Page 25 of To Know Miss May

Pride—the decent kind—swelled in August’s chest. Perhaps Mr. May wasn’t upset with him after all. “Thank ye, sir. I be more than ’appy to be ’ere.”

And he meant it. He’d loved his apprenticeship in Bath, and working as head gardener for the Eastwoods in Coniston had been an incredible learning experience he’d never forget.

But going back to his roots, to where he’d grown alongside the trees, to where he’d stepped on the earth that he’d once ran across as a boy, that was something special.

Gardening had always been a part of his life.

But gardening on the Mount was in his soul.

He looked back to Mr. May, but the man had fallen silent, staring at the dirt beneath the broom bush.

August followed his gaze, wondering if he’d missed a branch. “Be there somethin’ wrong with it, sir?”

Mr. May blinked, clearly distracted. “Hmm? Oh, no. I just be thinkin’.”

August waited, but Mr. May didn’t expound, which was uncharacteristic. Typically, he was running his tongue about what plants grew better in which parts of the Mount or about different flowers he’d discovered in his studies. August usually enjoyed such conversations, but today, he couldn’t decipher what was wrong.

“Last evenin’ be a fine night,” Mr. May eventually said.

August’s stiffened. He lowered the wheelbarrow to stand on the wooden legs, fearing this conversation would need all of his focus and energy. “We were glad the both of ye could make it.”

Well, he and his parents had been glad. His sisters, on the other hand…

“I can’t believe ’ow Miss May ’as grown,” August had said to his family after she and her father had left last evening.

“Grown duller in every way, ye mean?” Ophelia said with a laugh.

August had instantly frowned, shocked at his sister’s ungenerous attitude. “That wasn’t kind, Ophelia,” he’d returned.

What followed was Ophelia’s attempt to assuage her guilt by shifting the attention to August, but he wouldn’t think of her words right now.

Mama had chided his sister’s unkindness before sending the girls off to bed, which provided August the perfect segway into his conversation with his parents. However, they didn’t seem at all concerned about their daughters’ behavior.

“They will grow out of it,” Mama had said. “I be certain of it.”

But August wasn’t so sure. He simply couldn’t understand why they felt the need to be so unkind to a woman who, he was fairly certain, did nothing to deserve any unkindness at all.

“Ye seemed quite focused on me daugh’er’s conversation last night.”

August’s attention snapped to Mr. May. Had the man read his thoughts, or was that where his mind had strayed, too?

August swallowed, trying to buy more time before he responded. He needed to reply with care, unsure of why Mr. May had mentioned the topic in the first place. “We ’ad an enjoyable time chattin’. She be quite clever. Ye must be proud to call ’er your own.”

There, that was very diplomatic of him.

Mr. May simply looked to the bright broom bush again. “Very proud,” he mumbled, then he fell back into his thoughts.

August tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if counting the seconds that passed by in Mr. May’s silence. Should August excuse himself to finish his tasks? Or did Mr. May wish for August to pry his thoughts from his mind?

Just as August decided to simply excuse himself, Mr. May spoke again.

“The only problem be…” he mumbled, “she, me Livvy…” He paused again, and August was reminded of the similar way in which Miss May had spoken the night before, as if they both had trouble formulating their thoughts when speaking of a topic with which they didn’t seem entirely comfortable.

August waited in patience, not wishing to rush Mr. May as he finally continued.

“Livvy ain’t very skilled, see,” he said. “Least not in the ways o’ proper society or talkin’.”

August nearly balked. This was the third time he’d heard such a fact about Miss May. Now, more than ever, he simply couldn’t understand it. How could all of these people be so terribly wrong about the woman? Had August missed something last night? No, no, he was certain his conversation with Miss May had been one of the best he’d experienced in years—and it had certainly not been with a woman who couldn’t speak politely.