“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” George said remorsefully. He waved at Mr. Hopkins for another beer. “It was before you moved here.”
Cecilia came back to the table. “Mrs. Hopkins put a fresh batch of pasties in the oven. She’ll bring them over when they’re done.”
“You had an opportunity to meet Mrs. Hopkins, then?” James asked.
“Yes!” Cecilia said, grinning. “And she said she could arrange for someone else to help Mr. Hopkins so she could come to tea—after I convinced her she was welcome in our home. I’ll invite Elinor, too.”
“Good,” James said.
“Have you asked Mr. Inglewood about his sister yet?”
“No, we have been discussing Mrs. Jones and why his father wishes her death could be named a suicide.”
“What is it you want to know about my sister?” Mr. Inglewood asked.
“We know that she asked several people in the village to get her pennyroyal. Did she ask you as well?”
“Yes. I wasn’t going to get it for her. I saw no need for she had already received packets from several people. I told her that, too. Father insisted I get her more pennyroyal and told me to visit the apothecary in Folkestone to see if he had any. Worse luck, he did, and I gave it to my father.”
“Not to your sister directly?” Cecilia asked sharply.
He shook his head. “Father said to give it to him when I returned, and he’d see it was added to her canister. I asked him why she felt she had to have so much. He shrugged and said that was my sister’s way.”
George accepted another mug of beer from Mr. Hopkins. “I loved my sister, I did, but she was a hard person to love. She thought a great deal of herself, like she were the daughter of a king, not a squire. Everyone was to do as she asked. She and Father were much alike.”
“And that is probably why they did not get along,” Cecilia offered.
He nodded. “She was always trying to make him dance to her tune. That could be amusing at times and at others, depressing. Mother and I were spectators of their conflict.”
Mrs. Hopkins brought their pasties out to them, steam rising from the vents. Cecilia inhaled the aroma. “Smells heavenly, Mrs. Hopkins,” she said.
Mrs. Hopkins smiled. “Thank you, my lady. Would you like more ale?”
“I’ll take another ale,” James said.
“Do you have any lemonade?” Cecilia asked.
“I do. I keep some fresh for the ladies, should they come in.”
Cecilia winked at her. “Good idea. I’ll have some, please.”
“Right away, my lady.”
“What did your mother think about what your sister did?” James asked Mr. Inglewood when Mrs. Hopkins went to fetch their beer and lemonade.
“She was horrified! However, Father said to let her be. He had plans for her that he saw her stepping right into, like leading a horse to water. If Georgia had known that, she would have been enraged.”
“Did they always work at cross purposes to each other?” James asked.
“Always,” Mr. Inglewood said on a heavy sigh.
The three of them ate in silence for a moment.
“You know, my sister took sick in that gamekeeper’s cottage she liked,” George suddenly said.
“I was wondering,” Cecilia said quietly.
He nodded his head.
