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“How’s ’e farin’?”

“I cannot say. His maid is caring for him, and I believe all is being done to isolate them both.”

Hester nodded. “I know ’is maid. ’Er name’s Rachel. She worked with Molly in th’ milkin’ parlor afore goin’ t’ work fer Mr. Rowe. That’ll make all the difference.”

“What difference could working with Molly possibly make to her terrible situation?”

“Why, she won’t become ill, o’ course.”

Caroline stared at her, searching for some sign that she was jesting. There was none. “Forgive me, but I do not understand.”

“I don’ begin t’ understand it meself,” Hester said. “But if ya remember, when we were at Sarah’s ’ouse together, Molly said the same about milkmaids not gettin’ smallpox. An’ I reckon she should know.” She paused. “What of Lord Benning or Lord Farwell? Did they have contact with Mr. Rowe?”

Pushing past the painful memories of her last interaction with Benedict, Caroline attempted a weak smile. “Lord Benning interacted with Mr. Rowe’s maid and entered his house, but as far as I know, neither he nor Lord Farwell spoke directly to Mr. Rowe after he returned from Gloucester.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Caroline could see little good about it. “He entered the house. And if Mr. Rowe’s maid has already contracted the disease . . .”

Hester reached over and set a comforting hand on Caroline’s arm. “Believe me when I tell you, Rachel will be well. And I truly believe Lord Benning will also.”

“I pray you are right.”

“I shall pray fer ’em as well,” Hester said. “Lord Benning is th’ very best o’ men. We could not believe ’ow fast food arrived on our doorstep after ’e left ’ere th’ other day. Food, th’ likes of which we’ve never ’ad afore.”

Benedict truly was the best of men, but if Caroline were to have any hope of keeping her tears at bay, she would need to focus on something other than that particular gentleman.

“But the food was good?” she asked.

The warmth of Hester’s smile lifted Caroline’s troubled heart. “Ever so good. ’Specially the puddin’.”

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting their conversation.

Startled, Hester rose from her chair. “I can’t think who that would be.”

“Robbie is fine with me if you wish to see who has come,” Caroline said.

Hester nodded and hurried out of the parlor. Soon afterward, Caroline heard the door open and her friend’s surprised voice.

“Good day, Lady Farwell.”

Caroline stopped her rocking. Lady Farwell! Please, heaven, let her not be accompanied by Benedict. Their next meeting could not be here, in front of the watchful eyes of others. Clasping the baby close, Caroline came to her feet and quietly stepped closer to the window. One of the Farwell carriages was parked behind her father’s horse and trap near the garden gate. Had Lady Farwell recognized the conveyance as the one the vicar drove? Would she assume that he was here alone?

“Good day, Mrs. Simkins,” Lady Farwell said. “Forgive me for giving you no notice of my coming. I simply stopped to ask how you, Mr. Simkins, and the baby are managing.”

“That’s very kind, m’lady. We are all much improved.”

“I am very glad to hear it.”

“Without th’ generous food baskets that came from Farwell ’All, I . . . I’m not sure that we would ’ave survived,” Hester said. “Jim an’ me, we’re truly grateful.”

Warmth filled the noblewoman’s voice. “We were happy to be of assistance.”

There was a slight pause, and then Hester spoke again. “Would ya like t’ come in, m’lady? I’d be ’appy t’ make a pot o’ tea.”

“I noticed Reverend Moore’s vehicle outside,” she said. “If he is already here, I will not impose.”

“It’s no trouble,” Hester said. “The vicar’s upstairs with Jim; Caroline’s in the parlor with me an’ th’ baby.”