Lavender Lady by Carola Dunn

great deal of effort to shield her from anxiety. A small return for her hospitality, he assured himself.
    As he went to the door, Jamie directed at him a look loaded with gratitude, and all at once he was happy he had made the offer.
    Robbie was about to knock again when James opened the door. “Hester says it’s teatime and she’ll bring in the tray if you two have finished con . . . conspiring, I think she said. Have you? And are we going to London, Jamie?”
    “Yes, we’ll all go if everything works out.”
    Robbie’s whoops could be heard all the way to the kitchen.
    * * * *
    On his third day below stairs, Mr. Fairfax was almost disappointed to be greeted by no alarums and excursions. No injured animals, no astute elders, no epistles from obnoxious aunts disturbed the peace. There was a moment fraught with possibilities when Robbie refused to see why he should have his lessons from Hester when James was allowed to study with Mr. Fairfax. And Susan shed a few tears at dinner when her first-ever plum tart emerged scorched from the oven.
    A felicitous domestic evening followed, but the next few days brought a constant stream of visitors, as word spread that the gentleman from London was on show. By the end of the following week, Mr. Fairfax felt he must have been displayed to the entire population of Henley. So when, as they sat at tea on Friday afternoon, a carriage stopped in the street and the front door knocker was heard, he groaned.
    “Susan, go and see who it is, please,” requested Hester. “I cannot imagine who would arrive in a carriage at this time.”
    Susan returned in a few moments.
    “It’s a parson,” she announced. “He wants to speak privately with Hester, so I put him in the drawing room. Do you suppose . . .”
    They all looked at each other with a sudden surmise.
    “Grace,” breathed Hester. “I’ll go at once.”
    As she entered the drawing room, a tired-looking young man in his late twenties rose from the chair where he had slumped.
    “Miss Godric?” he asked. “I am John Collingwood. I only recently received your letter because I have been away from home, looking for my poor sister.”
    The sadness and pity in his voice brought tears to Hester’s eyes. Stepping forward, she took both his hands.
    “Grace died assured of your compassion,” she told him earnestly, “and in the expectation of forgiveness. You will wish to speak to our vicar, Mr. Smythe, I am sure, but you look so very weary, sir. Pray sit down, and I will bring you a cup of tea and tell you all I can.”
    Geoffrey was sent to the Bull to take a room for Mr. Collingwood, and Hester remained closeted with him for a long time. At last she called Alice, who took him to see his nephew.
    “Your sister is a wonderful person,” he said as they climbed the stairs. “And she told me how you rescued Grace, Miss Alice. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
    “It was Susan’s doing, really,” disclaimed Alice, blushing rosily, “but I have been taking care of little John. He is the sweetest baby. Shall you take him with you?”
    “Yes, of course, if you think he is not too young to travel. Unfortunately, I am a bachelor, but I shall hire a nurse and give the child the best upbringing I am able.”
    “I am sure you will.” Alice turned on him a glowing look that pierced the shell of his preoccupation. He suddenly noticed that he was talking to an exceptionally beautiful young woman, and the halo he had already perceived above her head did nothing to detract from this image.
    Hester had relinquished her chamber to Alice and the baby, and had moved in with Susan. As Mr. Collingwood followed Alice, it was perfectly obvious to him that he was entering a lady’s bedchamber. It was his turn to blush. His collar felt too tight, so he ran a finger round inside it. Happily reminded of his vocation, he regained his composure, only to lose it again when the child gazed at him with Grace’s huge blue eyes. The strain of his