Page 56 of From Unwanted to Duchess
Mr. Sweeting sat stiff as an arrow in the chair closest to the fire, his hat now clutched between his hands as it balanced on his knees.
“Tea, Mr. Morrison?” she asked.
Morrison was a spry older gentleman, with more pepper than salt in his hair and beard.
He nodded. “Yes, please, Your Grace.”
She poured tea for everybody, including herself, but let them add sugar on their own. Then she sat in the chair beside Mr. Sweeting.
“Well, Mr. Morrison?” James prompted.
“Well, if His Grace does not mind, I will get right to it. I have found many issues on the estate that I seek to rectify.”
Frances crossed her legs at the ankles and held her teacup as ladylike as she could, thinking of Marianne as an example.
“First, there are too many farmers growing the same things. You need to diversify. Second, there are a number of farms in arrears. I do not think that it is very productive to allow people to stay on when they cannot pay their dues.”
Mr. Sweeting opened his mouth, took a breath, but then closed it again.
“Please, Mr. Sweeting,” Frances urged. “If you have something to contribute, we are all ears.”
He nodded once. “Well, it’s just that I know which farms you are talking about, and it is not because the owners are lazy. Mr. Holcomb has had severe health problems, and his son just came back from fighting overseas. He’s done his best, and now that his son is back, I am sure they will be back on their feet in no time.”
“I see.” James looked at Frances as though he was expecting more.
What did he want from her?
“As for what is being grown, every farmer decides on their own, but we have decided to come together as a group to make decisions and suggestions. I will take it to the group, but I daresay that corn has been very productive for all of us.”
“That is true,” Frances said. “In Bedfordshire, it is not uncommon for farmers to grow the same things because they sell very well. What is the purpose of diversifying the crop if things do not sell?”
“She has a point,” James interjected. “How many farms are in arrears, Morrison?”
“Four out of thirty,” the steward replied. “One of them severely—Mr. Holcomb, as was just mentioned. The other three are behind by several months.”
“Well,” Mr. Sweeting said, “I do know the other three farms well, and there have been problems, but I am sure that we will be able to help those farmers overcome their troubles.”
“If you could do that,” Morrison asked, “why haven’t you already?”
Mr. Sweeting opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he looked at Frances.
“Because up until recently,” she heard herself say, “the farmers had not come together. Everyone worked their farms individually, but now they have decided to join forces. This is abrand new venture, which I believe should be given a chance to grow before it is entirely dismissed. We have only just started this venture a week ago. I need time for the farmers to come together and work out a plan to help one another.”
“They have worked together after the flood last year,” James added, and she was grateful for his help. “I think there might be some merit to the Duchess’s idea.”
“Well,” the steward said, “if you think so, we shall see. I do have other concerns. Structural in nature.”
“Which I believe we will be able to address,” James assured with a smile.
From there, the conversation shifted to mundane things, and Frances felt at ease. Thirty minutes later, they parted ways.
Mr. Sweeting looked a lot more relieved than he had been when he arrived, and Frances felt proud of herself for having held her own against Mr. Morrison, who had turned out not to be as horrible as she had imagined.
“Frances,” James said when she turned to leave. “Would you mind dining with me this evening? I know you usually eat in your chambers, but I would like you to dine with me tonight. I have a surprise for you.”
A surprise?
She wanted to ask what he had planned, but his tone told her that perhaps the surprise was not meant for her.
