My Notorious Gentleman's

#24

Ten days later, Trevor sat in the middle of the meadow on a clear day chewing on a long blade of grass and looking intensely at Grange.

He's not entirely sure what he's doing here. Now must be the worst time in history to buy farmland, with uncertain weather conditions.

But at least now the weather is clear, and Trevor is sure that next year nature will return to normal.

But in the meantime, everyone who has eyes can see that this village needs to eat, and he is the type of person who can overcome the problem by working hard, instead of running away from the situation.

Maybe this is a good step, he thought, staring at the building that was there. Also cheap, given the condition of this land.

At last, curiosity overcame him, and there was nothing he could do, the torment of the man whose life had always had a purpose, a purpose, and a strategy.

Trevor must admit it feels good to be able to escape from the sight of probing in London.

Honestly, he was not sure if there was any other place that could accept it, without involving his past, which was full of intrigue, danger, and betrayal.

The village of Miss Kenwood is so small and ordinary, located in the interior of England, to make Trevor quite stunned, because this place is exactly like a soldier's dream of a dream house.

It only took about sixty seconds to drive from the center of Thistleton's hustle, even that was included when he was stopped by the shepherd boy who tried to direct his sheep running around.

Trevor watched this extremely unfamiliar world in a daze as it sped. They passed through a row of shops that provide basic necessities: shoemaking shops, weaving shops, clothes, meat, bread, and blacksmiths.

There are some simple houses. The age of the houses is quite diverse, the shape also varies, some are made of stone with a thatched roof, some are from wood. Then a large hall to gather and a spacious shelter house.

The old men were playing in a fell under an oak tree across from Pastor Kenwood's church.

The church tower glittered under the blue sky. Then it's over, that's all, and Trevor's glad he didn't sneeze, because he's gonna miss it all.

Leaving the center of Thistleton's hustle, or Thimbleton, Trevor's new name for the village, he took a drive with a property agent who pointed a little south, near one of the entrances to the village.

The river with its not-so-rush waters split the swaths of farmland separated by hedges, and they passed through an old Roman-style bridge to cross the river.

Then their train kept moving, until the property agent told Trevor to turn his train to the right. There are no gates or markers, but the man said they have now arrived at the estate to be sold.

The agent informs Trevor that the previous owner, Colonel Avery, was an eccentric old man who used his wealth to build a regiment, but never returned since the war. Grange has been abandoned ever since.

So, here comes Trevor now.

The wind rippled among the high expanse of grass and whispered among the shade of the trees. The birds sing and chirp, in the background Trevor can hear the ceaseless gurgling of the river water, but other than that sound, this place is quite quiet, this place is, trevor could almost hear the buzz of the honeybees a few meters away.