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He glanced at the first of the envelopes in his hand. There was sufficient light coming from the fire and the candles on either side of the mantelpiece for him to recognize the handwriting as that of his steward at Bloxley Hall. The man’s report on tenant cottages roof repairs could assuredly wait until morning. He slid that envelope to the back of the stack. The next envelope was lavender colored, and Alexander’s fingers instantly froze. He had not expected to hear back from Miss Hadford before relocating to Bloxley Hall. Surely she was not sending further bad news.

Breaking the seal, Alexander withdrew the letter and began to read. Rarely had his emotions swung so widely over such a short piece of correspondence. He went from pleasure over her appreciation of his letter to increased worry for Asher. Anger over the young boy’s situation was followed by wonder that Miss Hadford not only remembered the bill he had been working on but was also interested enough to inquire about it. And finally, when he thought his feelings sufficiently muddled already, he read her comment about Mr. Stanley’s sausages and chuckled out loud. He was quite sure the cook at Bloxley Hall served the local butcher’s sausages on occasion, and Alexander agreed wholeheartedly with Miss Hadford. He had certainly tasted better.

Lowering the letter to his knee, he gazed into the fire embers. What was it about Miss Hadford that made her so different from the other young ladies of his acquaintance? Her genuineness, certainly. He sensed no game playing in her, and as someone who was overwhelmingly tired of such things, he was immensely grateful. Perhaps her integrity played a part in that. Not once had he worried about his involvement in Miss Brown’s death or word of his search for the flower lady’s son becoming fodder for Society gossips. She had kept her word just as he had somehow known she would.

He had not known her long, and yet, her concern for others had been manifest multiple times. She’d shown it for him in the Norringtons’ library and countless times after for Asher. And unlike many members of society, her concern was not in word only. It fueled action. Her accident may have limited her mobility, but she had not allowed it to prevent her from making a difference.

Glancing back at the letter, he read her postscript a second time and smiled. The young lady also exhibited a rare sense of humor. He thought of all that lay ahead of him when he arrived in High Brodmore, and his smile slipped. If things at the Stanleys’ house were as grim as he suspected, he would need to give that situation his full attention. His mother’s picnic and exchanging pleasant conversation with Miss Hadford were of secondary importance.

Chapter 14

It was with the strange sensation that she had been in this exact position before that Jane stood outside the door to the Stanleys’ home the next morning. Once again, Albert waited beside the carriage at the village green, and Alice stood at her right, carrying a basket. But this time the basket was laden with beef pasties, and Aunt Millward stood at her left. Alice let the knocker fall a second time and stepped back.

“I find it hard to believe that no one is at home at this early hour,” Aunt Millward said, looking at the small window on the upper floor.

Jane glanced anxiously at the butcher’s shop. She’d caught sight of Mr. Stanley behind the counter as they’d crossed the road. Thankfully, there were also three or four customers inside, who were obviously keeping his attention from the women standing on the doorstep next door. There was no sign of Charlie, but Jane expected him to make an appearance any minute.

“What would you like me t’ do, miss?” Alice asked.

“Try the knocker one more time,” Jane said, reluctant to leave without some measure of success. They had made the journey to the village expressly for this purpose, and Cook had gone to the trouble of making pasties at very short notice.

Alice raised the knocker, but before it could fall, the door shifted slightly. She set it down gently and stepped back as the door opened a crack and one brown eye peered out at about the same level as the doorknob.

“Good morning, Asher,” Jane said.

“Morning, miss.” He pulled the door open a little more and eyed Aunt Millward curiously.

“This is Lady Millward,” Jane said. “She heard so much about the handsome young man who loves spiced buns that she asked to come and bring you pasties.”

Asher’s gaze shifted to the basket in Alice’s hand. “What’s pasties?”

Jane lifted the cloth covering the baked goods, and Alice tilted the basket slightly so the small boy could see its contents. “They’re pastries with meat and vegetables inside.” She glanced at the butcher shop window again. It wouldn’t be long before one of the customers exited. “Could we bring the basket inside and give it to Mrs. Stanley?”

“She’s in her bed,” Asher said, making no move to open the door farther.

“At this hour?” Aunt Millward’s voice held a hint of reproof, and Asher shrank back.

He was still in his nightgown, Jane noticed, and his feet were bare. “Where’s the baby?”

“Charlie took him to Mrs. Potter because he wouldn’t stop cwying.”

She exchanged a worried look with Aunt Millward. “Is Mrs. Stanley not well?”

“She’s ill,” he said sadly. “Vewy, vewy ill.”

“Asher.” At the sound of Aunt Millward’s voice, the child turned to look at her again. “Is anyone with Mrs. Stanley?”

He shook his head.

If the unsettled feeling in the pit of Jane’s stomach was anything to go by, waiting for Lord Bloxley to arrive before sorting out the Stanleys’ situation was no longer an option. “Would you let us in to help her?” she asked.

Asher hesitated for only a moment, then he stepped back and pulled open the door. Aunt Millward studied the stairs before them.

“Up, I assume,” she said. “As there is nowhere else to go.”

Jane nodded, eyeing the steep steps uneasily.

Alice moved closer. “Shall I go up first, miss. To save yer leg?”