“Very well,” she said frostily. “I’ll instruct Mrs. Hodge to bring plenty of hot tea.”
“Thank you.”
Without another word, she turned and stalked back to the house.
“Aurelia…”
Sighing, he followed in her wake. Never letting her stray too far.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Aurelia quietly fumed as she guided the servants into laying tables filled with simple food—bread and cheese and stew. She swallowed her ire as she welcomed the villagers into their home, smiling generously and organizing blankets to be brought and the fires to be piled high.
Village opinion had dramatically shifted toward Sebastian.
She glanced at the way he sat, easy, having changed into new dry clothes, and entertained some of the men. They, in turn, didn’t view him with nearly as much suspicion and anger any longer. A few families still kept to the periphery, taking only what hunger demanded, but they were far outnumbered.
She was glad for it. Truly. But while he'd been out there earning their trust, she'd been trapped here, pacing and useless, with no way of knowing if he was alive or drowned in some ditch. She could have helped! Should have been beside him, supporting the people who needed them both. Instead, she'd been left behindlike a child sent to her room, denied the chance to be useful and robbed of any certainty he was safe.
All she ever wanted was for him to be safe.
A village woman stopped beside her, a sleeping girl in her arms. “Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace.”
Aurelia replaced her scowl with a sincere smile. “It is our pleasure.”
“I don’t know what I would have done if it weren’t for His Grace.” The woman looked across at Sebastian, something soft in her eyes. “He pulled my little Sarah from the water, you know. If he hadn’t been there, I shudder to think what might have happened.” She glanced back at Aurelia. “It strikes me we haven’t been very welcoming to Your Graces, but that should change. It’s our prejudices, really.”
“Rumor can be a powerful thing,” Aurelia nodded.
“Truly, it can.” She shifted her daughter on her hip. The girl would have been four or five at most, with dirty blond hair and a pale, dirty face. The mother, too, seemed to have fallen on harder times, her stringy hair slipping from her bun, and her hard face angular from not enough meals.
Instead of anger, Aurelia felt pity—and relief that the girl had been spared. Her mother did not have to grieve her death. That was something worth celebrating.
“He did it because it was the right thing to do,” Aurelia said, smiling at the woman. “And I’m certain he feels just the same about it.”
“Well, I hope so.Mrs. Qualley, by the by.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Qualley.”
“Our family runs the butcher's in the village,” she offered, a touch of awkwardness in her voice. “I know His Grace has had to… send away for his meat and such, but if there's anything you or your husband need, we’d be happy to serve you.”
“We’ll be sure to ask,” Aurelia replied kindly. Mrs. Qualley nodded and smiled before returning to the food table for more bread and cheese.
She wondered if the butchers had survived. Perhaps not if their daughter was washed down the street. The Qualleys likely had nothing, and yet out of gratitude, they were offering what little they had at her disposal.
Her throat closed. There was no one as generous as those who had nothing.
She resolved to speak to Cook and arrange for food deliveries to be made in the village. If they brought some food into the inn, perhaps, and provided hand-outs for those who needed it, that would go a long way to helping rebuild lives.
For the remainder of the evening, Aurelia kept her smile close on her face, only letting it slip when they retired for the night, allowing the villagers some privacy in their makeshift beds. Both they and the servants had originally balked at taking up some of the manor’s grand bedrooms. The servants, she knew, suspected the villagers of having light fingers—and perhaps that was true. And perhaps, having grown up in near poverty, the villagers were intimidated by the opulence.
If Aurelia hadn’t been exposed to it from an early age, perhaps she might have been, too. Certainly, it had been overwhelming to think herself mistress of it.
How quickly that had changed.
Sebastian followed on her heels, and she waited until they were firmly in their private chambers before whirling with a brandished finger.
He held up both his hands in defense. “I needed to help, Aurelia.”
