FIVE

Ada Longford, Letty’s lady’s maid, was the first to move into one of the completed cottages at New Hope. Her brother, Simon, the stable boy, and their father, Jim, moved in with her. The maid had written to invite her widowed father to quit his forge in Telford and join them, and the gray-haired man arrived soon thereafter. He appeared surprised by the unconventional arrangements but pleased to be reunited with his children.

Letty had intended to move into one of the cottages at New Hope herself, but decided her presence would inhibit the others’ attempts at self-governance. As for the manor’s small staff, to her surprise none of the other servants wanted to join her experiment.

“What?” Mrs. Bunting exclaimed. “Me, a housekeeper, mix with people of no breeding and work with my own hands? My dear Mrs. Marlowe, I have my pride, you know.” She gave Letty a hard look, as if to imply that Letty should have more pride as well. Her mouth pursed. “And for you to live here at the manor alone, with no servants to light the fire or prepare the food! What would Mr. Marlowe say!”

“My husband knew my intentions perfectly well. And you are correct, Mrs. Bunting, he did not approve of them in the least.”

At this, Mrs. Bunting lost all powers of speech. “Hmmf!” was all she managed to say. A few days later, she accepted the pension Letty offered and, shaking her head at the unconventional arrangements at Blackgrave Manor, she bustled off to live with her sister in Cornwall.

The other servants preferred traditional employment as well, especially after they learned that there would be no pay for working at New Hope.

“Sorry, Mrs. Marlowe, but I need monthly wages. Me sister says that there’s a position for a parlor maid at Reed House, over in Exeter.”

Armed with the excellent references that Letty provided, they all left, one by one.

“What about you, Mrs. Marlowe?” Ada asked as they walked through the empty manor together. “How can you care for yourself up here, in this great big house?”

“After you help me close up the unneeded rooms, I shall manage.” Letty had given up her early plans to join the others at New Hope. She could not justify taking over one of the cottages herself, not when there were others who needed the lodging more. And it did seem silly to leave the manor house vacant. She chuckled. “I dare say I can learn to heat a fire and dress myself. I’ve watched you do it often enough over the years.”

Ada was not amused. “And your food? It doesn’t appear on one’s plate by magic, you know.”

Letty smiled at Ada’s disapproving expression. “My needs are simple. I shall walk to Grayton to buy bread and vegetables when needed. And perhaps I shall come and share a meal with you at New Hope from time to time, if you will allow me.”

Ada shook her head, and Letty knew the girl was thinking what everyone else was, that she had gone insane. But Letty could not reveal why she felt this burning impulse to do what she was doing.

Instead, she reached down and scratched behind the ears of her old sheepdog, Merlin. He loved her unquestioningly, no matter how mad her actions. She thought of her former nursemaid and hoped Susan would approve of what she was doing.

“This is for you, Susan,” Letty murmured under her breath. “And for that old woman in my dream.” Perhaps for herself, as well. But Letty did not dare examine that possibility too closely.

X

At first the tradespeople of Grayton appeared pleased at the prospect of extra business from the future inhabitants of New Hope. “The newcomers will rely on you for most of their needs only until their first crops come up,” she told the grocers, explaining her plan for New Hope to eventually be self-supporting.

Their faces fell at the news. She paid little attention to the villagers’ reactions, however. Letty was too busy envisioning with pleasure the success of New Hope. Against everyone’s predictions, she had pulled it off, and she couldn’t help preening a little

“And will the folks at New Hope be sellin’ their wares at the weekly market as well, once their crops come up?” one of the Grayton grocers wanted to know.

“What? Oh.” Letty picked up the parcel of writing paper and ink she’d just purchased, with which she planned to chronicle the activities of the new community. “Perhaps they will sell their surplus locally, if there is any. But as I said, New Hope must first grow enough to feed their own mouths, and so far the crops have not even been planted.”

The man muttered something to his fellow shopkeepers who had gathered in the dry goods store to inquire about the goings-on at Blackgrave Manor.

Letty turned away from the small gathering, her list in hand, too busy to linger. There was still so much more to do, so many supplies to purchase. The marriage settlement her father had granted was draining rapidly, and the annual allowance that was administered by her lawyer in London, while generous, would only stretch so far. Certainly it would not be possible to continue spending money at this pace. Perhaps she could keep things going for a year or so, but after that, New Hope must strive for …

“Self-reliance,” she repeated to herself aloud, striding along Grayton’s main street with brisk steps that would have brought a frown to Aunt Caroline’s brow. Women should take small, dainty steps that highlighted their femininity. Self-Reliance was the title of an essay by Ralph Waldo Emerson, a famous American philosopher whom she greatly admired, although, disappointingly, he had declined to take part in the experiment at Brook Farm. His writings were one of the many inspirations for New Hope.

X

A few days later, an open wagon carrying the first of the new arrivals lumbered down the road from Telford, drawn by four horses. When it came to a stop, more than a dozen passengers tumbled out, bringing a strong odor of unwashed bodies.

Letty held a handkerchief to her nose while she stepped forward to welcome them, Merlin at her side. Her first task must be to teach the newcomers the hygienic benefits of regular bathing, she thought. The elderly dog’s tail waved from side to side with curiosity, and he trotted up to sniff the newcomers, who looked down at him nervously. “Come back here, Merlin,” Letty called, not wanting to frighten them. Merlin yipped twice and trotted back to her, looking disappointed at not being able to explore further.

One of the arrivals, a young woman with red hair pulled high on her head smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress and looked around with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Letty had expected to see gratitude, or even joy, in the newcomers’ demeanor, but this one’s bold gaze held a frank appraisal that bordered on insolence.

Letty was distracted by the sight of a thin young girl with black braids who was holding a struggling small boy by the shoulders.

“Mary!” Letty exclaimed, hurrying toward the two children. “That is your name, isn’t it? And this must be your little brother, Harry. Do you remember when I met you both in Telford?”

“Aye. She remembers well.” The booming voice came from a hulking, bearded man behind the children. “Me lass Mary talks of nothing else. That’s why, when we ’eard of yer offer, I agreed to bring me whole family.”

Letty eyed the man curiously. It was impossible to gauge his age. The ruddy face appeared to owe its web of wrinkles more to dissipation than age, and an assortment of patches held his clothes together, while his speech revealed a mass of rotted teeth and unleashed the strong smell of alcohol. “So you are Mary’s father?”

He removed his snap-brimmed cap, revealing lank black hair that was a mass of tangled, greasy knots. “George Speakman, at yer service. At first I was like to throw that bleedin’ vicar out of the house for havin’ the bleedin’ nerve to poke ’is nose in others’ business. Beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am.” He looked down with pride at his daughter. “But Mary ’ere said maybe we orter listen. That you seemed to mean well—even though yer ’orse nearly dashed out little ’Arry’s brains.”

Letty blushed, but made a gesture of welcome. “I asked Mr. Paley especially to find Mary and her family.”

She realized George was looking at her expectantly, and so was the entire group. Eyeing their old clothes and hunched shoulders, Letty felt the weight of responsibility fall on her own shoulders, exactly as Patrick had predicted would happen. These people had given up jobs, even if miserable ones, and their homes, if wretched ones, for the promise of a better life. For better or worse, their future was in her hands. In that moment, Letty resolved she must not fail them.

“Very well.” She cleared her throat, trying to assume an air of confidence and assurance. “As you all know, we are here to begin an experimental society in which everyone will work together for each other’s benefit. Each of you will each purchase shares of the farm at the sum of one shilling a week for twenty weeks, after which time you will own it together, free and clear.”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted a gangling young man, his pockmarked face darkening. “You’re saying we are to pay? And labor for no wages? We ’eard there’d be free food and lodgings ’ere, with no pickin’ oakum or breaking rocks like at the workhouse in Richmond. If you ask me, this sounds even worse.”

Letty stared at the young man. Apparently Mr. Paley had not clearly explained her instructions, although she had expressed the importance of doing so. She took a deep breath. “What is your name?”

“Me name’s Bill. Bill Burns.”

“Well, Mr. Burns, this is no workhouse, but neither is it a place where you will be housed and fed in exchange for nothing. The purpose for buying shares is so the farm will eventually belong to you, the residents of New Hope. Not to me or a charitable organization, or anyone else. The money need not be paid right away. Later, it will come out of any profits that are generated. The rest of those funds will be held in common, to be spent with the approval of all the members.” She looked around at everyone. “Whatever you may have heard, this community is not a charity. It will be a group of self-reliant individuals, which means you will grow your own food, sew your own clothes, and be beholden to no one but yourselves.”

Some of the listeners looked at each other with alarmed faces. Bill turned back to her, scowling. “Then ’ow will we be any better off than before? Especially if we ’ave to pay for the bleedin’ place ourselves?”

“Don’t worry,” she repeated, hoping this argumentative young man would not cause the noble experiment to collapse before it began. “As I said, nothing need be paid until after the farm turns a profit, which will not be for many months. After that, any money earned will be for you and the others’ benefit, and no one else’s.”

“If the farm ever turns a profit.” Patrick’s voice silently taunted her. Letty pushed away the unwelcome image. Of course the farm would succeed. She had planned everything, down to the last nail. True, Letty had no experience in experimental societies, or business, or budgeting, but she had heard her father speak of such things and read everything she could find on the matters—which was admittedly not much.

“You will elect your own officers,” she went on, “who will fairly distribute food, clothing, and other necessities. In return, you must agree to hard work, honesty, and, er, clean habits.” Letty saw the Titian-haired young woman’s green eyes narrow, and George Speakman rubbed his bearded chin. She went on hastily. “The notice Mr. Paley gave everyone stated that you must also agree to abstain from vices like alcohol, gambling, and … er … so on.”

Bill Burns swore. “Why even live if you can’t have any fun?” He turned around, looking for support from the other men.

One of them shrugged. “I dunno. Do you smell that food cookin’? Let’s stay the night and see what happens. Can’t be any worse than where I was at before.”

Somewhere she had lost the interest of most of the others. They were looking in different directions, while Harry escaped from his sister’s grip and chased after a butterfly. Merlin gave a yip and bounded after them with the energy of a much younger dog, shaggy tail whipping back and forth.

Letty rushed through the rest of her carefully prepared speech. “No one will be forced to stay, although if you do, each of you is expected to work to the best of his or her ability and share equally in what is produced. As you recall, all this was written in the contract Mr. Paley gave you to sign.” Her tentative tone made it a question.

The group shuffled their feet.

“I didn’t sign it,” a short, stocky young man said, stepping forward. He had a shock of thick dark hair and a belligerent set to his jaw. “I ain’t about to set my mark on a paper I can’t read. You coulda wrote anything you like, and we’d be none the wiser.”

“Mr. Paley was supposed to read it to you aloud and explain everything you didn’t understand.” She sighed. “I suppose we shall have to trust each other, Mr. er … ?”

“Me name’s Frank Hazell.”

“Very well, Mr. Hazell.” Letty looked around the group. “Are there any other questions? No? That is all for now. A meal has been prepared for you in the common eating area, if you would like to eat.”

Mumbling complaints and whispering to each other, the group dispersed toward the rows of long dining tables in a pavilion where Ada was ladling soup into bowls stacked next to a big basket of crusty bread. The tall pockmarked young man who had complained about New Hope being like a workhouse elbowed his way toward the front of the line, ignoring the glares of those in front of him.

Letty was left alone with the short young man who had refused to sign the contract. He had not budged from his stubborn stance, while the coachman lowered the last of a small pile of tattered parcels.

“Bill Burns was right,” Frank said, jutting out his square jaw. “Pardon, ma’am, but how do we know you didn’t bring us just to be unpaid workers? I’ll be dashed if I’ll provide free labor just for a cot and a few meals. I could do as well in Telford.”

“I assure you that if at any time you are not satisfied with the arrangements, I shall provide you with transportation back there,” she said stiffly.

Frank Hazell still looked skeptical, but he put on his battered cap and shuffled off to where the new arrivals were gobbling down their food with a haste that betrayed their half-starved state. Bill Burns had already wolfed down his first bowl and was starting on a second. Ada ladled soup with a look of grim forbearance on her usually placid, freckled face. Until today, the former lady’s maid ranked second only to the housekeeper among the household servants. The cost to Ada’s pride in agreeing to serve these run-down strangers showed her loyalty to her mistress.

Three more wagons full of passengers, one from Telford and two all the way from London, rumbled down the road that week, after which Letty sent messages to both Mr. Hawking and Mr. Paley that the cottages were full. The community now consisted of five families with children, six bachelors, and four single females, including Nora Turner, the bold, red-haired girl from the first coach, and her best friend, a blousy big-boned young woman named Eliza Hobhouse.

Letty was gratified to see the thin child from the London factory, ten-year-old Kitty Malloy, among them. Mr. Hawking, the gruff solicitor, had remembered his promise. Kitty’s widowed mother brought along four other children, who stared with sunken-cheeked disbelief at the cozy cottage that was to be theirs alone.

“Th-this is our home?” stammered Mrs. Malloy, eyes wide with disbelief.

Daisy Malloy, a woman with wispy hair and large brown eyes in a prematurely lined face, volunteered the fact that she had once been a scullery maid in the kitchen of a great house before she had married her late husband. This was sufficient qualification for Letty, who appointed her to be cook.

“I’ve made arrangements with the shopkeepers in Grayton to provide us with supplies until our own crops come in,” she told Daisy. “Tell the grocers to send the bill directly to me.” Letty had known all along she would need to pay the little community’s expenses until the farm produced enough for its own needs, and the cost of feeding so many mouths would be significant. But she had planned for everything. What could go wrong?

Pleased with how things were coming together, she left Daisy looking flustered in the cookhouse and went to finish directing the other residents of New Hope to their new homes. The single men fit in one of the cottages, the single women in another. The families occupied the rest.

Returning to the cookhouse, Letty found that Daisy Malloy had chosen two other women to help her prepare meals and had already sent a wagon to the town of Grayton. Two hours later it returned, filled with vegetables and loaves of bread. Success! Letty thought with self-satisfaction, returning to the manor house. It occurred to her to wonder if Patrick’s expedition was meeting with equal good fortune.

X

The next day Letty went to New Hope and called everyone together in the large, covered communal area. It was time to explain how, now that the residents had grown to know each other somewhat, they would select their leaders. None had ever voted before. No men had ever owned property, and the women were … well, women. For this reason, naturally, Letty had never voted either. Nevertheless, she explained to her puzzled listeners the principles of how an election worked. In the “real” world only a select group of the queen’s subjects were allowed to vote—males fortunate enough to own a considerable amount of property. A few progressive voices were beginning to call for universal suffrage for men regardless of economic circumstances, but such a change appeared decades away—if it occurred at all. Only the most radical even dreamed of the possibility that women might someday vote.

To Letty, however, New Hope seemed the perfect forum to improve the procedure. After all, was it not meant to be an “ideal” society?

“In a month,” she told her listeners, “you should know each other’s strengths and weaknesses and have learned what is involved in running the farm. At that point, you will elect three leaders to make important decisions affecting the community.” She stopped and took a breath. “Each family will have one vote.”

“What about us single men?” It was Frank, of course, always questioning everything. “You said everyone would be able to make decisions.”

She smiled at him. “You are right. Single men and women may vote for themselves.”

There were several gasps, and then silence. Someone called out, “Women can vote too?”

“Why not?” she countered. “If a single woman has no one to speak for her, why should she not speak for herself?”

The men exchanged expressions of disbelief. The idea of allowing men without property to vote at all was a new enough concept, but to allow females as well? A few grumbles arose and some heads shook disapprovingly. Letty suspected that only her rank as mistress of Blackgrave Manor prevented some of the men from jumping up and refusing point-blank.

The women had less trouble absorbing the idea. Nora Turner sat upright and looked up at Letty from alert green eyes. “Who will be our choices?”

“Once the election is scheduled, you can vote for anyone you wish.”

More animated discussion ensued. Finally, gray-haired Jim Longford raised his hand. “Since all this is your idea,” he said from his seat at the end of one of the long dining tables, “why bother with an election at all? It makes sense, ma’am, if you’re in charge. After all, you’re already the mistress of Blackgrave Manor. Why not the mistress of New Hope as well?”

“But that would defeat the purpose,” she said firmly. “The community must be autonomous.”

“Auto—?”

Letty explained what the word meant, and the others looked around at each other again, their expressions ranging from confusion, to elation, to dread. The idea of freedom, with all its burdens and responsibilities, appeared to dawn on many of them for the first time.

“You mean we can decide whatever we like?” Frank Hazell’s square chin jutted out farther than ever. “Anything at all?”

“Within the terms of the charter, yes.”

His face flushed, and she knew the clever young man was embarrassed to ask the next question. “The charter? What is that?”

Letty sighed. It was apparent that Mr. Paley had not done his job as well as she’d hoped. “That refers to the document with rules against drinking, bad behavior, and so forth,” she reminded him. “But most other things, you can decide for yourselves.” She looked around at the group. “In a month, after you know each other better, we shall reconvene and hold the election.”

In the meantime, someone needed to arrange work crews and create schedules to get things started, and by default those tasks fell on her inexperienced shoulders. When she floundered, finding the decisions more difficult than expected, Simon, who had grown up in the country and knew about caring for animals and growing crops, shyly murmured that if the community was to feed itself next winter, the men must plow and plant the fields right away.

“Of course, of course.” Letty tried to hide how frazzled she felt. When it came to giving precise directions, she found that nothing was as simple as it seemed. “Er, Simon, why don’t you show the other men what to do?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Simon touched his forelock, and went off to show the city men how to harness the plow horses. Soon the work teams set to tilling the newly drained grassy fields, and Letty watched them, hoping that they quickly learn what to do. Farming had sounded so simple in the books she had read, but she was realizing that there was much more to it than she’d anticipated.

After the men were gone, she joined the women, who were sewing new clothes from the bolts of cloth Letty had ordered for them to replace their patched rags. Letty looked on, uncertain how to help. She knew how to embroider and knit, of course—those were fit pastimes for women of her circle—but sewing a dress was beyond her capacity. Worse, the women grew self-conscious when she drew near and cut off their conversations, bobbing curtseys and darting curious looks in her direction.

The only residents of New Hope who did not treat her with over-deference were Frank Hazell and Bill Burns, and their response was almost worse. Both regarded her warily, as if suspecting her motives.

“What profit are you making from this, Mrs. Marlowe?” their behavior seemed to say, although neither voiced their suspicions. She could never tell them the real reason: that sometimes Letty wondered if she might have been born one of them.

Their reserved behavior toward Letty forced her to acknowledge the failure of one of her cherished hopes, overcoming the vast chasm between social classes. Perhaps it was unrealistic to expect such deeply ingrained habits to change overnight. England was not, as Patrick had often reminded her, America, or Australia, those comparatively egalitarian societies that had sprung from their island mother country.

A month later, the adults reassembled to elect their leaders. Raising their hands, they chose Jim Longford, Frank Hazell, and George Speakman to be their governing board. Letty was not altogether pleased with the selection, although she had no choice but to accept it or be revealed to be a hypocrite. Big, burly George, still reeking of alcohol despite her carefully drafted charter banning strong drinks, struck her as untrustworthy and insincere, nor had she forgotten how he’d forced his young children to work long hours in the stinking tannery at Telford and beaten them when they ran away. Short, stocky Frank Hazell appeared intrigued with the novel idea of making their own rules but still seemed suspicious of her motives. Only quiet, gray-haired Jim Longford seemed to be a natural leader.

While Letty struggled awkwardly to converse with Nora Turner and Eliza Hobhouse in the kitchen house, she finally conceded defeat in her attempts to make the others accept her as one of them. Every comment was met with a polite “Yes’m” or “No’m,” and someone always rushed in and snatched a broom out of her hand with a “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but it ain’t fittin’.”

With mixed feelings, Letty retreated to the echoing halls of the empty manor, feeling as if she’d been banished. The house seemed cold and lonely compared to the bustling little community only a few minutes away, and for the first time, Letty questioned her decision to send away all the servants. Without other occupants, the house was almost too silent to bear, even with most of the rooms shut up except the only ones she used: her bedroom, the kitchen, and the library. Really, would it ruin her experiment to have one housemaid? Maybe, if things did not improve, she would swallow her pride and ask Ada to come back.

While eating a simple, cold meal she’d managed to prepare for herself, Letty found herself sitting at one end of the long table in the formal dining room feeling lonely and confused. To her surprise, she wished Patrick were there, sitting across from her. It was hard to remember why she had wished him gone. Oh yes, she had assumed a husband would get in the way of her plans. Patrick’s criticisms and barbed comments used to infuriate her, but now Letty longed to hear his opinion on the goings on at New Hope.

The truth was, she thought, toying with the remains of her nearly untouched meal, Patrick was like a dash of spice in an otherwise insipid food dish. Many times, his remarks had forced Letty to rethink an outlandish idea or consider a sensible alternative, and now she begrudgingly admitted his judgment had more often than not been correct.

She wondered where he was now. Had his ship safely reached the coast of Africa by now? Were his bearers already making their way inland from Zanzibar, searching for the Nile’s source? It occurred to her again that she knew little of her husband’s plans. She had been too caught up in her own activities to care about his. She felt a jab of shame and regret.

Letty sighed, gathered wood, lit a fire with difficulty, and heated herself a cup of tea, which she took to drink in the library. She stirred in an extra lump of sugar, feeling lonelier than ever. It was too late to call back the dismissed servants, of course, even if doing so did not negate everything she was trying to accomplish. Letty told herself firmly that she would learn to take care of her few needs. The important thing was that New Hope must learn to run itself.

The truth was, taking care of the house was more challenging than she’d imagined. Never had she emptied a chamber pot, lit a lamp, prepared tea, or done any of the dozens of other tasks it took to run a house. The first night it took her an hour to light a fire in the grate in her chilly bedroom. When the wood finally flared up, it nearly singed off her eyebrows.

Giving a choked sob at the memory, Letty set down the teacup and buried her head in her hands. Merlin, who had been lying with his nose on his paws, stood up and laid his heavy head in her lap in sympathy. She ran her hands through his soft gray fur, and buried her face in his neck. “Oh, Merlin, what have I got myself into? The worst is that I can’t even feel sorry for myself, because I put myself into this situation.” Letty forced a shaky laugh.

When her latest tangled attempts at embroidery and exploring the extensive library did not displace her growing sense of solitude, Letty remembered her failure to visit the neighbors, as was proper for a new wife. She decided to make overdue calls to local gentry.

Having sold the few riding horses to replace them with plow horses for the farm, she dressed in her finest clothes and walked several miles to the nearest manor, where she presented a visiting card introducing herself as Mrs. Patrick Marlowe.

The residents of the nearby manors received her politely, but their cool responses left her self-conscious, defensive, and even angry. It was clear they disapproved of the goings on in their midst.

“The Marlowes are one of our oldest families,” intoned one marchioness, glaring down at her through a lorgnette. “I hear that some of their lands are now inhabited by some of the lowest orders. Not good country folk like in our local villages, mind you, but riffraff. I hope, my dear, that my sources are misinformed. This is Kent, after all, not Botany Bay.”

Letty held her cup of tea tightly so it would not rattle against the saucer. “My purpose is to make these people independent, Lady Eggleton, and lift them out of the sordid circumstances to which fate has abandoned them.”

Lady Eggleton’s horse-like face grew longer. “Then the rumors are true! I should commend your Christian charity, my dear, but I do wonder what dear old Lord Marlowe would think to see his ancestral lands overrun by ne’er-do-wells.”

Letty gritted her teeth and made stilted conversation until she could make her escape, burning with humiliation and anger. She should have not expected a different reaction, of course—indeed, she had spent her entire life countering such sentiments. But why should she limit herself to the company of persons with such views, people with whom, in fact, she felt so little in common, when the new community of intriguing newcomers was less than a mile away? Perhaps it was wrong of her to stay away.

The next morning, Letty donned a warm shawl and walked down the path that led toward New Hope. Merlin trotted at her side, tongue hanging out and tail wagging with excitement. The ringing sound of axes greeted her before a bend in the path revealed Jim Longford and George Speakman hacking a recently felled oak tree into firewood. Their sleeves were rolled to their elbows, and sweat darkened their loose laborers’ shirts. When they saw her approaching, both leaned their axes against the pile of logs and ducked short nods. Merlin went up to them and sniffed, then came back to her side and sat, watching the proceedings with bright eyes.

George Speakman, the burly father of Mary and her seven-year-old brother, Harry, reminded her of a bear. His broad face was weathered, shaggy brown hair as mussed as a field sparrow’s nest, and his clothes held together with patches. Resting against the freshly hewn stump, he wiped his face with a rag, then pulled a battered flask from a hip pocket and took a long draught.

Letty looked askance at the flat tin container. She doubted it held water. However, that issue would have to be confronted later.

“Well, hello, Mrs. Marlowe!” Jim Longford pushed back a thick thatch of gray hair. “I almost thought ye’d deserted us, ma’am.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, with a surge of alarm. So she had been wrong to stay away. “Has something gone wrong?”

“Wrong? Well, I might say so! Ye’ve set our committee in charge, yet we’ve no power. The people say that according to you they’re their own masters now, and they refuse to do anything we tell ’em.” Jim pointed to the rugged-faced man sitting on the stump, who, appearing unconcerned, took another drink from the flask and wiped his mouth on his filthy sleeve. “George here’s the only one who I could roust out of bed this morning, and that was only by bribing him with the last of my store of gin.” Belatedly, Jim ducked his head and added guiltily, “’T’was for medicinal purposes, ma’am.”

George met Letty’s glare with unconcern. “Rheumatism,” he said briefly, and tipped the flask again before returning it to the pocket of his trousers. Merlin sensed her disapproval and growled slightly, deep in his throat, but his tail continued to wag back and forth.

“That’s not all, Mrs. Marlowe.” Jim Longford was uncharacteristically voluble this morning, betraying how upset the older man must be. “The past few days, supplies have disappeared from the storage shed. Tools, food, and so on. This morning, I told Bill Burns to join a work crew to help drain the south field so we could plant more wheat, and this is what the rascal told me. ‘My voice counts as much as yours do around here, Old Jim,’ he says, ‘an’ I believe I’ll do as I please.’ Then he laughed right in my face, and shoved me out of the cottage.”

Letty tried to smooth over Jim’s feelings of wounded pride, then hurried to the cottage shared by the young single men. She was keenly aware that the experiment would not work if the residents refused to work or if they disrespected their elected leaders.

She paused before knocking on the door, stomach clenching at the thought of facing Bill. What if the tall, pockmarked young man treated her with the same disrespect with which he’d treated Jim Longford? He was much bigger than she, taller even than Patrick, and he showed no fear of her station.

Sensing his mistress’s hesitation, Merlin stopped next to her and looked up inquiringly. Letty reached down to pat the dog’s shaggy head, to comfort herself as well as the animal. At New Hope, everyone was supposed to be equal, like in the times of the early Christians. Therefore, she could not order Bill to work. Reasoning with him must suffice. Surely Bill would understand that working together was to everyone’s benefit.

Summoning her courage, she rapped loudly on the door and waited.

There was no answer. After several more moments, she knocked again. The result was the same. Disappointed, Letty turned to leave. Just then, the door finally opened and the tall, lanky young man with tousled hair and bad complexion loomed on the threshold, leering down at her. His insolent stare intimidated her. Instinctively Letty took a step back, glad that Merlin was at her side

“H-Hello.” She plunged directly to the point. “Jim Longford told me that you refused to work today.”

He looked down at her, an unpleasant smile on his pasty, pock-marked face, and her cheeks grew hot with anger. Never had a man dared to stare at her so boldly. In her presence, men of his class ducked their head and tugged their forelock subserviently. True, she had instructed the residents of New Hope to treat her as one of them, but she had not expected … this. Letty wondered if she were truly as devoted to the notion of a classless society as she had believed. But surely endorsing equality did not mean having to put up with insolence.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Bill said, casually bracing an arm against the door jamb. “I’m feeling just a mite under the weather today. So are Tom and the others. Looks like the sickness is catchin’, so ye’d best be careful.” He looked down at Merlin. “That old dog won’t be much good against the sickness I’m talkin’ about. ’E might just drop from it ’imself.”

Instinctively, Letty stepped back. Merlin whined and ducked his head, backing against her for comfort, as if sensing a veiled threat. Bill chuckled, and, straightening, shut the door in her face.

Merlin looked up at her, whining deep in his throat as if ashamed that he hadn’t made a better showing of courage. Letty felt the same.

“Poor Merlin,” Letty whispered, scratching him behind the ears to make him feel better. She stared back at the closed barrier in disbelief and fury. Then she pounded on it and waited, bristling, fists clenched. Next to her, Merlin whined, but stood straighter.

The door opened again, and Bill sneered down at her again. “What? Are you still here?”

Letty gulped at the cheeky comment. Bill was thin, but he was much bigger and stronger than she was. Fully dressed in the loose shirt and duck trousers the other men wore, his sandy hair was disheveled and his clothes disarranged. Behind him, she heard laughter.

She cleared her throat. “If I believed you were sick, I wouldn’t bother you. But you look perfectly fit to me, and the success of this farm depends on the help of all the able-bodied workers. If New Hope fails, you will be back where you started, along with all the others who hoped to make a fresh start of their lives. Is that what you want?”

Bill tugged his forelock in an exaggerated way that made it clear he was mocking her. “Never you mind, ducky, I’ll be out and about as soon as I’m feelin’ a mite better. That’s my promise.” He winked, and the door slammed again. A moment later, more laughter ensued.

Face burning, Letty stared at the closed door. It hadn’t taken the slackers among the residents of New Hope long to realize that they could stay in their comfortable cottages and claim to feel sick, leaving others to do their work for them. Once again, Patrick had been right, Letty thought. The fact only increased her rising anger.

No! She refused to give up.

Before leaving, Letty asked Jim Longford, George Speakman, and Frank Hazell to meet with her the next day at the manor house for an emergency meeting. When they shuffled into the library, glancing nervously at the mahogany paneling and elaborately carved furniture, she waved them into seats and asked Frank about the missing supplies.

He nodded. “Aye, Mrs. Marlowe, there’s been pilfering, but ’tis the malingering that’s worst. As long as the younger men have a bed to sleep in and food to eat, most don’t care about workin’. Tom Hicks was sick three days last week, or so he says. But he wasn’t too sick to walk to Grayton and spend all day in the tavern.” Frank cleared his throat. “But Bill Burns is the worst. I’ll wager he’s the one who’s puttin’ the others up to it. If t’wasn’t for him, I do believe I could bring the others around.”

“You three men are the committee leaders,” Letty said, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Together, you have the power to expel him. Might that fix the problem?”

The men looked at each other. Finally gray-haired Jim Longford spoke. “Look here, ma’am,” he said in his quiet, deliberate manner, and rubbed the top of his head, as if he were trying to search for the right words. “The three of us aren’t used to this sort of thing. I don’t mind passing out work assignments, or making sure everyone has what they need from the common stores. But as far as disciplining … well, I just won’t do it. ’Tis not my place.”

Frank Hazell leaned forward, his dark-browed face even more intense than usual. “Everyone’s sort of on tenterhooks, ma’am—afraid that they’ll wake up and find out that none of this is true. That New Hope’s just a dream, and they’ll wake up in the gutter tomorrow. So some of ’em are takin’ advantage. They figure it’s not going to last long anyway.”

Letty was beginning to understand. The community was raw and new. Everything had happened too fast. As a result, the newcomers, even their leaders, felt vulnerable. Perhaps that was why they were reluctant to expel the troublemakers. But if the malingerers were allowed to benefit from the others’ labor, she feared, dissension would pull the fragile new community apart.

Of course, she could order Bill to leave. But wouldn’t that override New Hope’s claim to autonomy and put the lie to her lofty promises? Things were quickly getting complicated.

“Well, they’re wrong,” Letty said. “New Hope is real, and it is here to stay. At least, it will be, if everyone sticks together. Why don’t you ask everyone else to vote about expelling Bill Burns, if you are unwilling to do so yourselves?”

“I s’pose it couldn’t hurt.” George Speakman looked at the others, shaggy brows rising high on his ruddy face. “Well, what do ye say, lads—shall we have a go at it?”

X

The vote was scheduled, and the dozens of residents crowded into the dining hall. First, Bill made a gruff statement in his own defense. “If I don’t feel like working, then no one has the right to make me,” he growled, glaring around him. Letty sat in the back, too curious to stay away, but not wanting to be at the center of the proceedings. “That were the whole point, weren’t it? That there would be no master here.” His glare cut through the crowd and fastened on Letty. “Nor mistress neither.”

Letty shrank back, wishing she hadn’t come after all.

Arguments for and against expelling Bill Burns followed. “Anyone could be voted out, just because someone else don’t like them,” argued George. “I say we give the lad another chance.”

Jim shook his white head. “If we let him stay, then no one will follow the rules.” He gave George a stern look. More arguing followed. When the slips of paper were counted, with their penciled marks of X for expulsion, there were only a handful of blank ballots for keeping Bill Burns. A coach was sent for, and Bill left for London, spitting out the window and cursing in a way that made Letty’s ears burn, although she didn’t understand all the words.

Letty worried that the young man might be angry enough to come back and visit harm on the community. But London was far away, she told herself, and Bill was far more likely to spend any money he came by on gin and amusements rather than on coach fare.

On her next visit to New Hope, Letty learned that George Speakman had come up with an effective plan to cure future malingering. He’d assigned his wife, Ruby, to be New Hope’s nurse. “If anyone claims to be sick, my Ruby doses ’em with calomel,” he chuckled. In order to avoid the bitter-tasting purgative, most of the “invalids” recovered in record time.

More importantly, the incident had caused the residents of the farm to gain confidence in their power to resolve disputes. Bill’s friends roused themselves and began to work as hard as anyone else. Soon the fields were drained, plowed, and planted with seed. Letty’s pride soared.

Pleased that the problem appeared to be solved, Letty returned home. On the way, she passed the rose garden, and remembered the sour old gardener, Henry. She had only seen him once or twice since first visiting the grounds with her husband, Patrick. What did Henry think of the new activities on the estate? she wondered. Although he was nowhere to be seen, and most of the grounds remained wildly overgrown, the silver-pink rosebushes magically maintained their order and fragrant profusion. Henry showed no loyalty to the master or mistress of Blackgrave Manor, but he apparently maintained some attachment to those roses, at least the silver-pink ones, which were always carefully pruned and weeded.

The garden gave Letty an idea. She was looking for a way to keep busy when she was not teaching the children. Why not maintain the kitchen garden outside Blackgrave Manor? She could grow vegetables for her own use, necessitating fewer trips to the grocers in Grayton, who looked at her askance when she went shopping for her own needs.

Since the house staff had been dismissed, the kitchen garden had become overgrown. Letty weeded the rows as best she could, gathering turnips, lettuce, and carrots that would serve for soup and stews later. Finally, she looked down at her blistered palms and soil-encrusted, broken fingernails with dismay and reminded herself that she had no right to complain. After all, she could stop any time. No one was forcing her to do this.

While resting, she pictured the life she might have led, lounging in overheated velvet-flocked sitting rooms, playing whist with well-dressed neighbors, and gossiping about life in London. Even now, that life held no appeal for her, but it was the one fate had allotted her.

Susan had told Letty to use her good fortune to help others, and Letty had vowed that she would. Now, for her own peace of mind, New Hope must succeed. It must!

Soon, she found her efforts in the garden were inadequate. Birds ate up many of the tiny seeds, and most of the small plants that dared to poke their heads above the soil soon disappeared into the fat bellies of the local rabbits. No one else knew what to do about the rabbits, although at least the wheat fields were planted.

As Letty stood there grieving over the ruins of the vegetable garden, one of the little long-eared creatures crept up, nose quivering in anticipation, and began nibbling on a cabbage at her feet that had miraculously survived previous depredations. She aimed a kick at it, and missed. The rabbit scampered toward the underbrush, white tail flashing impudently against the dark-green foliage.

The action woke old Merlin up from his nap nearby. Barking hoarsely, he gave chase, but soon gave up and circled back to Letty, looking chastened. She scratched his ears to comfort him, then scooped up a clod of dirt and hurled it in the rabbit’s direction. “Take that!” she called. “And tell all your friends not to come back!”

She started to laugh, a laugh that tottered dangerously toward tears. Gardening had sounded quaint and bucolic, but how different the reality was! She pushed back her bonnet to wipe her perspiration-soaked forehead, while Merlin whined and pushed his head against her legs, as if in sympathy. Animals didn’t care about who was highborn or who was lowborn, she thought, bending down to pat him again. Why couldn’t humans be more like dogs?

Patrick’s voice floated into her memory. What was it he had said, long ago? It came back to her now, as clearly as if he were standing next to her. Letty could remember the soap-and-sunshine scent of his freshly laundered cambric shirt mixed with the smell of his skin as they’d stood not far from here, by the circle of fallen menhirs. They had been viewing the group of cottages near the lake.

“Marie Antoinette,” he had called her. How she had squirmed at being compared to the spoiled, posturing queen who played at being a shepherdess with her ladies in waiting while the people of France starved for bread.

Spoiled, was she? Incapable of doing any real work? Letty determined that she would prove him wrong, rabbits or no rabbits. With renewed will, she gave Merlin a final pat, grasped the hoe in her blistered hands and redoubled her efforts.

An hour later Letty was leaning on the hoe, wheezing, when she saw Simon running toward her. Her satisfaction faded as she saw the worried expression on his young face.

“Mrs. Marlowe. There’s been … a bad accident … in the field.”

Letty threw down her hoe and faced Simon. “An accident? What happened?”

“It’s my sister, Ada. She’s hurt … I think it’s bad…. Her foot’s bleedin’ somethin’ terrible, ma’am. I’m afraid she might lose her foot, or even bleed to death.”

“How was she injured? Did … did the scythe slip?”

This was what came of allowing Ada to work like a common laborer! Letty was furious with herself. It was all her fault. Ada belonged in the house, laying out fresh clothing in the morning and brushing her lady’s hair, like the young maid had been trained to do.

“No, ma’am.” Simon’s breath came in gasps as they hurried toward the site of the accident. “Someone laid a trap in the field we were plowing for wheat, for rats, most like, and forgot to tell the others. ’Twas a stupid thing to do, ma’am. A stupid and dangerous thing to do.”

Letty nodded, but it puzzled her that someone would have laid a trap in the middle of a field that was being plowed. It was not just a stupid thing to do, it was unfathomable. That is, unless … She shook away the thought. Who could be so evil? No, no one would deliberately try to harm someone at New Hope. Her attention was diverted from the unwelcome thought by Simon, who was loping alongside her toward the wheat field and recounting the details.

The men had been clearing away the brush and grass, preparatory to plowing. Some of the young women, including Simon’s sister, Ada, had volunteered to help when the former lady’s maid inadvertently stepped into the large jaw-toothed trap.

“Her foot is bleedin’ awful bad, ma’am,” he repeated. “I’m worried …”

Just then George Speakman came up the path carrying Ada, who was groaning with pain. The big man ducked into the cottage shared by several of the young, single women and set the wounded former maid on a cot, while a group of concerned workers crowded into the small structure. Letty shouldered through, catching her breath at the sight of the unconscious girl’s hem, which was saturated with blood.

Letty fought down a wave of nausea. “Has anyone sent for a doctor?” She looked around at the gawkers.

George straightened. “Frank Hazell rode one of the plow horses to Grayton.”

“Good,” Letty said, thinking rapidly. “Still, it will take some time before he returns with help.” Her nursing skills were nonexistent, and it appeared none of the others knew any more about medical care than she did. Everyone was standing around wringing their hands and doing nothing useful. Except Ruby, who burst into the room, panting.

“Mary told me Ada’s been hurt,” Ruby said, crossing at once to the invalid’s bedside. “George appointed me to nurse the sick, didn’t he?” She shooed the men out of the room and carefully pulled Ada’s soaked skirts above the ankle. The sight of the ugly wound made Letty wince. Simon was right. The sharp jaws of the trap had cut deep into the ankle.

Ruby tut-tutted. “We’ll need clean cloths and hot water to clean the wound. It mustn’t fester. That’s how my uncle lost his leg, God bless ’im.”

“I’ll fetch the supplies.” Eliza Hobhouse disappeared.

Letty tried to stay calm. At least Ruby seemed to know something about nursing. “Nora, please ask George to retrieve the trap from the field before someone else is hurt.”

For once Nora followed directions with alacrity, and soon she returned behind Eliza, who bore an armful of clean linen rags. Ruby gently washed Ada’s foot and wrapped it firmly to slow the bleeding. The girl winced, and her eyes fluttered open.

“’Twill be all right, Ada,” Letty comforted the girl, hoping it was the truth.

Letty did not meet Nora Turner’s eyes, nor those of the other women who stood silently around the bed. She wondered if they blamed her for the accident. After all, it was because of her notions that Ada had been working in the field like a farmer, instead of safely in the manor house, fetching tea and dusting the bric-a-brac.

Nearly an hour later a brisk knocking came at the door, and a man with proud bearing burst into the room, carrying a worn black bag in one hand and his hat with the other. “At last we meet, Mrs. Marlowe.” Dr. Hobson bent over Letty’s hand. “I am sorry it is under these circumstances, but perhaps I can help.” He turned toward the pale girl reclining on the bed. “So this is the patient?”

After gravely inspecting Ada’s foot, he looked up. “If it had been any worse, I’d likely have had to amputate. At least the patient has been sufficiently bled; the only thing we have to fear now is infection. She must stay in bed until the wound has healed.”

“I shall see to it,” Letty assured him.

When the doctor had gone, she hovered over Ada, still fighting back remorse. Her father had warned her it was dangerous to meddle with the natural order of things. Perhaps he’d been right.

“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Marlowe,” Ruby told her. “I’ll take good care of Ada.”

Ada seemed to read her thoughts. “’Tis my own fault for being so clumsy. Although it means that now the other girls will have to do the laundry without me this afternoon. I’d promised Eliza I’d help when I got back from the field.”

“Never mind. I’ll help them myself.” Letty stood.

“Oh no, Mrs. Marlowe.” Ada sounded horrified. She struggled to sit upright. “’Tisn’t right. You mustn’t!”

Letty was growing tired of being told what she must not do. “Ruby will stay here to care for you. I have a free pair of hands, so why shouldn’t I pitch in?”

Ada shook her head, eyes flashing. “’Tis bad enough with you working in that wretched garden these past few weeks, but to labor alongside the other women like a mere laundress! If Mr. Marlowe were here, he’d—”

“Oh, do lie down, Ada,” Letty retorted. “My husband knows exactly what I’m up to. Ruby, please stay here and make sure Ada rests.”

Ada leaned back against her pillow, face white with the loss of blood. “I still say ’tisn’t right,” she muttered, even as her eyes fluttered closed.

When Letty entered the steaming laundry room with its vats of hot water and the wringer in the corner, the other young women eyed Letty with surprised glances. Hearing her purpose, Eliza Hobhouse put her hands on her hips. “’Tis not right for a lady to do such work.”

Letty fought a temptation to roll her eyes. How often did she have to hear those words? “Move over, Eliza.” She rolled up her sleeves.

X

By the time the laundry was finished and Letty took her leave, clouds had rolled across the late-autumn sky, and a soft rain was falling. The women left the wrung garments in baskets to be hung the next day, and Letty checked on Ada, who, she was relieved to see, was resting comfortably. Pulling her shawl over her head, Letty hurried back to the manor house.

Rubbing herself dry, she ate a light meal of bread and tea before reading a passage of scripture, pulling on a flannel nightgown, and crawling, shivering, between the cold sheets, with Merlin lying at the foot of the bed, as he had when a puppy. Nostalgically, she remembered the pans filled with hot coals that Ada used to warm the bed at night and the steaming pot of tea brought to her room at the touch of a bell.

Maybe her neighbors were right. Maybe she was insane to give up those pleasures.

As Letty’s eyelids closed, she found it hard to remember why she had done such a silly thing as dismissing the servants and giving up the privileges of her class. Had it really been necessary? What was the point, after all?

Oddly, though, her last thoughts before falling asleep were of Patrick. Was he warm and dry, or was he setting up camp in a cold, drizzling rain with a hungry belly? Was the pursuit of his dream going more smoothly than hers? And did he ever spare a thought for her? Considering the way she had treated her husband before his departure, Letty doubted it.

The thought made her roll over and bury her face into her pillow.

X

Every day of Ada’s recovery, Letty came to keep the girl company and read aloud from Oliver Twist. Restless at being confined to a sickbed, Ada Longford listened, propped up by pillows while knitting endless pairs of woolen socks and mufflers.

“I like this story,” she said finally. “’Tis a sad one, though.” Her eyes lit on Letty’s face. “Now I see why you created New Hope, milady. You wanted to help folk like little Oliver and his fellows.”

Letty placed a bookmark between the pages, wondering what Ada would think if she knew the truth: that her story might well be that of Oliver Twist, but in reverse. The story was a wrenching reminder of what her own life would have been, if not for—what? If that long-ago dream was, in fact, an actual memory, how had she ended up at Leighton Manor in the clothes and life of a gentlewoman? If there was one thing of which Letty was sure, it was that her father believed her to be his own blood kin. The mystery was like an itch that, no matter how much she scratched, would not go away.

“So many people who wish to solve society’s problems shake their heads and say, ‘Tut-tut, something must be changed,’ then allow things to continue as usual. I couldn’t do that.” Letty didn’t tell Ada why, unlike her wellborn peers, she could not look away.

Ada nodded. She had known her mistress’s eccentricities for years. “Of course, ma’am.”

Letty reopened the book, and opened her mouth to read. That was when, like a stroke of lightening, The Idea came to her.

X

The Idea, unfortunately, had to wait before its implementation. When Letty walked inside the laundry room, the three other women looked up from their washboards with surprise.

“Yer back again, eh? Sure ye’re up to a hard day’s wringing?” Eliza Hobhouse asked, and glanced at the others with a suppressed smile.

“Just show me what to do,” Letty said firmly, rolling up her sleeves.

“This ’ere’s the wringer.” Eliza showed her an object with two rollers and a handle, which looked like a medieval torture device. “Ye pass the wet garment through, like this, and ’ere it comes out the other side. Mind ye don’t catch yer hand in it. That’s why some call it a ‘mangler.’”

Now used to her presence, the women continued their previous conversation as if Letty had been part of their group all along. Letty was amused to hear much of their gossip centered on young Simon, whom they found handsome but disappointingly shy. When the clothes had been pinned to the lines to dry, Letty bade the others farewell, discreetly rubbing her sore back.

“’Ta, ma’am.” The women bobbed curtsies, but their smiles were friendly. “’Til next time.”

The new comradeship gratified Letty. Perhaps the seemingly impossible ideal of reaching across class lines was within reach after all. As she prepared for bed that night, she allowed herself to dream that, if New Hope was successful, perhaps more such communities would crop up across England and around the world. Eventually those like her would no longer be considered “impractical dreamers,” but men and women of foresight and wisdom.

As Letty drifted to sleep, Patrick’s image punctured that pleasant fantasy. “Marie Antoinette!” he taunted.

Letty shifted uncomfortably under her bedclothes. Was he right? Was she merely playing shepherdess for her own amusement, while in the real world people starved? Was her beloved New Hope nothing more than a privileged woman’s playground?

She humphed and rolled over, pulling the coverlet over her head. No. Despite Bill Burn’s defection, despite Ada’s injury, no matter what obstacles lay ahead, she would prove Patrick wrong.

X

At last the crops were sown in rows that were not too crooked. A third of the seed she had ordered from a supplier in York turned out to be rotted, but the rest managed to sprout. The next task, Letty decided, was to provide the children with a real teacher.

Letty wanted education to be a founding principle of New Hope, yet with all the energy thrown into settling in, she had barely managed to tutor the youngest students in their ABCs. Alas, her own learning had been made up of little more than French, dance, and painting lessons. Joseph Leighton had not considered anything more to be necessary for a young lady, and to her dismay, Letty found controlling the exuberant children, even for an hour or two, quite beyond her powers.

Letty was about to send out an advertisement when she remembered that hiring a teacher should be handled by the board. But when she spoke to them about it, George, Frank, and Jim looked at her blankly.

“Don’t you see? The matter can no longer be delayed,” she said. “If the children are to improve their lot in life, they must be taught to read, write, and do sums.”

Frank cleared his throat. “That’s fine, ma’am, but if you want a teacher for the little ones, why come to us? Can’t you find them one yourself?”

She fought down a flare of impatience. How many times had she told them New Hope must become autonomous? Then Letty remembered that these men knew nothing of board meetings and financial matters. In truth, she knew little enough of them herself. Attempting to govern New Hope was, in many cases, a case of the blind leading the blind.

“I suppose I could,” she admitted, “but my hope is that you will make decisions affecting New Hope on your own. After all, is that not the point?”

“Yet here you are, telling us we must have a schoolteacher.” It was George, of course, brows beetling.

She blushed at being exposed as a hypocrite. “In this case, I feel impelled to give you my advice since it is a matter of such importance.”

“A teacher costs money. We have no money.” That was Frank Hazell, as always matter-of-fact. “Even after the harvest we’ll be lucky to have enough to feed ourselves.”

Letty felt she was losing the argument. Yet educating the children was central to her plan. It was the key to ensuring they had opportunities that their parents had never had, so one day they could gain decent, middle-class jobs. If the children could grow up to become clerks and lawyers, doctors and clergymen, they’d never know want and poverty again. Letty clenched her hands into fists and raised her chin. “Then I’ll pay for the teacher myself, until New Hope can afford to do so.”

The men looked at each other. “Gammon and spinach!” George exclaimed. “All this trouble over a school? We need the young’uns to help weed and scare off pests. Every hand is needed on this farm, even the littlest.”

Letty stared at him. “There are plenty of grown men to do the work. Don’t you see that learning to read and write will help the little ones when they grow up? That way, they won’t have to break their backs on a farm, toil in a factory, or starve.”

“What’s wrong with good, honest labor? ’Tis good for ’em.” George looked as unmoved as a craggy boulder. “Makes a lad and lass strong. Keeps ’em from gettin’ lazy.”

“Lazy? Me da’ put me to work as a chimney sweep when I was five and kept me at it ’til I could no longer squeeze up the flue.” Frank glared at George, and a muscle clenched in his jaw. “Being put out to work at such an age didn’t do me a lick o’ good, I assure you, an’ I got the burn scars on my back to prove it.”

George spat. “Blimey, we’re talkin’ ’bout good, healthy work in the fields, out in the fresh air. ’Tis a far cry from my tykes being shut up in that stinkin’ factory back in Telford. They’ve never ’ad it better.”

To Letty’s surprise Jim broke in. His voice was quiet but firm. “Me son, Simon, ’as a good head on ’is shoulders, but ’e’s too old for learnin’, now, ’e is. I’d like to see the little ’uns have a better chance than what ’e had.”

Everyone swiveled to stare at the gray-haired man in surprise. He met their gazes straight on. “What would it hurt to let the young’uns learn their letters and numbers? Like the mistress says, we’ve plenty of grown men to do the labor.”

George started to bluster. Then his eyes fastened on something in the distance. His ten-year-old daughter, Mary, was returning from the fields, black braids swinging from her shoulders. Her slender form was bent under a scythe as tall as herself, while Ada hobbled behind, on crutches. He cleared his throat. “Well, maybe ’twould do no harm. Least ’til they’re old enough to be of more use in the fields. P’raps ten or ’leven, or thereabouts.”

“Very well. Then one of you can advertise for a teacher immediately,” Letty said briskly, before George could change his mind.

Once again, she was met by a wall of blank stares. Advertise? She reminded herself that these men could neither read nor write. None of them had ever perused a newspaper for a job, and the concept of placing an advertisement for an instructor was foreign to everything they knew. That task would fall to her as well, naturally. Considering it was all Letty’s idea, perhaps it was just as well.

“That is, I shall go to Grayton and post an advertisement myself. Until then, I suppose I shall continue teaching the children as best I can.” Letty sighed. It had been a struggle dealing with fifteen children of varying ages, none of whom had ever sat at a desk, and some of whom had accents so thick Letty could not decipher them. That morning, when she had tried to get them to scratch the alphabet on their new slates, a sparrow had flown through the door, and the children lunged to capture it. That had been the end of the lesson. “I’ll do my best until we get a real teacher.” One, she hoped, with a firmer hand and a sterner disposition.

“Very good, ma’am.” The men touched their forelocks and trudged away.

She silently prayed that she could manage until help arrived. Mouthing “Amen,” Letty remembered that she had not attended church in Grayton for weeks. Her conscience had not troubled her too greatly because she read the Bible and practiced private devotions at home since, without a carriage, it had seemed too much trouble to walk the two miles to town for services. Awareness now dawned that she was setting a poor example for the residents of New Hope. For them to succeed, Letty thought, they needed all the divine help they could get.

And so the next Sunday found Letty in her best shawl and flowered bonnet, her newly roughened hands hidden under white kid gloves, walking to church under a cloudless summer sky with her Bible tucked under her arm. Even Aunt Caroline could find no fault with her today, Letty thought, certain that for once she looked every inch the lady of the manor.

Entering the ancient, rock-walled church, she slipped into the Marlowe’s private pew, ignoring sidelong looks from the other parishioners. On previous visits, Letty had found the local vicar a bit too humorless and severe for her taste, a reason she had not come to church more often.

The vicar mounted the stairs that led to the pulpit, black robes fluttering. Bracing for a long, dull sermon, Letty lifted her eyes to the large stained-glass windows. Patrick had once mentioned that his great-grandfather had donated the obviously expensive and well-crafted panes, which cast jewel-like colors across the otherwise plain interior.

While the vicar began to speak, Letty tried to identify the prophets pictured within the windows’ lead tracings. There was Adam standing behind a well-placed bush with Eve, who was holding aloft an apple while an angel brandished a flaming sword behind them. Next came long-bearded Noah, surrounded by creatures that might have been elephants and giraffes, although it was clear the craftsman had never laid eyes on such exotic animals.

A harsh voice jerked her back to the present. “And if a man have a stubborn and rebellious son, which will not obey the voice of his father, or the voice of his mother, and that, when they have chastened him, will not hearken unto them …” The vicar’s voice rang from the corners of the chapel. With shock, Letty realized several congregants were now openly staring at her. Why? It was natural the villagers would be curious about Mr. Marlowe’s new wife, but she had been to town several times before. It was hardly the first time she had appeared in public.

She smiled vaguely at the onlookers and turned her attention back to the sermon. The subject was obedience. It was certainly not her favorite topic, but after all, one could always learn something. Letty settled into her seat. The tall vicar with the piercing black eyes had a powerful way of speaking that kept one from nodding off, unlike mild-mannered Mr. Paley.

After it was over, Letty paused on the church steps to offer her compliments to Mr. Pettibone. His beak-like nose and fringe of sandy hair around the base of his scrawny neck reminded her of a vulture. A very pious vulture, she thought, fighting down a smile.

“Good morning, Mrs. Marlowe.” Mr. Pettibone fixed those intense black eyes on her. “I regret that you have not yet honored the vicarage with a visit.”

“I apologize.” Letty felt ashamed. As the new mistress of Blackgrave Manor, it should have been one of her first duties. “There have been many other things demanding my attention, but there is no excuse for my omission. Will you be at home tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes. I shall look forward to seeing you.” His hand gripped hers like the talons of the aforementioned bird before he turned to the next parishioner.

Something about the vicar’s tone made Letty shiver. She should have given higher priority to her duties as the new mistress of Blackgrave Manor. Mr. Pettibone did not seem the type of person one would want for an enemy. Not that there was anything he could do to trouble her, she reassured herself. How could there be anything to fear from a man of God?

Nevertheless, she remembered the cold feel of his fingers on hers and pulled her shawl closer over her shoulders.