“Is there no doctor in the village?” Abigail had asked Mrs. Robbins, after her sister left.
Mrs. Robbins had shaken her head. “No, not for the past year. Some people call on the local veterinarian if he’s available, but most do their best to treat whatever ailments they encounter by themselves.”
“What if it’s an emergency?”
“They go to London, if they can. Or...” Here, the housekeeper had trailed away, but her meaning had been clear. Without a doctor, the villagers either tended to their own injuries... or they died. A tragic, but not unusual circumstance in the countryside where good medical care was difficult to come by.
“Thank you for taking care ofme,” Abigail replied, and Mrs. Robbins gave a startled laugh when she threw her arms around the housekeeper and hugged her tight in a display of affection not ordinarily shown between a lady and her servant.
“Has he... has he come back yet?” Ending the embrace, she looked past Mrs. Robbins to the stables, searching the white front courtyard for a red mare after waking up to a note Stephen had left her saying he was going for an early ride, but would try to return in time to bid her farewell. With a dark-gray sky promising snow, she’d already delayed her trip longer than she probably should have. But it didn’t feel right to leave without saying goodbye. Not this time.
“Perhaps he was delayed?” Mrs. Robbins suggested, striving for a cheerful tone.
She smiled faintly. “Perhaps. I’ll send a letter when I’ve safely reached London.”
“Please see that you do, my lady. Your presence will be sorely missed at Summerwind House.”
Susan released a low, mutteringmeowof miffed complaint from under the seat when Abigail climbed up into the carriage. Waiting until the team of horses had settled into a brisk trot on the open road before opening all three of the carriers, she invited the orange matriarch onto her lap while Cleo and Ferdinand entertained themselves by chasing sunspots on the floor.
“One final trip,” she promised Susan, “and then we’ll home. For good this time. No more traveling. No more looking over my shoulder. I will be able to devote my entire focus to what truly matters. My work as a doctor. Won’t that be wonderful?”
Susan’s tail twitched.
“I’ll still be married, but with personal and financial freedom. I couldn’t ask for more. Don’t you agree?”
Susan gave a banal side-eye.
“It’s not as if Stephen and I will becompletelyestranged. I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for us to enjoy each other’s company as... as friends. There’s nothing wrong with that, is—ouch, Susan! That hurts!”
Slowly retracting her claws from Abigail’s thigh, Susan pushed off her lap and landed on the carpeted floor with a softthump. Sauntering over to Cleo and Ferdinand, she swatted the latter on his head for absolutely no reason other than she was a cat before jumping up onto the opposite seat, curling into a ball, and promptly going to sleep.
Left alone with her troubling thoughts, Abigail turned to the window and watched the passing scenery go by in silence.
*
“Where is she?”Breathless and bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow from when Vixen had thrown him in a flight of fancy, Stephen tracked snow across the front hall in his haste to question Mrs. Robbins. “Did she leave?”
The housekeeper nodded. “About an hour ago, my lord. She tried to wait, but with the impending storm—”
“I understand,” he interrupted curtly. “Thank you.”
“Are you all right, my lord?” Mrs. Robbins trailed after him as he stalked into his study and threw his torn greatcoat on the back of a chair. “Your forehead—”
“I’m fine.” Seeing the worry on the housekeeper’s face, he took a deep breath and deliberately softened his tone. “You know how willful Vixen can be if she isn’t exercised consistently. We flushed a deer out of a thicket and I was on the ground before I had time to watch it run away. Bumps and bruises, nothing more.”
Mrs. Robbins arched a brow. “If only we had a doctor here.”
“Abigail wanted to leave.” He sat down behind his desk and picked up a quill pen. “It was her choice.”
“Did she?” The housekeeper’s second brow rose to join the first. “Or was she told to leave?”
His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t have been eavesdropping again, would you, Mrs. Robbins?”
“Eavesdropping? Me?” Aghast, she spread her hand across her generous bosom. “Never, my lord. But if I had been—which I wasn’t—I would have overheard the Earl of Lancaster telling the Countess of Lancaster to go. A rather odd request to make, don’t you think, when it is so very obvious that he wanted her to stay?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “There’s more to it than that.”
“There always is, my lord. But in my experience, there doesn’t have to be.” She smiled gently. “Is there anything I can get for you? A fresh tea service, perhaps?”
