Page 20 of Impossible
“You can’t think I’d do that,” she said with a touch of incredulity. “I’m glad you thought to caution me, however.” That indicated he wasn’t completely incapable of recognizing appropriate behavior. “I’ll be as brief as possible.”
Ada looked to Daisy. “Will you take me to meet your mother?”
Daisy skipped toward the house, and her brother followed as if tied to her by a string. Inside, Daisy led Ada to a room at the back—the kitchen, where her mother stood holding a sleeping babe who appeared to be nearing a year. The woman’s dark hair was lank, her face pale. She looked exhausted. Her eyes widened upon seeing Ada.
“This lady came here with a lord,” Daisy said.
Ada didn’t think the woman’s pallor could worsen, but it did. Any remaining color in her face completely drained away. “Yes, I’m here with the viscount,” Ada said brightly. “We’re visiting tenants.” She realized she hadn’t brought her ledger, but then she wasn’t going to query her. She’d make notes about the family when she returned to the cart.
The woman appeared relieved. “Oh. As you can see, we aren’t fit for visitors at the moment. The babe’s got a fever.”
“So do you, Mama,” Daisy said helpfully.
Her mother cast her a beleaguered stare. “Will you take your brother outside, please?”
Turning, Daisy skipped out of the kitchen, her brother trailing after.
“Have you been ill long?” Ada asked gently.
“Nearly a week.”
Ada took in the unwashed dishes and general chaos of the kitchen. “Looks like you could use some help while you and the babe recover. Do you need medicine?”
The woman shrugged. “Haven’t seen a doctor.”
“Then I’ll make sure one visits. Today.” Ada recalled the names of the farmers who kept sheep. “You’re Mrs. Niven?”
“No, the Nivens are on the other side of the estate. I’m Mrs. Kempton.”
“Ah yes, thank you for correcting me. You’ve three children? I ask because I want to hire someone to come help until you’re well. I just need to know what sort of person to hire. Or if you perhaps need more than one helper.”
Mrs. Kempton’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, and she adjusted the baby in her arms. “I can’t afford any help.”
Ada gave her a reassuring smile. “You needn’t worry about that. His lordship will pay for it.”
Surprise followed by skepticism flashed across Mrs. Kempton’s weary features. “Are you certain of that?”
“Yes.” Ada would pay for it herself if she had to. Or get Lucien to—he’d be horrified to learn that Warfield wasn’t taking care of his tenants. “Don’t doubt it. I promise.”
“Pardon me for saying so, but his lordship has been absent since coming into the title. The old viscount—his father—was attentive. He was a good landlord. I don’t have much faith that this one will pay for medicine, let alone someone to help us.”
Ada wanted to rail at Warfield. These people depended on him, and he was letting them down. How could he not realize that? Well, she’d make sure he knew it now—and that things had to change.
“You can trust me,” Ada said firmly. “I’ll pay the doctor before he even comes here today. Will that ease your concern?”
Mrs. Kempton nodded. “Thank you. Truly.” She kissed her baby’s head, and Ada felt a pang of loss that made her breath stutter.
Ada walked outside into the bright day and took a long breath. This one visit was threatening to steal every bit of positivity she had. Her gaze found the viscount standing away from the cart, his attention on the ground.
Moving toward him, Ada frowned, as she meant to admonish him for his treatment—or general ignorance—of his tenants. But the closer she got to him, the more she realized something was amiss. He was wholly fixated on the ground and didn’t even seem to register her approach.
She followed his gaze and saw a bright red ribbon lying in the dirt. Hadn’t that been in Daisy’s hair? “Where’s the girl?” she asked as the bottom of her stomach seemed to drop away.
He didn’t respond, and Ada looked up, glancing around the yard. There she was—not too far distant, crouched down with her brother investigating something. Ada exhaled with relief. She wasn’t sure what she thought had happened, but something about Warfield’s demeanor was off.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
It took a moment before he finally turned his head toward her. His eyes were glassy, his skin pale. His full lips had seemed to thin. “Let’s go.”
