Page 41 of A Provincial Peer

“Yes, dear. But watch that you don’t become tangled again.”

Crouching low, Meg shimmied out from under the table. Still on her hands and knees, Caroline followed more slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her bonnet ribbons hanging on the drying rack and inwardly sighed. It seemed that she was to be spared no mercy with this reintroduction.

The tabletop disappeared from above her head, and Benedict’s extended arm appeared before her. “May I assist you up?”

Battling her overwhelming desire to keep her face hidden, she accepted his hand and raised her eyes to his. “We were gathering spilled peas,” she said.

“So I see.” He drew her to her feet. “You were supposed to be recovering. Did you forget that we have maids who can do such things?”

“But we were helping them,” Meg said. She pointed at the two who had moved on from chopping vegetables to slicing meat. “See? They’re very busy.”

“Good heavens!” Lady Farwell spoke for the first time since Caroline and Meg had emerged from beneath the table. “The child is just as charming as her mother was at that age.”

At his mother’s exclamation, Benedict released Caroline’s hand and drew Meg forward. “Mother,” he said, “may I present Caroline’s daughter, Margaret Jane Granger. Meg, this is my mother, Lady Farwell.”

Meg gazed upward, no doubt taking in the elaborately embroidered pale-green gown and crisp lace, the perfectly curled, dark hair peppered with gray, and the kind brown eyes so like Benedict’s. “You are pretty,” she said.

Lady Farwell’s eyes twinkled. “As are you, my dear.”

Benedict leaned over to whisper in Meg’s ear. “You may curtsy if you’d like.”

Meg immediately wadded up the excess shift fabric in her small fist and executed a stilted bob.

“That was lovely, Margaret,” Lady Farwell said. “Or should I call you Meg, as Benedict does?”

“Everyone calls me Meg, except my Mama when—”

“You may call her Meg, my lady,” Caroline said, cutting Meg off before she could finish. Caroline knew what her daughter was about to say, and it was one embarrassment too many.

Lady Farwell nodded and then turned her full attention to Caroline. For one long moment, she simply gazed at her. Caroline’s heart pounded, silently pleading that the elegant woman would accept her as she’d always done—despite her vastly changed appearance.

“Oh, Caroline, how I have missed you!” Lady Farwell opened her arms, and Caroline stepped into them, tears threatening as the woman who’d been so vital a part of her childhood embraced her. “Benedict told me of the smallpox and your husband’s passing. How courageous you have been these past months!” She leaned back, gently setting her hands on either side of Caroline’s pocked face. “I should not marvel so.” Her eyes held Caroline’s. “You were just the same as a child. But it brings me such joy to know that you are healing and have retained the strength of spirit we always admired in you.”

A tear escaped, and Caroline did nothing to prevent it from rolling down her cheek. “I have missed you, my lady.”

Lady Farwell took a deep breath. “Well, fate has been kind to us. You are returned to Leyfield, and so am I. We shall make up for lost time by seeing much of each other. You and Meg must come to Farwell whenever you please.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Benedict said. “I have told Caroline the same, but hearing it from you will likely have a greater effect.”

Caroline managed a watery smile. “I am twice amazed that either of you wish us anywhere near the house after the unfortunate and indecorous events of today.”

“Ah, but you managed to pull my son from his work on the farm long enough to play boats on the river,” Lady Farwell said. “I have been trying to do that since he was ten years old, with no success whatsoever.”

“I rather think it was Meg who was the catalyst for that pursuit,” Caroline said.

Turning her back on Benedict, Lady Farwell lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “No matter who it was, if either of you can persuade him to leave the cowshed long enough to join me for tea occasionally, I would be most appreciative.”

With a slight shake of his head, Benedict raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You will have to lower your voice far more than that if you wish your communications to be a secret, Mother. And you will also have to stop scheduling your teas at four o’clock if you wish me to be present. That is precisely when the afternoon milking begins.”

“Given how reliable Giles is, I am sure the afternoon milking would carry on quite nicely without you,” she said.

Benedict was honest enough to concede the point. “True. But I have discovered that my being there is the best way to learn of unforeseen problems on the farm.”

“Have there been unforeseen problems recently?”Lady Farwell asked.

“A broken stanchion and a cowpox outbreak,” he said.

“Oh dear. Did the pox affect the milkmaids?”