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Tommy climbed the stairs and his footsteps echoed as he explored the first floor.
Nancy turned to Freddie with a smile. ‘You seem to have thought it all out, Freddie. I don’t know what to say. Today has been quite extraordinary so far. I feel dazed by it all.’
Freddie nodded. ‘I understand. You need time to think things through. I will be here if you need to talk to me.’
‘Thank you, Freddie. I appreciate all you’ve done and I admire what you are trying to do, but I must insist on one thing.’
‘Which is?’
‘That you dine with us tonight and tomorrow night. In fact, I hope you’ll come for dinner until you have mastered the range, otherwise you might starve to death and I don’t want that on my conscience.’
‘So you do care for me a little, Nancy?’
‘You know I do. Just give me time to adjust to all the changes that have happened. I have to get used to being a different person, and I don’t think it’s going to be easy.’
Freddie took both her hands in his. ‘You are still the same sweet, brave, caring Nancy I fell in love with. Don’t change, just try to believe in me. I want to be worthy of you.’
Tommy came thundering down the stairs, leaping the last three steps. ‘I wouldn’t mind living here myself. If you want some help to rescue the garden I’ll volunteer, Freddie. I used to help Abe Coaker in the grounds when I was a boy.’
‘What about our bet?’ Freddie said, laughing.
‘That still stands, but I can move in when you leave in a week or so. I could invite some of my friends from university down to stay. We’d have wonderful parties here.’
Nancy grabbed him by the arm. ‘Come on, Tommy. It’s time we went home. They’ll be wondering what happened to us.’
Freddie put his hand in his pocket. ‘Do you want to take your swaddling cloth with you, Nancy?’
‘No. Please keep it for me. I’ll take it if and when I decide to tell the family.’
Nancy hurried from the cottage. She knew that Freddie was sincere and believed he was doing the right thing, but it seemed doomed to heroic failure. He had not spent a day doing manual work in his whole life, let alone fending for himself. At home he had servants to tend to his every whim and she doubted if he had the slightest idea how to make the simplest meal, or how to wash his clothes. His determination to prove his love for her by going to such extraordinary lengths was touching but idiotic. And now she had to deal with the fact that in all probability she was a member of the Greystone family. As she mounted her horse she had a vision of Christina’s face when she found out they were cousins, and that brought a smile to her lips. It was an impossible situation. She needed to talk to Patricia, who might have been the wild one in the family, but she was the one person who might understand the turmoil in Nancy’s soul.
‘Are you going home, Nancy?’ Tommy untethered his horse and mounted. ‘I’ll race you.’
‘No, I think I’ll call on Patsy first. You go on ahead and tell Hester I’ll be back in time for luncheon. I don’t want her prying into where we’ve been this morning.’
‘Am I not to say anything?’
‘Not yet, Tommy. Let me think it over first.’
‘It’s not something you can keep secret for long. I’ll wager that Mrs Betts has been tittle-tattling about our conversation yesterday. I expect the whole village is talking about it by now.’
‘Don’t say that. It would just be gossip and, anyway, she swore she kept her patients’ business to herself.’ Tommy urged his horse to a walk and then a trot as he set off in the direction of Rockwood Castle.
Nancy had not very far to go to reach the house beside the sawmill. She dismounted and handed the reins to Robbins, who emerged from the mill at the sound of horse’s hoofs.
‘Good morning, Robbins. Is Mrs Wilder at home?’
‘I think so, miss. She hasn’t asked for the chaise and the boss says she’s not to ride her horse for the time being.’
‘Thank you.’ Nancy walked up the path to the front door and rang the bell.
Fletcher opened it after a brief wait. ‘Good morning, Miss Nancy.’
‘Is Mrs Wilder at home, Fletcher?’
‘I think she’s always at home to you, miss.’ Fletcher stood aside to let Nancy into the entrance hall. The house smelled of polish with only a faint hint of sawdust from the mill.
Patricia was seated on a chaise longue, stabbing a needle into a piece of embroidery stretched over a hoop. ‘Nancy, you’re a godsend. I am so thoroughly bored.’
