*
Agnes Pettifer, thelinen draper’s wife, who resembled Mrs. Duger in appearance and behavior so much as to leave no doubt they were sisters, was no more help. They moved on after purchasing a bolt of muslin as yellow as a buttercup that Mia thought might make a particularly delightful morning gown.
The green grocer ran his own store, but his wife, the third sister, managed a few tables in an alcove to the side that had the pretense of being a tearoom. They took a seat at one of the linen-covered tables bedecked with a nosegay in the center, and Mia placed her bundles on an extra chair.
“Good enough for Nether Abbas,” Gideon muttered.
Mia cast him a quelling glance. He doubted she’d seen many truly fine tearooms, a deficiency he would have to correct.
She introduced the woman who bustled out from the back room as Martha Hinson, the grocer’s wife. Unlike her sisters, this woman was a cheerful as she was plump but, if Mia was correct and the woman’s avid gaze was any indication, equally a gossip. He reached over, put his hand over his wife’s, and cast her an adoring smile.
“I understand you have the best biscuits in Nether Abbas,” he said, smiling at the woman. “Might we have some with our tea?”
“Ginger biscuits today, and I have a good China black.” The woman wrung her hands nervously, studying him carefully. He wondered if she searched for the ghoulish dwarf she’d been led to expect. She spoke cautiously. “I made up ham sandwiches fresh. Would you care for some, it being after midday and all?”
“That would be lovely, Mrs. Hinson.”
The woman beamed at him now, praise for her food overcoming old talk, before bustling away.
“We should come to the village more often. Keep making up to Martha Hinson and they’ll all have you up for canonization,” Mia teased.
He snorted at that. “They’re as likely to burn me at the stake.”
Martha returned with a tray and set down a pot of tea. “Let it steep a bit, lovies. I’ll be back with your food,” she said, depositing cups, sugar, and a pitcher of cream. She left before they could say anything.
They were sipping strong tea when she returned, laying out napkins, plates, and a platter for wedge-shaped sandwiches. She added a basket of ginger cookies with the flourish of a magician. What she lacked in resources, she made up for in enthusiasm, he thought.
“Thank you, ma’am. This looks delicious.” And it was certainly more than palatable, though he found the bread a bit dry. Still, the mustard and pickle made up for it. He eyed Mia, waiting for an opening while their server hovered, studying them avidly.
“What is new up at Woodglen?” Martha asked. “Aside from you getting hitched.”
Mia wiped her mouth and put her serviette in her lap. “We’ve been a bit preoccupied,” she said, blushing prettily. “But I can tell you that my cousin is back at Selwyn Court.”
“I heard she never got to have dinner with that Mr. Tavernash who’s camped there,” the woman said.
“Not true. She had dinner with him one night.” She leaned conspiratorially, the image of Mrs. Duger earlier that day. “He ignored her completely, and that mother of his did, too.”
The gossip leaned closer as well. “Is it true the woman acts like she owns the place?”
“Why, no, of course not. She acts likeher sonowns the place,” Mia said with an impish grin and a wink. “When the duke returns, they are in for a shock.”
“But the duke is… That is, I heard…,” Martha sputtered, casting a nervous glance at Gideon.
“What is the newest rumor about my brother, ma’am?” Gideon asked, acting more serene than he felt.Control your temper. We’re here for information about the Carter girl.
“They think—that is, there was talk down at the public house that someone did him in, poor man.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Gideon said smoothly. “It may cheer you to know my brother is quite well. He wrote to me in August. It is he who sent me here.”
“Well. Well, that’s good, then,” she replied, wringing her hands. “Can I get you anything else?”
Gideon had finished his sandwich and reached for a biscuit. “These must be the pride of Nether Abbas,” he said, pouring on oil to soothe the sting of contradicting rumors.
Their server rocked back on her heels, preening. “I think so.”
“Martha,” Mia said as if the idea just happened to occur to her. “We heard an odd rumor about Lizzy Carter. We heard she’d been asking for people to give her work. Did she ever try that here?”
“She did, the cheeky miss. My Alvin let her sweep up the back for a while. Her father put up an awful fuss, so we had to let her go. She put up a howl about the final wages due, too, but then she then up and disappeared. She never came back to collect. Alvin gave the pennies to Bill.”
