Page 23 of Secrets of Capell Manor
Rosalind giggled. Devlin took a step toward Rosalind and started to say something, but then Benton arrived to announce dinner.
“Marta is now ready with this evening’s meal, milady and Sir Devlin. She has saved enough ham for us to sup upon tonight, but she has informed me that Grim is not to receive one morsel from the table.”
The last comment was directed at Rosalind, who was known to sneak Grim a few tidbits from her trencher at each meal. Alden, who had been watching his friend and his interactions with the children, the dog, and now Rosalind, grinned.
“Can I join you for dinner?” he asked. “Or maybe you two would prefer to dine alone?” Alden asked with a slight chuckle of his own.
“What? Please sit…yes. Dinner.” Rosalind gave her head a slight shake, and turned to Benton. “We are ready now. Please bring out the meal when you are ready.”
Rosalind, Alden, and Sir Devlin took their seats, and it wasn’t long before Benton, followed by Ridley, carried two trays to the table. The once substantial ham was now whittled down to one-third its size. The portion that had hit the floor when Grim was ordered to drop it had been cut away, and the top side that Grim had in his mouth was removed as well.
However, Marta had performed a culinary miracle, and the table was full of other delicious fare to fill their bellies. Marta had sent out blocks of sharp, yellow cheese, dried fruit from the larder, and the bread she had saved for tomorrow’s breakfast. And, of course, there were plenty of potatoes, parsnips, and a turnip or two. The meal was hearty enough, and both men and Rosalind ate their fill. Grim, on the other hand, made no attempt to beg for a tasty tidbit, nor did he stand by the table and wait for a stray crumb to fall.
The storm that threatened Alden and Sir Devlin as they rode toward the bog now raged in earnest. Ridley had come in twice during dinner to throw more wood into the fireplace. But despite his efforts, the great hall remained drafty and cool. The windthrust its way through every minute crevice in the masonry and found every weakness in the few shutters that were closed and sealed for the winter season.
As Rosalind finished her meal, she asked, “Did you find any information of value on your search today?”
Alden looked toward Sir Devlin and nodded imperceptibly, encouraging Devlin to answer.
“No, unfortunately, we didn’t. We widened our search perimeter and talked to everyone we could, and no one told us anything helpful. It’s like he disappeared off the face of the Earth that evening. Disappeared without a trace.”
Devlin hated lying to Rosalind. But his gut told him that she knew more than she was telling, or others knew more and were protecting her. The horse had come back with bog muck up to its hocks. Ridley and Benton would have known that was where the horse had been, but they failed to tell this to Alden or himself. And Rosalind may or may not have known of this potentially critical piece of the puzzle.
Devlin wanted to change the subject of conversation off of Edmond, but Luella and Kaylyn chose to run into the hall, both dressed in their night clothes.
“Mama!” Kaylyn yelled. “May we stay up a bit later? Please! The wind is howling, and Luella is scared.”
“And our room is too cold,” Luella added pitifully.
“I added wood to their fires, milady,” Ridley offered. “The rooms will warm soon.”
“Of course, you can stay with us here a bit,” Rosalind said. “Go and get your playthings and sit closer to the hearth.”
Rosalind rose and made her way to her chair on the rug, where she joined Grim and the girls. She had a woolen shawl cast over the back of the chair, and she wrapped it around herself. She then sat and picked up her sewing from her basket.
By now, the table had been cleared, and Ridley had returned from the kitchen. He pulled a small table and two stools from the south edge of the room and procured a chess board and pieces from a box that was nestled under the table.
“Mr. Danby, do you care to play?” Ridley asked.
“I would be happy to trounce you at a game of strategy, Mr. Ridley,” Alden said confidently. He moved to the small table and set his pieces on the board.
Luella and Kaylyn had dumped a small basket of wood carvings of some sort onto the rug. Each piece was a simply carved animal or person. There were ducks, cows, chickens, people figures, and even a few trees carved into wooden toys for the girls. It wasn’t long before the girls had constructed a farm on the rug, with Grim in the middle serving as the “mountain” between the girl’s farm and the village that was currently constructed of kindling wood.
Benton and Marta emerged from the kitchen a few moments after, and each took a chair and pulled closer to the fire. Marta had her own sewing basket from which she began embroidering on an apron. Benton acquired a simple box from the mantle. From the box, he took out a block of wood and a carving knife. Devlin wondered who had gifted the girls with such valuable toys, and now he knew. Benton kept a cloth in his lap, and he started carving.
“What are you making there, Benton?” Devlin asked.
“Kaylyn tells me that they need some fine draft horses for their collection,” he replied. “A horse is a challenging figure to form with my knife, but I strive to do my best.”
Devlin had no doubt he would deliver a couple of perfectly acceptable horses for the girls’ play farm.
Devlin leaned back into his own chair and stretched his feet toward the fire. He observed this odd family he had come to investigate.
None were of blood kin, but this small clan had forged bonds as deep and loyal as any family he had ever known. The howls of the wind didn’t bother the family as they worked and played near the comforting warmth of the fire.
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Rosalind glanced up from her stitching. Devlin looked thoughtful. He was relaxed, and she saw the raw handsomeness of his face. His thick black hair curled ever so slightly at his ears and the nape of his neck. He had a prominent brow that, when angry or frustrated, would lower and pull closer together over his thick-lashed, near-black eyes. Yes, she’d seen plenty of his angry looks. But not now. Now his eyes were soft and looked almost kind, a stark contrast with the jagged scar that ran from the corner of his eye to the line of his strong jaw.
