Page 4 of The Outcast's Redemption
He thought for a moment she would object, but she merely frowned and went back to her cooking. The kitchen was warm and comfortable and Wolfgang felt himself relaxing as he watched her work. She was well named, he thought, there was a gracefulness to her movements, and an assurance unusual in one so young.
When Truscott went out again, Wolf said, ‘Are you only preparing a meal for me?’
‘Father and I dined earlier,’ she replied, dropping pieces of lamb into the pan. ‘Papa will take nothing more than a biscuit or two until the morning.’ She finished cooking the meat and arranged it neatly on the plate. ‘There,’ she said with a hint of defiance. ‘Your dinner.’
Wolf regarded the meal she had set before him. Besides the collops of mutton there was a dish of fried potato as well as cold potted hare and a parsnip pie.
‘A meal fit for a lord,’ he declared. ‘Will you not join me?’
‘No, thank you. I told you I have already dined.’
‘Then at least stay and drink a glass of wine with me.’ When she shook her head he murmured,‘“Better a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.”’
She glared at him, but at least she stayed. She slid on to the end of the bench opposite. ‘What an odd thing to say. I do not hate you, Mr Peregrine.’
He poured wine into the glasses and pushed one across the table towards her. She cradled it in her hands before sipping the contents.
‘Then whatdoyou think of me?’ he asked.
‘To begin with,’ she said slowly, looking down at her wineglass, ‘I do not think you are deserving of Papa’s best claret.’
‘The best, is it?’ Wolf murmured. ‘Perhaps your man made a mistake.’
‘Truscott does not make mistakes.’
No, thought Wolf, but it would be his undoing if the man showed him too much respect. For all that he could not help teasing her.
‘Then clearly he sees the worth of the man beneath these sorry clothes.’
She put her glass down with a snap. ‘Whoareyou?’
‘What you see, a humble pilgrim.’
‘Yes, I know that is what you would like me to think, Mr Peregrine, but I will tell you to your face that I find nothing humble about you!’
‘Humility comes hard for a gentleman fallen on hard times.’
She was silent and Wolf gave his attention to the food. It was really very good, but it troubled him that she had been obliged to cook it.
‘You have only the two servants?’ he asked her. She bridled at his question and he went on quickly. ‘You have a large, fine church here and this area is a prosperous one, I believe.’
‘It was used to be,’ she told him. ‘There has been no one living at the Hall for several years now and that has had an effect. Without a family in residence our shopkeepers cannot sell their goods to them, the farmers do not supply them with milk and meat.’
‘But the estate is very large, it must provide a good living for many local families.’
‘With an absentee landlord the farms do not thrive and there is no money to maintain the houses. Many families worked at the Hall, when it closed they lost their positions. Some moved away and took up new posts, others found what work they could locally.’ She looked across the table at him. ‘There is much poverty here now. My father does what he can to relieve it, but his own funds are limited. We have very little of value in this house.’
Wolf understood her, but the fact she thought he might be a thief did not matter at that moment, what concerned him was that the people—his people—were suffering. Duncombe had told him the lawyers were being parsimonious with his money, but clearly they did not realise the effect of that. Richard should have started proceedings to declare him dead. Instead he preferred to put his own money into Arrandale.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as the weight of responsibility pressed down on him. He had thought himself unfairly punished, exiled in France for a crime he had not committed, but he saw now that he was not the only one to suffer.
‘How long do you intend to stay in Arrandale?’ Grace asked him.
‘A few days, no more.’ He glanced up at the clock. ‘It is growing late and I should indeed be grateful for a bed, Miss Duncombe, if you can spare one.’
‘My father does not turn away anyone in need.’
‘Thank you.’ He pushed aside his empty plate. ‘Then with your permission I will retire now.’
