“She’s a cranky li’l mite.” Sandy-colored strands slipped from Mrs. Ellerby’s cap as she shook her head. “She’s teethin’ and noisier than ’er older brother...”
At that instant, Johnny ran toward Bea, shouting, “Miss Brown, you’re ’ere!”
“…if that can be believed,” his mama finished dryly.
“Hello, Johnny.” Bea smiled at the adorable boy, enjoying his unaffected welcome. Because she’d known Johnny all his young life, he was used to her scar and thought nothing of it.
Indeed, none of Bea’s tenants looked twice at her mutilated cheek, and her estate was the one place where she didn’t bother to wear a veil. In truth, the farmers’ reception of her was warmer than that of her own family after the accident. Memories flooded her: her papa’s frustration, the countless quacks he’d consulted and “cures” he’d pressed upon her. Her mama’s weeping despair. And her brother—Benedict hadn’t been able to look at her without being consumed by rage…
Out of habit, she shut the images out.
Here, in the new life she’d built for herself, she had a different kind of family. One not of blood but of truer kinship. Bea and her tenants had the shared pain of being outcasts, their bonds deepened by the gift they could give one another.
Acceptance.
The thing Murray—and others who’d tried to buy her land—didn’t understand was that Camden Manor was more than an estate: it was a safe place to land. One that had saved Bea in her darkest hour and now offered refuge to others as well.
One that she would not sell, for any sum.
“Did you bring me somefin’, Miss Brown?”
Johnny’s eager question returned Bea to the moment.
“Lord Almighty, where are your manners?” his mama exclaimed. “You don’t ask a guest for presents!”
“It’s quite all right.” Bea gave Johnny a conspiratorial smile. “As it happens, I do have something for you in my basket. Would you like to see it?”
“Yes,” Johnny said instantly.
“Yes, what?” Mrs. Ellerby prompted.
Johnny’s brow wrinkled. “Yes…I want to see what she brung me?”
“Yes,miss.” His mama’s gaze aimed heavenward. “Lord above, ’ave all my teachings fallen on deaf ears?”
Since this was a common refrain, Bea hid a grin and brought her basket over to the trestle table that served multiple purposes. One end had been set for tea, while the end closest to the stove had a bowl of batter for Mrs. Ellerby’s oatcakes. Finding an empty place, Bea set down her hamper and took out a package of sweets.
Johnny immediately made a grab for it.
“Now what did your mama teach you to say?” she asked.
The boy flashed an angelic smile. “Thank you, Miss Brown.”
“You’re welcome.” She handed him the treats, and he took off with a joyous whoop, declaring that he was going to go show his friends.
“Mind you share those sweets,” Mrs. Ellerby shouted after him. Bouncing her babe against her hip, she turned to Bea. “You spoil ’im, miss.”
“I’ve brought a few other things as well.” Bea unpacked the spices and tea that had come in her monthly shipment from London.
“You’re too generous,” her hostess protested.
“It’s nothing, really. May I hold Janey?”
Mrs. Ellerby transferred the babe into Bea’s waiting arms, and Bea laughed when Janey immediately made a grab for her bonnet strings. Settling into one of the chairs, she untied the plum-colored ribbons, dangling them for the babe, who wrapped her tiny fist around one with a happy coo.
“Pay mind, miss, or she'll ruin your fine hat,” Mrs. Ellerby warned.
Ever efficient, the farmwife had already set to work on the oatcakes. Her adoring husband had built the kitchen to suit her smaller size, with lower surfaces that she could easily reach. She ladled the batter onto a heated griddle, forming perfect circles.
