Page 7 of A Lord Apart (The Way to a Lord's Heart 2)

Her companion stared down at her as if the question was daft. This wasn’t Manchester, Penelope thought. There were no rowdy apprentices roaming the lanes here, shouting their appraisals of lone females. Penelope wished Mrs. Darnell would sit down, but clearly she wasn’t going to.

“And how far is it to the nearest village shop?” she asked. She’d included some staples with her furniture, but they’d soon need more flour and sugar and other supplies.

“A matter of four miles, miss.”

Penelope was assailed by a sudden feeling of isolation. Eight miles was a very long walk, too far to be carrying any but the lightest of burdens. They would need some form of transportation, and she couldn’t afford a carriage. Even a gig would stretch her means. Well, she’d leave this problem to Foyle. He’d have ideas.

“If there wasn’t anything else, miss.”

But there was much more Penelope wanted to know. “Who lived here before I arrived? Do you know?”

“That’d be old Mistress Harner. Past seventy she was, which is why the place is knee deep in dust, I expect.”

“Was?” Penelope quailed. Had the loss of her home killed the old woman?

“Is, I should say. She went to live with her daughter in Ashbourne, as Susan had been trying to get her to do for many a year.”

“Oh, that’s good then.”

“His lordship sent her in a traveling coach,” added Mrs. Darnell. “With a hot brick for her feet and all.”

“Lord Whitfield, you mean?”

The older woman nodded. “The young lord. Who never thought to take the reins so soon, of course. But he’s doing very well.”

“His father died unexpectedly?”

“In a shipwreck. And her ladyship, too. Off on t’other side of the world. India, it was. A terrible thing.” Mrs. Darnell grimaced. “You wouldn’t get me out in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. Not for any money.”

“How dreadful.” Penelope knew the shock of sudden death. But to lose both your parents in such a way must have been devastating.

One of the younger Frithgerd ladies came out with a question, and Mrs. Darnell went with her to consult. Penelope ate her sandwich, drank her tea, and allowed herself to enjoy the leafy shade over her head. After the trials of recent months, this seemed the height of luxury.

It was only after she’d seen off the cleaners with thanks that Penelope discovered the pile of items they’d smuggled in through the back door while she sat out front. They’d left a full oil lamp, a broom, a whole box of candles, and several bundles of food, as well as two folding cots upstairs. Walking around her now-spotless dwelling, she had to acknowledge the kindness behind this visit. Unless it was all calculation, to soften her up for another round of questions.

With a shiver, Penelope decided it was much more likely that Lord Whitfield had ulterior motives. But she couldn’t really blame him for wanting to know why she’d been left this house. The gift was inexplicable. She’d planned to comb every inch of the place to try to solve the mystery. Penelope ran her fingers over one of the stone lintels. The wood floors and plain plaster walls offered no nooks and crannies to examine. There was no visible discrepancy between the inside and outside dimensions. Still, she would search, on a day when she was less tired out.

Downstairs, she found Kitty by the stone sink with a large slice of chocolate cake in her hand. “This is the best cake I ever et,” the girl declared. She took another big bite, humming with pleasure as she chewed. “You should have some, miss.”

The rich scent of chocolate wafting from the cake that sat on the side of the sink was irresistible. Penelope succumbed, cutting herself a slice. A symphony of flavors melted on her tongue. Was that cinnamon?

“This Frithgerd is the grand house hereabouts,” said Kitty between bites. “Funny old name. They’ve got twenty bedrooms, Betty said. Can you imagine?”

Betty was the youngest of the Frithgerd cleaning party. Penelope had seen the two girls with their heads together as they scrubbed. She had no interest in the viscount’s household, of course. She wouldn’t be moving in his exalted circles.

“The young lord’s only twenty-seven and not married,” Kitty added. She licked crumbs from her lips.

Four years older than Penelope; she’d have put him at thirty at least.

“Betty thinks his lordship’ll be bringing home a wife from London right soon,” said Kitty. “With him being the new master and all. She figures the new vi-viscountess’ll have a grand lady’s maid who knows all the latest styles. Betty’s learning to dress hair and hopes she’ll teach her. She means to better herself.”

A crumb of cake tickled Penelope’s throat, and her cough caught. She fought the impulse, but it took hold of her like a terrier shaking a rat. She coughed and coughed to no purpose. There was nothing to coughup. When the spasm passed, she felt as if she’d been cudgeled from head to toe. “I’m going to lie down for a little while,” she told Kitty.

“Good idea, miss. You look terrible.”

Penelope was well aware of the dark circles under her eyes and looseness of her dresses. Let Kitty endure the trials she’d undergone these last months and see how she looked, she thought wryly. But she said nothing, merely climbed the stairs and lay down on the cot that had been set up in her bedchamber. Though small, it was vastly more comfortable than the floor. She would just rest here for a few minutes. She was so very tired.

Penelope woke to the sound of Kitty moving around in the small back bedroom over the kitchen. From the slant of light, it must be early evening. She’d slept for hours! She breathed carefully. No cough. Thank heaven for small favors. She should get up and…and what?

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