Page 14 of The Tart's Final Noel
She had once led a lonely, boring existence sitting in a cellar, reading.Her father’s books had not exactly prepared her for the chaos of life, but they’d taught her to think and imagine.If only she knew how real, live people would react— She didn’t.
She was simply incapable of standing about, wringing her hands.
By the time she had the children and two guests happily drinking and munching toasted bread and cheese, Rafe returned to take over pie preparation.She stood on her toes and kissed his stubbled cheek.“I can’t join you.I must put the children to bed.I am sorry about dinner.”
He grabbed her for a proper kiss, then set her down so he could wash his hands.“We need more help, especially if we’re raising children.You must look after them first, I understand.”
“You don’t mind?”she asked anxiously.They’d scarcely had a moment’s peace all day to talk.Taking on two terrified young children when they had so many other tasks...It was asking a great deal.
“They can’t go to an orphanage,” he said firmly.“More than that, I cannot promise.And neither can you.We’ll talk later.”
Perfectly content after completing their meal of cheese and apples, Daniel happily splashed in the iron tub while Verity combed Daphne’s wet hair into a braid.The children had instructed her, explaining what their mother did for them, as well as they were able.In Daphne’s case, she spoke with gestures.
They chose a book for Verity to read after they crawled between the covers.Daphne whimpered for what Daniel said was her rag rabbit, so Verity tied a towel into a knot with ears.It wasn’t the same, but the child had something to cry into.
By the time she was done, Rafe had dinner on their private table.
“It smells delicious.”She took the chair he pulled out for her.“How do you do that?All I smelled was burnt chicken.”
“Herbs and spices, onions, little things.I suppose I was fooling myself thinking I can cook and tend bar and run an inn, plus be bailiff, no matter how small the village.I had no idea how much work is involved.”He dumped half their pie on his plate.
“And now you think you’ll be postmaster?”Verity savored the pie.Despite all the upsetting events the day had brought, she was hungry.
“Fletch doesn’t want to be postmaster any more than he wants to stand behind the guest desk to welcome customers.It means actually talking to people.He does what he must, but he’d rather not.Pity I can’t make him bailiff.He’d scare people into talking.”Rafe wrinkled his nose as he tasted the results of their make-piece meal.
“But he rode into Stratford, didn’t he?We really need to know where Beanblossom is.”
“We need to know a lot more than that.For all we know, one of our two guests is a killer.I can’t even verify where Fletch was all night.He says he was alone in the stable.Sick horses don’t talk.Even Upton’s carpenters have no one to vouch for them after they left the tavern.”
Little by little, Verity had pieced together what had happened to the village baker.Two women in one night...She shuddered.Even if one death was accidental, traveling at night did not make good sense.It spoke of urgency or fear.And Willa...She’d had no notion about Willa’s extra occupation.With so many new people and single men around...
“It could even have been one of the gentlemen from the manor,” she said worriedly.“They have guests for the holiday.How do you account for all their whereabouts?”
“I don’t.”Gloomily, he shoveled up another forkful of pie.“It’s always the problem here.Too much space, too few people to act as witness.What I would give for a gossipy neighbor or two!And it looks like he used Willa’s kitchen knife, so identifying the weapon doesn’t help.”
“I just cannot imagine what that poor woman might have done to enrage anyone so.”Verity picked at a piece of chicken that might be Old Red.She wouldn’t miss the cantankerous old hen but they needed more hens to start raising chicks if they wanted to keep eating eggs.They should buy another rooster too.
Rafe took a swig of ale.“I think the killer was searching for something when Cooper walked in.I’m putting him up here tonight and setting some of Captain Huntley’s guards in the bushes around the bakery.Maybe the scoundrel will return to finish looking.”
“Lovely thought.You didn’t tell Mr.Cooper about the guards, did you?”
Rafe snorted and glared over his mug.“Give me some credit, woman.Even with that knot on his head, he has to be on my suspect list.I’ve put him at the far end of the inn with our other new guest, away from you and the children.Did you pry any more information out of the orphans?It’s odd to have two deaths in one night, but I fail to see any connection.Meera doesn’t believe the driver was stabbed.It may have simply been an attack of the heart.”
“Other than the names of a tailor, servant, and teacher, I have nothing useful.Daniel called someone a bad man because he made him leave his books behind.But I don’t know what that might have to do with the driver they call their nanny.Was she following orders or fleeing the ‘bad man’?”
“Driving at night seems a bit ramshackle.They’d have run into the closed bridge if they’d kept going through town.It’s hard to believe that Gravesyde was her destination.She had enough coin to take the toll road into Birmingham.Did she get lost?Was she unwell and looking for help?”Rafe frowned as he sipped his ale.
“Is Arnaud sketching the nanny so we can post her likeness in the lobby?”Verity knew the manor’s resident artist had done so before, although he didn’t care for drawing people.
“I gave his first sketch to Fletch to show in Stratford, if he’ll at least talk to the postmaster.I’ll place another in the lobby when Arnaud has it finished.I should probably show it to Mr.Cooper.Perhaps the nanny was related to Willa?Would that be too much of a coincidence?”
Verity sighed and set down her napkin.“It might mean the driver was murdered too, so let’s say that’s too much coincidence.She may have had good reason for driving back lanes instead of the main highway.I simply cannot believe no family claimed such lovely children.She may have been kidnapping them or saving them from kidnappers.How would we know?”
Which meant she ought to keep them out of sight until she knew there was no kidnapper orbadmenlooking for them.
Rafe rose to fetch the pudding he’d made of old scones.“Which is why you are not to become too attached.There must be people out there looking for them.”
Verity prayed she could do that, but they’d already lifted her spirits.She wanted Rafe’s children, of course, but right now, her nest needed filling, and this pair served nicely.She simply hoped they weren’t fairy changelings like in the stories.
