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Timmons to look after his interests or was the steward too firmly entrenched in his father's way of doing things?
    They stared eye-to-eye for an agonizing minute before Timmons dropped his gaze.
    "Mr. Timmons, I need your help, but I prefer you keep it between the two of us. What say you?"
    "Your lordship, I think highly of you, more highly than your father, to be sure. The last six months have brought great improvement to the estate…But, your father is a hard man. If he were to recover and find I went against him…I cannot afford my family to lose everything."
    "I understand, though I do not believe my father will recover. I should like to put you in mind of…situations that may arise as a result of his death. Are you interested?"
    "Aye. Perhaps we should inspect the fencing on the far fields. I believe Lord Newburn's steward was complaining of lost sheep."
    Neither spoke until they reached the west boundary. It was quite a distance, and John mentally reviewed all that might be pertinent for Timmons to learn. When they reached the broken section of fence, John reined in his horse and faced Timmons.
    "I want all the servants on the estate to be well-advanced in age. No youngsters are to be left alone at any time. My uncle…does not have respect for their person."
    "You feel they might suffer harm from the man?"
    John nodded. "I have plans for the harvest as well. I would ask that you keep two account books. One for my uncle's perusal, one to account for my new scheme."
    "And what would that be, Lord John?"
    "I want you to purchase a new strain of stock. I do not care what it is, that is not the point."
    "What is the point?"
    "Put up a new fence across the back of old man Burns' croft. Tell everyone it is for the new stock. Tell my Uncle it is the end of our property, that we sold the rest...whatever was not entailed. He won't remember the details from his childhood. The grounds have grown too much.
    "Then I want you to build a new barn in the midst of those woods and fill it with anything we will need for the winter and a ways beyond." John glanced at Mr. Timmons, but the steward didn't appear shocked or wary. "I do not trust my uncle. He will sell everything and spend all the money, or else he will gamble it away. We could lose Somerset Park."
    "I see. Do you think you can keep such a thing hidden from the tenants and your neighbors?"
    John shrugged. "If the neighbors say anything to Uncle about new stock, he will likely disregard it. From his comments today, he has no interest in the running of the estate, only in its income. And the tenants…make sure everyone has a proper roof and anything else they need before my father…goes. I'm not sure what we will go through to get funds afterwards."
    "It might work. There is another way we can get funds."
    "Yes?"
    "I have long thought Lord Raeburn is sympathetic to your…er…predicament. We could probably have his steward sell the crops we conceal…if the situation became critical."
    "An excellent idea. But let us wait until we have no recourse before we involve another lord. I know it will not be convenient to carry the harvest to a distant barn. Perhaps you could invite the gypsies to help you."
    "It's a calculated risk. You tell them where your hidden stores are, and they're likely to steal them. It's not as if we can keep a guard out there."
    "Let us think on this, Timmons. I must get back." He looked once more at the broken stones lying near the fence. "And send someone to repair all the fencing."
    They turned their horses back to the manor, again riding in silence past fields golden and ripe for harvest, through cool forests and dense trees, where they rode single file until they reached the stables.
    As John prepared to dismount, Timmons called out to him. "Lord John!"
    He turned.
    The steward swung down from his horse and held out his hand. "Tis a good plan, your Grace. I will take care of it immediately." He bowed and walked away.
    John kept a tight rein on his