She lowered her voice to a thrilling pitch. “They were coming for her, screaming for blood! She had no horse or carriage to escape in, and she knew they would find her if she tried to hide inside. So what did she do?”
The children looked expectantly at Nash, their eyes alight with excitement.
“What?” There was no need to feign his fascination.
“She pulled all the beehives into a circle and sat in the middle of them, wearing her veil and gloves.”
“Did they find her?”
Maddy nodded. “A few did but they were city people and they were afraid of the bees. When anyone came close, Grand-mère hit the hives with a stick and all the bees came boiling out, enraged, and buzzed furiously around, stinging whoever they came across.”
She gave a short laugh. “If they’d known anything about bees they would have waited until dark when the bees retire for the night, but Grand-mère was lucky. The people went looking for easier prey and she managed to escape and make her way to a place she knew in the country.”
The children chorused, “And there she lived happily for the rest of her days.”
“And that, Mr. Rider, is why we in this family love and honor bees,” Maddy finished.
“And we like the honey, too,” Henry added.
They spent the rest of the day working in the garden. Nash was feeling weary, but when Maddy glanced at his face and suggested he stay inside and rest after the midday meal, he refused.
“Helping you with this is the least I can do,” he told her.
“But it’s your first day out of bed. You need to rest. You haven’t finished healing yet.”
But Nash worked doggedly on.
Around four o’clock Maddy called a halt. They’d done about as much as they could for the day, she said. Nash was secretly glad of it. He was exhausted.
“Scrambled eggs on toast for tea, and pancakes for supper,” she declared. “And then we’ll have a story.”
They’d just finished their tea when Maddy, who was facing the window, said, “Mr. Harris! Quick, children, out the back way, please.”
Their faces were alive with curiosity. “Oh, but Maddy . . .” John began.
Maddy held up a hand. “I don’t want you in the cottage while he’s here. Girls, lock up the hens for the night, then take half a dozen eggs to Lizzie’s aunt and ask her for some cottage cheese. Wait there with Lizzie. John, Henry, have you checked Mr. Rider’s horse this evening? No? Then off you go. And call past Lizzie’s and collect the girls on the way home. Now go.” The children ran off.
Twelve
“You, too,” Maddy told Nash. “Outside please.”
“I’ll stay,” Nash said grimly. Suddenly he was no longer tired.
She flung him an incredulous look. “Are you mad? I can’t let him know I have a man staying here! Out, quickly! He’s here!” A heavy knock sounded at the front door.
She was right, he knew, but he was damned if he’d leave her alone with that fellow. She’d sent the children away for a reason.
Besides, he wanted to hear what Harris had to say. Swearing under his breath Nash climbed into the bed and drew the curtains, leaving a small gap to watch through.
He was fed up with hiding. It went right against the grain, even though he knew there was a sound reason. But he was a man, dammit, not a mouse.
“Mr. Harris, how do you do? Please come in,” he heard Maddy say.
Harris mumbled something and entered. He stood, his arms folded, legs braced apart, looking around the cottage with a proprietorial air. “So, you haven’t packed yet?”
“As you see,” Maddy said politely.
“I don’t suppose it’ll take you long,” Harris said bluntly. “Not much to pack.”
