Page 85 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

Church service began at nine, and Peter attended each week. Would he acknowledge her? The letters they had exchanged last week were almost friendly.

And after the service—Samuel. Meg expected him with James and Louisa at eleven o’clock for tea. With the knowledge she’d gained from running Sloan Tailoring and investigating their financial records, she’d calculated the future income of The Golden Thimble. Even with conservative estimates, she felt certain of her ability to support Samuel. Today, she would finally invite him back into her care—for good.

She flung the bedcovers aside and stretched into the light of morning. Dressing quickly, she crossed the hall and opened the door she planned to offer Samuel. A fine linen coverlet in sea green embraced the bed, a thick carpet for cold feet covered the floor, a desk large enough for himself and his tutor rested in the corner. The furnishings compared poorly to the Halverton household but offered a great deal more comfort than their home on Rosemary Lane. She inhaled the sharp scent of lavender and lemon, a warm tingle filling her. She almost heard Samuel’s feet clattering against the floor, his laughter down the halls.

In the kitchen, an apron around her, Meg combined barm, flour, butter, sugar, eggs, and currants. Her hands delighted in cool stickiness, a relief from needlework. She formed a ball and kneaded, cut the dough into cakes, and covered them to bake after church. Then she prepared Samuel’s favorite apricot jam biscuits and left them to rise.

In the cool of the stone church, Meg sat beside her Havenwood girls. She scanned the crowd for Peter, and their gazes collided like a clap of thunder. He offered a half-smile, turned, and began speaking to Johnathan. Time would make things easier between them.

Back at home, Miss Reed arranged cakes and jam biscuits in neat rows. Bread and cheese lay sliced and ready. Meg placed flowers here and there about the parlor to give it a refined feel.

At last, the clop of horses on cobblestone drew Meg to the window. James and Samuel arrived on horseback. Samuel swung his leg over his monstrously sized pony with the ease of one born to the exercise. Meg’s heart fell. Buying a pony remained out of reach, but she aspired to surprise Samuel with a fine horse someday.

Samuel ran to the door and met her embrace, his wiry arms flung tight around her waist. She welcomed her two half-brothers, surprising herself by kissing James as well as Samuel on the cheek.

“Louisa is not well?” she asked.

“She didn’t sleep last night.” James sat in the offered chair, Samuel on the sofa.

The room smelled of cakes and powdery woodsmoke, warm and well-lit, quiet and orderly. She kept a proper parlor, complete with superfluous cushions and a large fireplace, its sole purpose to entertain, a luxury foreign to her life before Halverton found her.

They ate and chatted nonsense, Samuel explaining to Meg how to string a fishing line and where to find the fattest worms. But he did not touch the jam biscuits.

“The biscuits are for you, Samuel.” She dropped one on his plate.

His mouth twisted to one side.

“What is it?” she asked him, but he took a bite.

James put his knuckles to his lips, hiding a smile.

“He doesn’t like apricot preserves,” James said.

“He does,” she insisted.

“It’s the furry blobs,” Samuel said apologetically.

Such a silly thing to plunge Meg’s heart right to her feet. “What kind of jam do you prefer?”

“Raspberry. But no chunks,” Samuel said.

“I shall remember that.” She winked at him, but stiffness prevented a smile. “I have something to tell you.” The moment had arrived, but why did her heart thud? “I am ready for Samuel to move back with me. My business, though new, is successful, and I have enough money to pay a tutor.” She turned to Samuel, swallowing to keep her voice steady. “It shall be the two of us, together again.”

Samuel stared at his plate.

“Aren’t you pleased?” Her chest constrained the rapid tick of her heart.

“Can I speak with you in the other room, Meg?” James asked.

She recalled herself, withdrew her attention from Samuel’s working jaw. Her feet pressed against the floor, and she led James from the room into the shop.

“Just as impressive as it was on opening day.” James opened his hands to the room. “Perhaps more so. It’s larger when not packed with customers.”

Meg crossed her arms and leveled what she hoped was an intimidating stare at him. “What is amiss?”

James sighed. “Samuel has expressed to me how well his school suits him. I’ve offered him to live with me and Louisa, reminded him he always has a home with you, but more than anything, he wants to return to Foxmill.”

“I’m returning him to where he belongs.”