Page 14 of The Colonist’s Petition (Heirs & Heroes #2)

Nine

T he sun filtered into Johnathan's room before he dressed.

He had debated far too long into the night about whether it was appropriate to don his working clothes again.

That is in the few moments when he had not been pondering on the dances with Georgiana.

Between the two thoughts, he had lost enough sleep that he ended up sleeping in later than he had done in years, resulting in a series of dreams before finally waking.

Dreams which included dancing in his work clothes and not being able to find anything to wear and still dancing, which was much more embarrassing.

He had not been asked to help in the orchards today.

At the same time, he had not been told he could not.

Better to be out of the household than inside, especially if there were to be a repeat of yesterday.

The paper on his desk fluttered as he passed.

Unable to sleep last night, he had tried to make a list, Benjamin Franklin style, of the pros-and-cons of becoming an earl.

By the light of day, it offered no more solution than it had by candlelight.

Pro:

Help G. and her family.

It would help the farmers who would suffer under Sir Lightwood.

Introduce concepts of the Constitution to England through Parliament.

The last was a long shot. He was not an expert on the Constitution, or anything for that matter, but he felt compelled to add it after the conversations he had had, and overheard with the treaty delegation.

Con:

Unlikely to see mother and siblings more than once again.

Will not be able to do physical labor.

Must promise allegiance to a king?

It was difficult to weigh the list. The thought of abandoning Georgiana made his gut twist almost as much as not seeing his mother and sisters again.

That was perplexing in itself. While she was of marriageable age, she was young.

Nearly a decade his junior. Even younger than his former fiancée, Prudence.

The thought of her name didn’t bring the pain it once had.

Prudence, her father had not named her well.

Though two years younger than Prudence, Georgiana seemed wiser.

He had not missed Georgiana’s blush as they touched while dancing.

That, along with the moment in the cider house, was enough to make him want to swagger a bit at the thought that she might have feelings for him.

Despite what his Prudence said, someone found him at least moderately attractive.

Though why Prudence chose to elope with Elias— hearing his brother’s name didn’t hurt as much either—he’d never fully understand.

Perhaps Grandpa was correct, in time they could be friends again.

Though if he stayed in England, he would never know. Was that a pro?

The whole king and Parliament went against everything his father fought for.

If only he were still alive, so Johnathan could ask an opinion.

His grandpa had been of the opinion that sending Johnathan to England was the best choice, but did he understand the earl's plan?

Likely not. Grandpa seemed to think this was more about a marriage.

During the long voyage made longer by seasickness, it had never occurred to Johnathan he would not be returning.

Although there had been a moment or two when he wondered if he would survive the voyage at all.

The thought of going back was not pleasant.

No one was in the breakfast room when he arrived, so Johnathan made quick work of an egg and a delicious bun. He was somewhat disappointed that the cook's apple and egg concoction was not among the fare. As he was leaving, a maid entered with the very thing on a plate.

She set it in front of him. “Cook sent this up for you, special.”

“Thank you. Send her my compliments.”

The maid's face pinked before she hurried away. Perhaps he was not meant to thank her.

After finishing, he hurried to the apple orchard which buzzed with industry. He did not see Georgiana or her sisters.

The steward stood near the wagons tallying the apples. “Mr. Whittaker, I did not expect to see you this morning.”

“It seemed like a fine morning for apple picking.”

“That it is. Lucas can direct you.” The steward nodded to a lanky man Johnathan had met in the fields.

Johnathan fell easily into the work. Picking bushel after bushel. As the sun reached its zenith, Lucas whistled for everyone to take a break. Since he had not asked the cook for a meal, Johnathan kept working.

“That means you too, Yankee Doodle.” Lucas stood at the bottom of Johnathan's ladder.

“I came out late. I have no need to stop.”

“Maybe so, but the lads wish to ask you questions. Come down.”

Johnathan joined the others at the side of the orchard where they sat eating. One man scowled and turned away. Lucas leaned close. “That be Jack. His son was pressed into service two years ago, and he is afraid he is dead.”

“Lucas, keep my business to yourself,” Jack growled without looking up.

“My condolences. I too know the fear of losing loved ones.” Silence met Johnathan's statement.

No one spoke for several minutes.

Lucas spoke up. “Come on, lads, you have been asking questions all week. Now's yer chance to ask them without the earl or the ladies about.”

“Is it true that ye come to take the earl's place?” asked a man with carrot colored hair.

“I came because my grandpa asked me to. It is true that the earl hopes to make me an heir.”

The men looked sideways at each other. One whispered loudly to the carrot top, “I told you to start with the Indians.”

Another man leaned forward. “How can ye be an earl when you are not born here?”

“I have wondered about that myself. I have to swear fidelity to the crown and renounce my American citizenship. It is not going to be an easy process.”

“Why would you do that? I heard you say you had your own farm there, and you are more like us than the gents.”

“A very good question. May I ask you one in return? I am aware that if I take this radical step, I will be your landlord. Would you want a man who was willing to work alongside you?”

“’Tis not right. We do not mind you now, but it should not be done if you be titled,” said the red-haired man.

“I will have a hard time sitting inside watching you work. I suppose there are other things I can do.”

A woman sitting on the edge of the conversation stood. “I do not care if ye work with us. Only that ye are honest with us like Miss Georgiana and her sisters.”

“I will do my very best.” Johnathan nodded at the next man.

“What about those Indians? I heard they shoot people with bow and arrows.”

“I have heard the same, but I have never met one in war.” Johnathan continued to answer questions about farming and land ownership the best he could throughout the meal.

When lunch was over, he found himself pondering the entire British system.

Rents? Tenants? One person owning land they never worked.

Of course, he was aware of the practice in some areas of America, especially the southern states where they relied on slavery.

Was tenant farming any better? While it was possible to free one's slaves, how did one free their tenants? He could not sell the land that belonged to the earldom. If he didn’t employ them how would they live?

“Have you seen the blue buntings?” asked Isabel from behind an armload of red cloth.

“No,” answered George, “but there was some green in the crate near Jane. You would think after years of hosting the harvest fair, we could put away the buntings in a semblance of organization.”

“We say that every year,” said Alex from her seat where she was repairing a ripped cloth, “and every year we tear it down, saying we are so tired, and never do a very good job of it.”

Lady Godderidge entered through the porch door. The sounds of hammering filtered after her. “Do you have everything sorted yet?”

“We are still missing the blue buntings,” replied Isabel. “And the new ones we ordered are in need of ironing.”

“Nearly finished,” called Jane from where she stood near the fireplace helping a maid iron out the wrinkles.

In theory, they were to be setting up for the harvest fair without the help of maids, yet no one really wanted to see Lady Godderidge, her daughter, daughter-in-law, or the Lightwoods ruin something because they had not developed the skills to perform daily tasks.

“It looked like they had new lumber this year. Are they building new booths?” asked Alex.

Lady Godderidge sorted a pile of ribbons. “Susanna has decided to add a few new ones this year.”

Isabel snorted and looked heavenward. She found her eldest brother’s wife to be far too prudish for country life. Susanna seemed nice enough, but she was a bit more fastidious than any of the Godderidges. She frowned whenever someone didn't use George's or Alex's proper names.

“I saw that, young lady,” said Lady Godderidge. “Susanna and David will be responsible for the harvest fair after your father and I are gone. And you will be married and likely living far away. It is best she learn things now.”

“Mother, do not talk that way,” Isabel protested. “It is not like you and Father are old and decrepit at all. You just choose not to live here at Leadon Hill and pass on the tradition.”

“We do live here,” Lady Godderidge corrected. “We just do not live here all year. Your father is spending more and more time in London, even when Parliament is out of session, and with your youngest brothers at Eton, it hardly makes sense for us to?—”

“I know, Mother, you have explained it before,” Isabel interrupted, “but I am glad we will be here at least through Twelfth Night. I prefer Leadon Hill to anyplace in England.”

“That you may, but it will not be your home for long, as you must go where your husband lives. Girls should never grow too attached to their childhood home.” Lady Godderidge's warning hit George. How could she live anywhere else?