*
The carriage hadscarcely stopped before Mrs. Hemsley appeared at the front door, her shawl clutched tightly against the wind. She was not a woman easily flustered, yet beneath her usual composure flickered a hint of unease.
“My lady,” she said as Georgina stepped down from the coach. “There’s a visitor to see you. She claims to have information about the mine.”
Georgina’s pulse quickened. “The mine? Who is she?”
“A tradesman’s wife by the look of her. She wouldn’t give me her name nor be turned away, not even when I said you were at Hawkesbury.” Mrs. Hemsley lowered her voice slightly. “She asked after Baron Ravenstock.”
That settled it. Georgina gathered her cloak tighter around her shoulders and strode into the house, her mind already piecing together questions before she reached the study.
The woman rose as she entered, twisting her hands in the apron bunched at her waist. Her clothes were modest, neat but worn, and her eyes were rimmed red from worry and sleepless nights.
“My lady,” the woman began, her voice frayed at the edges. “I…I thought it right to come myself.”
Georgina gestured to the chair opposite the hearth. “Please, have a seat. We’ll have tea.”
The woman glanced at the seat as if it were a strange thing. “No, thank you, my lady. I’ll stand. I cannot stay long. My boy is waiting for me by the gate.”
“I understand. Then tell me why you’re here.”
Mrs. Hemsley lingered just long enough to ensure their guest was settled before retreating toward the doorway, where she kept to the shadows, attentive but discreet.
“My husband,” the woman began, clutching her hands tightly together. “He’s a carrier by trade. Last fortnight, he began receiving parcels from a man I’d never seen before. Orders, he claimed. But not from anyone he trusted.”
Georgina’s brow drew together. “And this man, did you see him clearly?”
The woman hesitated, then nodded. “Pale as milk, dark hair combed too fine for a laborer. He looked like a clerk, but he had the manner of someone used to giving orders. He lingered in the village longer than he needed to, watching.”
“And your husband?” Georgina pressed.
The woman’s eyes filled with a troubled sheen. “He’s been restless. Unsettled. I fear he’s caught in something neither of us understands.”
Georgina’s voice softened, threading reassurance into her words. “You did well to come to me. Does your husband still carry for this man?”
“No, my lady. Not since last week. He found reason to turn him away, saying the work was too thin to waste the effort.”
A measure of relief, but not enough to ease the tightness in Georgina’s chest. “And the man, did he give his name?”
“No, my lady,” the woman said. “But he watched our house for days after.”
Georgina’s expression hardened. “I will see that no harm comes to you, your husband or your children,” she promised quietly.
Tears pricked at the corners of the woman’s eyes. She bent her head in a silent, grateful nod.
Mrs. Hemsley stepped forward then, gently taking the woman’s arm. “Come, we’ll see you to your boy,” she said, her tone kind.
Georgina waited until the door closed behind them, her gaze fixed on the hearth where the shadows played over iron and stone. She let out a breath she had not realized she’d been holding, her mind already chasing the threads the woman had offered.
When Mrs. Hemsley returned, Georgina turned to her at once, her voice firm.
“What do you know of my husband’s dealings with Mr. Carver?”
Mrs. Hemsley folded her hands and took her time gathering her thoughts. “They spoke now and then, my lady, but rarely at the house. Most of their dealings were kept to letters or at the mine. His lordship was a careful man.” She hesitated, then added, “Mr. Titis kept all his lordship’s personal correspondence. Before he left, he tucked it away in the crate you’ve not yet finished going through.”
Georgina’s gaze sharpened. “Show me.”
Mrs. Hemsley led the way to the corner of the study, where a crate sat beneath the window, half-sorted papers spilling from its top. “When I shifted it earlier, there was a folio tucked beneath the ledgers. I thought it odd at the time.”
