Page 74 of Harpy of the Ton
Jonathan burst into laughter, spitting out his drink, before letting out a volley of coughs.
Lawrence glanced at Mr. Ryman and shook his head. “See what I have to endure, Ned?”
Mr. Ryman narrowed his eyes. He might be Lawrence’s friend, but he always filled Bella with discomfort. She couldnever quite identify it, but he seemed to look at her as if she had no business living at Ivy Cottage.
Did he object to her having his niece’s gowns? Perhaps he felt she was incapable of taking care of them as Sophie had. She’d tried her best to mend the tear in the gown she was wearing today—but she was unable to match the color of the cotton. But it was the best she had, except her Sunday dress, which she’d set to soak that morning to remove a stain on the skirts.
“Leave her be, Lawrence,” Mr. Ryman said. “There’s plenty enough to go round—unless young Jonathan eats it all.” He turned to the boy. “I swear you’ve grown a full ten inches since I last saw you.”
The boy jumped up and down. “You’re funny, Mr. Ned!”
“He’s grown half an inch,” Bella said. “I measured him. We’re marking his height on the doorframe to the children’s bedroom, aren’t we, Jonathan?”
Mr. Ryman’s eyes widened. “Youmeasured him—then marked the walls?”
What was it that he didn’t like about her?
“Why shouldn’t I?” she asked.
“Bella,” Lawrence growled. “Ned’s your guest. And he’s hungry.”
Curse him!Always giving orders. She ladled stew into a bowl and pushed it toward Mr. Ryman.
“Thank you, Mrs. Baxter.”
Dislike her he might, but at least he had manners.
She served the rest of the stew, filling her husband’s and children’s bowls before ladling the remains into hers.
“You’ve left hardly any there for yourself, Mrs. Baxter.”
“Leave her be, Ned,” Lawrence said. “She’s probably not hungry after sittin’ at home all day.”
“I can answer for myself, husband,” she retorted.
He gave Mr. Ryman a see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with look before resuming eating.
“It’s a pity your niece was unable to visit, Mr. Ryman,” Bella said. “Sophie’s my only friend here. She was so kind to me when I arrived.”
“She’s a good girl, is Sophie,” Mr. Ryman replied. “But she’s too busy courting to spend time with her old uncle.”
“Courting?” Bella asked. “Is it that young man from the big house—the gardener’s boy?”
“Aye, Sam, his name is. Sam Cole.”
“He’s a good worker,” Lawrence said, between mouthfuls of stew. “Knows a thing or two about plants. He’d be a great help if I secured that job for Mr. Trelawney.”
“He’s very taken with Sophie,” Mr. Ryman said. “I favor the match.”
“Does Sophie want the match, Mr. Ryman?” Bella asked.
“I think so.”
“Shouldn’t you ask her, before deciding her fate?”
“Bella,” Lawrence growled, but their guest raised his hand.
“It’s a fair question, Mrs. Baxter. She seems sweet on him, though she has no mother to advise her, poor lass—only her old uncle.”
