“Oh, Soot!” Mrs. Morgan said crossly, grabbing a broom and prodding it in the cat’s direction. “Get out from under there!” Turning to Theo, she said, “That cat gets underneath everyone’s feet. I’d strangle it, but the children love it to death.” Despite her martial words, Theo noticed that she only gently nudged at the cat with the broom—and that it was a well-fed, shiny-coated animal.
“Don’t chase it away on my account.” Theo said. “I like cats. They’re clever creatures.”
She looked relieved. “That’s true,” she said, setting the broom aside. “And she’s good at keeping the mice in check.”
“Ah, useful as well as clever? An excellent pet then.”
Mrs. Morgan smiled shyly, her stiff politeness easing a little, and went back to making tea. Theo did his best to make small talk with her while they waited, asking the children’s names and ages and what vegetables she was growing in her cottage garden.
As she was setting down a plate of fruitcake and cheese, Theo glanced out the window and saw two figures walking towards the house. Even at this distance, he could recognise George, something about his gait and the angle of his head as he listened to his companion. The other figure must be Morgan.
“I think I see your husband, ma’am.”
She stood up and looked out the window. “Yes, that’s him. He’ll be gasping for his tea, and starving besides. He’s been up and working since five.” She shook her head fondly. “I have to feed that man about six times a day.”
I know what you mean, Theo thought, hiding his smile. He could just imagine how George’s eyes would light up when he saw Mrs. Morgan’s fruitcake. The man loved sweet things.
The arrival of Morgan was greeted with shouts of “Pa! Pa!” from the children outside, then shrieks of laughter as he swung them off the ground. When he and George entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Theo stood.
“Mr. Morgan,” he said, reaching out his hand, “it’s good to see you again.”
Morgan took his offered hand, sliding his cap off his head with the other in a respectful gesture, punctuated with a deferential nod. “Mr. Caldwell, sir.”
“I’ve made tea, Ned,” Mrs. Morgan said then. “Sit down and get a bite to eat. You too, Mr. Asquith. There’s cake and cheese. I’ll fetch some butter.”
As Theo had anticipated, George’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cake, and he had to stifle a chuckle.
The next few minutes were taken up with the refreshments which were quickly consumed, George complimenting Mrs. Morgan’s fruitcake so fulsomely, she blushed. When they were done, Morgan cleared his throat, met Theo’s gaze, and said, “May I ask, sir, are you here because you have something particular to raise with me?”
Theo was aware, quite suddenly, that the other man appeared somewhat anxious. He glanced at George questioningly, wondering if he had any idea why this might be so, but George’s expression remained neutral. Returning his gaze to Morgan, Theo said, “No, I just called to see how you were doing. Looking in on my tenants, while I’m here. I’ll be going to see Martin after this.”
That didn’t seem to reassure Morgan any. His brows remained stitched together.
“Is there a reason you ask?” Theo added.
Morgan and his wife exchanged a look. She seemed worried too, and gave him a little nod of encouragement, as though to say, go on, tell him.
“Well,” Morgan said slowly. “There’s been some rumours, sir.”
“Rumours?”
“People have been saying you’re going to sell up to Albert Prentice.”
Theo frowned. The last time he'd come to Blackfriars, Norris had mentioned something about a local man who might be interested in purchasing the estate, and the name Prentice had a ring of familiarity to it, but there was no reason for any such rumour to have arisen.
Now Mrs. Morgan said, “When Mr. Prentice bought Dovecot farm last year, the first thing he did was evict the tenants. Gave them barely any notice.”
“Annie—” Morgan said, darting a worried look at Theo.
“Ned’s been here ten years,” Mrs. Morgan went on, her voice trembling with distress, one hand resting on her prominent belly. “And I’ve been here eight, since we got married. This is our home.”
Theo reached for something to say. Something true, and reassuring both. “Mrs. Morgan, I’ve had no discussions whatsoever with this Mr. Prentice about selling Blackfriars—I’ve never even met the man. I’ve no idea why someone would have said such a thing. Where did this rumour come from?”
Morgan said, “We don’t know?—”
“Frank Norris,” Mrs. Morgan said, without hesitation.
George looked at Theo. “Norris? Your agent?”
