Lady Violet Holds a Baby by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781952443978
Publisher: Grace Burrowes

Chapter Eleven

The outing to the berry patch was a sweaty, sticky ordeal that culminated in a high-spirited berry battle. To my great consternation, I was left to preside over the warring factions alone while Miss Oakes and Mr. Harkness “sought some shade for a moment.”

I shamelessly eavesdropped on the children, who seemed fairly compatible outside the watchful eye of the nursery staff. Dottie had begged off, “owing to the heat and all,” though I suspected she wanted a break from the children more than she wanted to escape the nursery.

Why weren’t the children more upset about Evelyn’s disappearance? Perhaps the poor girl had rubbed everyone the wrong way. I knew how that felt and was thus constantly scanning the woods for any sign Evelyn had passed the berry patch. Contrary or not, she needed to be found.

I took care to surreptitiously compare footprints left by Bella and Sylvie with those Ellersby and I had found earlier. The mystery boot prints were slightly larger than my nieces’ impressions, though not as large as my own, strongly suggesting they indeed belonged to Evelyn.

“We should have brought Dottie,” Bella said, flopping down on the grass beside the river. “She likes raspberries.”

Sylvie came down beside her sister. “She eats everything she picks.”

“So do you.”

Sylvie grinned, her lips rosy with berry juice. “I saved some to repel the Huns.”

“We’re the Roman army,” Henry said, taking his place on the grass. “We’re conquering Britannia.”

“You conquered the berry patch,” I said, “and thus it’s time we were getting back to the Hall.”

Stephen Botham was the last to give up on the berry picking. “I’m tired.”

“We will take our time returning to the nursery,” I assured him, “and keep to the shady paths in the wood.”

“Can we come again tomorrow?” Sylvie asked. “We had ever so much fun, Auntie Violet.”

“Please,” Bella chorused. “Dottie didn’t let us pick berries when we came this way from the dower house, and she was forever ordering us not to go in the river. I don’t want to go in any beastly old river.”

“We could go wading,” Henry said, “if Papa gave permission.”

“Not here.” I grasped Bella’s hands and hauled her to her feet. “The water is too deep here, but closer to the water meadow, the river is shallow enough to cross on foot most of the time, hence the name of Uncle Felix’s home, MacHeath’s Ford.”

“MacHeath is Uncle Sebastian’s name,” Sylvie said. “He wears kilts.”

So Sebastian had earned honorary-uncle status? That thought made me happy, though it surprised me.

“Kilts are stupid,” Henry declared, getting to his feet. “Papa says so. Why would a man want to show off his knees like that?”

Because his national dress meant the world to him, and he’d been banished from his homeland as a mere boy.

“I like kilts,” Bella countered, “and I like that Uncle Sebastian has lemon drops in his sporran.”

Stephen, I noticed, remained above this verbal affray. Mr. Harkness and Miss Oakes rejoined the party only as I was herding the children back in the direction of Derwent Hall.

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