uneasy silence settled around
the small group. It was something Susanna wasn't used to. Her three servants always
got along so well. There were never any harsh words exchanged between them,
never charged silences.
"Is there any more
marmalade?" Holt asked, tearing off another hunk of bread.
"Here you go," Cook
said, passing him the jar. "Eat up. It soothes the stomach, you
know."
"Helps with wind too,"
Bessie said. "Just ask Mr. Hendricks."
Everyone burst into laughter, all
except poor Hendricks, who gave Bessie his most withering scowl.
"Lo! Lady Lynden?"
Farmer Cowdrey's loud, gruff voice came from outside.
"In the kitchen,"
Susanna called back. She rose to greet him but it wasn't just Cowdrey's bulk
that filled the doorway. It was his sister's much more slender form too,
holding a basket.
"What a lovely surprise to
see you both," Susanna said. "Margaret, how are you? Fully recovered
I hope?"
Margaret Cowdrey's pretty
features lifted in an unconvincing smile. "Yes, thank you." She
handed over the basket. "Thank you for the marmalades and bread, but I
assure you, it's not necessary. Unfortunately the bread went stale, but you'll
find your marmalades just the same as when you gave them to Walter."
"Oh, you didn't need to give
them back. They were for you. A get-well gift from Father and I."
"Thank you, but as I
explained to Walter when he brought them home, we didn't need anything."
Her brother blushed to the roots of his red-brown hair and studiously stared
down at his boots. "My servants are capable of making preserves and bread,
and you need them more than us."
Susanna took the basket. It was
indeed still filled with the two jars of marmalade she'd sent to her ill
neighbor. Margaret's pettiness grew worse and worse. Susanna felt a twinge of
guilt at her unkind thoughts toward a woman she'd once called friend. They'd
known each other their entire lives and played together as children, yet
Margaret, the older by a year, had become distant as they grew up. When Susanna
was fifteen, Margaret had gone so far as to turn her back as Susanna approached
her after church. She'd offered no explanation then or since. Susanna had
married and moved away a year later but upon her return, she'd discovered
Margaret's feelings had not changed. Susanna eventually gave up trying to find
out what the problem was and the two women successfully avoided each other most
of the time.
It must gall Margaret that her
brother had asked Susanna to marry him. That's if she knew. When Susanna had
asked Walter what Margaret had thought after his first proposal, he'd simply
shrugged and said he hadn't told her yet. She didn't ask him after the second
and third. It no longer seemed to matter.
"What was your illness
again? Your brother didn't quite know."
Walter Cowdrey shuffled his feet.
"A fever," Margaret said. "I'm still a little weak from it, so
do not expect to see me much." Indeed her face did seem paler than usual,
the freckles more vibrant across her nose. She was a handsome woman with alluring
gray eyes and a neat figure, yet she had failed to secure herself a husband.
Perhaps it was because of all the bitterness running through her. The entire
village knew to watch out if Margaret Cowdrey was in one of her tempers.
"Have you eaten yet?"
Susanna asked.
"Aye," said Walter.
"In The Plough just now, thank you, m'lady."
Out of the corner of her eye,
Susanna saw Margaret wince, but she didn't know why. Perhaps it was because she
hated the way her brother blinked his lashes at Susanna or the way he massaged
the brim of his hat with his big hands as if it were Susanna's hand. Actually,
the thought made her wince too. Having any part of her massaged by Walter made
her want to run in the opposite direction.
Now if it were Holt doing the
massaging...
"Please finish your dinner, Lady
Lynden, and don’t mind us," Walter said. "I'll just wait until you're
done." He nodded at Hendricks, Bessie, and Cook, then his gaze fell on
Holt.
Holt rose
the small group. It was something Susanna wasn't used to. Her three servants always
got along so well. There were never any harsh words exchanged between them,
never charged silences.
"Is there any more
marmalade?" Holt asked, tearing off another hunk of bread.
"Here you go," Cook
said, passing him the jar. "Eat up. It soothes the stomach, you
know."
"Helps with wind too,"
Bessie said. "Just ask Mr. Hendricks."
Everyone burst into laughter, all
except poor Hendricks, who gave Bessie his most withering scowl.
"Lo! Lady Lynden?"
Farmer Cowdrey's loud, gruff voice came from outside.
"In the kitchen,"
Susanna called back. She rose to greet him but it wasn't just Cowdrey's bulk
that filled the doorway. It was his sister's much more slender form too,
holding a basket.
"What a lovely surprise to
see you both," Susanna said. "Margaret, how are you? Fully recovered
I hope?"
Margaret Cowdrey's pretty
features lifted in an unconvincing smile. "Yes, thank you." She
handed over the basket. "Thank you for the marmalades and bread, but I
assure you, it's not necessary. Unfortunately the bread went stale, but you'll
find your marmalades just the same as when you gave them to Walter."
"Oh, you didn't need to give
them back. They were for you. A get-well gift from Father and I."
"Thank you, but as I
explained to Walter when he brought them home, we didn't need anything."
Her brother blushed to the roots of his red-brown hair and studiously stared
down at his boots. "My servants are capable of making preserves and bread,
and you need them more than us."
Susanna took the basket. It was
indeed still filled with the two jars of marmalade she'd sent to her ill
neighbor. Margaret's pettiness grew worse and worse. Susanna felt a twinge of
guilt at her unkind thoughts toward a woman she'd once called friend. They'd
known each other their entire lives and played together as children, yet
Margaret, the older by a year, had become distant as they grew up. When Susanna
was fifteen, Margaret had gone so far as to turn her back as Susanna approached
her after church. She'd offered no explanation then or since. Susanna had
married and moved away a year later but upon her return, she'd discovered
Margaret's feelings had not changed. Susanna eventually gave up trying to find
out what the problem was and the two women successfully avoided each other most
of the time.
It must gall Margaret that her
brother had asked Susanna to marry him. That's if she knew. When Susanna had
asked Walter what Margaret had thought after his first proposal, he'd simply
shrugged and said he hadn't told her yet. She didn't ask him after the second
and third. It no longer seemed to matter.
"What was your illness
again? Your brother didn't quite know."
Walter Cowdrey shuffled his feet.
"A fever," Margaret said. "I'm still a little weak from it, so
do not expect to see me much." Indeed her face did seem paler than usual,
the freckles more vibrant across her nose. She was a handsome woman with alluring
gray eyes and a neat figure, yet she had failed to secure herself a husband.
Perhaps it was because of all the bitterness running through her. The entire
village knew to watch out if Margaret Cowdrey was in one of her tempers.
"Have you eaten yet?"
Susanna asked.
"Aye," said Walter.
"In The Plough just now, thank you, m'lady."
Out of the corner of her eye,
Susanna saw Margaret wince, but she didn't know why. Perhaps it was because she
hated the way her brother blinked his lashes at Susanna or the way he massaged
the brim of his hat with his big hands as if it were Susanna's hand. Actually,
the thought made her wince too. Having any part of her massaged by Walter made
her want to run in the opposite direction.
Now if it were Holt doing the
massaging...
"Please finish your dinner, Lady
Lynden, and don’t mind us," Walter said. "I'll just wait until you're
done." He nodded at Hendricks, Bessie, and Cook, then his gaze fell on
Holt.
Holt rose
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