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“Benedict, before you tell me any more, there is something I must tell you about your grandmother. She must have done it by now, for she said she would before you and Jack returned.”

Benedict quirked an eyebrow at her. In truth, he had nothing more to tell her about his wholly predictable fight. “Let’s get it out of the way, then,” he said, thinking he should have brought some beer back with him to the wagon. Instead, he raised his cup to his mouth.

“She’s gone,” she said simply.

He swallowed his tea down the wrong way. “Gone?” he repeated once he had coughed to clear his throat. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie looked grave. “She left.” He set his cup down again on the packing case with a heavy thud. “This morning she came around to our wagon while I was doing the washing and told me she was leaving to take up her sister’s offer for her to live with her in Shropshire.”

Benedict stared. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“That Ma Toomes had a sister, you mean?”

He shook his head. “No, that Great-Aunt Mabel would have her. I know Ma winters there most years, but I thought they were always pleased to see the back of each other.” He frowned. “God help them,” he commented finally. “Neither of them ever has a good word to say about the other.”

“It seemed as though she had simply had enough of this life.” Benedict looked at her sharply, but Lizzie’s expression was open and untroubled. “She said she could not depend on her son to support her in her old age but that her sister had always offered her a place by her hearth. Or words to that effect.”

Benedict gave a short laugh. “She has not relied on my father for many a year. It’s Frank she leeches off, and Jack to a lesser extent.”

“Well, it appears she has now relinquished her hold over them.” Lizzie hesitated. “I think she regrets how things went with Maggie and means to clear the field.”

“It would be the first thing she ever regretted in her life,” Benedict said scathingly. Lizzie folded her lips and said nothing, though her gaze remained intent on him. “Well, she’s gone,” he said challengingly. “Anything else I should know?” Again, she hesitated, and Benedict braced himself. “What is it?” he asked with foreboding.

“She did let slip that – well, your father was behind the attempt to oust Maggie.” Lizzie kept her eyes on the teaspoon she held. “It seems he had lately taken up with Daphne’s mother and thought that Daphne would suit Frank far better.”

Benedict brought his hand down sharply on the packing case, making the tea things jump. Sebastian sat up from his spot by the fire and watched them narrowly. Once he saw that Benedict’s anger was not directed toward his mistress, he relaxed slightly, but did not lie back down. Lizzie remained calm. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “The old man was behind it?” he asked tightly.

She nodded. “Apparently so.”

Benedict swore for a full minute, and that did make Lizzie wince. Once he had his temper under control, he said in low tones, “No doubt he thought he could manipulate Frank easier if he had someone speaking directly into his ear.”

“I’m sure you are right. I suspect the tale that Maggie ran off with another man originated with him also, for neither Niamh nor Connie had ever heard of such a rumor.”

“I don’t believe such a tale exists!” Benedict burst out hotly. “She wasn’t the sort.”

“Frank believed it,” Lizzie said simply. “And what’s more, it’s what he believes motivated her to leave, though he may have been too ashamed to admit it to you or Jack.”

Again, Benedict swore. “That bloody fool!” He sat simmering for a moment. When he looked up, he was resigned. “Go and get your paper and pen.” After all, Frank was going to the devil at an alarming rate. Maybe Maggie’s return would sort him out.

Lizzie flew up the steps and returned within seconds with her stationery and a candle which she passed to Benedict. He lit it for her and set it in a saucer to give her light enough to write her letter. He felt irritated that their evening had been given over to family matters, but perhaps it was just as well to get it over with in one go, then they could concentrate on the two of them.

He watched as her nib scratched across the page. She wrote determinedly and neatly, as she did everything else in life. Before long, she had covered three pages with her even handwriting, and Benedict wondered why she could not have put the matter into three simple lines. He would have done.

She looked up at one point. “Maggie can read?”

He shrugged. “If she can’t, she can always find someone who can.”

Lizzie frowned, no doubt thinking the subject matter sensitive. “I hope she will not think I’m taking a liberty by writing to her.”

“You’re doing her a favor,” he retorted shortly.

“Do you mind if I write that you endorse my writing to her?” He gave a brief shake of his head, and she added a postscript and blotted the letter. “I’ll get Charlie to take it along for posting tomorrow,” she said, sitting back with a sigh.

“Charlie?” he asked, rather more sharply than he’d intended.

“He runs errands for Connie and comes to the tent most days for any commissions from the girls.” At the look on Benedict’s face she added, “He’s twelve.”

His expression rapidly cleared. “Oh.”