Page 10 of The Colonist’s Petition (Heirs & Heroes #2)

Seven

P icking apples was the most familiar thing Johnathan had done since leaving Massachusetts.

He assumed the technique was the same the world over.

Grasp, twist, pull, repeat. The apples were cool from the overnight frost. His mouth watered at the thought of cider, and pies to come.

The sack hanging across his chest expanded until it would hold no more fruit. Johnathan took it to the waiting wagon.

“Mr. Whittaker, you may be the fastest picker working in the orchard today.” Dressed in a faded dress, without men's clothing underneath, Georgiana did not climb ladders, as he suspected she might have done if her grandfather were not in residence.

Instead she helped transfer apples from sack or basket to crates which were stacked in the wagon beds.

“It has always been one of my favorite parts of the harvest.” Johnathan exchanged his full sack for an empty one.

“Why is that?”

“Because it leads to warm cider and apple cakes.” He could not help his smile, the apple and egg concoction the cook made again for breakfast this morning was still on his mind.

“Then you shall enjoy the harvest fair. There is an award for the best of the apple puddings, pies, and cakes.”

“Do we get to taste them to see if we agree?”

“Of course.” Her smile brightened the almost perfect fall day. Not many people could radiate that much joy.

Halfway back to his tree, a female rider galloped into the orchard scattering workers. The woman rode a sidesaddle in a fine habit. He recognized her from the wedding. She stopped short of the wagon. Georgiana met her, hands on hips.

“Isabel Dawn Godderidge, you know better than to come galloping into an orchard full of people.”

“I was up at the ruins.” Miss Godderidge said breathlessly. “Your father is coming.”

Georgiana's fists dropped to her sides, gathering her skirt. “How far?”

“His carriage was just entering the village.” Miss Godderidge soothed her horse’s neck “Did you expect him today?”

“We knew he would come before the harvest fair.” Georgiana looked down at her dress.

“I suppose I should change. Mr. Whittaker!” His name started as a shout but faded when she realized he still stood close enough to hear.

“My father is coming. He will be in a sour enough mood after realizing Grandfather is in residence. He will be even more upset if he realizes I have put you to work.”

“Shall I return to the house?”

“I think it would be best if we both returned.”

Miss Godderidge turned her horse. “I will take the long way home, so he does not see me.”

“You just want to spy on the rest of our harvest.” Georgiana made a face.

“I am sure David and Father will ask for an update when they learn I have been here.”

Georgiana tsked. “Do not give me cause to think you are cheating.”

Miss Godderidge laughed. “We can talk later. You best hurry.”

“Come, Mr. Whittaker.” Georgiana took the empty sack from him and set it back on the wagon. “If we go through the kitchen, we should be able to get changed before Father finishes greeting Alex.”

“Your father does not approve of you working in the fields?”

“Of course not. The only thing he approves for his daughters is making matches that have the potential to fill his coffers.”

Georgiana lifted her skirts and sprinted. Johnathan followed on her heals. They burst through the kitchen door, startling the cook.

“Is he here yet?” asked Georgiana, panting.

“Who?” asked Cook.

“Father. Isabel saw him.”

“Not yet.” The cook turned to her scullery maid. “Run and tell somebody above stairs to be prepared.”

Georgiana grabbed Johnathan's elbow and tugged him towards the servants’ stairway. “This way.”

He followed her up the stairs, passing no one as they reached the floor where his room was. Georgiana opened the door to the corridor and peeked out before opening it wide. “I will see you in the parlor shortly.”

“Are you sure I should come down?” Witnessing a family reunion was not his place as a guest.

“Please do. It may keep him from coming to blows with Grandfather.”

Johnathan turned the opposite way from Georgiana and hurried to his room. He made quick work washing in a bowl and changing his shirt. His half-tied cravat hung around his neck when the earl's valet entered the room.

“I have been instructed to help you dress.”

“I am mostly done.”

The valet's lips formed a thin line. “Hm. Best let me do that, sir.”

Johnathan dropped his hands and allowed the valet to tie the cravat and adjust his coat.

The valet stepped back. “Oh! What is that?” He reached and plucked a leaf from the back of Johnathan's head. “Do turn around, sir.”

Johnathan turned slowly for the valet to inspect. The valet ordered him to sit in a chair while he repaired his hair.

“I believe I straightened everything out. You no longer appear as if you have been in the orchard. His Lordship said he would await you in the library.” The valet picked up Johnathan's discarded working clothes and left the room.

Johnathan glanced in the mirror before following.

How did the valet get his hair to lay so smooth?

It did not look like him at all. Johnathan ran his fingers through the top of his hair.

The bit of curl the valet restrained sprang back into place.

There—he looked more like himself, even if it was not properly British.

Over the last few weeks, the earl explained very little about why he did not get along with his son-in-law.

Snippets of Georgiana's conversation and her flight from the orchard spoke volumes.

Though he tried not to, Johnathan found he formed an opinion most decidedly against the man.

It was not fair to Sir Lightwood to so soon create a negative opinion, but there was no help in how he felt.

As he reached the top of the stairway, the front door flew open.

“Why were you not waiting?” Sir Lightwood thrust his hat at the butler.

The butler did not answer.

“I heard Whitstone is in residence. Where is the old scoundrel hiding?”

This was the first time Johnathan heard anyone call the earl by just the last part of his title. A baronet was lower than an earl, was it disrespectful? Labeling his father-in-law a scoundrel certainly was.

“I believe his Lordship is in the library.” The butler answered with a dignified air.

“And my daughters? I am assuming they are out in the fields?”

“Miss Alexandra is with the housekeeper. Miss Jane is likely in the library?—”

“And Georgiana? Please tell me she is not disgracing herself for all the county to see.”

Behind Johnathan, there was a rustle of skirts. He stepped back from the railing to allow Georgiana to pass.

“Stay up here for a minute. Step back into the shadow,” she whispered.

She descended two steps before calling out. “I am here, Father. Welcome home.”

Unable to see from the spot near the wall where Georgiana directed him, Johnathan waited until he heard her shoes on the marble entry floor before moving forward.

“You almost look as if you have not been out in the fields today.” Sir Lightwood’s voice dripped with disdain.

“I have not been in the fields.”

Johnathan leaned over the rail to watch the exchange.

“You are lying. You never wear gloves unless going to church or you are hiding filthy and ragged nails.” Sir Lightwood grabbed for Georgiana's hand, but she stepped back quickly.

“I was in the orchards. I did not lie.”

He lifted his hand as if to strike her. “You forget yourself. Next time you will be punished for your insolence. Tell your sisters I shall be in residence for the week and I am expecting a guest. And you are all to show respect.”

“A guest?”

“Yes. Have the rose room prepared.”

“Rose's room?”

“No, your mother's room. The primrose room. The sickening color she liked.”

“Mother's room? You cannot put anyone in there.”

“I can and I will.”

“Your guest is not a woman, is it?”

“My guest, is none of your business. Tell your sister to adjust the menus accordingly. I wish for a bath. If you see your grandfather, tell him I have no intention of talking to him.”

There was a mumbled response before Georgiana turned down the corridor.

Johnathan stepped back into the shadows.

If he had not created a poor opinion of his absent host before, the threat to slap Georgiana would have done it for him.

Fathers should not treat children, especially daughters so.

Meanwhile, Georgiana’s handling of the situation only increased his respect for her.

When he saw her with the pig, he thought of her in the same category as his younger sister.

However, after watching her in the fields and with her father, he found her more mature than her years would have suggested.

The heavy footfalls of a man coming up the stairway meant he would soon be face-to-face with Sir Lightwood.

Given what he heard, avoiding Georgiana's father at this point would be the prudent course.

Johnathan turned down the corridor, hoping to reach either his room or the servant stairway before Sir Lightwood reached the landing. No such luck.

“You there! Is my bath prepared?”

Drawing a bath in mere minutes was impossible. What a demand. Johnathan continued walking away.

“You! Stop when I talk to you!”

There was no one else about, so Johnathan slowly turned.

“You are not dressed like one of my footmen!”

“No, I am not.”

“You must be one of the earl's servants. You do realize the valet should not be in the main corridor?”

“Yes.”

“Go on about your business. I don’t wish to see you again.”

Johnathan entered the nearby servant stairway to leave the man's presence before he realized his mistake.

By using that stairwell, he all but proved he was a servant.

He reached the library through the circuitous route as Georgiana and Miss Jane were exiting.

He nodded to the women and let them pass.

“Ah, there you are,” said the earl. “I assume you have heard that my son-in-law is back in residence.”