hill since early September, and will continue to do so until the spring, so they could not be responsible for the damage."

He realised then that it was not so much his experience she had questioned, but his lack of the local knowledge that derives from an awareness of your neighbours and their circumstances.

Fielding caught up a tuft of wool from the end of a broken spar. "Then do you know whose flock broke through the fence?"

She smiled then, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I suspect it was no flock, but most likely a drove."

"Pigs? Even Sir Henry knows that you do not get wool from pigs."

"Mr. Green usually sends his youngest son to clean the sty, and this would not be the first time he forgot to latch the gate. If you look here you can see that this fence was broken outwards, into Mr. Jack's field, and then the pieces were moved to make it look otherwise."

After studying the broken fence for a moment he realised that Miss Latimer was quite correct. "It would be an easy matter to collect some loose wool from the hedgerow to implicate his neighbour's animals, but how do you know where Mr. Jacks grazes his flock?"

"Is it not the responsibility of all landowners to have knowledge of the people who owe their livelihood to their land? From Mr. Sutton's distaste for the cabbages he grows, to Mrs Ellard's desire for a daughter after having four sons."

"Well, yes, it helps to be familiar with the peculiarities of each tenant. I can see now why Mr. Latimer places such trust in you." He looked around then, realising she was once again unaccompanied. "You came here alone?"

Her lips pursed for a second before relaxing and she held out her arms, capitulating before the argument could begin. "As you see."

"I still find it hard to believe that your father allows you out without a footman to accompany you."

Miss Latimer laughed. "If we had a spare footman kicking his heels with nothing better to do, I am sure he would agree. As we do not I have learned to manage without."

He noticed the bedraggled hem of her dress, damp from walking through long wet grass. "Still, I am grateful you came all this way to warn me in these uncomfortable conditions."

"I wish I could claim such charitable motives. After the rain we had this morning and being confined indoors with my numerous siblings, the opportunity to escape and spend a little time alone was the greater inducement."

Her comment reminded Fielding of the time when Mountford brought his sisters to Yorkshire and how inclement weather had forced them all together for two solid days. Meltham had never felt so small and he had longed to escape. While he still didn't agree with Miss Latimer walking unaccompanied, he could understand her desire to do so. "May I at least see you safely home?"

To this she declaimed the necessity. "Truly, there is no need to put yourself out. My task here is complete and you must have more than enough work of your own to finish."

On any other day Fielding would not have pressed the point, but the time spent in his own company had exhausted even his desire for solitude. "On the contrary, with Sir Henry not in residence to distract me, I am shockingly ahead of myself."

"I am pleased to hear it, for your sake, but I have an appointment I cannot miss, and I am late already." She bobbed a curtsey and bid him a polite farewell before turning towards the path that ran alongside Mr. Jacks' field.

Fielding did not importune her further to accept his company. Indeed, Miss Latimer's resistance to his offer did nothing to injure his opinion of her. He could not remember the last time he had felt so comfortable, or held such sensible discourse, with an unmarried female.

As she walked away he was able to appreciate her light, pleasing figure from a distance, until a curve in the track hid her from view, and he idly wondered who she might be meeting.

Had she escaped from her family in the hopes of encountering an amorous swain somewhere in the neighbourhood? During the short ride back to Blackwood Hall he tried to imagine what manner of man had been so fortunate as to earn Miss Latimer's undivided affection.