“We have badgers digging up the orchard, a fox after the henhouse, and rabbits gnawing their way through the early crops. The dog’s good at routing them. Makes a good guard dog as well. Don’t know why they’ve taken a dislike to the creature.”
“I gather the animal takes his reward in honey. The beekeeper rightfully objects. The animal needs to be trained to stay away from the skeps.” Feeling the ache in his jaw and wrist, Gerard thought it a pity the beast didn’t learn from the pain of bee stings.
“Your beekeeper is an over-reaching harridan,” Avery said with unusual anger. “She had the orchard dug up for flower beds while I was away at market. And now she’s demanding the carpenter build some new-fangled hives to coddle the insects, instead of burning them out the way it’s always been done.”
Appeasing the tension between his excellent, but traditionalist agent, and the castle’s more open-minded tenants had always been a problem.
“You should know by now that the ladies have my father’s full support. They do not take on projects at a whim. I’m certain the beekeeper met with a committee of the ladies to discuss what she can do to aid the estate.”
Although Gerard was well aware that, to his tenants, providing bouquets for the hall would qualify as reason to dig up unused ground and plant flowers. But honey was a valuable crop and so they weren’t being unreasonable.
“I tell you, the beekeeper is a trouble maker. You’ll regret encouraging her. I can’t keep the hound out of the orchard without a fence.” Avery scowled. Caught by surprise at Gerard’s unexpected arrival, he apparently hadn’t had time to visit a barber. His shaggy brown hair hung down his neck and his ferocious mustache bristled.
“A fence around the hives wouldn’t hurt,” Gerard agreed without rancor, although he mentally winced at the additional cost. “The lady is out there alone and unprotected. If she’s contributing to the estate’s welfare, then we should provide what she needs. Keep the dog leashed until then. I don’t want to have to right more skeps while I’m here.”
“Aye, will do,” Avery said grumpily. “You want me back in the morning to go over the books?”
“I realize I’m too early for the harvest to be in. Give me time to study where we are. The day after tomorrow, perhaps?” He placated the man, knowing he was good at what he did.
Rising, he escorted Avery to the door. As the agent strode off, Gerard noticed one of the women tending a rose bed in the evening gloom. Her gray gown almost disappeared in the shadows. He thought it might be the beekeeper, but she glanced up and vanished into deeper darkness.
Hell, maybe she was a ghost. Weirder things had happened.
Bored, he finally headed for the main house to greet the occupants of hiscastle.
Finally, a spirit voice whispered. And he wasn’t even carrying the medallion. That sent a shiver down his spine.
Iona setthe bouquet of late roses in a porcelain vase on the entrance table, where the fragrance of sun and happiness would permeate the old hall.
Winifred, the healer who mothered them all, bustled down the stairs. “To the hall,” she cried merrily. “He’s headed this way.”
“I am not needed, am I? I should draw up diagrams for the Langstroth boxes so the carpenter knows what to do.” Iona knew the flaw in that argument, but she hoped there were enough people vying for the earl’s interest that she wouldn’t be missed.
“You cannot expect any of us to explain why you need new hives,” Winifred said in exasperation, finding the flaw immediately. “Now come along or we’ll spend the evening listening to Grace prose on about the lost art of spinning.”
“Her woolens really are works of art,” Iona protested, falling in beside the castle’s queen bee. The older woman was much the same height as she but considerably heavier. If Iona sat behind her, she might blend into her shadow...
Except Winifred took the chair in front of the fireplace, near the gas sconces so she was illuminated from all sides. Iona searched for a distant corner where the light didn’t reach. She wasn’t much of one for needlework, but she could jot the day’s notes while the others talked. More light would be nice, but her need for invisibility reigned over neat handwriting.
“The spirts are restless,” Simone announced in puzzlement, sweeping in behind them in a swish of summery fabrics and transparent shawls more suited to a hot July day. “Has something stirred them?”
After the isolation of Craigmore, Iona appreciated the various personalities populating Wystan. It wasn’t the same as her sister’s company, of course, but it kept her from being too lonely. They didn’t require that she do anything except listen, which she’d learned to do in long summers at her mother’s knee.
Even after all these years, she missed her mother fiercely.
Some of the older women were already gathered in their favorite seats. Iona didn’t usually try to disappear with this group, but if the earl meant to grace them with his presence—
She carried a small chair to a corner near the dark windows, behind a hanging basket of ferns.
The huge hall they used as a drawing room was large enough to hold a village, so the ladies didn’t precisely fill it with numbers so much aspresence.Their lively chatter dispelled the gloom. Iona could sense their joy and anticipation and smiled at their eagerness. Sometimes, rural solitude could be tedious. Iona was well accustomed to it.
“Where is Lady Alice?” Winifred called sharply.
“She was not feeling well and has gone to bed,” one of the younger women replied.
After the debacle in the duke’s library, Iona could see that Lady Alice might find seeing the earl a trifle awkward. Still, she was glad the desperate lady had taken up the offer of Wystan’s shelter. The Malcolm women had no difficulty embracing Alice and her scandalous condition. They were already preparing a nursery for an event almost seven months in the future.
An almost visible sigh whispered around the room as his lordship entered.
