Chapter One
August 1816
An additional log on the fire brought a burst of light and warmth to the small parlour of Doireann Vale.
Hecate needed it as she intended to sit for a while and read; the miserably cold and damp weather seemed to seep into every tiny crack of the house, so a good fire and a blanket had been welcomed for most of this non-existent summer.
“It rains again, Miss Hecate,” sighed Dal, brushing his hands and leaving the hearth as it settled into a comfortable blaze. “Will it ever end, do you suppose?” He walked to the window and stared out at the grey, looming clouds and the raindrops that spattered against the glass.
Hecate shook her head. “I cannot say; I wish I could. Indeed, this year has been quite dismal and I fear for the crops. Our local farmers cannot hope to bring in any kind of decent harvest after so many months of cold and rain.”
He nodded. “You were wise to have us set up such a well-thought out storage cupboard.”
“Mrs. Trimmer thinks so.” Hecate smiled as she mentioned her housekeeper and cook. “Has she spoken to you today?”
“She said good morning.” Dal looked hopeful. “We progress.”
“Excellent. I know she’ll come around. We both know that you arenota run-of-the-mill Devon gentleman, so a period of adjustment is only to be expected.”
He nodded. “I think she is very happy in the servants’ quarters since we added all the things she asked for. And most especially since we have given her the reins of the household.”
“Well, let’s say shethinkswe have,” grinned Hecate. “And I agree that converting the old hen house into a new kitchen addition, and giving her the little sitting room it also provided, was a brilliant notion. A little more than I wanted to spend, but in the long run, I believe it will pay for itself. Plus Mrs. Trimmer’s cooking skills cannot be denied, and our hens are doing well in their weathertight new quarters.” She patted her stomach. “I have to remind myself that being kept indoors by the weather means I cannot walk off her pies.”
“I do not believe there is any cause for concern yet, Miss Hecate.” Dal smiled. “Even though we have plenty of food to see us through these strange and unpleasant months.”
“I can only hope others heeded my suggestions.” Her lips firmed. “Sometimes my gift is very frustrating, because I cannot simply announce thatI knowit will be a terrible summer. Nobody would believe me if I said it was just my intuition.”
Dal turned with a small smile curving his lips. “If I may be permitted to say so, I cherish great admiration for your creative use of grasshoppers in the market last week.”
She chuckled. “Well, I had to say something. Mentioning that I’d seen one or two small blue ones, which could be harbingers of a long spell of bad weather…it helped a little, wouldn’t you say?”
“I can say it amused me. Have you ever seen a blue grasshopper?”
“Er, no.”
“I doubt anyone else has, either. But that fact alone may have spurred a few people to fill their pantries. I hope so.” Dal turned his attention back to the window.
“As do I,” she agreed. Crossing the room, she picked up a small bundle of letters, then returned to the fire, tucking herself into her favourite chair. “Will you join me, Dal? I have letters from the family. Lots of news, I expect…”
“You honour me,” bowed Dal.
She sighed. “No I don’t, but you’ll never stop doing that will you?”
He merely looked at her, his eyes dark, his expression calm, the jewel in the centre of his turban twinkling in the firelight.
“Oh very well.” She grinned at him and turned to her letters. He was part of her life, a very important part, and she couldn’t imagine managing without him, but now and again the urge to tease him out of his customary Indian restraint overwhelmed her.
She opened one letter, read a little way and laughed. “Itoldhim so.”
“Told who what?”
“Richard.” She waved the letter. “Cressida writes that there are definitelytwosets of feet dancing inside her. Apparently that fact has finally been confirmed by their local midwife.”
“Twins.” Dal blinked. “How wonderful for them.”
“They shouldn’t have been surprised. Richard is a twin, after all.”
She read on. “Everything else is going well, and they’re planning a trip to Ridlington if the weather lets up.” She folded the paper and set it to one side. “Everyone seems to talk of little but the weather. I suppose it’s to be expected, but goodness, what a widespread effect it’s having.”
