Three

Kelston Hall Children’s Home’s welcoming kitchen

Almost three in the afternoon that same day

Lilly placed the last bread dough rounds in the oven before brushing the flour from her starched white apron and rolling her sleeves down.

She gave an appreciative sniff.

Aromatic herbs, including lavender, basil, fennel, and oregano grown on the estate hung on hooks suspended from the ceiling to dry, adding to the already appealing aromas of fresh bread, stew, and apple pie.

She rarely lent a hand in the kitchen anymore, but two of the part-time scullery maids—sisters—had sent word they were abed with influenza. To avoid infecting the children, Lilly implemented a strict rule: sick employees were not welcome on the grounds.

Ailing teachers must remain confined to their bedchambers until they had recovered.

It was impossible for Mrs. B and Florence—the other part-time maid—to prepare three meals for five and forty mouths as well as do the baking, food preparation, wash dishes, attend the laundry, and the many other tasks required in the kitchen, and to maintain the rest of the house.

Even though the teachers kept their bedchamber and classroom clean, as well as pitched in wherever else the current situation required, there never seemed to be enough bodies to get everything completed.

So, Mrs. B had recruited Lilly to help with the baking this afternoon, or else they faced a week of breadless meals. Not an ideal situation when feeding so many.

Smiling, Lilly untied her apron.

Honestly, she did not mind baking. She found the task a pleasant reprieve from the never-ending paperwork sitting atop her desk. Besides, she had plenty of experience cooking and baking. As a child in this same orphanage, Lilly had been assigned kitchen duties by the former headmistress.

However, unlike most of her childhood, where chore after chore filled every moment not spent on lessons, the children at Kelston Hall Children’s Home today enjoyed more free time after their studies. Lilly insisted upon it when she had become the director and the headmistress eight years ago.

Besides traditional education, every child also engaged in swimming, archery, dancing, art, music, decorum, and riding lessons. The girls also received cooking, sewing, and medicinal herbs instructions, while the boys learned basic animal husbandry, agriculture, and carpentry skills.

Thus, when the time came to leave Kelston Hall at eighteen, the orphans would be better prepared to enter the world and find employment.

While running an organization of this size certainly benefited from, and required, the children’s help to operate efficiently, Lilly took care not to exploit the orphans. Not only were they allowed to have fun, but she also encouraged games and play within appropriate boundaries and with adequate supervision, of course.

Six and thirty children, ranging in age from five to sixteen, running amuck on the estate’s fourteen acres, which included several gardens, a small pond, an orchard, as well as livestock, and poultry, would not make for happy neighbors.

She could not afford to offend the nobility flanking Kelston Hall on three sides.

This manor, too, had once been an aristocrat’s country home.

Beaumont Davenport, Viscount of Merrivale, once owned Kelston Hall. When the viscountcy had fallen upon hard times a few decades ago, his lordship sold the unentailed manor house, gaining him respite from debtors’ prison.

His spinster elder sister bought the grand home.

Perchance, Matilda Davenport had possessed fond childhood memories of the slightly run-down manor and grounds.

In any event, she had founded Kelston Hall Children’s Home six and thirty years ago and had overseen the school’s administration until her death. The children highly anticipated her annual visits and receiving the sweets, small gifts, and new clothing Miss Davenport always provided.

To this day, Lilly remained partial to licorice drops.

Even Mrs. Edna Reubins, the former director, and her second in command, Miss Jane Brewer, put on their polite public facade for Miss Davenport’s annual appearances. Of course, the moment their benefactor left, Mrs. Reubins and Miss Brewer reverted to their true natures: punitive, lazy, miserly, and spiteful.

Miss Davenport had insisted Mrs. Reubins hire Lilly as a teacher at just sixteen—the age most children left Kelston Hall back then. Lilly would be forever grateful to the dame for her kindness and favor.

Unwilling to lose her position or Miss Davenport’s funding, Mrs. Reubins grudgingly complied, but she made sure Lilly knew she resented the appointment.

Even eight years later, Lilly still could not quite believe Miss Davenport had bequeathed her and Charles Kelston Hall as well as the dear lady’s remaining fortune. That was after paying for Charles to attend medical school.

Yes, Miss Davenport had been a gentle, generous soul.

So sad she had never married or had children.

One of Lilly’s first tasks as director had been to send sour-faced Mrs. Reubins and her sycophant, Miss Brewer, packing. Lilly replaced the mean-spirited women with kinder but firm, intelligent instructors who made educating and loving the children their utmost priority.

With careful management, wise economizing, and by utilizing the estate grounds to diversify income, Kelston Hall Children’s Home had become self-sufficient and financially independent.

Not that Lilly did not appreciate donations to the home, whether financial or of some other means. She was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Any extra funds or supplies made it possible to enhance the children’s education.

“I have a meeting with the sheriff at three Mrs. B, and I would like to look in on our patient before then to check on his progress. Perhaps, he has remembered something of importance that I can relay to Sheriff Wrottesley.”

There had been no point in contacting the sheriff before now; not only had he been out of town until three days ago, but Lilly had no information about their patient that could help identify him.

Truth be told, every time she had contemplated contacting the sheriff before, wariness and reluctance had made her stomach sink. However, once the mystery man had awakened, she could no longer delay the inevitable.

Perchance, Mr. Clement Wrottesley could uncover who the chap was.

Or at least, piece together enough information about the stranger to place announcements in Prudhoe and the neighboring communities. However, it was too soon to distribute notices with a sketch of the injured guest.

Though fading, colorful bruises, as well as numerous scabs, still covered his severely battered face. The swelling had not completely abated, either. Likely, he needed to heal another week or so before she could attempt to capture his likeness on paper.

“I trust you can watch the loaves of bread and remove them from the oven, Mrs. B?”

Lilly glanced out one of the arched kitchen windows just in time to see Joseph Boone, Miles White, and George Newcomb begin lobbing the potatoes they had dug up at one another.

“Of course, dearie.”

Mrs. B stood on a stool before the new cast iron stove and stirred an enormous pot of beef stew. She stepped down and brushed the back of her hand across her damp forehead.

“Excuse me just a moment, Mrs. B.”

Lilly rushed to the door and threw it open.

“Gent-le-men!” She enunciated each syllable.

At once, the three boys froze with the potatoes in their dirty hands, their mischievous grins fading into guilty I-have-been-caught-red-handed expressions.

“We eat those potatoes. They are our food throughout the winter.” Lilly gave each lad a hard stare. “I know I do not like bruised potatoes. What’s more, damaged potatoes rot. I also do not like going hungry because our potatoes have spoiled.”

Not that the children would ever go hungry.

However, they could certainly eat bread and gruel for a few meals to learn their lesson about wastefulness.

“We are sorry, Miss Granger.” The eldest, and no doubt the instigator, Miles, dropped a tuberous missile at his dust-covered feet. The vegetable bounced once, then rolled to a stop next to the potato plant mound from whence it had emerged minutes before.

He brushed his soiled palms on his thighs several times, and Lilly hid a wince as he left dirt streaks on his trousers.

Those marks would not come out easily.

The epitome of solemn chastisement, Joseph nodded.

“Yeth,” he lisped, wiping his fingers beneath his freckled nose and leaving a trail resembling a dirt mustache. “It shall not happen again, Mith Gwanger. I pwomith.”

His face set in determined lines, George silently set about gathering the miniature cannonballs and placing them in a neat pile.

“Very well.” Lilly gave a firm nod. “I shall deem this matter settled. Please make better choices in the future, boys. Now go wash up and spend the next hour reading your chosen novels in the library. I shall be along shortly to ask you about your books.”

“Yes, Miss Granger,” the lads chorused in unison before tearing off, no doubt grateful for the reprieve.

Perhaps, they had too much free time.

By the by, where was Miss Sanders?

The boys were supposed to be under her supervision and, had they been, the potato battle would never have commenced.

Shaking her head and forehead puckered, Lilly shut the door.

“I thought Miss Sanders said she intended to take the younger students bird-watching this afternoon, Mrs. B.”

Mrs. B made a disapproving sound in her throat before pinching her mouth tight as if she struggled to restrain herself before finally blurting, “I would wager my best bonnet she has sneaked off to flirt with the Mansfield’s groom. Again . Likely, she pawned her charges off on Miss McKenzie. Miss McKenzie frets about the children too much to say no to the imposition.”

Lilly puffed out a breath from between her lips.

If Mrs. B said Miss Sanders was hieing off for clandestine meetings, then that was that. Any gossip or tattle within five miles, and Mrs. B knew all the sordid details. Not that Lilly listened to tattle regularly, but the truth was, Mrs. B knew just about everything that went on.

Hence, Miss Ruby Sanders was not long for Kelston Hall.

Lilly must admit, hiring her had proved a mistake, despite her stellar references.

In the seven months the woman had been here, she had proven lackadaisical and inefficient. This was not her first inappropriate liaison either—which meant Lilly had no choice but to terminate her employment and post the position. It also meant rearranging the other staff’s schedules and likely having to teach lessons herself in the interim.

Even if deserved, Lilly disliked giving anyone their congé.

However, the children’s home had a reputation to uphold. Teachers who shirked their duties and failed to be good moral examples to the children could not remain.

Miss Sanders, too, should have made better choices.

Just one more unpleasant thing Lilly must deal with today.

Mrs. B gave her an encouraging smile.

“Thank you for the help, Lilly. Hopefully, Sheriff Wrottesley can shed a little light on who our mysterious guest is.”

“I enjoyed making the bread.” And Lilly had.

Should the good Lord have seen fit to allow her to marry and have children, Lilly quite thought she would have liked cooking and baking for her family.

Fully in command of her kitchen, Mrs. B waved her wooden spoon in the air, like a monarch wielding her scepter.

“Make sure to leave the office door open, and I shall have a lass bring you a cup of tea as an excuse to make sure the bounder does not dare cross the mark.” She cackled, unashamed of her missing teeth. “Or I can come myself, rolling pin in hand to defend your honor.”

Lilly grinned as she imagined that scene.

Mrs. B winked. “You could always wave your pistol in his arrogant face.”