“Jake and Willie told us Wolfe’s solicitor met with Lady Longface…er…I mean…Lady Longmorten and Lady Margaret this morning,” Connor said.
“Firstly, who are Jake and Willie?” Grace asked, trying to remain calm and logical—mannerisms with which she always struggled. “And how do they know about your brother’s solicitor and who the man is?”
“Jake and Willie are the smithy’s sons. They know everyone who comes and goes in the village.” Connor pointed at his sister. “And Sissy’s friends saw him too.”
Sissy nodded. “Anne, the vicar’s daughter, and Jenny. Her mama and papa run the inn where Lady Longmorten and Lady Margaret are staying.”
“I see. That still doesn’t answer how they knew for certain that this morning’s visitor was your brother’s solicitor.”
“That’s what we thought too at first,” Connor said. “But then Jenny told us about his name in the book her mama has people sign whenever they take a room. He signedMr. Horace Beeksbie. I remember Wolfe saying that name before when he was telling us about not only being our brother but also our guard. He’s got papers that say he’s supposed to protect us till we get older.”
“You mean your guardian?” Grace gently corrected him.
“Yes.” Sissy bounced in place. “Wolfe is our guardian till we get old enough to take care of ourselves.”
Grace nodded, lacing her fingers together and clenching her hands tighter in her lap. She had never been the patient sort, and keeping the twins on track to get to the meat of the confession was proving to be most trying. “So, your sneaking around discovered that the solicitor had spoken to the Longmortens this morning? That’s good. Your brother intended for him to speak with them at their earliest convenience.”
“But they told the solicitor that they was going to ruin Wolfe,” Connor said.
“Then Mr. Beeksbie told them he had signed papers from folks in the village who had heard them talking about getting rid of us in terrible ways.” Sissy hopped to her feet, unable to sit still any longer.
“How on earth did the two of you learn all of this?” Grace looked all around to ensure no one else was close enough to overhear. “It’s almost as if you were in the room with them.”
“My friends was there with them,” Sissy said, beaming proudly. “The sitting room at the inn has big cupboards all around the room. Jenny and Anne was in one of them having a tea party with their dolls.”
“I see.” Grace clenched her hands so tightly that her nails threatened to tear through the seams of her gloves. “And you are quite certain they heard all of this as you stated?” Afterall, children had active imaginations. Were these two and their compatriots reliable sources of such life-altering information? “And how did the Longmortens react to the news that Mr. Beeksbie gave them?”
Both Connor and Sissy ducked their heads, and their little shoulders sagged. “They said if they couldn’t ruin our brother, then they would do their best to ruin you ’cause they know you are the one Wolfe really likes,” Sissy whispered.
“And how do they know that?” Grace hazarded to ask, even though she suspected the culprits stood before her.
“We might have told her,” Connor said, mumbling so softly that she had to lean forward to hear him. “But that was afore her and Lady Margaret moved out. We told them right afore we runned away and went to the rock gorge where you and Wolfe found us and took us to your house.”
Sissy rubbed her upper arm and flinched as if in pain. “Lady Longmorten caught hold of me when I ran too close to her table earlier. She twisted my arm something fierce and said she would do worse than that the next time she got the chance.”
“What?” Grace pushed up the child’s sleeve and discovered red, finger-shaped stripes already purpling into angry bruises. Rage consumed her as she gently drew Sissy into a hug. “I want you and Connor to find Merry, Blessing, or Fortuity and stay close to them while I deal with this. No one harms a child on Broadmere land, and more importantly, no one ever harms a friend of mine.”
“Are we in trouble?” Connor asked with a wistful glance at the herd of children playing off in the distance.
“Absolutely not,” Grace said. “You have done nothing wrong. I simply want you with my sisters because I want you safe and have no idea what that pair of cruel harpies may try next when I escort them to their carriage.” She rose, shook out the folds of her white walking dress, and tugged the wrinkles from her bluespencer with its bronze buttons. She was ready to wage war. The Longmortens and Sir Andrew had returned to their table and sat sipping their tea as if they were royalty. Teeth clenched, she nudged the children toward her sisters. “Off with you, now. I will be along shortly after I see to the rubbish that has blown into our picnic.”
Without another look back, she charged forward, her fury fixated on Lady Longmorten. How dare that woman hurt Sissy! As soon as she reached her, she grabbed her by the arm, in the same way the cruel hag had handled the child. “To your feet, Lady Longmorten,” Grace said, barely managing to keep her tone even. “Allow me to escort you to your carriage.” She dragged the dowager countess up from her chair.
“What on earth?” Lady Longmorten stumbled a few steps, then wrenched her arm free. “How dare you! No one handles me in such a manner.”
“No one handles children in such a manner either,” Grace said, loud and bold. “Yet you left bruises on little Sissy’s arm when she drew too close, and then you threatened her with what you hoped to visit upon her later.”
The old woman’s mouth fell open, and she clutched her white-gloved hands to the base of her throat. “I have never been so insulted in all my life.”
“Then I am proud to be the first to call you out for your cruelty.” Grabbing hold of Lady Longmorten’s arm again, Grace turned to Lady Margaret. “As far as I am concerned, you’re no better. I suggest you gather your things and accompany your mother out the gate, or I’ll be more than happy to drag you out as well.”
“Now see here.” Sir Andrew rose, red as fire and sputtering like a boiling teakettle. “You will remove your hands and your rudeness from our presence immediately.”
“Might I suggest you remember where you are, Sir Andrew?” Grace offered the fool her sweetest smile. “This is Broadmere land, and your welcome here has run its course. Leave. Now. And might I suggest you sleep with one eye open and never turn your back on these two? They can’t be trusted. Any person who mistreats children is capable of anything.”
A collective gasp all around filled Grace with a mild twinge of regret—not because she had confronted Lady Longmorten but because she had ruined Serendipity’s picnic.
She yanked on the old woman’s spindly arm again. “Come along, you. Or shall I summon the constable to cart you out?”
