“I’m glad you did,” answered Perry. “This is not a day to be abroad.”
“Indeed not.” Grace smiled. “We should make some introductions, I believe. I am Mrs. Grace Chaney. This is my good friend Sir Peregrine Hawkesbury. We are visiting here to see if the property might suit Sir Peregrine’s needs for a country home.”
The man blinked. “You mean this isn’t your house?”
“Er—not yet,” answered Perry. “But the current owner vacated the house a little while ago. So it’s just us for now.”
“We had planned on returning to London this afternoon,” added Grace. “That’s obviously out of the question now, given this miserable storm.”
The children stood silently while this conversation took place, but only for so long. A small hand tugged on her mother’s cloak.
The woman looked down. “Yes, Mary?”
“I’m hungry, Mama.”
“And I have to piss.”
“Jonathan.” His mother was scandalised.
His father clipped him around the ear. “You know better than that, lad. Don’t let me hear you speak like that again.”
“Sorry Papa.” The boy looked repentant, but then started fidgeting. “But I do…really…”
“If you’ll allow me, sir,” Edward grinned. “I can assist the young gentleman.”
“Bless you, Edward.” Perry turned to the father. “If it’s all right with you, sir?”
“Of course. Go with him, Jonathan. And none of your sass now. You hear?”
“Yes sir.” The boy turned to Edward. “Please can we hurry, sir?”
Grace couldn’t hide her smile. “You have lovely children, Mrs. …”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. What was I thinking?” She blushed. “We are the Muirs. My husband, Frederick, and I’m Georgina. And our indispensable nurse, Mrs. Godfrey. Thank you again for offering shelter.” She dipped a polite curtsey.
Perry extended a hand to Mr. Muir. “Glad you’re safe, sir. Leave your outer garments here, and let’s warm you all up a bit.”
Mr. Muir shook the offered hand gratefully, as his offspring babbled around him, pleased to be out of the bitter cold. “We’re in your debt, Sir Peregrine.” He glanced at the empty hall, where voices bounced off the floor and around the wooden walls. “I think you’ll be even happier to see us gone. My brood tends to prefer volume in their discourse at the moment.”
Grace smiled. “Children need to exercise their lungs as well as their opinions, Mr. Muir. I have no doubt we shall survive the experience. Come along, all of you…there’s a fire in here, and the furniture has seen plenty of wear, so small hands cannot do much more harm.”
*~~*~~*
From being an empty parlour with an air of disuse, the room became transformed into a bustling space filled with voices.
Grace blinked at the change, wondering how a few children could effect such an enormous transition. Her head told her there were five, in spite of the fact her ears were telling her there were at least twenty. She had quickly learned their names. Jonathan was the oldest, then came Anthony, and Mark—the youngest boy.
Then there was Mary, and little Elizabeth, who might well have been the baby. Grace couldn’t guess at the age difference between Mark and Elizabeth, but they seemed very close in years.
It didn’t take too long to settle them all in front of the fire, and Edward promised to make sure food was served within the hour.
That announcement brought lively cheers from the youngsters and raised Edward to hero status in their eyes.
Mrs. Muir sat next to Grace, looking as weary as one would expect, given that she was travelling with five offspring. Mrs. Godfrey had taken a chair toward the back of the room and was busy fastening Miss Elizabeth’s ribbons.
“A tiring trip, I must imagine, Mrs. Muir.” Grace glanced around. “They are wonderful children, but I will confess I don’t envy you.”
The other woman shook her head. “You’re quite correct. We’re fortunate with our family, and the visit to their grandparents in London was long overdue, so it ended up being longer than usual. So much luggage, of course, meant two carriages.” She shrugged. “We’d have all been in one carriage otherwise. And at the last minute we delayed to attend early morning services in St. Paul’s cathedral, thus ending up on the road in the middle of this dratted storm.”
