A Practical Partnership. Lily George

to love and appreciate the most simple and basic of bonnets, because they truly are the backbone of my store,” Nan agreed.

      Jane slipped her arm through Nan’s elbow, and began guiding her back down the hill. Nan allowed herself to be tugged along. It was strange for Jane to lead rather than follow; based on the very little she knew of Jane’s personality, she was not strong willed like Susannah—much more likely to go along with things than take the lead. At the foot of the hill, Jane paused, studying the view.

      “It’s so beautiful here. Rather like home.”

      Nan nodded, silently. She wasn’t as enamored of sweeping vistas as Becky, but anyone could appreciate this view. The sun was gaining its summit in the sky, and a fresh cool breeze rustled the long moor grass.

      “I don’t ever want to leave the country. I don’t understand why my brother insists on it.”

      Nan turned to look at Jane. Had she really no idea of the role she must play? “I am sure he insists because it’s your duty. Just as I have my duty to my store, and he has his duty to your home, you must see that you must at least try to meet an eligible young man and marry well.”

      Jane’s face fell. “Now you sound just like him. I thought you would be on my side.” She turned away, her shoulders slumping.

      Nan shook her head. For one thing, that stiff black bombazine that Jane wore was simply not made for her movements. She needed softer fabric, something that would move gracefully with her. Small wonder she felt uncomfortable all the time. For another thing, and on a completely different note, she needed a friend. John Reed was insufferable enough as a passing acquaintance. What a horror he must be as a brother.

      Of course Jane must make her debut, as any young woman of her station in life should. In fact, if circumstances had been different, and had Uncle Arthur not run through her parents’ fortune like water, it was likely Nan would have seen Jane socially in London. However, that was neither here nor there. Her duty was to help Jane feel more comfortable with her debut. If Jane could do so in clothes that suited her, with the help of someone she trusted, she would have a much higher chance of success than if she was to go through it alone, with no one but her brother helping.

      Nan laid a careful hand on Jane’s shoulder, reminding herself to be patient. She had a tendency to blurt out the hard truths of life at the most inopportune time, and it never went well. Susannah and Becky would agree most heartily to that, if they were standing here right now.

      “I daresay a London ballroom won’t be half as frightening if you are dressed in a gown that suits you. We all feel much better when we are well dressed. I may have forced myself to love plain hats and bonnets for my business to survive, but that doesn’t mean I have shunned the fancier stuff forever.”

      Jane gasped and whirled around. “Does this mean you will come with me?”

      “I still don’t know how to make it happen, but I will find a way.” Now it was Nan’s turn to gasp as Jane threw her arms around her, laughing. She hadn’t embraced one of her sisters in ages. Since they married and had families of their own, her sisters simply didn’t have the time or feel the need to embrace that much anymore. She missed it. Until now, she had no idea how much she really grieved the loss of her sisters, with a deep-down ache that brought hot tears to her eyes.

      Giving in to the desire to cry would serve no purpose now. She must squash her hurt and wait until later tonight, when she could sob silently into her pillow.

      “Now, now. That’s quite enough.” Nan took a step back, assuming the brisk practicality that had served her so well thus far. “I suppose I need to talk to your brother. Where is he this morning?”

      * * *

      I really am trying to concentrate. Look at me, the very picture of a gentleman of means. John forced himself to stare at the ledger book as Paul trailed his quill along page after page of spidery handwriting. It was the dullest thing he could think to do on a day with such fine weather, but it would be very rude to tell Paul so. After all, his friend was taking valuable time away from his lovely wife and family to school him in the proper manner of estate management.

      “So you see, with just one small change to the way in which we harvested the grain, we ended up saving a large percentage of the crop. Enough, in fact, to net a tidy little profit.” Paul grinned and bent closer over the page, as though he could gobble the figures up to make a satisfying meal.

      John glanced down at his boots. They were really of an excellent cut. He’d have to order another pair just like them from the boot-maker, for when these needed a rest or a cleaning.

      “How do you reap your grain?” Paul glanced up sharply from the ledger book.

      “I haven’t the foggiest, old man.” John stifled a yawn.

      “It’s your duty to know.” Paul slammed the ledger book shut. “Who is your estate manager? Crowell?”

      “No, Crowell passed away years ago. Father hired a new man to take his place.” John searched his mind for the fellow’s name. “Weatherford? Whetstone? Bother me, it starts with a W. That’s all I know.” If Paul would hurry up, they’d have time for a ride this afternoon before dinner. This latest lesson was taking forever to end.

      “If you want my advice—and after all, you came all this way here for me to offer it—then you will return to Grant Park and have a meeting with this Mr. W. Talk to him. Get a feeling for how the harvests are managed. If he has any suggestions for improvements or changes, do listen to him and think the matter over. Estate managers can be vastly acute. Just look at the changes Daniel has wrought at Goodwin Hall, now that he is listening to his man.”

      John nodded. If he continued looking the part of an interested pupil, perhaps Paul would act less like a stern schoolmaster and would just let him go. A quick canter would be just the thing in this fine weather.

      “John,” Paul began in the tone that usually indicated a lecture was at hand, “this really is yours to care for now. Grant Park is a vast estate, and it’s imperative that you run it in a manner that will do your family credit. Had you no sense that it would become your responsibility some day?”

      “I thought Father would live forever.” A flippant statement, perhaps, but a true one. He had never given any thought to the fact that, one day, Father would die and leave him responsible for managing his family’s wealth.

      “And now that your father has proven himself mortal, where does that leave you?”

      John shrugged. “Prevailing upon my friends with better common sense than I possess.”

      The door to the study banged open and Nan Siddons whirled in, her cheeks a rosy pink and her eyes bright. John rose, a nervous rush of energy sweeping through him. Nan had proven herself a good sort last night, when he had stumbled into what her family had considered a marriage proposal when it had, in fact, merely been an offer of employment.

      It couldn’t have been an easy predicament—indeed, he was still a trifle embarrassed when he remembered it himself—but she handled it with grace and aplomb. Her poise had convinced him that she could be an excellent guide for his sister as she made her debut. Surely Jane could weather any ballroom disaster in London with Nan instructing her surreptitiously.

      “Pardon the interruption,” she managed, looking less like her usual practical self than he could have imagined. Her bonnet was dangling down her back by its ribbons, and several tawny locks of hair had escaped her braided coronet. Her breathless disarray, coupled with her flushed cheeks and starry blue eyes, made Nan Siddons look downright pretty.

      “We were just finishing up,” he replied, looking over his shoulder at Paul. Paul stood, his expression one of bafflement. John could well hear his friend’s thoughts. Should he stay and play chaperone? Or give them both some peace so that they could discuss a business proposition in private?

      “I’ll go...and leave the door open.” Paul nodded at John, the etiquette problem resolved, as he left the room.

      John