For a long moment no one moved.
"Madam," the man with the spectacles said, breaking the long quiet. "Thank you. We are in capable hands. I shall return to the town." His voice was quiet and precise. He picked up his leather case. "Sirs," he said, with a small bow to Edgar and Lazlo both. "Good morning."
Edgar inclined his head. Lazlo smiled warmly. The others followed, all but one.
The Irishwoman did not move.
"Madam," she said.
"I won't change my mind." Rhoda shook her head.
"My cat is called Pepper. She's a tortoiseshell. She's me whole heart and she's been me whole heart for one-hundred and fourteen years, and I want to see her with me own two eyes before I go anywhere."
"I understand, but,"
"Do ye."
"I do."
"And?"
"And I'm going to ask you, my dear, to walk back down to the town and let me do my work."
The Irishwoman's jaw set. Her eyes filled, but she didn't let the tears fall. She gave Rhoda the smallest dipped nod, turned on her heel, and went down the steps.
Honey watched her go, from her post just inside the door. She watched her go all the way down the drive, past the wisteria-tangled oaks at the curve where the gravel turned. Honey watched the green velvet cloak vanish behind the third oak and not come out the other side.
On the porch, Rhoda let out a long breath.
"Bless them," she said. "Bless every last one of them. Now let's get the door closed before any of them think better of it."
"Or before another coach arrives," Edgar said.
"Don't even say it." Rhoda patted his arm.
"People love you, my dear," Lazlo said. "Did you see how they listened?"
"They listened because they're tired and they're frightened." Rhoda smiled, briefly, despite herself. She stepped back into her own front hall, and Edgar pulled the door closed behind them.
"Right," Edgar said. "Y'all sit down. I'm bringin' breakfast through."
Edgar disappeared into the kitchen. Roam went after him to help carry. Rhoda and Lazlo and Honey moved together into the parlor. The fire had been rebuilt in the grate and the room smelled of fresh applewood. Lady Grey was perched on the back of the settee with her paws tucked and her tail drawn into a perfect comma, and she was murmuring something distressing about Hildegard's pastry habits. The hum of the spilling was the weather of the house now. It rolled underneath every other sound.
Edgar and Roam came in then with the breakfast.
"Eat," Edgar said. "Y'all eat. Anyone tries skippin' on me right now's gonna get her plate filled up twice."
Lazlo accepted a plate, took two biscuits and a small slice of ham, and sat at the dark end of the settee. He made his plate look full while eating very little. Duchess, who had been somewhere all morning where no one had quite noticed her, materialized at his ankle, sat down with her tail curled tight, and surveyed the room with a crinkled nose.
Rhoda sank into her wing chair. Edgar took the worn red ottoman by her feet, plate balanced on his knee. Honey perched on the arm of the chair Roam had settled into. For one moment the Hadwin parlor was a Hadwin parlor. Then the front doorslammed open. The three brass bells did not jangle. They were knocked clean back against the wall. A wedge of cold air came in, and behind it, a small fierce woman in a green velvet cloak, red-cheeked and storming.
"I'll not be told," Maeve announced, to the entire house beyond, "to take meself off for tea while me Pepper is in here spillin' her wee soul out to strangers."
She did not wait for an answer. She came at them like a smaller weather system, storming into the parlor. And from somewhere under the wing chair, a small streak of tortoiseshell shot across the rug at speed.
"Pepper…"
"MISSUS."
