“All shall be well,” Christopher intoned gravely. At the look of surprise from the adults around him, his bottom lip quivered. “That is what you told me,” he beseeched his father.
“Aye, and I stand by it.” Callum patted his son on the head. “Eat up, lad. We must make haste.”
Frida got to her feet and extended a hand toward Flora. “Let us go and wait in the carriage.”
As Flora looked about to protest, Esme took her cue and quickly walked around the table to crouch beside the little girl.
“Is it my turn to hold Felicity?”
Flora nodded bravely, passing over the cat as a tear snaked down her rounded cheek.
“Goodbye, Felicity,” she sniffed.
“Safe travels, Flora,” Esme mimed in a squeaky voice which made her niece smile. She straightened up in time to catch a surprised expression on Adam’s usually immobile face.
Holding the cat meant that Esme’s hands were no longer free to pick at the tempting foodstuffs on offer, which was most inconvenient as her stomach was rumbling. But she did not think she was capable of taking a seat and settling the cat on her knee under the watchful gaze of Adam.
She did not wish to lose her dignity for a second time that morn.
There was a second flurry of greetings as Jonah arrived in the great hall. Her brother was walking with a stick, which was most unusual. Since childhood, Jonah had eschewed crutches, even if that meant his progress around their childhood home was slower than it could have been.
Vanity, Esme had always assumed.
Finally, Christopher had eaten what his father deemed sufficient, and they all trooped out to the waiting carriage. Esme hugged her sister goodbye, somewhat awkwardly because of the cat.
“Can she go outside on her own at all?” she asked Flora, working to take the plaintive edge from her voice.
Flora nodded sagely, giving Felicity a final stroke. “But not at night.”
With relief, Esme bent her knees to set the cat down, but the creature had other ideas, digging her claws into her shoulder until she relented.
“You’re a clingy thing,” she told her, as Felicity purred in victory.
Callum hugged her briefly. “Take care, Esme.”
“Of course,” she demurred.
“I have told Adam that ’tis unlikely you will encounter any trouble.”
“Most unlikely,” she agreed, closing her mind to thoughts of Crispin and what might happen if the young knight did indeed return for her, as he had promised.
Callum lifted his son up the carriage steps and swung himself inside after him. He was about to close the door when Frida called in protest.
“My jars and herbs.”
“Do you need them?” Callum asked from inside the carriage.
“Aye, I must be prepared.” Frida’s voice was firm. “Who knows what ailments and injuries we may encounter in the days ahead. I gathered some salves into a box. But the box is not in the cart. Is it there.” She must have pointed outside the opposite window, but Esme could not see her.
Before anyone could react, Adam came forward. “I will fetch them.”
“The box is heavy. You will need assistance,” Frida called, but Adam was already stalking across the courtyard. He shifted the makeshift box into his arms and a noise of clanking jars came from it.
“Be careful,” Frida cautioned. “Callum, go and help him.”
“There is no need.” Adam made steady progress back to the waiting cart, his muscles bulging and he lowered the box into an empty corner.
Esme was openly staring, safe in the knowledge that no one was watching her.
