Suddenly Thomas was there beside her, bending low and coming up with a pair of knitted socks barely large enough to cover his thumbs. She was immediately relieved the basket held none of her own undergarments.
Charlotte watched as he hung the tiny socks in mock concentration. “Hello, Thomas. Here to help Mr. Beebe again?”
“Why—are these his?”
She shook her head, amused.
“Actually, Miss Charlotte, I am here to ask you to take supper with us at the week end. Mother wants to meet you.”
“She does?”
“Well, Lizzy has been going on about you. And, I confess, I have as well.”
She smiled quickly, then bit her lip. “Thank you, but I am afraid I will be gone by then.”
“Gone?”
“Yes. I am leaving my post here. There’s to be a new nurse. In fact, she arrives today.”
“But—” He stared down at her in dismay. “This is a blow. Is ... is this what you want, Miss Charlotte, or ...?”
Mrs. Taylor appeared on the lawn, looking from Thomas to Charlotte and back again. “Good day, Mr. Cox. You have heard the news—Miss Lamb is leaving us?”
“I have just.”
“But you will still come to visit us, will you not?”
“I—”
“Of course you must. Now, I shall leave you to your farewells.” She returned to the cottage, humming a seaman’s tune.
Thomas looked back at Charlotte, his eyes sparking with uncharacteristic emotion. Was it anger?
Charlotte answered his question as though they had not been interrupted. “I am learning, Thomas, that what Iwantis not always the wisest course.”
“Miss Charlotte ...”
She forced a bright smile. “Actually, it is quite a happy turn of events, for the new nurse is a friend of mine. I know you will like her. She was raised on a farm and will so enjoy all the things Lizzy enjoys. I am certain you will all get on famously.”
Thomas had been looking down at the ground while she spoke but now glanced up at her earnestly. “You cannot be so easily replaced, Miss Charlotte.”
Again she bit her lip. “Thank you. You are most kind.”
“Might I at least accompany you into the village to meet the coach?”
She hesitated. “I should not like to trouble you—haven’t you work waiting?”
“The work will always be here, Miss Charlotte. You will not.”
Mrs. Beebe insisted they take the gig to the inn. Leaving Anne with Marie, Charlotte and Thomas rode into Old Shoreham, halting only long enough to pay the shilling-per-horse toll to the boy at the bridge. When they arrived, Thomas helped her down in front of the Red Lion.
“I’ll tie up Old Ned. You go on and greet your friend. I’ll be waiting when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
When the coach arrived, Charlotte stood back while the dust and horses settled and the innkeeper ran out to meet prospective guests. When she saw Sally’s fair head duck low to descend the carriage on the coachman’s hand, she stepped forward to meet her.
“Miss Charlotte!” Sally cried as soon as she saw her, but she did not offer her usual toothy grin. Instead her long face looked forlorn and she clearly had difficulty meeting Charlotte’s gaze. “Please believe me, Miss Charlotte. I didn’t do it—I swear I didn’t. I would never even have thought of it if I’d known it might harm him.”
