“Wagon. Singular. You should quit while you are ahead, Miss Mercer.”
“I never quit. You should know that by now.’
Chapter Twenty-One
The next morning, the wagon loaded with supplies rumbled toward the village over a snow-packed road. Sunshine played, moving behind the clouds only to emerge moments later, like a child playing a game of hide and seek. Rays of the sun glistened over icicles hanging from branches or from the eaves of thatched-roof cottages they passed along the way.
Robert sat beside Madeline, holding the reins. She had fallen asleep and was leaning her head against his shoulder. He enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the moment. Having her beside him felt natural and right. He had overheard the servants mention that Madeline hadn’t slept the night before. She’d spent the time collecting clothing from his sisters and mother and brother and making sure all was packaged well. When he had found out, he added clothes from his wardrobe to her growing collection. He was pleased at how positively his family had reacted and how generous they had been.
The food and clothing were lashed down with ropes and teetered precariously high. He had helped with the loading and packing of the wagon, reminding her that he had agreed on one wagon only. He smiled, remembering how he had challenged her, saying it would not all fit. But of course, it had.
Madeline shifted beside him and rubbed her eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Not long.”
She yawned and stretched her back. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome. We are on the outskirts of the village. Do you want to go directly to the parish church?”
“Why do you ask?”
He directed the team of horses around a bend in the road. “I noticed you talking with my mother and Mary. I remember her mentioning servants who used to work for us and lived in the village. During the Christmas Season she would bring them baskets.”
“Would you mind? I know we agreed on the wagon going to the parish for distribution. The duchess is most concerned about Jane and Ted Murphy.”
He turned toward her. Her face shone in the gentle winter sun. There was a dreamy expression in her eyes as she rubbed them again. He wanted to reach out and kiss her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her full lips. Unwise, he cautioned.
He focused on the road. “I would not mind. If I know my mother, she prepared a special basket for Jane and Ted.”
“Do you know where the Murphys live?” Madeline said.
“Mother would take me and my brother and sisters to their cottage after they left our employ. Jane had been a cook, and Ted tended the kitchen gardens. I remember they have a whitewashed cottage with a blue door.”
“It sounds lovely. Your mother surprised me,” Madeline said. “She is different from what I expected, and my mother and she get along well. They chatter like old friends.”
“There is a change in my mother since yours has arrived.” Robert took time to think over the revelation. He was about to say she was happier. The idea that his mother had not been happy earlier troubled him. He supposed he was like most children and did not consider a parent’s happiness, only his own.
“I am pleased your mother and mine are friends,” Robert said, pulling onto a narrow road that led to a cottage with an overgrown garden and rusted gate. “We have arrived. The cottage is not as I remember, though. The last time I was here was a little over five years ago.”
Robert jumped from the driver’s seat to secure the horses, then went around to where Madeline sat and raised his arms to help her down.
“Do you think they are home?” she asked, her arms resting on his as he helped her from the wagon. “I do not see lights in the cottage.”
“They might be at church service,” he said, holding onto her waist a trifle longer than was proper.
If she noticed, she made no comment as she retrieved from the wagon the basket his mother had packed.
The door of the Murphys’ home had been left ajar. The interior was cluttered with broken furniture and covered in cobwebs and debris that had blown in from the open windows.
Madeline set the basket on the only table in the room that was still in one piece. “The cottage looks deserted.”
Someone knocked. “Looking for the Murphys?” an old woman with a plaid shawl inquired. “Purse-pinched, they were, and too old for most work. Only place for them was at the local workhouse, and there’s where they died. Within days of each other, I’m told.”
Robert steadied Madeline before she fell. She had turned pale as milk. With an unspoken agreement from Madeline, he thanked the old woman and offered her the basket meant for the Murphys.
Back in the wagon, Robert slapped the reins and directed the team toward the village.
“How will I tell your mother?” Madeline said. “She mentioned that she had visited the Murphys last year.” Tears trailed down her cheek. “Why does this bother me? I did not know the Murphys. You no doubt think me such a silly fool. Oh, and we must find Ruth.”
