Page 13 of Engaging Sir Isaac

The late-morning sunlight came into the study at an angle through the Earl of Inglewood’s window, yet hardly any dust motes could be found dancing in the air. Isaac wondered how his friend managed to have one of the cleanest studies he had ever seen. The poor maids of his household surely had to work harder than any servant he knew to keep the room so spotless.

“We have yet to settle upon the position of the new dam,” Silas said, shuffling a paper from one hand to another. “I truly think it would improve things for your farmers if you kept more water here.” He pointed to a sketched map of their two properties. “And since the stream flows out to sea, we would be hurting no one, only improving our own water collection.”

Isaac hummed his agreement. “You know better than I where it ought to go. The surveyor gave you his full report, did he not?”

“He did.” Silas opened a drawer in his desk and removed a large sheaf of papers, along with a folded map. “He had curious things to say about that ridge, here. He thought we should have an expert in geology out to look it over.”

“There is nothing in all of Suffolk to mine.” Isaac knew this better than anyone. His father had sought out experts in mining to look over the land years before. “That is not the route for me to make my lands wealthy again, Silas, though I appreciate the thought.”

Silas dropped the papers and leaned back in his chair. “You have good land, Isaac. There are ways to make it more than self-sustaining.”

“Of course there are. I simply have not happened upon them yet.” He grimaced and turned his attention back to the window, longing for a breath of fresh air rather than the closed-in warmth of the study. “Esther does not know?”

“I have kept my word and said nothing, to anyone, of the difficulties you face.” Silas sounded tired. It must wear on him to be unable to solve all of Isaac’s problems. But Silas needed to understand that a man must stand upon his own two feet.

With his own list of items to see to on his estate, Isaac rose from his chair, ready to bid his friend and brother-in-law good afternoon.

“You cannot leave without seeing Esther,” Silas said suddenly, before Isaac could do more than open his mouth. “You know she will wonder why you did not wish her a good day before disappearing. She likely even has our Isaac with her, and you must say hello to your namesake.” Silas was not fooling Isaac. Though he kept his tone jovial, the worried look in his eyes remained.

Silas, Esther, Jacob, and Grace all looked at him like that. As though they still waited for some sign that he had returned from war the same person as he had been when he left.

They waited in vain. The loss of Isaac’s arm was just the most obvious of the changes in him.

“I will make certain to greet to Esther. Where might she be at this time of day?”

“Where else? Painting.” Silas chuckled and walked Isaac to the door of the study. “Nothing gives her so much happiness as her artwork and our son.”

Esther had always loved to paint. It seemed to cure her of most of life’s ills, too. If she was melancholic, or anxious, a paintbrush in hand had usually been enough to soothe her troubled heart.

Perhaps Isaac ought to find something to take up his time, too. Something that would help him as his sister’s painting had helped her.

With weary steps, he went down the hall to his sister’s domain. Her room was not far from Silas’s study. His hand was upon the handle of the door when he heard an unfamiliar voice from within, along with baby laughter. Isaac hesitated.

“He is absolutely darling. Just look at his handsome little eyes,” a woman’s voice cooed. “And his charming smile.”

“It is always gratifying to hear someone outside the family say such things,” Esther said, sounding amused.

Outside the family? Who would Esther have allowed into her domain if it was not their friends, whom they all considered family? No one entered her art room on a whim.

Curious enough to push aside his discomfort, Isaac rapped his knuckles on the door before pushing it open. Esther stood on one side of the room, a plain wooden box in her hands, and upon the couch a head full of red swirling curls turned, a pair of brown eyes meeting his.

Miss Wedgewood held his nephew in her arms, and she stood when she saw Isaac. She adjusted the baby against her shoulder and dropped a curtsy in polite greeting.

Isaac mechanically returned the bow. “I beg your pardon. I was not aware—” But he had stood and listened at the door. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Esther. “I merely came to wish you a good day before going about my business.”

“Are you and Silas finished with your discussion already? I had hoped you would stay and take tea with us.” Esther brought her box and put it on the table near the couch. “Miss Wedgewood is staying—”

The other woman laughed, though the sound was without good humor. “Oh, no. I could not possibly impose upon you any further, my lady. I thank you for supplying me with the necessary equipment for my project, but I had better be on my way.” She glanced briefly at Isaac, almost guiltily, before handing the baby to his mother.

She scooped up the box and held it tightly against her chest. “I will collect my maid. Thank you for your time. Good day, Lady Inglewood. Sir Isaac.” She dipped her final curtsy and left the room, not making eye contact with Isaac though she had to press herself against the door to avoid brushing his left shoulder.

Before she had even made it out of his sight, as he watched her retreat down the hall, Esther was berating him. “What did you do to that poor girl at dinner two evenings ago?” Esther asked. “We were having a perfectly charming time until you came in, and suddenly she could not escape fast enough.”

Isaac turned to take in his sister’s deep frown, and he offered a one-armed shrug. “I cannot say I did anything that would give cause for that sort of offense. She kept trying to flirt with me. And you know Lady Olivia well enough to guess at what sort of friends she would bring home with her.” He stepped further into the room and shut the door behind him. “What was she doing here? That is my greater concern.”

Esther turned her son in her arms so Isaac might see the baby’s cheerful face, charming smile and all. “Miss Wedgewood came to ask about art supplies. She wanted to find out if the Aldersy shops had what she needed or if she ought to send to London. She is a creative sort, and she requires something to keep herself busy.” Esther’s frown deepened, though it was no longer directed at Isaac. “I have to say, I do not think she is very happy to be Lady Olivia’s guest.”

“I cannot imagine what gave you that impression. Lady Olivia made it a point to note how dear a friend Miss Wedgewood is to her.” Isaac went to the window as he spoke, looking out over the gardens to the stretch of sea. The dark blue line was steady and still, no clouds above it that day.