Page 53 of A Provincial Peer

This time, Caroline did not bother to hide her laughter. It was too much work. Benedict made her smile, and after the worries of the day, it felt good to experience a measure of happiness. “It is known as the lower-the-water-in-the-tub-sufficiently-that-you-can-lift-it ceremony,” she said. “And when one is unused to hauling heavy weights, it is an essential part of dispensing of the washtub water.”

“Ah. I imagine the young maids in the Farwell Hall kitchen perform the ceremony on a regular basis. I am sorry that I have missed witnessing the event myself.”

“Well, now you know the secret to why the bushes growing near the kitchen door are so much more vibrant than those at the front of the house,” she said.

He chuckled. “I shall never look at them the same again.”

“It might be best to keep that information from your gardeners.”

“A valid point,” he said, making for the back door. “It will take me only a moment to empty the pot, and I believe I can take out the tub without further decanting.”

Caroline waited while Benedict took care of the dishwater with remarkable ease.

And then, after she had directed him in returning the pot and the tub to their proper places, he gave her a cautious look. “You wished to speak with me?”

“Yes.” No. Yes. Sorting through her jumbled emotions was impossible. She had to focus on how best to meet Hester and Jim’s needs. “But first, are you able to update me on Jim’s condition?”

He nodded. “Hester managed to clean most of the blood off his face, and despite the pain he is in, she was able to help him change from his soiled clothes into something fresh.” He offered her a small smile. “I understand your assistance with their infant made that possible.”

“It was a joy to hold him for a while.”

“So I imagine.” He sighed. “Jim has lost two teeth and chipped two more. The cut on his arm is long but not overly deep, so Doctor Phillips is hopeful that it will heal without incurring an infection. His leg is more problematic. The doctor concurred with Giles: it is too early to tell if a bone is broken, but he has advised Jim to stay off it as much as possible. Once the swelling has gone down, it may be easier for the doctor to determine what he is dealing with.”

“How will they manage?” Caroline asked.

“Besides relying upon Hester’s rather remarkable friend?”

Warmth filled Caroline’s cheeks. “I am very unremarkable, and as much as I would wish it otherwise, I am not capable of helping them with what they need most.”

“I shall beg to wholeheartedly differ with you on the first item,” Benedict said. “But that discussion can be left for another time. As far as the second is concerned, it is obvious that the Simkinses are in need of significant assistance, but I am curious as to which of the things they lack that you consider to be of most importance.”

“Food,” Caroline said.

Benedict’s jaw tightened. “How bad is it?”

All the reluctance she’d felt at confiding in him melted away at his unreserved acceptance of her observation. “I have cleaned the entire kitchen, and all I have found is a head of cabbage, a few fistfuls of dried beans, and enough oats to last them for three or four more breakfasts.” She met his eyes, battling to hold back her tears. “Regardless of how long Jim and Hester can survive on so little, their baby will not. Without more food, Hester will be unable to feed him.”

Shock, raw and painful, flitted across his face. “Dear heaven, this is my fault.”

“No.” Caroline shook her head emphatically. “How could you possibly have known the empty state of their cupboards?”

“That’s just it. I should have known.” He paced across the small room and back. “Up until this morning, I believed the Farwell Farm wheat had gone directly to the local gristmill after harvest. That had always been the plan. To ease the burden of the previous year’s failed crop and provide our tenants and the people of Leyfield with enough wheat to make it through the winter.” He ran his hand across his face, but it did little to erase the anguish there. “Today, I visited Mr. Abney and learned that in actuality, he received only a small fraction of our grain and has had no wheat to grind for months.”

“How could that be? You run Farwell Farm—and not just from a chair behind a desk at the house. You were there for the harvest.”

“I was,” he said. “I saw the sacks of grain loaded onto the cart. I’ve also seen the ledger itemizing payment for all that wheat. So, unless those numbers are fabricated, someone received it and paid for it. But that person was not Mr. Abney.”

“Can your steward shed light on what happened?” she asked.

“I sincerely hope so,” he said grimly. “And in the meantime, I intend to do all that I can to set things right.”

“Benedict.” Without forethought, she reached for his hand. “Your desire to ease the discomfort of your neighbors is honorable and good, but you cannot blame yourself for the general lack of food in all of Leyfield. That is not your weight to bear. Other commodities are available. We have made it through the most trying time of year. Vegetables are growing in gardens, and it will not be long before fresh produce is ready to be picked.”

As though it were the most natural thing in the world, he threaded his fingers through hers. Her heart tripped.

“I thank you for your kind words, but I must own a good portion of this, Caroline. I should have uncovered the problem long ago. Bread is a staple food. Without it, people are forced to look elsewhere for the means to survive. That demand raises the prices on all products. My neglect in personally following through with the wheat delivery to the local gristmill has cost others dearly.”

“What can be done at this point?”