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“I’ve ’eard the same ’bout milkmaids and the pox,” Hester said. “Though it seems like if there wus any truth t’ th’ claim, everyone’d want t’ be a milkmaid.”

“Maybe not enough people know milkmaids are magical like that,” Sarah said. “Me an’ Caroline didn’t.”

“Well, now ya do.” Molly laughed merrily. “I’ve never been called magical afore, but I rather like it.”

“I certainly don’t ’ave any magic in me,” Sarah said, lifting Peggy off her knee and setting her on the floor before coming to her feet. “But I daresay I can conjure up a pot o’ weak tea fer us all. I don’t ’ave sugar, mind, but I’ve plenty o’ milk.”

“Tea would be lovely,” Hester said. “Don’t worry ’bout th’ sugar. That’s almost as ’ard t’ find as wheat flour these days.”

Hester’s comment caused Caroline to ponder Nora’s recent baking—or, rather, the lack thereof. She’d not made bread since the batch that had provided a loaf for the Trilbys. There’d been no biscuits since the ones she and Meg had made together.

“I certainly hope the upcoming harvest turns the shortage around,” she said.

“I reckon we all do.” Molly’s expression became serious. “But whether or not it ’appens will likely depend on where th’ Farwell wheat goes. After th’ last ’arvest, Mr. Abney up at th’ mill ground two sacks o’ grain. But that’s all they delivered t’ ’im.”

“Where did the rest go?” Caroline asked. She’d seen the Farwell wheat field. It would produce far more than a couple of sacks of grain.

“Couldn’t tell ya. Mr. Abney’s mill is th’ closest t’ Farwell, but maybe Lord Farwell prefers another one.”

Lord Farwell. Of course. With how involved Lord Benning was on the farm, Caroline had all but forgotten that it was his father, the earl, who was truly in charge.

Molly sighed. “We’d best all be prayin’ fer a better ’arvest this time round. There are some round ’ere who won’t make it through another winter without better provisions.”

“Even amongst the Farwell tenants?” Caroline asked. Sarah had suggested that there were others in the parish who were suffering, but she’d assumed it was the other villagers.

“The Farwell tenants ’ave been ’it as ’ard as anyone.” Hester rubbed her stomach, and Caroline was struck by how difficult it must have been to be expecting a little one when food was scarce. “Although, if we visit the milkin’ parlor when Lord Bennin’s around, he ’as us fill a crock with milk afore we leave.”

The mention of milk spurred Sarah into action again. “Gracious me! Standin’ ’ere’s not goin’ to start th’ water boilin’. Give me a few minutes, an’ I’ll ’ave the tea ready.”

As much as she did not wish to take from Sarah’s meager supplies, Caroline sensed that this gesture of hospitality was important to her new friend. “Thank you, Sarah,” she said. “A cup of tea would be lovely.”

“It would,” Molly said. “But tell th’ water t’ boil fast so we can enjoy our tea afore th’ young ‘uns come lookin’ fer us.”

With a knowing look, Sarah turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

By the time Caroline arrived home, weariness had well and truly set in, but she could not help but feel a spark of elation at what she had accomplished. The walk to Sarah’s house and back had been the longest she’d attempted since becoming ill, and she’d managed it unaided. Along with that, she’d made new friends. Women close to her age who had accepted her into their circle and made her feel normal again.

Lifting the latch on the front door, she let herself into the vicarage. Voices reached her from the kitchen, so she made her way down the passage and stepped into the warm, sunny room.

“Mama!” Meg was the first to spot her. She jumped off her chair and ran to greet her.

Caroline put an arm around her daughter. “Well, this is a fine welcome!”

Caroline’s father rose. “Nora and I were starting to worry. You’ve been gone a long time.”

“I apologize,” Caroline said. “Sarah had two friends at the house—Molly Lumley and Hester Simkins—and we chatted longer than we likely should have.”

“It sounds as though it was time well spent,” he said. “I am only sorry that I wasn’t here to take you in the trap.” His forehead creased. “How did you manage?”

“Remarkably well.” She lowered herself onto the nearest chair, grateful to be off her feet. “Although, I confess, I am very tired.”

“I ’ave the soup on the hob,” Nora said. “You shall ’ave some right away. A little sustenance will ’elp perk you up.”

“But first you must read our letter,” Meg said, extending her arm so that Caroline could see the white envelope in her small fist.

“Our letter?” Caroline looked to her father for clarification, but he simply shrugged.