Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Good. Now Thomas knew for sure his father was speaking of Hawthorne Polk.
February 24
The matter of the water rights came to a head this evening at dinner with Hawthorne. He proposes a shared usage agreement, but I fear such an arrangement heavily favors his lands and leaves us vulnerable during dry seasons. I must consider our estate’s future needs and not just the immediate ease of conflict. His friendly façade is becoming harder to trust.
March 1
Received a surprising proposal from Hawthorne through post today regarding the disputed well at the eastern edge of our properties. His offer is generous, suspiciously so. What is he aiming to gain with such concessions? Tonight, I find myself feeling unusually tired and disoriented after our correspondence. The pattern of my ailments following our interactions is too coincidental to ignore. Tomorrow, I shall secure the food samples discreetly as previously planned.
March 4
Our discussions have grown more frequent, and with each meeting, I feel the noose of unease tighten. Today, Hawthorne seemed particularly eager to finalize the agreements over a luncheon at his estate. The food was exquisite, yet here I am, documenting another episode of unexplained sickness. If I did not know better, I would think myself a fool for suspecting poison, but the pieces are aligning too neatly.
March 4 was the last entry.
Thomas’s father had died on March 7.
His father’s meticulous record-keeping, initially out of character, now seemed a desperate attempt to make sense of his declining health amidst these disputes. The entries not only chronicled the negotiations but painted a grim picture of malice under the guise of diplomacy.
This evening, after the men returned from the hunt, Thomas would find Viscount Polk and confront him.
14
Thomas had to tether his thoughts and remain calm as he joined his mother for luncheon.
He drew in a breath and rose from the leather chair once more, determined not to allow his mother to know of his concern. She’d been through quite enough, and he was determined not to add to her trauma.
All eyes were on him as he exited the mansion and walked toward the lawn party.
“Goodness, my lord,” Baroness Mumford greeted him. “I don’t think any of us expected to see you today.”
“I declined to join the hunt, my lady,” Thomas said, tipping his hat. “I promised my mother I would join her for luncheon.”
“What a pleasure for all of us,” the baroness said. “It is so very good to see you this day.”
“And you as well.” Thomas bowed and headed toward his mother.
As he walked, his gaze focused like a magnet on Tricia, who was standing alone.
Lady Clementine and young Katrina were speaking to a group of ladies including his mother on the opposite side of the lawn.
Though he wanted to walk toward Tricia, speak to her, see how she was doing after her close brush with death the evening before, he forced his legs to continue pursuing his mother.
“Thomas, darling,” the countess said. “I’m so glad you’ll be able to join us for luncheon. The tables are set, and there’s a place for you next to me. You’re the only gentleman in attendance, of course, other than the young lads milling about.”
“I’m quite comfortable being the only gentleman in attendance, Mummy.” He brushed his lips against his mother’s soft cheek. “Besides, you’re wrong. I see the Marquess of Tingham with his wife.”
The countess wrinkled her nose. “He’s elderly, as you know, Thomas. Too old for the hunt.”
“That matters not to me, Mummy. I had business to attend to this morning, and since I’m here, I may as well share luncheon with my lovely mother.”
His mother smiled at him. “Thomas, darling, you know I want you to have a wonderful time during this house party. But I do appreciate your attentiveness.”
Thomas offered his arm to his mother, and she placed her small left hand in his elbow as he led her to the tables.
The sun cast a warm glow over the meticulously groomed gardens, where rows of tables draped in white linens were set beneath the generous shade of the estate’s oak trees. Each table was adorned with delicate china and sparkling crystal.
The centerpiece of each table was a magnificent floral arrangement of local blooms—blush peonies, cream roses, and lilac hydrangeas, interspersed with sprigs of greenery. Thomas was well aware, after this morning’s events, how much these flora had cost the estate. Small handwritten place cards at each setting guided the guests to their seats.
As the clock struck noon, the ladies, dressed in their finest summer gowns with wide-brimmed hats adorned with ribbons and lace, began to take their seats. The air was filled with the soft rustling of silk and the gentle murmur of polite conversation as the dowager countess welcomed her guests with a gracious smile.
The luncheon commenced with a light starter of chilled cucumber soup served in delicate porcelain bowls, perfect for the warm weather. This was followed by an array of finger sandwiches—cucumber with cream cheese, smoked salmon with dill, and egg with watercress—each delicately trimmed of crusts and arranged like a mosaic on tiered silver platters.