“My lady,” young Mr. Thornbridge murmured, with just the correct degree of deference in his tone as he made his leg.
Elizabeth was impressed. She inclined her head slightly. “You are not, Mr. Thornbridge, a man of the cloth like your father?”
“No indeed, my lady. I am a manager with Waddley Spice and Tea Company in London.”
“Ah, I have heard of them.”
“They are very successful, my lady.”
Elizabeth’s eyes danced merrily. “To be sure.” Not for the world would she divulge to this serious gentleman quite how she knew of Waddley’s. The Honorable Mrs. Cecilia Waddley, sole owner after the death of her husband, had been born the Honorable Miss Cecilia Haukstorm, granddaughter of a duke, niece of an earl. She had virtually been sold into marriage tothe highest bidder to pay her father’s and brother’s prodigious gambling debts. Though she had been cut off from society at her marriage, her widowhood saw the doors reopen to her, for not even the highest sticklers continued her omission from their invitation lists. She was a delightful ninnyhammer, though given to blue megrims, vapors, and sundry other ailments she swore were constantly threatening to take her life from her. Her dramatic highs and lows were considered by society to be as entertaining as Elizabeth’s own tantrums had been. No doubt they were filling her place to a nicety.
“You are lucky to get time away from your ledgers and quills.”
“My, ah, my employer is considerate of familial obligations to the point of insistence.”
“Yes,” Reverend Thornbridge said, the twinkle in his eye belying his frown, “and here I thought I’d managed to get rid of this young whelp.”
Elizabeth laughed delightedly. “You don’t fool me in the slightest, sir. You’re as proud as a peacock of him.”
“Please don’t tell him that!” David exclaimed. “You’ll start him spouting off about the sins of pride and you’ll never get out of here.”
The Reverend Thornbridge harrumphed. “Now don’t you go listening to my boy here. Too much city in him to my mind. Seems to me he’s the one who needs the lecture.”
David Thornbridge groaned, but his father chose only to spare him a quick sliding glance before continuing. “But tell me, my child, is there any way I can be of assistance to you in adjusting to your new home?”
“Actually, Reverend, there is. I am in need of servants. Many of the villagers have come to help clean the manor, and they’ve been good, decent people. Unfortunately, the people who have come to interview for permanent positions do not seem cut of the same cloth.”
“Let me guess, the people who have come to apply have all been brought to you by Mr. Tunning,” David suggested drily.
“David!” scolded the reverend.
“No sense wrapping it up in clean linen, Father.”
“No, please, Reverend Thornbridge,” interposed Elizabeth. “David is not implying anything I haven’t already guessed.” She sighed. “There is definitely something strange going on, though I don’t know precisely what as yet. Nonetheless, I still need servants, and as you surmise, I do not want any of Tunning’s ilk. The problem is, it appears none of the village people will come forward to me directly.”
The reverend frowned. "I know. I can’t tell you all, as I don’t have facts, only suspicions. But I can make a suggestion.” He spoke slowly, capturing her full attention with his eyes. “If you are planning to visit any of your tenant farms, you may wish to talk to Mary Geddy.”
Out of the corner of her eye Elizabeth saw David Thornbridge suddenly smile and nod, and this piqued her curiosity. “I’m afraid I don’t recall meeting anyone by the name of Geddy. Could you give me her direction?”
“She lives with her daughter and son-in-law, Ellie and Nat Humphries, and their son Gerald.”
“They’re at the Home farm!”
“Yes, but remember to visit them when you’re making your rounds.”
Then Elizabeth understood. She wasn’t to appear to seek out Mrs. Geddy, only to discover her. It was obviously for someone’s protection, but from whom and why? “Isn’t it fortuitous,” she said brightly, “that I’m planning just such a round of calls for tomorrow?”
David’s smile widened into a grin. “Yes, isn’t it? It is a great deal too bad I have to quit the neighborhood tomorrow. I should have liked to be around for this.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in inquiry, and even though neither Thornbridge was inclined to say more, she felt she had discovered allies.
The next morning, a self-satisfied Elizabeth trekked down the well-worn lane to the Home farm. She had taken the reverend’s suggestions and visited the other farms. She was saddened to discover the tenants there a cringing lot. She promised herself she’d see that attitude changed. She hoped she would not find the same feeling at the Home farm. She glanced up from the ground before her to see its neat buildings in the distance. No, they would certainly be as different as their farm was from the others. She had high expectations for this visit, and her steps hastened.
A grizzled man and his younger image came out of the bam. Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Mr. Humphries? I am the Viscountess St. Ryne.”
“My lady,” he said formally, touching his forelock. His son followed his example.
“Oh please, do not stand on such ceremony.” She was perturbed by his aloofness. “I just wished to make myself known to you. Is Mrs. Humphries about?”
