“I should be happy to assist at any time in your inquiries,” the footman said formally with the appropriate amount of reserve Mr. Coggins would approve; however, his eyes gave away his eagerness.
Cecilia laughed. “You have been bitten by the inquiry bug. I’ll own it can be invigorating. But dangerous as well,” she warned him.
“Have you ever been in danger, my lady?” Daniel asked.
“Several times, much to Sir James’ dismay,” she answered wryly.
Daniel’s eyes widened. “I should imagine so, my lady… Will you be wanting your tea now, or do you wish to wait for Sir James?”
“I’ll wait for Sir James,” she said. “I can use the time to catch up on the news from London,” she told him as she picked up one of the newspapers she’d brought to the sofa.
The cat jumped up on her lap, crushing the newspaper under him. “Well, I will catch up when Randy allows me to,” she owned, scratching the cat’s head.
After leavingthe Sheep’s Head Tavern, James went to the church to see how Mr. McCurdy was progressing with the repairs to the pulpit. To his initial dismay, the entire platform had been dismantled, with the decorative wood neatly stacked to the side.
“Do you judge this repair task to be completed by Sunday?” he asked his carpenter as he studied the mess of new and old lumber.
“Och, aye, Sir James,” Mr. McCurdy said jovially. “The worst is done past. Evrathing’s measured and cut. I’ll be rebuildin’ the platform today and stainin’ it tommorra.”
“Any other trouble with people coming to gossip about Mrs. Jones?”
“Aye, sar, but that Mrs. Hull, she be a feisty one and beat me to sending them on their way. And she sent them off with a flea in their ear, too.”
James laughed, then became serious. “So long as we can ease the vicar’s burden and not let others malign Mrs. Jones. One of his daughters has arrived in Mertonhaugh. Has she come to visit the vicar?”
Mr. McCurdy shook his head. “No, sar, and I knows Mrs. Hull is getting’ down right irritated at that. I wouldna put it past ’er to march right up to the big house and drag the gel to the vicarage.”
“Neither would I. I’ll speak with her.”
Mr. McCurdy nodded and bent to pick up a new board to fasten to the platform structure. James turned to go to the vicarage.
He discovered Mrs. Hull in the herb garden, talking to the weeds she pulled out. She told them, quite in stern tones, that this garden was not the place for them to be growing. He couldn’t help but smile.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Hull,” James said gently so as not to frighten the woman.
“Oh! Sir James. You caught me weeding Mrs. Jones’ herb garden,” she said on straightening.
“And telling the weeds the garden is not a place for them to be growing.”
She laughed. “Well, yes,” she said brightly, not offering any apology or explanation. She instead winked at James.
“Mr. McCurdy tells me you are not happy with Miss Jones for not visiting her father and staying at the Mortlake Manor.”
Her lips compressed. “That be true. What an unnatural child. He raised her, wiped her tears, built a swing on the old oak in the far corner of the church grounds, played games with her and her sister. He was a good father to her and Faith. Then, when they found out their real father is an earl, they abandoned him. I understood when they first found out, that I did. Mrs. Jones and I discussed it. They were angry at her and spread their anger to the vicar when all he ever did was love them like they were his own. But it’s been neigh on three years!” the woman said, her ire rising. “I’ve a mind to go tell them what I think of them.”
“I can understand your desire to do so. All I ask is that you don’t and let Lady Branstoke and me handle this. I feel we can get them to see the error of their ways.”
She looked at him steadily for a moment, frowning, then she reluctantly nodded. “I will, at least until Mrs. Jones be laid to rest.”
“That will be time enough, and if they are still angry at the vicar, they shall be deserving of your wrath,” James told her. He thanked her for her promise and left the church property. It was teatime and playtime with his young son, something he didn’t care to miss.
Cecilia allowedJames to relax and dawdle Hugh on his knee before her patience expired. “You went to the brewery this morning.”
“Yes,” her husband said as he raised his son above his head. Hugh giggled.
“Well, did you learn anything?”
“Yes. The making of beer and ale is quite fascinating. I learned that here in Kent, they don’t make beer during the summer, as the weather is too warm for the beer to cool quickly,” he told her.
