Chapter 4

Sir Henry returned to the Coleworths a few days later. After an impressive and meaningful philosophical conversation with the whole family, Sir Henry spoke privately to Josiah and then proposed to Catherine. “First I have to summon my ancestors to ask their permission too.” Horrified, Sir Henry ran out the door decrying pagan upstarts. “I guess that’s off”, Catherine shrugged. “Maybe I should quit trying to shock people. Whose litmus test is superior, the one who wants a proper partner, or the one who wants one who will accept-me-as-I-am. Neither and both. I don’t deserve him and he doesn’t deserve me. She tearfully went to the chicken coop to console herself in their simplicity. To her surprise, Sir Henry found her there and said, “You were kidding weren’t you?” “Yes, but that doesn’t mean that talking to one’s ancestors is pagan.” “Maybe not. I think we should spend the rest of our lives talking about it.” Sir Henry took the bowl of chicken feed and made the outline of a five-pointed star on the ground, around which he enclosed a heart shape. As the chickens were eating it Catherine laughed but smeared the remains around with her foot. She crossed herself just in case. “We may end up corrupting each other,” he said. “But isn’t that better than being alone?” “I don’t know, but I can’t help it.” With that he took her in his arms and kissed her willing but trembling mouth.

The End

Chapter 3

After a few days, Mr. Carl Coleworth announced to Sir Henry that his nephew, Josiah, had returned and that the damaged cart was now again ready for service.

“Capital,” said Sir Henry. He summoned the groomsman to make ready his horse.

This time he was greeted by the sight of Josiah splitting logs.

“Mr. Coleworth, Sir Henry John Essex at your service.” He said joyfully as he dismounted.

“Of course, honored I’m sure,” came the stony reply. Sir Henry could not tell if he was being patronized or not. One could never be certain about intelligent tenants.

“I wonder if your Uncle Carl told you of our conversation during your absence.”

“As long as we’re getting straight to the point, Sir, I would like to thank you for loaning your very interesting books to me. It was very magnanimous.”

“You are welcome on one condition, that you invite me into your house.”

“If the mistress of said house doesn’t mind.”

“That being my condition too.”

Sir Henry wondered if this deference to womankind was indeed a portent of what happens when tenants become educated.

Josiah proceeded behind the small stone and beam cottage to find his wife in their kitchen garden. After a length of time that indicated that there were bumps in the conversation, he emerged as stony as before. “This way please.”

Inside the wooden door, Sir Henry’s eyes adjusted to the light limited to the one window whose wooden trap door lay open on this balmy day. Josiah pulled out the chair opposite and they both sat down.

“Cozy,” offered Sir Henry.

“So you are curious about the brains of lowly tenant cabbage farmers, Sir. I’ll tell you how I came to read your books. My father first wandered in your library as a child as he and Carl were sons of the previous gardener’s assistant. He picked up the Iliad and began our family habit of borrowing books, replacing them once read.”

“Do you discuss them with your family?” Henry wondered if discussions would lead to a desire to change their circumstances.

“Yes, we share with each other what is of interest in the books.”

“Are you content?”

“Yes, Sir. We are content.”

“Curious.”

“Why so?”

“Some believe that once a tenant has become educated that it will make him discontent with his circumstances and seek to better himself in other ways.”

“I would say that I should be very discontent if I did not have books to read. My mind would become restless.”

“That is exactly my feeling,” said Sir Henry.

“However, there is a problem.”

Sir Henry did not expect Josiah to mention a difficulty when he was a beneficiary of the situation.

“And what is that?”

“’With knowledge brings responsibility.’”

“Ah. You do not wish to upset the status quo, but fear it may be required of you?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you believe you may be responsible for?”

“Teaching other tenants and making books available to them as well.”

“Do you believe that a desire to be so engaged exists in other tenants?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Have you ever talked about it to anyone?”

“My friends and extended family are aware of our enjoyment of books, but have not expressed an interest in joining our activity. I have not asked them why not.”

Mrs. Coleworth and her daughter came into the house carrying various vegetables which they placed on the kitchen pantry.

“Sir Henry, I believe you’re acquainted with my wife, Susannah, and my daughter, Catherine? Albert is tending the cabbages.”

“I’m pleased to be more formally introduced,” he said with a bow towards each of them with was met with shallow curtsies.

“Would you care for some mead, Sir Henry?” Susannah offered.

“Splendid, Madam.”

Catherine went to the buttery to fetch the refreshment. When she returned Sir Henry said, “Your father has been telling me of the family practice of reading books from the estate library, Madam and Miss Catherine.” Before she could question his feelings about finding out their source, he continued towards Mr. Coleworth,

“As you know, it is not customary for tenants to be so occupied. Are you aware that there are some who would object if they knew?”

“It surely must be so or my father would not have originally introduced the habit of not talking to others about the estate library. Neither did he speak of his reading when selling our cabbages or in paying the rent. This was his main dealing with the aristocracy and those more closely connected to them.”

“Then why did you respond to my post?”

“Your post!” he chuckled a few moments before scratching his head. “I reckon one risk leads to another.”

They both raised their mead in pleasant silence as the ladies turned towards their vegetables. After downing the last of his glass, Sir Henry got up and said, “I’ve interrupted you too long. I’ll contact you again soon.”

“It was an honor, Sir Henry,” said Josiah as Sir Henry removed himself after bowing to all present.

Once outside he saw Albert coming into the yard. “Ah, Master Albert, coming in from the cabbages?” winked Sir Henry.

“Sir Henry, I presume?”

“Stanley! Good show. Goodbye for now.”

Enigmatic indeed, thought Sir Henry to himself.

The Enigmatic Coleworths (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2

Not too long after, an elderly man approached with a slight limp.

“Yes Sir?” was all he said.

“Yes, are you Mr. Coleworth?”

“Yes Sir, Carl Coleworth.”

“What relation are you to Josiah Coleworth whose farm lies across the meadow?”

“Uncle, Sir.”

“Let me ask you, do you read?”

“Yes Sir.”

“What do you read?”

“Plant labels and such mostly, Sir. And the Church Hymnal.”

“What about Plato?”

“No, Sir. Don’t have much use for that.”

“Curious. Are you aware that your nephew reads Plato?”

The gardener’s assistant’s eyes went to the ground.

“Yes, Sir.”

“It’s all right, Mr. Coleworth. I am very interested in finding out about the intellectual pursuits of my tenants. No one is in trouble. If you are not interested in the books in our library, how do you think your nephew became so?”

“I’m not sure, Sir, all I know is that on my afternoon off, when visiting my nephew, he usually asks me to bring a book or two next time. Sorry for not mentioning it to anyone, Sir.”

“No matter, I understand. In future, please inform me when you wish to borrow anything.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Sir Henry John Essex had always been a curious person himself. He greedily consumed the books required during his schooling, as well as many others, and continued the habit while helping his father manage the family estate. It was customary for gentlemen to be so engaged, but for tenant farmers and their sons and daughters, well, he had never heard of it.

He decided next day to pay another call on the Coleworths.

This time he was greeted at the gate by Mrs. Coleworth who was leading the cow into the barn for its hay and oats before the evening milking.

“Good Day, Mrs. Coleworth?” She nodded in assent.

“ I am Sir Henry John Essex. I spoke to your daughter yesterday. Mr. Coleworth has also written me explaining his necessary leave to aid his cousin. How are you faring in his absence?”

“Thank you, Sir. We are faring well. Catherine mentioned your kind visit. Albert can do the heavier work while Josiah’s away.”

“Let me repeat my availability should you require it.” Sir Henry said as he bowed and turned towards his horse.

“Thank you, Sir,” said Mrs. Coleworth.

“Proud folk,” Sir Henry thought to himself as he rode away, “not wanting to ask for help.” Or was he being proud in thinking they would suddenly need him once they were aware of his proximity? Perhaps it was he that needed them. For what? A diversion. From what? Boredom with his aristocratic life.

He was never a materialistic person, preferring nature, theology and philosophy to military, colonial, and estate matters. The word that was distasteful to him about all three was the word, “acquire”. It bespoke of greed and selfishness. One would think he would have been a philanthropist with his distaste for taking, but giving carried with it a certain presumptuousness too. Who was he to decide what was best for people? His loyalty to his family was such that he would be a responsible Lord once his father died, but he would not take pains to either enlarge or diminish the estate. Stability and responsibility were noble enough goals for him.

If he needed these tenants, at least to satisfy his curiosity, so what? He decided to return home and wait for Mr. Coleworth’s return. Meanwhile he’d suggest to his mother that she not speak of the tenant’s book-reading to his father. Lady Essex had never stressed a need for class distinctions, not that the subject had come up much. Her manner to the servants was equinanimous, calling them by their titles and surnames, and considering their welfare when delegating duties. In contrast, his father’s keen sense of proper order and efficiency would be offended by the idea of the intellectual advancement of tenants. The link between education and inefficiency in the lower classes appeared to be more of a psychological one. Once the workers’ minds were broadened, they would become discontent with the narrow scope of their menial lives. They would become greedy like their masters apparently, and there must not be enough material things to go around for that.

The Enigmatic Coleworths

Chapter 1

Sir Henry drew his horse up from his gallop at the fence. Over the rolling fields he spied the little cottage of one of his family’s tenants. He wasn’t supposed to wonder what went on there as long as they kept up with their yield of cabbages. Still, he wondered if they wondered about the goings on of his class. He dismounted and drew from his saddle-pack paper and pencil on and with which he wrote,

Dear Tenants,

It is my belief that you do not concern yourself with what occurs beyond this fence. You are content with your own lives and perceive ours to be beyond reach in both possibility and knowledge. I will tell you that it is my impression that the responsibilities that come with wealth also bring a stifling quality to luxurious life. The amount of choices one is faced with induces an unsuspected amount of stress. I would imagine that a life taken up with hard labor and no choices brings a stronger sense of peace. Is your life peaceful?

Sincerely,

Sir Henry John Essex

Sir Henry folded the letter, removed one of the leather tongs from his saddle, and affixed the note to the other side of the fence.

Next day he came back and found that the paper remained. Removing it from the fence he saw that it had additional writing on it.

Dear Sir Henry,

Au contraire. We are not such simple folk. In our spare time, between cabbage picking, clothes wringing, butter making, candle-dipping and cabbage stew boiling we find time to read borrowed copies of Plato, Chaucer, and Pythagoras. Granted we do not have the burden of choosing which fine goods we would like to purchase or which country we would like to tour, but we find the questions of existence and immortality enough to keep us wakeful many a night in quandrous sweating. The rich do not have a monopoly on stress.

Demystifyingly,

Josiah Coleworth

After pondering over the response, Sir Henry prepared another draft,

Dear Mr. Coleworth,

Thank you for your informative and surprising reply. As you have sought to find common ground, I would like to meet with you to see if it be adequate for further conversation. Since you have fewer opportunities for such occupations and, being on holiday, I am at your disposal, I await your apprising me of time and place.

Till then,

Sir Henry

Next day there was another reply.

Dear Sir Henry,

I am honored by your request, but regret that I am off to visit my cousin in the next county as his wagon was destroyed by hitting a ditch exceedingly hard due to a runaway mule. The mule is fine, but the wagon will require as many hands as possible to fix. I do not know when I will return.

Regretfully,

Josiah Coleworth

Hoping to catch Mr. Coleworth before his departure in order to offer monetary assistance, Sir Henry rode around to the opening in the fence and headed over the cabbage fields towards the cottage. A young woman who was feeding the chickens in the yard turned her blonde, curly head at the sounds of hooves, revealing surprised large, blue eyes.

“Good-day,” Sir Henry spoke with aristocratic confidence despite not knowing if he should say Miss or Madam. The girl quickly bowed her head in acknowledgement.

“I am looking for Mr. Josiah Coleworth.”

“My father is Mr. Josiah Coleworth, Sir. He left early this morning and will be gone for a few days.”

“Ah, too bad. I am Sir Henry John Essex. Will his absence require more hardship to those who remain?”

Curtsying she said, “Thank you, Sir, but no. Unless one counts having less reading-time a hardship. My brother, mother, and I can manage.”

“You read too!” Sir Henry could not stifle his surprise. “Pray tell what authors.”

“The prayer book, the Bible and a few others.”

“Only fitting.” Her embarrassment in answering revealed a desire to be respected.

“Could you please tell your Father that I request notification when he returns home. And if you need anything in the mean time, please send word to the house. Good day.”

Sir Henry rode back, happily distracted by his new protégées.

“Mother, you’ll never guess!” Sir Henry called upon entering the great, stone manor that had been his family’s country estate for generations.

“In here, Henry,” his mother called from the dining room where she was adjusting the great bouquet of roses, snapdragons, and fern fronds.

“The tenants are educated intellectuals! The father says he reads borrowed books on philosophy, and the daughter reads the Bible and prayer books!”

“I wonder from where they’ve borrowed these books and who taught them to read?”

“I have a suspicion.” Sir Henry left to go to the library. He picked up The Complete Works of Plato, flipped through the pages, and there on the second to last chapter, was a dried cabbage-leaf bookmark.

“Well-done, Mr. Coleworth!” exclaimed Sir Henry. “Now who assisted in this “borrowing”?

Sir Henry thought through the servants. “Mother!” Henry called as he returned to the dining room. “Do we have any servants named “Coleworth” in the house or stables?”

“Let me ask Mrs. Ludlum.” Lady Miriam Essex rang for the head housekeeper.

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Mrs. Ludlum, do we have anyone under our employ with the name “Coleworth”?

“Yes, my Lady. I believe the gardener’s assistant bears that name.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ludlum.”

“Would you like me to fetch him, my Lady?”

Lady Essex turned to her son, eyebrows raised.

“Why yes, Mrs. Ludlum. If you would.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“I’ll be on back lawn.”

“Very good, Sir.”

Sir Henry passed through the marble halls, descended the stone steps and walked out towards the lawn furniture to wait and think of how to broach the subject with the other Mr. Coleworth.