“No inconvenience at all. I’m delighted to meet you. Indeed, I cannot express what a relief it is to know that there is someone else with an interest in the ponies. After my dear husband passed, I feared all his work would be undone. You can imagine my relief when I received your letter.”

Clara gave Neville a bewildered look.

He was no less confused than she was. “I’d thought… I’d hoped you…you might t-take the mare and foal I rescued. That they could come here.”

“And live in safety near to the moors? A splendid notion. Mr. Atkyns often kept the young or injured ones thus, until they were well enough for release. We have many who still reside in the paddocks and shelters. And many more in the main barn, awaiting the annual sale on the moor.”

“You sell them?” A hint of disapproval crept into Clara’s voice. “But I thought—”

“And breed them, too. Mr. Atkyns was resolved to replenish their numbers. Because of him, there are more ponies on the moor, and more ponies in use hereabouts, as well. It’s the only way to save them.” Mrs. Atkyns smiled. “Were my husband still alive, he would undoubtedly invite you to bring your two ponies here. You could have released them onto the moor yourself one day. Or kept them here, if they had become too tame.”

The door creaked open again, and the housekeeper entered with the tea tray. As Mrs. Atkyns poured, she chattered on about her husband’s work, and about the many virtues of Hadley House—the superior drainage, the quality of the meadow hay, and the proximity to Dartmoor.

“I declare, I will be sad to leave this place, but as I told Mrs. Perry, with the right people, the farm will continue on just as if Mr. Atkyns was still alive. And God willing, the next residents will keep on Mrs. Perry and the other servants. They’ll find it more efficient than hiring new staff.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am.” Neville feared he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Are you saying that…that you’re selling the farm?”

“Not selling, sir. But I am, regrettably, unable to renew the lease on the property. It’s far too much to manage at my age, and conserving the Dartmoor ponies was my husband’s passion, not mine.” Mrs. Atkyns sipped her tea. “No. I’m to retire to Bath, where I shall share premises with my sister. It will give me an opportunity to finish the book I’m writing on the flora and fauna of the West Country.”

Neville stared at her as understanding sank in. A faint sense of excitement stirred within his breast. “You’re looking for someone to…to t-take over the lease.”