Chapter 23

It had been four days, and Benedict's chest ached as badly now as it had when Caroline had unequivocally rebuffed him in the farmyard. He'd been so stunned by her attack on his decision to enter Rowe's cottage, he'd scarcely known how to respond. And although her violent reaction to his news was heightened by her own horrific experience with smallpox, to have her accuse him of such callous behavior had cut deeply and had ignited his indignation. With no knowledge of Rowe's tampering with Farwell Farm's finances, she could not be expected to realize how important it was that he and his father access the ledgers, but neither had she offered him any opportunity to explain his actions.

He kicked a small stone out of his path. Frustration was a poor companion, and he knew full well that he would be better off without it, but that did not make relinquishing it easy.

Why did loving someone have to hurt this much? Up until now, he'd always equated the emotion with joy and contentment, but his last interaction with Caroline had given him new insight into how deeply she had been wounded by losing love in the past. And if she was unwilling to take a chance on it again, it was likely that the pain in his chest would become a permanent ailment.

The steward's cottage came into view, and he forced away his lingering unhappiness to focus on Rowe's and Rachel's situation. He followed the lane to the cottage's garden gate. There he paused and studied the house. A thin trickle of smoke came from the chimney. The curtains over the upper bedchamber's windows remained closed, but no fabric fluttered at the door. It was the same scene he'd witnessed every morning since speaking with Rachel. He could only pray that no signal for additional assistance meant that things were stable or improving.

Turning from the cottage, he continued down the lane toward the farm. To his left, the cows in the pasture were visible over the top of the stone wall; to his right, a large field of wheat waved in the gentle breeze. He tensed his jaw. His father had been studying the ledgers late into the night ever since Benedict had delivered them to his study. Whatever deceit Rowe had managed with the sale of the Farwell Farm wheat, he had obviously done a masterful job at covering up the evidence. The proof was there, however. And even if it took more digging than they would wish, Benedict had no doubt that he and his father would ultimately uncover the whole of their steward's deception.

Grateful that his father had taken upon himself the task of going through the books, Benedict set his mind on their other grave responsibility. Up until now, no one living on Farwell property had reported feeling unwell, but he would not fully relax until a fortnight had passed since Rowe returned. Benedict had experienced no symptoms. Given that John had not complained of any illness, Benedict prayed Meg was healthy still. Surely he would have heard if that were not the case.

He turned into the farmyard. John was walking Ginger around the yard. Glad to see the groom about his work, Benedict crossed the short distance between them and called out a greeting. "Good morning, John."

The groom inclined his head. "Mornin', m'lord."

"How are you feeling? Is all well with the stableboys?"

"Yes, m'lord. Nothin' new t' report from the stables. Unless ya count Tim droppin' a pail o' oats on 'is foot."

Benedict grimaced. "How is he?"

"Still limpin', but 'e's well enough t' laugh about it."

"Good for him," Benedict said. "Let me know if his foot worsens. I'll be back to take Saxon out after I've spoken to Giles."

"Very good, m'lord." John clicked his tongue, and as Ginger began walking again, Giles exited the milking parlor.

Benedict's cowman spotted him immediately and adjusted his course to join him. "Mornin', m'lord."

"Good morning," Benedict said. "I hope you bear good news."

"No illness in the milkin' parlor, m'lord." He shrugged. "Seems t' me that there may be some truth t' the maids' boast about 'em never catchin' the smallpox. I ain't ever seen one come down with it. An' now there's a physician down in Berkeley who's toutin' the very same thing."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"It were Mr. Wallace at the shop who told me 'bout the fellow. Dr. Edward Jenner, 'is name is. Accordin' t' Mr. Wallace, Dr. Jenner's makin' quite a stir with some new treatment. 'E seems t' think that the milkmaids don't get smallpox 'cos they've 'ad cowpox, an' 'e's set out t' prove it."

"How?"

"Well, it sounds right odd, but by all accounts, 'e took some o' the puss from inside a milkmaid's cowpox blister an' scratched it onto the skin of a young lad. The lad became ill with cowpox soon after. But cowpox don't keep a young 'un down fer long, so 'e was over it within a few days. This Dr. Jenner waited a bit an' then exposed the lad t' someone with smallpox." Giles scratched his head. "Right brave o' the lad, if ya ask me."

"Not to mention his parents," Benedict said.

"Aye. That too."

"What happened? Did the boy become ill?"

"No," Giles said. "That's the miracle of it all. If the stories are t' be believed, 'e never did come down with smallpox."

As much as Benedict wanted it to be true, it seemed a far-flung hope. "I think it will take more than one boy's good fortune to convince other physicians of this miracle cure—let alone an entire population."

"I daresay." Giles shrugged. "Maybe we'll 'ear somethin' new afore too long, 'specially since Berkeley's not so far away."

Benedict certainly hoped that was the case. Particularly if the results of the country doctor's experimentation proved promising. "Let me know if you do," he said.

The clatter of hooves interrupted their conversation. Benedict turned to see John emerge through the door of the stables with Saxon at his side. The horse snorted and tugged at the lead rope, undoubtedly desiring something more than a circuit around the yard. Benedict understood the feeling. Today, a long, hard ride would be good for both him and his horse.

"I'm grateful for your report, Giles," he said. "I shall return for the afternoon milking."

His cowman gave an accepting nod. "Very good, m'lord."

* * *

The wooden rocking chair creaked in a steady rhythm, and the baby in Caroline's arms smiled in his sleep. She smiled in response. What a difference a few days and some nutritious food had made to the Simkins household.

"He's perfect, Hester," she said.

"'E is, ain't 'e?" Hester's wan look had been replaced with a rosy glow. "Now that 'e's eatin' better, 'e's sleepin' better as well."

"And that means you're sleeping better," Caroline surmised.

"I can't believe th' difference. When I got up yesterday, fer th' first time since Robbie was born, I felt like maybe I could cope."

"You're doing far more than coping," Caroline said. "You are dressed and ready for company, and the house is as neat as a pin."

"I'm not sure if plaitin' me 'air real quick counts fer bein' ready fer company, but I was right glad I was out o' me shift when the vicar came t' th' door."

Caroline smiled. Her father had purposely delayed his visit until early afternoon to give the Simkinses a little extra time to prepare for the day. It had obviously been a wise decision.

From upstairs, the sound of Jim Simkins's laughter reached her. Caroline's father was with him, and although Jim was still nursing an injured leg, according to Hester, the swelling had subsided considerably. If nothing more, the fact that he was feeling well enough to laugh was reassuring.

Caroline's father had a gift for bringing reassurance, hope, and comfort to his parishioners. It was one of the reasons Caroline had always enjoyed going with him when he visited members of his congregation. She'd been especially grateful when he'd invited her to go with him to the Simkinses' house today. Not only had she desperately needed a distraction from her tormenting thoughts, but she'd also been anxious to know how her friend was faring. To see Hester and her baby so improved was the best possible balm to Caroline's aching heart.

"What news can ya share with me?" Hester asked. "I feel as though I've been trapped indoors fer weeks."

Caroline understood the feeling. This was her first outing since she'd returned to the vicarage from Farwell Farm in a state of complete panic. Since then, she'd watched Meg with a vigilance that bordered on obsession, but up until now, the little girl had shown no sign of rash or fever. Indeed, Meg's youthful energy had yet to waver in the slightest, and she'd been most put out by Caroline's firm directive that she not set foot outside the house. Boredom had set in almost immediately, and it was only because Nora had persuaded Meg to make knotted bread rolls this afternoon that Caroline had been able to escape without her.

"Mr. Rowe has smallpox." It was all Caroline had been able to think of for four days, and the words slipped out before she could call them back.

Shock filled Hester's eyes. "Mercy. That's th' worst possible news."

"It is."

"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."

"Caroline is with the baby?"

"Yes, m'lady."

"How lovely." There was a rustle of fabric, and suddenly, Lady Farwell appeared in the parlor doorway.

Caroline bobbed a curtsy. "Good day, my lady."

"Caroline." Lady Farwell approached her with a smile. "It seems an age since you were at the house, and yet it has been under a week. I am glad to see that you are well."

"Yes, my lady."

"And Meg? Is she well?"

"She is, my lady."

"Wonderful. Please bring her to visit again soon." Lady Farwell's response suggested that she was in ignorance of Meg's possible exposure to smallpox.

"We would be honored, my lady, but I fear we shall have to wait a little longer before calling on you. Meg is currently under quarantine at the vicarage."

"Quarantine?" Her ladyship's shock confirmed Caroline's assumption. "Whatever for?"

"There is a chance that she was exposed to smallpox at the farm," Caroline said.

"Good gracious. I had no idea. Did she have contact with Mr. Rowe?"

"Not directly, my lady. But she spent time with John at the stables, and he was with Mr. Rowe the night before."

Concern filled Lady Farwell's eyes. "Oh, my dear child, how incredibly difficult this must be for you."

Caroline swallowed the lump in her throat. The kindly lady did not know the half of it. Yes, Caroline's concern for Meg was ever present, but so too was her remorse over her harsh treatment of Benedict when he'd told her of Mr. Rowe's condition. "It has been a trying few days," she said. "Accompanying my father to the Simkinses' home has been a welcome reprieve from watching for any sign of illness in Meg."

Lady Farwell nodded understandingly. "I daresay Hester appreciates your visit also."

"Most certainly," Hester said. She had followed the noblewoman into the parlor. "An' yours too, m'lady."

Lady Farwell smiled and pointed at the bundle in Caroline's arms. "This must be the newest resident of Leyfield."

Caroline held up the baby so Lady Farwell could see his sweet little face. "Lady Farwell, meet Robert James Simkins. Robbie, this is Lady Farwell."

The baby slept through the introductions, but Lady Farwell moved closer and touched Robbie's clenched fist as it lay atop his blanket. "What a fine-looking young man," she said.

Hester beamed. "Thank you, m' lady."

Footsteps sounded on the staircase. Each of the women turned, and moments later, Caroline's father appeared in the doorway.

When he caught sight of Lady Farwell, his eyes widened slightly, and then he inclined his head. "I beg your pardon, my lady. I did not realize you were here."

"I have only just now arrived, Reverend."

"Then Caroline and I are fortunate to have seen you, albeit for only a few minutes. Forgive me for not staying to chat. I promised my granddaughter that I would not keep her mother away for too long, and I fear I have already passed into that territory."

Thankfully, Lady Farwell had the grace to smile at her father's comment. "I've heard it said that disappointing a grandchild should be avoided at all costs."

"Just so, my lady. I may have significant repenting to do upon my return to the vicarage."

"Ah. Then I'd best wish you a speedy return," Lady Farwell said.

Caroline handed Robbie to his mother. The sleeping infant stirred, but Hester drew him close, and with a soft sigh, he relaxed against her.

"Thank you for comin'," Hester said. "I think Jim an' me were both in need o' the company o' others."

"I was glad to see Jim in such good spirits," Caroline's father said. "I shall return next week to see how he's progressing."

"Thank you, Reverend. An' you, too, Caroline."

"It was a treat to hold Robbie for a little while." Caroline bobbed another curtsy directed at Lady Farwell. "Good day, my lady."

"Good day, Caroline," Lady Farwell said. "Please send word to the house if Meg falls ill. I am sure I speak for Benedict when I say that neither of us shall rest easily until we know she is safely out of quarantine."

Caroline offered her an acknowledging nod even as sorrow filled her heart. Lady Farwell did not know it yet, but regardless of Benedict's fondness for Meg, after the way Caroline had spoken to him, it was unlikely that he would reach out to either of them again.