Like the broken gate that allowed goats to escape into the flower garden three days before, the two bee skeps that had been knocked from their base didn’t seem serious. Perhaps the incident was one and the same, and the goats knocked the skeps over. Or a honey-loving badger.
Work had begun late that day since most of the men and their families had been at the assembly the Saturday before and spent much of Sunday sleeping off the informal gatherings afterward, but she found them preparing to raise a new roof truss.
Miller greeted her politely if distantly.
“I didn’t see you at Mr. Benson’s party Saturday night,” Lucy told him. “The entire shire was invited.”
“I’m new here, Miss Whitaker. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“Emma Corbin doesn’t know the word stranger. She grew up in an inn that embraces the world.”
He had no answering smile. “Good to know,” he said. He shifted impatiently.
She got down to business rather than keep him. “Did you see anyone up in the bee yard yesterday, Mr. Miller?”
He glanced up the hill to her operation at the top. “No, ma’am. I can’t say that I did.”
She studied him for a moment but couldn’t think what else to ask. “Thank you. I won’t keep you from your work.”
He nodded. “We best keep at it. Sir Robert wants it done quickly.”
Quickly done so he can sell Willowbrook. “Good day then,” she said, sorrow pooling in her stomach.
Two incidents in a week, but still, she wondered if she weren’t overreacting due to the damage to the stable. Such minor things happen on any working farm. She resolved to contact her landlord if something serious occurred, but not to trouble him about such minor damage.At least I won’t look like a nervous ninny.
*
With the messagefrom Rockford, predictably urgent, tucked in his coat, Rob had every incentive to deal with the rest of his business quickly.
Clarion offered to unlock the strongroom where the family papers were kept and pull out his father’s will, but when he explained it was by the estate office at the other end of the house, Rob shook his head. “That will take time. Eli told me to notify you that he will come the day after tomorrow. You might want to have it ready for him. He’s the solicitor, not me. He’ll also want your written permission to see the bank records.”
“You don’t trust us.”
“We don’t trust Spangler. He’s blocked efforts to look at bank records, and the numbers he gave Eli don’t match Lucy Whitaker’s.”
Clarion’s brows rose. “You can trust Miss Whitaker completely.”
“We do. That’s why we don’t trust Spangler. Do you?”
Clarion’s frown deepened. “I hardly know the man. He was my father’s solicitor. He drew up the damned will, and I’m happy to let him deal with the horde of claimants. I have my own people in town.”
“You haven’t spoken to him or taken a look at what he’s been doing?”
Clarion bristled. “Why should I. The will—”
“I understand why the will is a burr under your saddle, Clarion, but the man can’t be trusted.” Rob described what Old Robert suspected about Spangler buying up businesses in Ashmead. “He’ll find I’m harder to manipulate.”
“How can he possibly manipulate you? Willowbrook is yours.”
“Whether I want it or not. My first instinct, to refuse it, got him in a panic.”
Clarion couldn’t hide his shock. “Refuseit? Why would you do that?”
“Why would I want to be tied to this place?” Rob’s voice rose.
“It’s your home, you damned fool. Your sister and brother are here. The Willow. Your father—”
“Let’s leave my parentage out of this—dear brother.”
