Chapter 17

Saxon trotted into the farmyard with a clatter of hooves.

"Giles!" Benedict called, spotting the older man standing near the stables, talking to a couple of the stablehands.

Giles swung around. "Lord Benning. I'm right glad yer 'ere."

"I could say the same." Benedict reined his horse to a halt beside the small gathering and dismounted. "I'm seeking Mr. Rowe. Have you seen him?"

"No, m'lord. An' that's not fer the lack of lookin'."

Something in Giles's voice caused Benedict to pause. "Is something amiss?"

"Jim Simkins 'ad an accident in th' orchard."

Benedict tensed. "What manner of accident?"

"'E fell from the tree 'e were prunin'. Elias was with 'im an' ran t' the yard fer 'elp."

"How bad is he?"

"Couple o' broken teeth, swollen mouth, an' lots o' blood," Giles said. "'E's a nice-sized cut on one arm. I reckon 'e caught it on a branch on th' way down. An' 'e weren't able t' put weight on one leg." He shook his head grimly. "By th' time I reached 'im, 'is ankle 'ad swollen. Time'll tell if it's a break."

Benedict ran his fingers through his hair. He was fully aware that the news could have been worse. The original trees in the orchard were large enough that a bad fall could kill a man. But this report was far from good. "If memory serves, Jim's wife just gave birth," he said.

"Aye. Three or four days ago," Giles said. "It's a rough go fer their little family, m'lord."

"Where's Jim now?"

"We loaded 'im onto the cart. John is takin' 'im 'ome."

"And you said you tried locating Mr. Rowe?"

Giles nodded. "John said 'e rode in from Gloucester late last night. But no one's seen 'im since then."

Gloucester again. Benedict was developing a wholly irrational dislike for the place. Rowe had been there when the apple saplings had arrived as well. It might be time to review the steward's supposed need to visit so frequently.

"Has my father been informed of the accident?"

"Yes, m'lord. Elias went up t' th' 'ouse afore th' cart even left." He turned his head as the pounding of feet against the ground reached them. "I reckon this might be 'im comin' back now."

Giles's guess was proven correct moments later when Elias appeared on the path that led to the manor house. He was moving at a steady jog, and it wasn't long before he reached the stable doors.

Bending at the waist, he set his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths before standing and acknowledging Benedict with a nod. "Afternoon, m'lord."

"What news, Elias?" Benedict asked.

"I spoke to Lord Farwell." He paused to catch his breath. "'E's sendin' a footman t' the village t' fetch Doctor Phillips, with instructions fer the doctor t' go directly t' th' Simkinses' place. 'E weren't 'appy that Mr. Rowe's nowhere t' be found. It sounded like the steward was supposed t' meet with th' earl this mornin', and 'e never came."

Benedict frowned. As frustrated as he was with the steward, it was unlike the gentleman to fail to appear for a meeting with his employer. Particularly as Benedict's father had only just returned to Farwell Hall.

"If his horse is here, he cannot have gone far," Benedict said.

"I thought the same." Giles scratched his forehead. "But I can't fathom where 'e could be."

The steward's absence was irritating, but Benedict had no doubt his father would require Rowe to give a full accounting for it. And when the earl had finished with him, Benedict had his own list of burning questions for the gentleman. He set one foot in the stirrup and mounted his horse again. "I shall meet the doctor at Jim's home to see what can be done for the poor fellow."

* * *

Caroline drew the baby a little closer, relishing the simple joy of holding a newborn child again. She ran her finger gently over his slightly pink cheek. His breathing was even, echoing the steady back-and-forth rhythm of the old wooden rocking chair on which she sat. Hester was in bed. She'd consumed two-thirds of the soup and two cups of tea before making her way upstairs. Caroline hoped she was already asleep.

One nutritious meal and some rest were a good start, but that was all it was. Hester would need far more of both those things if she were to successfully feed Robbie and recover her strength. Caroline leaned her head against the chair's backrest. What could be done to help her friend? Meg was with Nora this afternoon. But as much as the older woman enjoyed spending time with Meg, her energy was not what it had once been. Caroline could not impose on her for more than a day or two at a time. Sally and Molly had their own children to care for. And even if they were able to offer physical assistance, that did not solve the problem of the Simkinses' lack of food.

Her thoughts immediately flew to Benedict. He would help. She was sure of it. Especially as the Simkinses were Farwell tenants. But first, he would have to be informed of their dire need. She released a heavy breath. When she'd awoken this morning, she'd determined that avoiding further contact with Benedict would be, by far, her best course. No matter how much Meg loved the farm animals, Caroline could not risk another close encounter with the gentleman. A long night alone in bed had done little to lessen the memory of her response to his hands on her waist. She'd not experienced a reaction to a man's touch like that since she'd first met Fred. In that instance, it had been a flash of instant attraction. With Benedict, she feared it was something greater—something far deeper and more lasting.

The baby whimpered in his sleep. He was hungry. She'd felt his stomach growl through his swaddling. It was only a matter of time before his need for nourishment overcame his need for sleep and he would begin to cry again.

The rattle of hooves and cartwheels reached her through the parlor window. When the contrivance stopped, she experienced a surge of hope. Perhaps her father had come. He didn't have Benedict's resources, but he might have some ideas for how they could assist Hester. A man's voice filled with urgency mixed with the creak of a hinge. Caroline battled her disappointment. It was not her father.

Robbie stirred, and Caroline rose to her feet, her arms maintaining a regular rocking motion as she moved. She stepped away from the chair toward the window. Two men were lifting another out of the back of a cart. The taller of the two shifted slightly, giving Caroline her first look at the one being helped to his feet. Or onto one foot. He stood with the other leg raised, his face and clothing stained with blood.

"Oh, please, no," she whispered. "Not now." Caroline had not met Hester's husband, but she recognized those who were assisting the injured man. One was Benedict's head groom, John, and the other was a stablehand who worked with him. Since they were now slowly making their way up the path to Hester's door, the identity of the wounded one was horribly clear.

They'd reached the door. Tightening her hold on little Robbie, Caroline moved into the entry to greet them. John guided Jim Simkins inside, but as soon as Mr. Simkins saw Caroline, he halted.

"Who are you?" A whistle accompanied the gentleman's words, and for the first time, Caroline noticed that beneath his swollen lips, at least one tooth was missing.

"Caroline Granger," she said. "I'm Reverend Moore's daughter and a friend of Hester's."

His gaze darted to the bundle in Caroline's arms, and panic flooded his pain-filled eyes. "Where's Hester? 'As she taken a turn fer th' worse?"

"Not at all," Caroline reassured him. "I'm simply holding the baby so she can rest."

"Jim, I daresay yer in worse shape than yer wife right now," the stablehand said. "Ya need to get off yer feet."

Jim wobbled.

John steadied him. "Bert's right, Jim. Where's the closest chair?"

Jim pointed to the parlor and the rocking chair Caroline had just vacated. "That'll do."

"Jim!" At Hester's anguished cry, all eyes turned to the top of the stairs. One of Hester's hands clutched the banister rail; she held the other over her mouth to muffle her sob.

"It's all right, Hester," Jim said.

She lowered her hand from her face and started down the stairs. "What 'appened?"

"'E took a fall out o' one of th' old apple trees," John said.

"I was prunin' th' dead wood, not realizin' th' very branch I was sittin' on was ready t' go." Jim winced, and the other two men guided him toward the chair. Gingerly, he lowered himself onto it. A bead of sweat appeared along his hairline, and when he set his hands upon the armrests, they were shaking. "Many thanks, lads."

"Oh, Jim." Hester reached his side and was openly weeping.

"It's all right, Hester," he repeated. "As long as yer fine with an 'usband who's missin' 'alf 'is teeth."

"I don't care 'bout yer teeth any more than you care 'bout my scar. I jus' need ya with me."

In Caroline's arms, the baby stirred. Whispering a gentle "hush," Caroline increased her rocking. She'd been without her bonnet ever since she'd entered the cottage, and not one of these decent people had given her a second glance. Jim's bloodied face was so much worse than her scarring. And at the time of her injury, Hester's had likely been even more disfigured. How much she could learn from these good, simple people who placed so little stock in physical appearance.

Another knock sounded on the door. Caroline was closest. Without hesitation, she went to answer it.

"Doctor Phillips!" The village doctor had been a good friend to her father for years. How he'd come so quickly, she could not fathom; neither could she deny the relief it was to have him there.

He peered at her through small, round spectacles, confusion evident in his expression. "Miss Caroline, isn't it?"

"It is." She ushered him inside and offered him a simple explanation. "I returned to the vicarage after my husband passed from smallpox."

He tutted. "Your father mentioned as much the last time I saw him. A terrible disease, as I'm sure you can attest. I pray every day that Dr. Jenner's cure will amount to something."

Caroline had never heard of Dr. Jenner or a supposed cure for the disease that had changed her life forever, but though the doctor's comment piqued her interest, this was not the time to question him about such things. "Mr. Simkins just arrived home," she said, gesturing toward the parlor.

"A bad fall is what Lord Farwell's man said."

"Yes." Had it been Lord Farwell or Benedict who had sent for the doctor? Regardless, she was grateful. "With multiple injuries."

Doctor Phillips tutted his tongue again and entered the parlor just as Robbie decided to let out a wail.

Offering the baby her knuckle to suck on, Caroline removed herself to the kitchen. "Give your mama a minute to talk to the doctor, little fellow," she murmured. "I promise, she will take you soon."