Anna stopped. “Sorry.”
Mrs. Fenwick eyed her over a bowl of peas she was shelling. “There it is again.”
“What?” Anna asked, eyes wide.
“Sorry. You’ve said it six times so far today. Either confess whatever you’ve done or stop apologizing for it. You’re making me nervous.”
Mercy, shelling peas beside her, whispered, “I thought we were all nervous already.”
“We are,” Mrs. Fenwick said. “Which is why I dislike additional contributions.”
Before Anna could answer, Elias appeared in the kitchen doorway, his face blank. That meant he carried a message from Mrs. Pembroke. Elias did solemn very well, until Mrs. Fenwick terrified the solemnity out of him.
“Anna,” he said, “Mrs. Pembroke wants you in the morning room.”
She almost dropped the candlestick.
Mrs. Fenwick’s eyes narrowed. “What for?”
Elias cleared his throat. “A household matter.”
Mercy’s face lit up. “Is it dull? I could do it.”
Elias glanced her way. “I was not informed.”
Mrs. Fenwick pointed the peapod in her hand toward Anna. “Go on, then. And if Mrs. Pembroke asks whether we made enough pies for Captain Whitby and his usual guests, the answer is no. We only had three apples to work with.”
Anna wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, Mrs. Fenwick.” She took the back hall because in the front hall had she might be cornered by Lieutenant Rothborne. Even so, the men’s voices drifted her way.
“You cannot arrest a household,” Captain Whitby said.
“I can question one,” Ellis replied.
Anna’s stomach tightened, and she forced herself forward.
Mrs. Pembroke stood by the writing table when Anna entered. She had the curtains partly drawn and a tea tray sat untouched beside her. The first sign something was wrong. Mrs. Pembroke believed tea was suitable for grief, rage, strategy, and indigestion.
“Close the door, Anna,” Mrs. Pembroke instructed.
Anna did.
Mrs. Pembroke held up the familiar small black leather case. She set it on the table, opened the clasp, and lifted the lid. Nestled against the cream velvet interior was the locket.
Anna’s knees weakened. It had come back. Anna met Mrs. Pembroke’s gaze.
“The message was delivered,” Mrs. Pembroke said, “if the uproar in my parlor is any indication.”
Anna stepped closer. “Then why is it here again?”
Mrs. Pembroke gave her a look. “Because useful things are often inconvenienced by being useful.”
Anna sighed. “That’s not an answer.”
“It is a very good answer,” Mrs. Pembroke said. “It simply does not satisfy you.” She lifted the locket from the case and placed it in Anna’s palm. “Open it.”
Anna hesitated a moment. When she opened the front, she saw the familiar inscription centered on the left.
In God We Trust.
