Page 89 of A Provincial Peer

Caroline released her hold on the wooden spoon and slowly turned to face him. “Why would you think I am unhappy?”

His smile was gentle. “You have greeted me with a kiss on the cheek every morning since you were little. Other than when you lived in Portsmouth, the only times that has not occurred were when you were very poorly, cross with me, or sad about something. As you appear to be in good health and we parted on good terms last night, I must assume you are suffering from the latter complaint.”

He was right, and she should have known he would notice. Stepping away from the stove, she brushed his grizzled cheek with a kiss. “Good morning, Father.”

“Much better,” he said. “Now, tell me what has caused you to neglect your breakfast.”

There was no reason to hide the cause of her unhappiness from him. “Benedict is ill,” she said. “Giles shared the news with me this morning.”

Worry lined her father’s forehead. “How ill is he?” Given their conversation in the parlor a few days before, he had likely ascertained that her feelings for Benedict were significantly stronger than they had been in the past.

“Giles said it is cowpox, but I can’t help but wonder . . .” She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had cried enough. “How can they be so sure that they have diagnosed it correctly? Both cowpox and smallpox manifest themselves with a fever and blisters.”

“True, but I feel sure that Lady Farwell would alert those in the household if there were any chance of smallpox contagion.”

“I would hope so.” It was a small comfort, but it was better than nothing. “But even if Benedict truly has cowpox, the knowledge that he is suffering from a fever and blisters . . .” She shook her head helplessly. “What am I to do with myself, Father? I shall be able to think of nothing else until he is well.”

“I have no doubt Lady Farwell feels similarly,” her father said. “And as you are likely one of the few within her acquaintance who has no need to worry if it is actually the smallpox, perhaps she would appreciate a visit from you.”

Caroline set her hands on the back of the nearest chair and gripped it tightly. “Do you really think so? Ever since Giles left, I have wanted nothing more than to go to the house to inquire after Benedict, but I worry that Lady Farwell would consider it overly forward.”

“Given your long-standing relationship with the family, I believe that is highly unlikely.” His expression softened. “If Lady Farwell is disinclined to see you, you have lost only the time and effort it will take to travel to Farwell Hall. If, on the other hand, she invites you in, you will gain the knowledge you seek and, God willing, the reassurance as well.”

The very thought of exchanging her overwhelming anxiety for peace of mind was sufficient encouragement. “Would arriving before calling hours seal my fate as an indecorous neighbor?”

“You are the daughter of a vicar, who makes calls at all hours. I daresay they will withhold their censure.” He smiled. “Go, my dear. I was planning to write my Sunday sermon today, and as I had already determined to base my remarks on Christ’s teaching in Matthew 18:4, spending time with my young granddaughter would be more than appropriate.”

Relief washed over her. “Thank you, Father. I will help Meg dress and give her some porridge before I go.”

“And partake of some breakfast yourself,” he admonished.

She had little choice. No matter the knots in her stomach, her father would insist that she eat something before she left.

“A cup of tea,” she said. “Truthfully, Father, that is all I can manage.”

* * *

An hour later, Caroline found herself standing in front of Farwell Hall’s imposing front doors. She was as unsure of the reception she would receive as she had been earlier, but her conviction that she needed to come had strengthened with every step she’d taken along her route from the vicarage. She’d passed the entrance to the farm and had caught sight of John walking Ginger in the yard. She’d admired the fields of wheat that lined the lane and had heard the cows lowing in the pasture and the river gurgling nearby. Each of those things had evoked recent memories of experiences shared with Benedict. His kindness to Meg, his desire to help his tenants, his work ethic, and his willingness to walk away from that work to sail toy boats and sit beside a river with her. He had repeatedly proven his steadfastness. It was time that she proved hers.

After hitting the knocker against the large door, she clasped her hands together and waited. She heard Stokes’s steady footsteps moments before the bolt drew back and the door opened.

“Good morning, Mrs. Granger,” he said, inclining his head politely.

“Good morning, Stokes. I am here to see Lord Benning.”

“I’m afraid Lord Benning is unavailable today, ma’am.”

Caroline should have known that would be Stokes’s response. “Would you be so good as to ask if Lady Farwell would see me?”

“I am sure her ladyship would be pleased to have you return during her scheduled morning hours.”

As true as that might be, Caroline was unwilling to wait another two hours to learn more about Benedict’s condition. “Forgive me, but I have walked all the way from the vicarage. I require only a few moments of her time.”

Stokes shifted his feet. His responsibility was to protect the family from unwanted intrusions, but since Caroline had been a frequent visitor to the house in the past, her request had likely placed him in a difficult position.

“I would not ask this of you if it were not extremely important,” Caroline added.

With a curt nod, he opened the door wider and gestured toward two chairs set against the wall beside the door. “If you would be so good as to wait here, I shall make inquiries for you.”