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“Give me a task,” he added. “I’ll pitch in.”
Work, they were here to work. “You could look through the pile around the wardrobe.”
He groaned but went to do so. They sorted in silence for a while.
“Oh my.” The exclamation escaped Penelope.
“What is it?”
“A loose page from an accounting in Latin. From 1296, if I’m reading it correctly. How far back does your family go at Frithgerd?”
Daniel gladly abandoned his litter of papers. “The tale is that a Norman lordling came along after the Conquest and married a Saxon girl to get a chunk of the land hereabouts. He even took her name to ingratiate himself with the locals, since the Friths were so well established. He was a clever fellow or a greedy invader, depending on the side you take. There’s a bit of the Saxon stonework left in the east wing.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Would you like to see it?” Daniel stepped closer. Viewing would entail a walk outside, which seemed like a godsend.
“Perhaps another time.”
“Architecture doesn’t interest you as much as documents?”
“No,” she said absently. “Though I don’t suppose the records go back nearly that far.”
With a sigh, Daniel returned to his designated litter of papers. “I can only hope,” he said. “Mrs. Phipps, my housekeeper, told me that there are trunks of records in the attics. I think she was keeping that from me to save my sanity.”
Miss Pendleton laughed. It was a delightful sound, lilting and musical. If he could make her laugh, perhaps he could endure the sorting, Daniel thought. “She wondered if we wanted them down herein all their dirt,” he continued.
“Of course we want them!”
“Just what I told her. They’re putting the trunks in the blue parlor.”
Miss Pendleton actually rubbed her hands together. They were dusty, Daniel noticed, and those odd sleeve covers hadn’t prevented the skirts of her gown from acquiring a streak.
“I saw your father’s will,” she said.
It was on top of the desk, so of course she had. “It’s not informative about Rose Cottage, as I’m sure you noticed.”
She nodded. “It’s so strange that there are no other documents about the place.”
“I looked.”
“Of course.”
Her tone was…condescending? His family’s disorganized papers had given her a false impression of him, Daniel thought. He was capable, just not an antiquarian. As he’d be more than happy to show her. Various improbable heroic deeds filled his brain.
“Was the cottage always part of your estate, or was it purchased at some point?” Miss Pendleton mused.
Daniel took the question as it was meant, rhetorically.
“There ought to be a history of the estate, with maps showing the original boundaries and any changes over the years. I compiled a volume of boundaries and deeds for Papa.” She broke off, suddenly melancholy.
How would he feel if Frithgerd was suddenly gone? Despite Daniel’s difficulties with his parents, it would be like losing a limb. She hadn’t stood to inherit her father’s estate of course, but she’d obviously loved her home. Daniel thought her dead brother must have been either a blackguard or a complete idiot.
* * *
Three floors above, in the attics of Frithgerd, a great winnowing was taking place. Trunks and boxes were opened, examined, and left in place or hauled downstairs, according to their contents.
Kitty, Betty, and Tom had come along to help, one on orders and the other two out of curiosity.
