6. Needed

Chapter six

Needed

Derbyshire, England ~ July 1810

" O h, hallo there!" called a pleasant voice from the edge of the lane as twilight was coming on. "Have you seen my magpie cat?"

Gyles lowered his pruning shears. "Hello, Miss Morrison. No cats here, I'm afraid." Inwardly, he gave a silent prayer of gratitude. He had no desire for cat excrement in his flower beds, and he was happy that he'd seen no black and white felines slinking through his rose garden. If he had, he would have hired Archie Garrick on the spot to drive the creatures away.

"Oh dear," said Miss Morrison. "She always goes so far afield when she is breeding. I never know where she'll end up with the kittens when they come." Miss Morrison was much like her cat, Gyles reflected, for she was quite far afield without a bonnet or gloves. But then again, her wiry brown hair was never covered with a bonnet, and her arms were as tanned as his were by the sunshine and exposure to the elements .

"You could keep her indoors," suggested Gyles. He opened the shears and clipped off a wilted white rose so that others could grow back in its place.

Miss Morrison wrinkled her nose. "She wouldn't much care for that. And neither would I!" She looked up at the sky where the blue was beginning to purple. "The weather's been fine lately, and I'm looking forward to the early harvest next month. Did you finally put in some spring barley this year, Mr. Audeley?"

"Er…no," said Gyles. "I'm busy with other things."

"Roses, you mean?"

"Exactly."

Miss Morrison was always inquiring about his crops. She seemed to think that cultivating roses was a waste of an opportunity better used for beans or oats or wheat. "Some of your tenants put in a good crop of barley."

"Yes, that's their prerogative."

"But if you used your land to the best of its ability then your estate would be a good deal more profitable—"

"My mother and I live simply, Miss Morrison. We are in no need of additional income."

She looked at him dubiously. Gyles took a deep breath and clipped another rose. After receiving one of Miss Morrison's lectures, he always felt that he had disappointed her. She was a friendly enough woman, but he could not keep pace with her frenetic energy. The blasted woman walked her fields daily and gave direct commands to her own labourers, rather than using a steward as an intermediary. She kept the books for her own crops and went to market with her own wheat. She had the yield of her acreage memorised down to a quarter bushel.

Gyles knew that his mother would love for him to further his acquaintance with Miss Morrison, but the idea of attaching himself to such a self-sufficient and utilitarian creature was unappealing. No, if Gyles Audeley ever lost his heart to a female, it would be to one who needed him like a rose garden needs the rain. He could put up with a few thorns and prickles for the sake of beauty…not barley.

"I'll wish you good evening," said Miss Morrison brightly, "and if you do see my cat, send a servant round, please. She's a good mouser, and I would hate to lose her."

There was the reason for the cat at last. The cat was a good mouser, and that was why she'd come in search of it. Miss Morrison was certainly not one to keep a pet for the purpose of pampering it or for the sake of affection. "Of course. Good evening, Miss Morrison."

"And let me know if your mother wants one of the kittens!" she called out as an afterthought.

Gyles waved his shears noncommittally and went back to his pruning. If he had interpreted his mother's oblique hints correctly, his mother wanted grandchildren, not kittens. And he was unlikely to provide either of them anytime soon.