Page 19 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

Yours always,

Sophia

Chapter 9

12 April 1753

The day following the picnic was a Saturday, and Sophia was delighted to escape the house before the sun rose over the horizon. She wanted to avoid anyone who might require her attention. On Saturday she worked as she pleased without appointments to distract her. She would catch up on everything she hadn’t been able to finish during the week. As Sophia walked toward the stables, she heard her name.

“Sophia, where are you going?”

Sophia knew Philip’s voice before turning to see who had spoken to her. She planned to ride to the fields that had not yet been planted, decide how to plant them, and attempt to find someone willing to do the work. Her tenants would be busy with their kitchen gardens today, but she would saddle the plow horse if needed.

“As you see, I’m going for a ride. I need to clear my head before starting work.”

“Work? It’s Saturday. I have a better idea. Come fishing with me?” Philip held fishing gear in one hand and beckoned Sophia with the other. His head tilted to one side in open invitation, but he shuffled his feet.

He didn’t think she’d come. And she really shouldn’t accept.

“I would like to, but I have too much to do.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Philip pushed his hair from his face with his arm.

“Thorpe is coming soon to check that the fields are planted. I thought I’d get a head start.”

“Hm. Did you know I am an excellent gardener?”

Sophia shook her head. He was no farmer.

“It’s true.”

“Philip, you have many skills, but I have never seen you plow a field or even water a houseplant.”

“I am a painter. My hands are always dirty.” Philip showed Sophia his paint-stained fingers.

“I have seen you covered in dirt enough to know you are not afraid of it. That is not the concern.”

“Does it matter what is planted in these fields?”

“Uncle Thorpe insisted that every field be sown, but he didn’t say with what. He mentioned oats, but I am against that. We have all the rye we can sell and enough turnips for the sheep’s winter feed. The remaining acres are meant to be resting and should not be utilized this year.”

“I see.” Philip squinted at the sky as if he would find an answer there. “Why not come fishing with me, and I will plant your fields before the squire comes?”

“Thank you. But no.”

“I would like to help.”

“I do not need assistance.”

“True, but you might need to go fishing.”

“I’ve learned that it’s better to do things myself.”

“Ah, yes. I remember.”

Sophia wavered. Taking a day off was a temptation. “Do you really know how to plant a field?”

“Certainly. Remember, you came to Bramblefields in June when everything had already been planted. You didn’t see the hours I toiled away in the fields.” Philip sounded so certain, was always confident, and Sophia did trust him.