Page 20 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

“You showed little care for your fields. I don’t recall you worrying over them.” Even as Sophia said this, she remembered. Philip always knew about plants. They used to take their horses around the vast estate, and Philip would point out each field, what it grew, and when it would be ready for harvest. “I remember now. I never realized.”

“I brought an extra pole and bait. You can show me the best place.”

“You really do not mind? What about your painting?”

“Hmm.” Philip squinted at her and then nodded as if he’d made an important decision. “We can make a compromise.”

“After dealing with my uncle, I am wary of compromise.”

Philip walked toward Sophia. Standing a little too close, close enough that she could feel his heat, he looked straight into her eyes and smiled. “You needn’t worry. My intentions would never thwart your interest. I am working on a pastoral piece, and I need a model.”

“Really, Philip!” Sophia exclaimed, but barely marked his words. She was too aware of where he was, how much closer he stood compared to a minute before when he was at a comfortable arm’s length.

“It won’t take long. I will probably get what I need watching you work.” Philip shrugged. “What do you say? Let’s go fishing.”

“I don’t know. I would rather plant the fields myself.”

“Of course, you would, which is why you must allow me to do it for you. I hope you can trust me with this one little thing. You are exhausted. What you need is respite, and fishing is just the thing.” Philip offered his arm to her.

Sophia acquiesced, wrapping her arm around his. Her shoulder relaxed against his and her hand lay on his forearm. Alarm flooded her chest. An entire day with Philip meant she would have to speak with him, and she was not ready for any conversations about their past relationship or the letters that continued to appear under her door each night. Sophia looked toward her fields, but Philip was already dragging her away.

“All right. I will help you with your painting, and you will take charge of my remaining acres. What will you plant? Rye? I have plenty of seed.”

“Unnecessary. I have an idea for something that will grow fast and not injure the quality of your soil.”

Sophia would cross that item off her list when she returned home. If Philip said he would plant her fields, he would do it.

They set out toward the ocean, walking to the edge of Sophia’s property and descending a cliff that led to a rocky shoreline. Perhaps it was the briny scent of the ocean or the calming crash of waves, but Sophia’s step lightened. Being with Philip was like going back to a time when cares had been trivial. It gave Sophia the sense that her problems would resolve in her favor.

Once on the sand, Sophia took off her shoes and stockings and tied up her petticoats, so they were just below her knees. She reasoned that since Philip had been familiar with her legs since childhood, there would be no impropriety. Philip set his own shoes and stockings on a boulder near Sophia’s things, and they walked together over the sand.

Though it was early spring, unfiltered sunlight warmed them, and the cliffs blocked the breeze. Sophia stopped to take in the ocean and appreciate the beauty of her home that bordered the ocean and had a stretch of beach and cliffs that were all her own.

They stood together facing the water, craggy cliffs behind them. On either side, rocky arms stretched into the water, creating a C-shaped inlet.

“Is this where the cave is? The one you told me about?” Philip gestured to their left.

“Yes, but we won’t go in there today. The fish are on the other side.”

They edged closer to the water. Frigid waves swallowed Sophia’s feet, covering them with sand.

“It feels wonderful to be here. It’s been too long,” Sophia said.

They reached the other side of the cove, where jagged rocks protruded from sand. Philip stepped ahead of Sophia and offered his hand to help her up. His pull was as strong as her step, and she launched toward him with so much force that she steadied herself by putting her hand on his chest. Beneath her palm, Philip’s heart pulsed in rapid rhythm with her own. Her hand moved to better catch the beat of his heart, passing over muscles that had not been there three years ago. Philip’s breath caught, and Sophia glanced up at him.

They stood motionless. Every memory of their last summer together flooded Sophia’s mind. This was not the first time they had stood so irresistibly close.

A low squawk startled Sophia, and she stepped away from Philip, but her hand found its way into his. Needing a distraction from her rising emotions, she searched for the source of the sound. “Look, a puffin!” Once she noticed the first puffin, several others made themselves known. The rocks were covered with waddling sea parrots.

Hand in hand, they watched the birds. It was as if they were children again. She liked the ease and warmth of it. But they were no longer ten years old.

She gently removed her hand from Philip’s and clasped it behind her back, though she itched to return it. They moved away from the edge of the rocks and closer to the water. Sophia led the way until they arrived at the best place to catch sea bass.

“There are deep gullies between these rocks where the fish feed. Cast here,” Sophia said.

After they settled and each held a baited pole, Philip asked, “How did you find this place and know where to fish?”

“My father. When he didn’t have time to go out on a boat, he took me here. And the fish are delicious.”