A Duke for Lady Ellen

Chapter 20

Nearly three weeks had passed since they arrived at Bright Vales, and Ellen had noticed how often her father appeared preoccupied with his account books and with visiting the tenants. She had even wrangled a ride in the carriage one afternoon as Papa and Mr. Granger, his steward, went to visit the various farms, and she saw for herself how shriveled and sickly the wheat yields were. Whole rows, sometimes acres, of unmatured wheat left bare spaces on the wet, puddly ground. Both Papa and Mr. Granger took it all in and conferred with the tenants. It was clear that this coming year would be difficult financially.

When they arrived home, Ellen followed the Marquess into his study and sat down in front of his desk without asking.

"Papa, what will happen to the farmers?"

He let out a slow breath as he took his place at the desk. "It's nothing for you to worry about, my dear."

"Papa, please, I'm not a little girl."

He gave her an unreadable look, and she thought he wasn't going to answer her. After all, he never talked about business to "ladies," but this time he surprised her. "Less yield means food shortages, not just for the tenants, but everyone who depends on them across England. I would not be surprised if food riots occur. We are in for some dark times."

It was just as the Duke had told her, but hearing it from her own father made her blanch. "In that case, I should like to donate my £10 advance towards the farmers. I was going to give it to charity anyway. We could have food baskets prepared."

"My dear, that is very thoughtful of you. I'm just not sure it's necessary. We provide baskets for the tenants already."

But Ellen was resolute. She would use all of the money she earned from sales of The Stallion and the Sky to purchase food for them at Christmas. And she'd even give up her book allowance to the cause as well. Her father appeared bemused, but appreciated her efforts and told her to see Mrs. Hill about ordering and organizing food for gift baskets.

With a nod, she was on her way to the kitchen, where she found Mrs. Hill scolding a misbehaving roast she was turning on a spit over the fireplace. But when Mrs. Hill saw her, she smiled at Ellen.

"Are you hungry? Let me get you some biscuits. Orange flower and honeycomb." She brushed her hands on her apron and at Ellen's nod, prepared a plate of four dainty, scallop-edged biscuits, and set it in front of her.

"Do you want tea?"

"No, thank you," she said, taking a bite. "I've come to discuss preparing baskets for the farmers. Papa said we could."

She and Mrs. Hill discussed the particulars, and the cook promised she would confer with the housekeeper and they would make the extra purchases. Ellen promised to help in any way she could, by sorting foods into baskets and delivering them or whatever Mrs. Hill deemed necessary, and Mrs. Hill assured her that she would gladly accept her assistance and would seek her out when the time came. Ellen nodded and excused herself, snagging a biscuit to take with her as she sought out Peterson and the mail.

As if he knew what she was about, Peterson handed her four letters, one each from Mariah, Aunt Lottie, Danbury, and Ethan. She wanted to read Ethan's first, but she forced herself to read the others and save his for last. Unfortunately, Mariah had been relegated to bed for the duration of her confinement, due to some unusual symptoms that worried both her doctor and Mr. Simpkins, so they would not be coming to visit. Aunt Lottie, on the other hand, was delighted to accept and would be arriving by the end of the week, assuming the mail coach was running on time.