Page 16 of The Colonist’s Petition (Heirs & Heroes #2)

Ten

“Put your back into it!” yelled Lucas.

Johnathan’s muscles strained as he attempted to speed up the pulper. Someone switched out the bucket below, and the kid in charge of dropping apples into the funnel dropped them faster. Johnathan switched positions.

“Hey, Yankee Doodle, tired already? Faster. Got to get the press going.”

Johnathan tried to smile, instead, his jaw clenched. A burning sensation started to fill the muscles in his right shoulder. He adjusted his position a bit more to put more of the strain on his left. He would not stop.

“There you go, that’s it. We might get a gallon by the end of the day.”

“You need another pulper,” Johnathan said, pausing between each word.

“What Yank?”

Johnathan dropped the handle and shook out his arms.“You heard me. The first thing I will do if I become earl is buy you a new pulper.”

Lucas slapped his leg and laughed as Johnathan rubbed his shoulder. The other men joined Lucas’s laughter.

“You do not need to do that, Yankee Doodle. We already have another one.”

“What?” Johnathan asked, incredulous.

Lucas pointed to the other side of the shed. Where a two-man team cranked on a large pulper that allowed the apples to be mashed and ground in preparation to meet the cider press by the bushelful.”

Johnathan let out a laugh. “So that little pulper you had me working on?”

“As useless as a dull ax,” said Lucas.

“Then why?”

“A test of your fortitude.” Lucas said with a grin. “All the new lads take a turn.”

“Did I pass?”

Lucas slapped Johnathan’s back, and a muscle retaliated. “You did well Yankee Doodle.”

Johnathan windmilled his arm backward, trying to relieve the strain on the muscle. “Now?”

“We give you the honor of pressing the first apples—the ones you pulped,” said Lucas.

Johnathan scooped up the bucket of apple pulp using his left arm and walked into the cider shed, where he dumped it under the press.

“Hey, lads!” called Lucas. “We’re ready to start.”

Everyone gathered around the mouth of the cider shed. The sounds of the pulper outside ceased. Johnathan was surprised he had not heard the sounds of the larger apple pulper while he had been grinding with the small one.

Johnathan grabbed the handle that Georgiana had shown him the other day. Lucas clucked and shook his head.

“No, not that way. It’ll take us forever.” Lucas inserted a large handle into another port. “Now we work together.”

At Lucas’s signal, Johnathan pushed his end as Lucas pushed the other.

Gears ground, and the familiar squish and squeak of the apples filled the air as the first stream of cider ran down the funnel into the waiting cask.

A cheer went up. Lucas and Johnathan proceeded to turn the crank until it would turn no farther.

They reversed direction, releasing the pressure, and a woman used a long stick to adjust the fabric-wrapped apple pulp, and the men repeated the process of pressing the apples.

After a fourth press, Lucas determined there was no juice left to extract.

He took a tin cup from the wall and poured fresh cider into it.

“Well, Yankee Doodle, I do not see Miss Georgiana about, so I think you should have the first drink,” Lucas handed him the tin cup, and Johnathan swallowed back the sweet cider. Holding the cup above his head, he declared, “Best I’ve ever had.”

Everyone shared a laugh as they passed the cider around in four or five cups. Just then, Georgiana rushed around the building, slightly out of breath.

“Did I miss it?” she asked.

“You would just be in time for the second cup,” Lucas said with a grin.

Johnathan filled his cup again and passed it to Georgiana.

“Second cup?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she accepted the newly filled mug.

“Why, yes,” Lucas said with a chuckle. “We decided Yankee Doodle deserved the first after we had him grind apples on the old grinder.”

“You did not!” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Had to test his mettle, Miss.” Lucas replied with a wink.

Georgiana lifted the cup to her lips and drank deeply. As she did, her gaze flicked to Johnathan over the rim of the cup. Did she realize her lips were now touching the same spot his had just been?

“Delicious! Best yet!” She held up the cup in triumph before passing it on. A drop of fresh cider clung to her lip before her tongue flickered out to remove it.

A wholly inappropriate desire to taste the cider on her lips welled up in him.

He turned away, banishing the thought. But like Lady Macbeth yelling at her laundry, the image refused to fade.

Seeing that the small pulping machine he used earlier stood idle, he strode over to it.

Perhaps another burning muscle would banish the thought.

Just as he reached the machine Georgiana’s voice stopped him.

“Mr. Whittaker?”

He turned.

“Grandfather asked that you come see him as soon as is convenient.”

“I should clean—” he waved his hand at the pulper.

“No need for that. The younger boys will be working it,” said Lucas.

“Thank you for the honor.” Johnathan nodded at the work-hardened man.

Georgiana waited near the road. Something struck him as different. The breeze lifted a strand of her hair and she tucked it out of her face. Her hair was not in braids or tied back and her dress was a proper ladies gown. Or at least it resembled what her sisters wore. The pale green suited her.

She fell into step beside him. “I’m glad to see they like you so well.”

Still washing out the image of kissing her from his mind he did not answer.

“Lucas would not have put you on the old pulper unless they accepted you.”

“Were you there?” He would have noticed her.

“No, I arrived after the first cider came out.” She stepped closer to him.

Her hand was within a hair’s breadth of his. He widened the distance between them. “I am surprised you were not helping earlier.”

“We are off to Leadon Hill to finish preparations. I wanted to stay and help Cook, but Alex says I am expected.”

That explained her nicer clothing. “I should not delay you.”

“I have to wait for Alex and Jane to finish packing the tart boxes. I am not allowed to help, as I have a tendency to eat too many. I do not think trying one of each flavor is too many.”

He could not help himself, he laughed.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, not at all. I agree with you. It is necessary to try one of each kind.”

“I knew you would understand.” She touched his arm.

He smiled down at her. No, he did not understand at all. What was it about Georgiana that could drive every other thought out of his mind?

It was well past dark when the Godderidge’s carriage returned George and her sisters to their home.

The butler met them at the door. “His lordship retired shortly after eating. I believe Mr. Whittaker has as well. Do you require anything?”

“Just my bed.” Jane stifled a yawn.

Alex rubbed her hip again. “If someone could send up some of Mrs. Green’s tea, please.”

“Shall I ask them to draw you a bath as well, Miss?”

“No. But I would not mind a poultice if it is not too much trouble.” The exertions of the day strained Alex. Tomorrow would be worse.

“I will see that everything is sent up immediately.” The butler turned to George. “And you, Miss Georgiana?”

She gathered her sister’s wraps and hung them over another chair. “I agree with Jane. All I require is my bed.”

George held out her arm for Alex. Jane moved to her other side. Together, the three climbed the stairway.

“I did not know it was possible for anybody to be so particular about rosettes,” sighed Jane. “I will be happy to never see another one again in my life.”

“Agreed,” George said.

Alex giggled. “Poor Susanna. She’s beside herself trying to put this together. We must be kind to her.”

“I find it terribly hard to be kind to her when she’s being so rude about Johnathan.” Sometime in the past day, Jane started referring to their cousin by his Christian name.

The particular connection George felt with him faded, knowing that her sister also shared the privilege of no longer keeping to formal names.

“Whom we’re quick to defend. But Susanna lost her brother and must still be grieving for him.” Alex’s strained voice betrayed the pain she felt. She should have agreed to a bath.

“His death is not Johnathan’s fault.” How many times had George repeated the statement in her mind today?

Alex stopped halfway up the stairway, clenching both her sisters’ arms tighter. “I know, however, all she sees is Johnathan being an American.”

When had Alex commenced using his name? Perhaps there was no intimate connection at all.

A sound in the corridor above them made the three sisters look up.

“Sir Galahad, is that you?” asked Jane.

A moment later, the dog appeared.

“There you are, you naughty boy. I suppose you have already been sleeping in my bed.”

The sisters continued to the top of the stairway. George was sure she heard something down the corridor, but she saw nothing moving in the shadows. Light spilled out from under Johnathan’s door. He must still be awake.

They turned to Alex’s room. The need for Mrs. Green’s tea must have been anticipated, as Mrs. Green herself brought it. A steaming bath also awaited Alex. Protests or not, Alex needed to allow the servants her grandfather paid handsomely to nurse her when necessary.

“I’ll see to her now. Go get your sleep,” Mrs. Green said as she ushered Jane and George out of the room.

“I still think Susanna’s being terribly unfair. She’s never even met Johnathan.” Jane flopped down in the dressing chair to remove the pins from her hair.

“We can hardly change her opinion of him.”

“You did precious little to change her mind. You left me to defend him.”

“I saw no reason to interrupt. You were laying out our cousin’s cause admirably.”

Jane turned in the chair. “You know him better. You should have defended him more.”

Not possible. If she had, then Isabel, Lady Godderidge—or worse—Susanna might have seen the blush from the heat of her cheeks. “I defended him yesterday when the subject came up.”

“Barely that. At least she did not have him uninvited. For a moment this afternoon, I thought she would.”

George stood behind Jane, removing her own pins. “She might have, if Lady Godderidge had not been there. Do you think he will face this often? Anger because he’s an American?”

“Likely. That’s going to be one of Grandfather’s most difficult things to explain in Parliament, is it not it? Convincing them that an American should be an earl.”

“Better him than Father.”

“If Johnathan is declared an earl, then Father will be unbearable.” Jane set her brush down. “I almost wish Grandfather had not started this.”

“You have seen how Father mishandles this estate. If Grandfather had not taken back many of Father’s responsibilities, the place would be in ruins.

Can you imagine Father managing the entire earldom?

” George picked up the brush and ran it through Jane’s hair.

“We all know exactly what type of earl Father would make, and it would be a disgrace. Which is why Grandfather cannot let it happen.”

“Can you be sure?”

George could not answer Jane’s question.

She did not truly understand nearly as much about financial affairs as Alex did.

If Grandfather’s plan failed, Father would became the next Earl of Whitstone.

She would beg Father to allow her to stay at Kellmore and oversee the farm and tenants as she had been doing.

It would be odd for a woman to do it, but Father had proven he did not care enough to do it himself.

And he would live at The Willows, since it was a day’s journey closer to Town and the more opulent home of the two.

That would be one way to save the land and people she loved.

With Jane’s hair finished, they traded places so Jane could brush out George’s tangles.

George continued with her thoughts. It would be much better if Johnathan succeeded. But where would that leave her? And this growing infatuation? If only she could have been more ladylike, such as her twin.

She looked at Jane’s reflection in the mirror.

Johnathan must have a care for her as well if Jane called him by his name.

She had not heard Johnathan refer to her sister as anything other than “Miss Jane.” However, she was not always with them.

Perhaps Johnathan had private moments with Jane too.

A moment when they nearly touched and anticipation filled the air. It hurt her heart to think–

Jane must like Johnathan or she would not have defended him.

As much as George wished to scream at the unfairness of both of them liking the same man, she was the eldest of the two of them and she promised to see to Jane’s happiness after Mother’s death.

Johnathan was a good man. George loved them both enough to step aside for Jane.