Reunited With Her Viscount Protector. Mary Brendan

would like tea, thank you,’ Dawn replied. ‘And I’ll take Mrs Mansfield a glass of lemonade.’

      Enid Grove avoided Dawn’s eyes at the mention of her mistress.

      ‘For how long has my stepdaughter been feeling ill?’

      ‘For too long,’ Enid replied pithily. ‘The poor lass needs a doctor looking at her.’ She slipped a glance at Dawn from beneath her lashes. ‘I’m that glad you’ve come, Mrs Fenton.’

      ‘And so am I,’ Dawn replied in a heartfelt way. ‘Why has the doctor not examined her?’

      ‘Why indeed! I told the master my feelings on it and was told in return to mind my own business.’ Enid shook her head. ‘’Course polite fellows don’t use those words, but I knew his meaning. I’ve done what I can for the poor lass, to ease her discomfort, but now that the day girl doesn’t come I’m run off my feet trying to cook and clean and nursemaid the little ’un.’ She sighed. ‘I’m turned two score years and ten and that Miss Lily needs a young pair of legs to keep up with her.’ Enid blew a defeated sigh. ‘Truth of it is, m’m, I’ve had enough and shall soon give notice. I don’t want to leave the mistress, but I’m feeling so fagged out that I might end up ill in bed myself and what help can I be to Mrs Mansfield then?’

      Dawn had listened in amazement. None of the letters she’d received from her stepdaughter had hinted at a crisis. ‘I had no idea that things had got so bad.’ Dawn frowned. ‘What on earth has happened since my last visit?’

      ‘Not my place to say, m’m...’ Mrs Grove turned away and busied herself with rattling the crockery and boiling the kettle.

      ‘As things are serious I think you must speak up or how will I know what to do to help?’ Dawn said bluntly.

      ‘What is it you wish to know, Mrs Fenton?’

      Dawn’s stepson-in-law had come into the kitchen, unseen and unheard. She noticed at once that Mrs Grove looked nervous. The older woman turned away and busied herself with the tea things.

      ‘There is so much that I wish to know, sir, that our conversation will be lengthy and better conducted upstairs,’ Dawn answered firmly. His lips had grown thin. She hadn’t pleased him with her outburst in front of his servant. But Dawn didn’t care for coddling his ego. Eleanor and Lily were the only ones that mattered. ‘I shall just take your wife her drink, then join you in your study, if that is convenient.’

      ‘It is not,’ he said on a sigh and gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I am sorry to sound too busy to properly welcome you, but I’m due to meet a parishioner at the church. We can converse later on when we dine.’ He would have left the kitchen, but Dawn stepped after him.

      ‘Just a moment, sir. One important thing must be said now. Please fetch the doctor with you when you come back. Your wife is very ill.’ She knew vicars led full lives administering to their flocks and had imagined that he must be too preoccupied to fully appreciate how sick Eleanor actually was. Dawn had hoped her concern might rub off on him, making him feel guilty and neglectful.

      ‘My wife is young and strong and has had a baby before. She is used to the rigours of childbirth...unlike you, madam.’

      His voice had been soft, almost gentle, but Dawn knew the remark had been intended to wound and remind her of her miscarriage. ‘I might not be a mother, but I know well enough what a person in pain looks like. Eleanor should be examined by a doctor in case the babe is coming sooner than expected—’

      ‘My wife needs no fussing over. She doesn’t like that sort of thing.’ His voice was slightly raised now. ‘She was up yesterday and playing with her daughter. It is to be expected that there will be occasions when she feels tired as her time nears. She was like this before Lily was born.’

      Mrs Grove gave a cough...or perhaps it was a snort, Dawn thought, on glimpsing the woman’s angry profile. ‘Nevertheless I insist that the doctor comes here today, to put all our minds at rest.’ Dawn’s voice was controlled but full of grit.

      ‘As I have said, we shall talk later, Mrs Fenton.’ Peter turned to the cook. ‘Let me have my wife’s drink. I shall take it to her. If she’s left undisturbed for the rest of the afternoon, then I’m sure she will feel better and be able to get up at dinner time.’ With a nod for Dawn he left the kitchen with the glass of lemonade Mrs Grove had thrust at him.

      For a moment Dawn could only stare at the closed door, at a loss to know what on earth was wrong with the man for him to hold such a callous attitude. And why had he banned her from seeing her stepdaughter until dinner time? She knew that was what he had done. A weight settled in her stomach as she realised she had a battle on her hands. She wouldn’t give up on getting Eleanor the help she needed and hoped to glean some information from the cook as to what had recently happened. ‘Mrs Grove...’ she said, but was halted by the woman putting a finger against her own lips. A few seconds later Dawn heard footsteps receding along the corridor.

      Dawn felt a chill creep over her. So Peter had been loitering to eavesdrop and from the way Mrs Grove had reacted she guessed he had done so before. Perhaps when a conversation had been taking place with her mistress. Did the vicar spy on his wife?

      Dawn had never liked him, but never before had she felt uneasy in his company, or in his house. Now she did. Having observed Mrs Grove’s caginess, Dawn knew his servant felt the same misgiving as she did about the Reverend Peter Mansfield.

      ‘Don’t ask me questions about the master’s business. I’ll not gossip even if I have an answer to give.’ Enid shook her greying head.

      ‘Well, tell me this at least. You have had children, Mrs Grove. Is this a normal malaise for a woman in her condition? My stepdaughter looks so very ill.’

      ‘Some women do have a hard time of it. But he’s right about one thing: she’s young and once she was healthy, too. To my mind, there’s unhappiness in this house,’ Enid whispered. ‘And that can be as harmful as plague. But now that you’re here, m’m, things will be better. I know the mistress will be taken care of and little Miss Lily, too. Mrs Mansfield must be that glad you’ve turned up at last to help her.’

      Dawn winced at that hint at her tardiness. ‘I wish Eleanor had put more in her letters. I would have come directly had I known she was ill.’

      ‘He reads her letters...them that comes and them that goes.’ Mrs Grove gave Dawn a significant glance.

      Dawn started to question the woman, but Enid shook her head.

      ‘I’m sorry, m’m, but I’m done with it all.’ She looked sorrowful, but ploughed on. ‘I’ll leave your dinners on the stove before I go home, but I’ll hand in me notice now you’ve arrived to take care of things.’ She agitatedly resumed rolling pastry. ‘I expect he’ll find another cook quick enough. Plenty of women in the village want part-time work.’

      Dawn had listened in astonishment. ‘What has caused Eleanor’s unhappiness?’

      ‘He’s the trouble she’s got,’ Mrs Grove muttered. ‘And the trouble the vicar’s got is to be found out there. Maybe the recently departed are playing on his mind.’ The woman pointed towards the graveyard that lay to the east of the church. ‘This warning I will give you and you’d best heed it: don’t be venturing out after dark that way, Mrs Fenton, ’cos you don’t know what you might meet.’ With finality the woman turned her back and busied herself with cups and saucers. ‘I’ll bring a tray to your chamber when the tea’s brewed. I must get on and get this pie in the oven. He likes his dinner on the dot. Six of the clock sharp.’

      Dawn felt rather angry with the woman for talking such tosh. She knew that country folk could be superstitious and believed in gremlins and ghosts. But she didn’t! And she wouldn’t be taking heed of any warning. She believed the trouble in this house was most definitely of this world rather than the other.

      Dawn could cook and clean...but why should she when the vicar was perfectly