#james stringer

“Aye, Mr Robinson has a sensible mind and an even temper. He is well-respected by the workers.”

Charlotte smiled to herself, as that was how she would have described young Mr Stringer to anyone who asked after him.

“And he knows the building plans almost as well as Mr Parker and I do,” Mr Stringer continued. 

“He is also a particular friend of yours. Is he not?”

Mr Stringer gave a small nod. “He is.”

“I thought as much when I observed the two of you at the cricket match. Your team appeared to have a good shorthand among them, but particularly you and Mr Robinson.”

When Miss Heywood mentioned her observation of him at the previous day’s match, Stringer thought of how his eyes had kept meeting hers when he had looked into the crowd. The bright smile she had directed to him and the enthusiasm with which she had been cheering him on (until the point she began to play for the opposing team, that is) had been encouragement that she might return his affections. But as they discussed his friendship with Mr Robinson, he could hear his friend’s voice reminding him that young ladies—even those as keen and agreeable as Miss Heywood—were not likely to make their preferences known until they were absolutely certain of a man’s interest.

“Does he share your interest in architecture?” Charlotte asked.

“More than most in my acquaintance. Though perhaps not as much as my present company,” he said, throwing Charlotte a small smile. “But he is quite congenial and is apt to humour me when I have new ideas for designs.”

Charlotte smiled to herself, knowing how often Mr Stringer liked to sketch. “The construction seems to be coming along rather nicely. It is going to be the most handsome gathering of buildings when it is completed.”

“Thank you for saying so, Miss Heywood,” he said kindly. However, his lips soon pulled back into a grim expression. “But I’m not sure that it is.”

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