She was dressed far better than the child of a servant and in delicate yellow muslin trimmed in lace and her hair was neatly pulled back and braided with ribbons at the end.
Who did she belong to?
He glanced back at his mother. Was the girl hers?
It was possible, he supposed. Had she remarried after his fatherhad died or was the child a bastard?
“Livia, come here.” His mother held her hand out to the child, who did her bidding, but gave a wide berth as she maneuvered around Sterling, clearly frightened of him.
“Who is this?” he demanded.
His tone must have been sharp because Livia ran the rest of the distance to his mother who placed a protective arm around her slight shoulders.
“Miss Livia Sutcliffe,” his mother answered.
“Where did she come from?”
Sterling nearly held his breath as he waited to find out if he had a younger half sister that nobody had told him about.
“She is the daughter of Mrs. Sutcliffe.”
“Who is that?” he demanded, but assumed there were guests in the household.
“Your estate manager’s daughter.”
Sterling frowned. Hallaway had a son, William, and a daughter, Caroline. The entire Hallaway family had moved here from England in 1806 when Hallaway had been hired as the estate manager by his father. That was one of the reasons his father and mother had made the trip to the Cape. Clearly the child belonged to Caroline, who was now Mrs. Sutcliffe, but that did not explain why the child was running around this home.
“They are visiting?” he asked.
“Who?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Sutcliffe.”
His mother frowned. “My dear, Caroline is a widow.”
That still did not explain why a servant’s child was running about the house, and he intended to find out exactly what kind of home his mother managed.
*
“Where is he?”Caroline asked quietly as she slipped into the kitchens, which had been built separately from the house because of the heat that could build during the day, to keep it from invading the house, and to protect against the risk of fire that could erupt when cooking on open flames. The two buildings were separated by a short, covered walkway.
She’d been nervous since George announced that Lord Wyndham had arrived. What would he think of the estate? What changes would he make?
More importantly, what might he discover that he should not? Her greatest fear.
“He is with Lady Wyndham,” a senior maid answered.
This was good. The longer he remained occupied, the more time her father and William had to prepare. “My father and brother have come in from the fields and are repairing their appearance so that they can meet with Lord Wyndham.”
“How is your father?” Cook asked with concern.
“He is well and I made certain to explain the importance of this meeting.” Whether he did understand and took her warning to heart was another matter. “Also, William will be by his side.” At least her brother did know how vital it was that this meeting went well so that Wyndham was satisfied with the state of Wyndham Farm.
“And you?” Cook asked.
“I will be near, but I also do not want to draw attention to myself.”
“We will also be careful in what we say,” the maid assured her.
