“Nick!” Val hailed him and caught up easily, for the horses were nothing if not deliberate in their paces. “How’d you get them hitched up so fast?”
“They came with a groom,” Nick said. “Your papa sent along old Sean, and you’re to keep him as long as you can stand his cursing and grumbling.”
“Sean’s here?” Val’s brows rose. Sean was one of the most senior grooms at Morelands.
Nick shrugged. “Sean said foaling is done in Kent, and His Grace didn’t think you’d hired talent adequate for these two yet.”
“His Grace has spoken and I suppose I’m to make a go of this place.”
“Or maybe,” Nick suggested gently, “he simply wants to be helpful, Val.”
“Maybe.” Val nodded, unwilling to waste time arguing. “Let me show you something before you start hauling away next year’s firewood.”
Nick signaled the horses to stand and followed Val around the side of the cottage.
“Look closely at the stump, Nick.”
“Well, bugger all, would you look at that,” Nick growled, eyes traveling upward. “That tree fell into its neighbor, there.” He pointed to another stout tree in the hedgerow, one sporting a bright, pale gash in its bark several feet long at a height of maybe thirty feet. “And probably caught fairly snugly until someone sawed through what remained of the trunk at the base. Bloody hell, Val. You’ve got problems.”
“And Ellen has, too,” Val rejoined. “What if she’d been home, sleeping or working at her books? Baking?”
“We have to hope whoever did this took long enough to comprehend she wasn’t home,” Nick said. “Sawing green wood, even a few inches of it, makes noise.”
“You think I want to risk Ellen’s life on a hope?” Val spat bitterly. “The hell of it is, I can’t determine if it’s her enemies or mine doing this. Axel told you about the bonfires?”
“He did. Which just means we have to be careful, and at the least, you are the target. Burning down the house would not harm Ellen.”
“And wrecking her cottage would not harm me. So maybe it’s the combination of me and Ellen someone objects to.” He paced off a few feet, staring at the ruined cottage. “She loved her little house, Nick. I think it was all she had and the only place she felt really safe. Would you take her to Kent? Or to David and Letty?”
“Of course. Leah would love some civilized company. But let’s get this mess cleaned up and put our heads together later. For now, you have a widow to console.”
“This is the last of it,” Day said as he and Phil came in, arms full of the details Ellen hadn’t realized she’d miss until she was in the middle of making her bed: She spied in Phil’s arms some embroidered pillows, her old quilt, her favorite mug, and her brush and comb. She took each item from Phil then stopped and drew in a breath when she saw Day holding out a plant to her.
“What is that, Dayton?”
“It was sitting on your counter. I didn’t know if you’d want it, but it looked lonely and will need watering.”
“You found this weed on my counter?” Ellen took the plant, trying to keep the outrage from her voice.
“I can take it back, Mrs. Fitz,” Day offered as she snatched the plant from his hand.
“God damn him to hell,” Ellen muttered as she hurled the plant, pot and all, out an open window. “Thank you, gentlemen, I’d like some privacy now.” Her back was to them, as thorough a dismissal as she could imagine.
“Mrs. Fitz?” Phil’s voice was tentative. “Shall we send Mr. Windham to you?”
“No thank you,” Ellen said quickly enough that they both beat a hasty retreat. Ellen waited to make sure they’d gone, closed her door, sat on the bed, and cried.
Again.
Out in the yard, Phil and Day crossed paths with Val and Nick, who were returning from an afternoon hauling, sawing, and patching on Ellen’s cottage.
“Are we due for a swim?” Val asked his younger assistants. “Or do we attack the hampers first, and what is this doing in my tidy yard?” He knelt to pick up a badly cracked clay pot, a crumpled plant still housed within.
“We found it on Mrs. Fitz’s counter,” Day replied. “I thought it might be a house plant or one she’d like for her room, so I brought it to her. She pitched it out the window and said it was a weed.”
Val’s brows arched in consternation. “Ellen pitched a plant out her window? You saw her do this?”
“We both did,” Phil said, “but it isn’t a weed; it’s pennyroyal. It makes a nice tea and soothes the digestion like peppermint.”
Nick reached out a long arm and pinched off a leaf.
“Phil’s right,” Nick said, bringing the leaf to his nose. “Pennyroyal can be confused with spearmint because the scent and flavor are similar, but it’s pennyroyal all right.”
Val frowned, trying to recall what the apothecary had said about pennyroyal. “Why don’t you repot it? We’ll take it to your father on Saturday. He can find a use for it, but meanwhile I’d keep it out of Ellen’s sight.”
“Right.” Day nodded. “So dinner or a swim?”
“I vote dinner,” Nick said. “The swim will settle the meal and cool us off before bed.” The boys concurred and struck out for the springhouse.
“Which reminds me,” Val turned to regard Nick as the boys moved off, “where will we put you, my friend? The cots in the carriage house are too small for me and Dare, but they would torture you.”
“I have a bedroll.”
“Would you be willing to take a hammock? Ellen has one that is quite sturdy and she won’t miss it.”
“A hammock would be lovely, but how is it you vouch for the sturdiness of this hammock?”
“Shut up, Nicholas.”
“Valentine?”
“What?”
“There is another use for pennyroyal.” Nick’s tone was thoughtful. “It settles the digestion, true, but women use it to bring on their menses.”
“Why would a woman want to do that?” Val asked as they headed toward the carriage house. “Seems to me the ladies are always complaining about the cramps, the mess, and the inconvenience of it all.”
“Let me put this less delicately. Women use it to bring on menses that are late, sometimes very late.”
“To abort?” Val shot a curious glance at his friend. “Lord above, Nick, the wicked things you know will never cease to appall me. Is this an old wives’ tale or documented science?”
“I don’t know as science had gotten around to considering the subject, but I know of many women who swear by it, if used early in the pregnancy. I also know of one who died from overusing the herb too late in her pregnancy.”
“So this plant is a poison. Just what we need.”
“What do we need?” Darius asked from the porch of the carriage house, “and where are our pet heathen?”
“Laying out supper,” Val replied. “Somebody left a poison plant on Ellen’s counter.”
“Pennyroyal,” Nick added. “And she pitched it out the window while Day and Phil watched.”
“Ellen pitched a plant? She was offended, I take it? I didn’t know the stuff was poison. I thought pennyroyal was for bringing on menses and settling the digestion.”
Val rolled his eyes. “Does everybody but me know these things? Let’s go get dinner before the locusts devour all in their path. And Nick, I elect you to go fetch Ellen.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Nick bowed extravagantly and spun on his heel, while Darius—the lout—guffawed loudly.
Dinner was good, the hampers having been prodigiously full, owing to the addition of Nick to the assemblage. Ellen didn’t say much, but she did eat, mostly because Nick pestered and teased and dared her into taking each bite. Val sat back and watched, wishing he could do something besides feed the woman and put a roof over her head. Those were necessities, things Freddy Markham should have been doing out of sheer duty, things Francis had intended Ellen never want for again.