Page 14 of Waiting for Love

Her throat tightened. She’d miss them all so much, tenants, villagers, everyone.

Since it was still early, she decided to visit the lake to cheer herself before returning to the house. Willy Pyle had torn down the old boathouse and had begun framing a new one. Benjamin had told him he needn’t rush. The boats, two somewhat shabby rowboats, were tucked safely away in the carriage house until spring. Olivia liked to watch the progress.

She wended her way along the path, musing about Georgiana’s crankiness that morning and Reg’s discomfiture when she’d left the breakfast table weeping. He’d hurried out after her, leaving his eggs to grow cold. It was almost, but not quite, funny.

She emerged from the trees and discovered the lakeside was occupied, but not by Willy. Benjamin stood beside a tipped wagon. Just seeing him gave her spirits a little lift, although he could not be happy. Crates had spilled onto the grass. He had already unhitched the carthorse, Pudge, and was surveying the damage. She couldn’t hear him, but assumed he was swearing.

“Hullo!” she called out. He turned, then took off his hat and waved it to her. She went to him. “What happened?”

“Axle snapped.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

She expected a no, but his forehead smoothed, and he smiled. It was not a welcoming smile, more something tired. “You can. If you could go to the carriage house, after your ride, of course, and ask Mundy to bring the small cart and a few men to drag this mess back to the yard, I’ll figure out what to do from there.”

Olivia nodded. “I’ll go straightaway. What is in the crates? May I ask?” There were five of them, two in the wagon bed and three on the ground. They were about two or three feet long and one in the dirt appeared cracked, but she couldn’t see what was in it.

“Traps.”

“Hmm.” He was not forthcoming, so she said, “What kind of traps?”

“Badger traps.”

That didn’t sit well. “Does this have to do with Everet?”

“It does.” He sighed, then ran his hand through his hair before redonning his cap. He was not wearing gloves, and his hands were quite filthy. She should have found that off-putting, but she had a hard time keeping her hands tidy as well. “He took up all his traps after I visited him, but he set them out again. So I’m going to offer him an alternative.”

“More traps?”

“You won’t appreciate this either.”

She shifted in her saddle and waited.

“Lady Olivia, you are an intelligent and imaginative young lady, but I doubt you could possibly comprehend the scope of the enterprise behind all the delightful furs and pelts your friends in the ton like to wear. I doubt my ability to explain. All I can say is, although I was not a fur trapper myself, I learned a thing or two about the business.”

“No one wears badger fur, Mr. Carroll.”

“You would be surprised. Of course, no one knows they are wearing badgers.”

Olivia couldn’t help shuddering.

“You won’t be wearing any local pests,” he assured her with a short laugh. “You pay for quality and give your custom to reputable clothiers.” He glanced at his crates, then his hands. He rubbed his palms on his trousers with a grimace. “To be brief, I have some sympathy for Everet. The beasts have dug up his barley field and it’s full of holes. He needs to get rid of them and he saw a way…” He hesitated before going on. “He’s an old grouch, but he isn’t a brute. He has a daughter who married over Ipswich way and gave him five grandchildren. He passed the coin along to his daughter.”

“Bess.” She nodded. “I suspected as much.”

Benjamin gave her a studying look before dropping his gaze and continuing in a less condescending tone, “He understands Iversley tasked me with putting a stop to his selling live badgers. And I will. I won’t abide wanton cruelty. But I am aware of a few shops in London that will buy a few ‘beaver’ pelts, no questions asked. These traps I’m bringing him,”—he gestured to the crates—“kill quickly.”

“And you will sell the pelts for him?” That was going above and beyond.

His expression darkened. “The few shillings they will bring in will be split between Everet and Iversley. I’m not—”

“For pity’s sake, Benjamin!” she gasped. “I was thinking how kind you were. Not that you were doing something underhanded.”

Benjamin flushed. “I apologize. For my defensiveness. I’ve had a bad morning.”

“As I can see.”

He mumbled, “And a worse night.” He removed his hat again and rubbed his temple as if his head hurt. “Mrs. Danforth visited the Claybornes yesterday evening and came home to announce their youngest is breaking out in spots. Miss Jamison is trying to keep Hannah away from Mrs. Danforth, who says she is being ridiculous.”