“He cannot be serious,” she said. “Did you tell him how insulted you were? Did you give him the set-down of his life? It is time somebody did.”
“I did not feel insulted.”
“And why you?” she asked. “Does he believe that by offering you employment he will be currying favor with me?”
She glared. He half smiled.
And a thought struck her.
“Why have you not set out on your journey?” she asked him. “Why did you come?”
“To say goodbye,” he said. “I had been delayed anyway and thought another hour would make no great difference. Goodbye, Samantha. Try not to think too hardly of him.”
She watched him turn and make his way back through the gap and move in the direction of the cottage. Tramp started to go after him and then turned to stare at her, his tail waving, waiting for her to come too.
To say goodbye.
I had been delayed anyway and thought another hour would make no great difference.
She went hurrying after him and caught up with him just above the rock where she had left her shoes.
“You came to tell me, did you not?” she said. “You have accepted his offer.”
“I have not,” he said. “I will be leaving as planned within the hour.”
“Oh, Ben,” she said, setting a hand on his arm. “Come to the house and sit down. Mrs. Price will bring us some tea. You came to ask me what I thought, then. You would not accept without my approval. Am I right?”
“I will not accept without your approval,” he said. “And you do not approve. That is the end of the matter.”
“No, it is not,” she said with a sigh as they reached the garden gate and she held it open for him. “I was insulted for you. But you were not insulted. You must tell me why not. And you must tell me why on earth you would consider taking employment with the owner of a coal mine.”
“Coal mines,” he said. “And ironworks.”
They went into the house, and Samantha went back to the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Price while he went on his way to the sitting room. It was only as she joined him there that it struck her fully—he was still here. She had thought never to see him again, but here he was seated in his usual chair, his canes propped beside it.
“Your grandfather claims to be a good judge of character,” he told her. “He believes I have the abilities and experience and qualities of character he has been looking for in an overseer. Apart from all the knowledge and experience I would have to acquire, being in charge of everything would have certain similarities to being a military officer.”
“All you ever wanted to do in life,” she said softly.
“And,” he said, “it is something I could do despite my disability.”
“Yes,” she said.
“I would not be here to trouble you,” he said. “I would have to live and work in Swansea and the Rhondda Valley. I need never come here again. If I accept the offer, I will be leaving immediately, just as I planned anyway.”
“Then why,” she asked him, “did you need my approval?”
“I would be working for your grandfather,” he said, “from whom you may choose to remain estranged. And … Samantha, you are his heir. If he were to die suddenly, I might be working for you until a replacement could be found.”
She sat back in her chair and gripped the arms. Her grandfather’s heir? But she would think of that later.
“Oh, Ben,” she said, “this is something you really want to do, is it not? And now I can see why. It was blind of me not to realize it immediately. It is just the sort of thing for which you have been searching.”
“I’ll not do it,” he said, “if it will make you uncomfortable.”
“Why did he offer you this?” she asked, frowning. “Was it just on this instinct he says he has to judge character? Or does it have something to do with me?”
He looked steadily back at her for a few silent moments. “He wants me to do it on a trial basis for a few months,” he said, “so that we can both decide if I am the right man for the job. He wants me to come to Cartref close to Christmas to discuss it and to draw up a contract if we both wish for it.”
She might see him again, then?
“Before setting the month,” he said, “he asked when your husband had died last year.”
She thought a moment. “My year of mourning will be over by then.”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Price came in with the tray, and Samantha got to her feet to cross to the window.
“He is manipulating us,” she said when the housekeeper had left.
“Yes,” he said. “I believe he is, though it is a benevolent type of manipulation. He wants me gone without delay. I daresay he is afraid of what gossip might do to you. At the same time, he believes we have feelings for each other—both of us.”
She turned her head to look back at him.
“And he genuinely believes I am the right man for the job,” he said.
“Do we have feelings for each other?” she asked.
“I cannot answer for you,” he said. “But yes, I have feelings.”
She waited, but he did not say what those feelings were.
“By Christmas,” she said, “everything will have changed—for you and for me.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But nothing would work now, would it?”
Christmas was an eternity in the future. But not as long as his going away altogether and never coming back.