Ingleton turned to watch the midwife’s gig approaching. She waved, and Ingleton and Francesca returned the greeting. “Well, I’ll be off now.” Francesca knew that she’d never make it home if she waited and properly greeted the midwife.
Mrs. Pateley loved to talk. And talk. Her ability to prattle on rivaled on that of her mother, and as she’d had a letter only yesterday from her mother threatening a visit, Francesca was already scheming how to keep the two from meeting.
“But I promised to escort you to the Hall, my lady,” Mr. Ingleton said. He sounded a little hesitant now that he’d seen the midwife.
“Oh, that’s not necessary.” Francesca relieved him easily of the burden. “Thunder will have me back in no time.”
“But his lordship—” Ingleton began.
“Besides, I know you’ll want to hear what Mrs. Pateley has to say. Undoubtedly, Daniel is on his way here right now, and I’ll meet up with him on the road.”
––––––––
ALOOK OF RELIEF FLASHEDacross Ingleton’s features, and Francesca felt a pang of longing. His concern for his wife touched her. Anyone could see how much he adored Mrs. Ingleton.
Francesca urged Thunder forward. “Good day, Mr. Ingleton.” She nodded at the midwife as she passed her. In fact, she wasn’t even out of sight of the Ingletons’ cottage before she allowed Thunder his head. The wind slapping against her face freed and invigorated her.
Thunder had flourished here in Yorkshire. When she looked at him now, she could hardly believe he was the same horse from Skerrit’s barn. That skinny, neglected animal had cowered, fearful of the slightest noise or movement. This animal stood straight, ran fast, his chestnut coat gleaming with health.
She laughed, feeling some of her unease leech away. Ethan had forbidden her to leave the grounds of Winterbourne Hall alone, but she had done so today. Daniel, her usual companion on her daily rides or visits, had a habit of being late and she had not felt like waiting. His tardiness wasn’t the footman’s fault. There was so much to be done at the house that really it was ridiculous to take him away from his duties in order to escort her to visit a harmless pregnant woman.
Though she looked for Daniel, she didn’t pass him on the way back to Winterbourne Hall. Francesca told herself it was because she didn’t return by the most direct path. Instead she guided Thunder around the edge of the property until she saw the old Norman castle looming in front of her.
Slowing Thunder, Francesca circled the ruins, trying to imagine how it must have looked when it was first built and what the lives of its inhabitants were like.
She was imagining a fair-haired Saxon maiden peering from one of the towers, searching the moors for her Norman warrior when a shiver of unease crept down her back. Someone was watching her.
She twisted in her saddle, studying the countryside around her but she saw nothing and no one.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. She had no reason to feel anxious.
She heard hoof beats and spotted Daniel. Shaking off her unease, she spurred Thunder forward to meet him.
“I’m so sorry I was late, my lady. The magistrate—”
Panic wrapped tight fingers around her heart and she leaned forward in the saddle. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Gore had it out again. Fletcher is accusing Gore of shooting him in the leg and Gore is claiming self-defense.”
“Oh good Lord.” Francesca shook her head. With Ethan away, her duties at Winterbourne Hall had doubled. At Tanglewilde she knew the tenants, knew everyone’s history and grudges. But everything here was new to her, and she was constantly wondering how best to sort out the chronic problems that arose. For a fleeting instant, she wished Ethan was there to help her.
But he wasn’t, she told herself firmly, and it was up to her to keep this estate running. After all, Winterbourne Hall was her home now.
She turned Thunder toward home and, with Daniel following, urged the horse forward. She only looked over her shoulder once, suppressing a shiver at the apprehension that wouldn’t quite go away.
