“On a farm,” the girl said sleepily. “I had a lamb and a baby chick.”
“You had to leave them behind?” Rafe would have to ask Daphne if she might part with one of her stuffed dollies. Little girls liked to cuddle.
“Mr. Suffolk said we owed rent and he took ’em.” Henry glared at the two beds as if they offended him. The boy finally chose one. Collapsing on the cover, he spewed his anger at the adult world. “The mean lady wouldn’t let ma work no more and Mr. Suffolk took the herd after Pa died and we had to plant crops and eat nothin’ but tatties. I hoed all summer! But the field flooded. We was hungry and Bets got sick. It ain’t fair!”
Rafe would ask how his father died some other time. The lad needed to spill his rage. “Aye, it’s not fair for a mother to see her wee ’uns go hungry. When did Mr. Morgan arrive?”
The boy shrugged his skinny shoulders. “He worked for grandpa before he died. Da didn’t like him much. Don’ know why he didn’t find someone else.”
“Aunt Viv.” Betsy dropped her ragged gown, pulled the gown Rafe handed her over her thin shift, and crawled between the covers. “Aunt Viv likes him. And Ma does, too, sometimes.”
Henry reluctantly stripped to his undergarments and pulled on the overlarge nightshirt. “Ma liked him better when he said his rich brother died. She said he was our new pa, but he’s a sneakin’ thief and made Aunt Viv lose her place.”
Through the eyes of babes. . . Hard to tell how much was fact, but Rafe stored the information for future use.
He hated the idea of interrogating the Jameson women.
SUNDAY
Easter, April 14, 1816
Thirty-nine
Kate
Shepherding Lyn and Rob from the chapel, Kate saw Clare Huntley standing alone, waiting for her husband’s carriage. Kate had spent a restless night worrying about so very many things. . . She left the children showing off their new Easter finery to Bridey, giving her a quiet moment to speak.
“How is Lavender?” Kate asked the captain’s wife. “I feel so guilty. I should have stayed in the shop with her!”
“Don’t be foolish.” Clare glanced up at the clouds and, apparently deciding it wouldn’t rain immediately, lingered. “She ought to have gone with everyone else to the show. She’s fine, fussing about everyone hovering. Mr. Birdwhistle and the boys made her a card, which flustered her. She’s so very arrogant sometimes. . . she needs to be shaken up occasionally, although cards instead of kidnapping would be preferable,” she added dryly.
“I love her confidence. I’d hate to see that lost,” Kate protested.
“You’ve met her grandmother?” Clare asked dourly. “They’re like two peas in a pod. Confidence is as much a part of them as an arm or leg.”
Kate winced at the truth of that.
After shooing Lyn and Rob to Damien’s carriage, out of the drizzle, Brydie joined them. “If Lavender is feeling well enough, I’ll send up my latest attempt at hot cross buns. Tell her we’re all eager for the dress shop to open!”
Kate hoped it would be safe this time, now that Hugh had been locked up. She glanced around for Fletch. She’d feel better if he were about, but he seldom attended services, not even at Easter, apparently.
She followed Brydie back to Damien’s aging barouche. “You and Damien go home, Brydie. I do not need a keeper. I appreciate your concern, but I cannot keep you from the bakery another night. The village would starve.”
Brydie put on her stubborn face, but standing by his horses, Damien leaned over to whisper in her ear, and she finally relented. “At least the lunatic is locked up. Take the carriage. Rob, you can handle it, can’t you?”
At almost thirteen, he was small but he was learning. Kate was almost sad that her second oldest was growing up so fast. Soon, it would be just her and Lynly. Maybe she should think about letting out the farm.
They arrived home to find Fletch unsaddling his horse in the paddock. He had his arm in a sling again. She winced, remembering all he’d gone through yesterday. She had done nothing but think about his actions all night. He might not be a charming, social gentleman, but he was brave beyond words. He’d not dithered or waited for instructions but done what had to be done. A man like that was rare.
He approached, holding out her father’s watch, bright and shiny as if it were new. “I come bearing a peace offering.”
Her stupid heart did an excited tumble. She supposed because he’d bothered to shave and dress in a proper coat and cravat, as the gentleman he should be. How had he managed that with an arm in a sling? There were so many more important things. . . but, obviously, her wits had taken the day off.
She took the precious watch and popped it open. The hands marked the right hour and the minute hand jerked forward as she watched. She gasped in delight. “It works! You made it work!”
Lyn and Rob ran up to see. Kate hated to part with the precious heirloom, but the watch belonged to them too. They’d never known their grandfather.
“It needs to be wound every day—only once,” Fletch warned, looking oddly awkward.
