Three days later, Lucy walked down from the bee yard at peace. She carried the musket as she promised but found it a nuisance. One of the carpenters loitered against the barn, part of the new reality. He straightened and inclined his head as she passed. It seemed a waste of a good worker, something Lucy couldn’t abide.
Agnes and Emma took turns nursing the patient and seeing to meals. Cilla saw to the house between bouts of nerves, the Thatchers went back to work, and the carpenters finished the stable block.
As to the rest of the Bensons, they returned to Ashmead over a plank bridge thrown up over the creek and deep gully. Progress began on a more permanent solution, but for now, a steady parade of visitors crossed the temporary one to visit the Benson family—and Ashmead’s—patriarch.
Lucy found Emma exclaiming over her children in the drawing room. She smiled up at Lucy and hugged little Roberta to her breast. “Ellis took Audrey up to see Papa. Matt will have a turn next, and then it is off home with the lot of them, so they don’t wear him out.”
Lucy stooped to hear Lenny, age four, explain how he managed to skin both knees while chasing Henry around the innyard. “Who, pray tell, is Henry?”
“Grandda’s dog o’course.” Lenny frowned at her ignorance.
“You meanKingHenry? He is taller than you are.”
The little one brightened. “Aye, but I’m still growing. Mam says I’ll be taller soon.”
She swept into the kitchen where Agnes worked, arms covered with flour while she stirred some sweet-smelling batter. She didn’t look up. “Remove those biscuits from the oven, if you would, Lucy. We’re going through them at a steady rate. I gave Mr. Corbin a list. More flour and sugar for certain. Candied fruit if he can find them in the village, too. Our dried ones are running low.”
Lucy snatched an oatcake from the supply on the kitchen table, scooped some tea from the caddy, and added hot water from the hob. “Best add tea to that list.”
“No need, Mr. Ellis brought some from the inn. He said Sir Robert means to replenish all our supplies and sent off to London for tea.”
Sent off…Lucy had expected him to leave for London himself now that the crisis had passed, but he remained at The Willow and the Rose, managing the inn and sending agents out in pursuit of Miller, gone these four days. His visits had been brief, and Lucy had no time with him—not that she expected it. “That is kind of him,” she said.
Agnes snorted at that. “He said as how they ate us out of house and home, and he wasn’t wrong.” She punched the dough extra hard. “Locusts.” That last muttered under her breath made Lucy laugh.
“You’re loving an appreciative audience for your cooking. Admit it.”
Agnes grunted, and Lucy carried her tea to the estate office. An hour later, Cilla poked her head in after a perfunctory knock, eyes wide. “It’s the earl come to call, ma’am.”
Lucy removed her apron and smoothed her day dress as best she could. She found David standing in the entrance, watching Ellis Corbin lift a grinning Marj into a wagon full of Corbin children. His son Edward sat in back with as much dignity as the young viscount could muster while engaged in conversation with Matt Corbin about ball games.
“The Corbin boy enticed Edward into a game, and of course, Marj would not be left behind. Their father promises to return them to the hall intact.” Worry etched his voice.
“Good.”
David turned with raised eyebrows.
“Higgins and that stiff-rumped governess your mother hired keep your children much too confined in the name of propriety. The only time they are able to be children is on the rare occasions when you come home or when they visit the duchess. It’s no wonder they adore Maddy.”
“They must be taught behavior befitting their station.” He sounded dubious.
Lucy shook her head.
“I don’t think you came here to argue with me about child-rearing, David. Have you spoken with Spangler?”
The earl’s jaw went rigid. “Tomorrow,” he said through clenched teeth.
“At Caulfield Hall?”
“Of course. The imbecile ignored my first message. He claimed he didn’t get it, but my footman says otherwise. The second resulted in a grandiloquent missive about the many pressing demands on a man in his position, rife with hints that I would be called back to London before he could respond. He had the gall to ask if I might not prefer to have my man of business put my questions in the form of correspondence.”
“You told him otherwise.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.
“I do know how to act as an earl when I need to. I expect him on the dot of one on the clock tomorrow. Eli Benson will join me, though I doubt his overbearing brother will be able to stay away.” He ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I have another complication.”
She raised a questioning brow.
“Mother. I didn’t expect to be here as long as I have, and I suspect my secretary has been effectively clipping her financial wings. She sent word to prepare her usual suite along with a list of food to prepare, lace-trimmed bedding to air, and demands that her daughter wait on her. She comes in easy stages, thank God, so she won’t arrive until the day after tomorrow.” He looked up at her under lowered eyelids. “Your concerns about Higgins are the least of it. She expects the children to be confined to the nursery except for a formal visit following her afternoon tea.”
