way.”
“You live at Summerset?”
“Yes. My name is Rowena Buxton. Could you send word on how he is?”
The man nodded and cranked the engine to life. “I’mDouglas Dirkes. And of course. And thank you, miss, for your help.”
She watched the motorcar lurch down the rock-strewn road and wished she had been able to do more for him. Part of her yearned to follow them into town to make sure he was going to be okay. Deep in her bones, she felt she shouldn’t let this man disappear from her life. But she had a family of her own that was no doubt worried sick right now. Sighing, she mounted her horse and reined him toward home. Then she thought of Victoria and Prudence and the myriad problems she faced at Summerset and wished she could just ride on forever.
* * *
“The scones are ready to take out now, love, if you don’t mind. The towel is right over there.” Nanny Iris jerked her head in the general direction of the towel and Victoria hurried to comply.
This was the second visit she’d made to Nanny Iris’s cottage and she loved the home almost as much as she did Nanny Iris. The cottage stood by itself in the center of a small meadow, which was brown and barren now, but no doubt thick with wildflowers in the spring and summer. The thatching of the roof was the color of warm honey, contrasting with the red ivy winding up one wall. Two deep windows stood guard on either side of the door. A rail fence protected a small kitchen garden on one side, where Nanny Iris grew an abundance of herbs and vegetables. It looked like a fairy house, or perhaps the home of a banished princess waiting for her prince. She’d ignored Nanny Iris’s raucous laugh when she told her that the first time she’d come to visit.
Victoria sniffed the rich, buttery scent of the scones before setting the pan to cool on the stone countertop. Then she went to stand next to Nanny Iris, who was making an infusion out of oregano.
“What kind of oil do you use?” Victoria asked, watching with interest as Nanny Iris repeatedly dipped a small net bag of freshly cut oregano into a jar of warm oil.
“You can use olive oil or grape-seed oil. I’m using olive oil because it’s easier to come by.” After squeezing the oil out a few times, she pushed the bag down into the jar, added more oil, and screwed on the lid.
“And what is this used for again?”
Nanny Iris smiled. “I use it to bring in money from the pharmacist in town. But it’s commonly used to ease sore throats and can be helpful in settling digestive problems. Some people also use it to relieve aching muscles.” She wiped the jar off with a clean cloth and set it in a cupboard alongside several other jars. “This one will be ready to sell in a couple of weeks.”
Victoria laid the table for tea while Nanny Iris put away the herbs and concoctions they had been working on. Working with Nanny Iris in her warm, homey kitchen filled Victoria with the kind of simple satisfaction she hadn’t felt since she’d helped her father in his office. From her father she’d learned the genus and species and chemical properties of each plant. From Nanny Iris she learned the myths, legends, and the plants’ medicinal uses. Sometimes when infusing or mixing herbs together, she could almost feel her father by her side watching their progress.
Nanny Iris put the kettle on for tea. “How has your breathing been lately? Has the infusion I made you done any good?”
Victoria nodded. “I think so. Climbing stairs is easier and Irun out of air less often. But it’s hard to tell because my episodes often decrease when I come to Summerset.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. The air is much better here than in the city. Does it ever worsen in June or July?”
Victoria nodded. “Yes, and then it’s worse out here than in the city.”
“Did your fancy doctors ever mention hay fever?”
“A German doctor did when we were vacationing in Davos once. But he also said the increase in episodes
“You live at Summerset?”
“Yes. My name is Rowena Buxton. Could you send word on how he is?”
The man nodded and cranked the engine to life. “I’mDouglas Dirkes. And of course. And thank you, miss, for your help.”
She watched the motorcar lurch down the rock-strewn road and wished she had been able to do more for him. Part of her yearned to follow them into town to make sure he was going to be okay. Deep in her bones, she felt she shouldn’t let this man disappear from her life. But she had a family of her own that was no doubt worried sick right now. Sighing, she mounted her horse and reined him toward home. Then she thought of Victoria and Prudence and the myriad problems she faced at Summerset and wished she could just ride on forever.
* * *
“The scones are ready to take out now, love, if you don’t mind. The towel is right over there.” Nanny Iris jerked her head in the general direction of the towel and Victoria hurried to comply.
This was the second visit she’d made to Nanny Iris’s cottage and she loved the home almost as much as she did Nanny Iris. The cottage stood by itself in the center of a small meadow, which was brown and barren now, but no doubt thick with wildflowers in the spring and summer. The thatching of the roof was the color of warm honey, contrasting with the red ivy winding up one wall. Two deep windows stood guard on either side of the door. A rail fence protected a small kitchen garden on one side, where Nanny Iris grew an abundance of herbs and vegetables. It looked like a fairy house, or perhaps the home of a banished princess waiting for her prince. She’d ignored Nanny Iris’s raucous laugh when she told her that the first time she’d come to visit.
Victoria sniffed the rich, buttery scent of the scones before setting the pan to cool on the stone countertop. Then she went to stand next to Nanny Iris, who was making an infusion out of oregano.
“What kind of oil do you use?” Victoria asked, watching with interest as Nanny Iris repeatedly dipped a small net bag of freshly cut oregano into a jar of warm oil.
“You can use olive oil or grape-seed oil. I’m using olive oil because it’s easier to come by.” After squeezing the oil out a few times, she pushed the bag down into the jar, added more oil, and screwed on the lid.
“And what is this used for again?”
Nanny Iris smiled. “I use it to bring in money from the pharmacist in town. But it’s commonly used to ease sore throats and can be helpful in settling digestive problems. Some people also use it to relieve aching muscles.” She wiped the jar off with a clean cloth and set it in a cupboard alongside several other jars. “This one will be ready to sell in a couple of weeks.”
Victoria laid the table for tea while Nanny Iris put away the herbs and concoctions they had been working on. Working with Nanny Iris in her warm, homey kitchen filled Victoria with the kind of simple satisfaction she hadn’t felt since she’d helped her father in his office. From her father she’d learned the genus and species and chemical properties of each plant. From Nanny Iris she learned the myths, legends, and the plants’ medicinal uses. Sometimes when infusing or mixing herbs together, she could almost feel her father by her side watching their progress.
Nanny Iris put the kettle on for tea. “How has your breathing been lately? Has the infusion I made you done any good?”
Victoria nodded. “I think so. Climbing stairs is easier and Irun out of air less often. But it’s hard to tell because my episodes often decrease when I come to Summerset.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. The air is much better here than in the city. Does it ever worsen in June or July?”
Victoria nodded. “Yes, and then it’s worse out here than in the city.”
“Did your fancy doctors ever mention hay fever?”
“A German doctor did when we were vacationing in Davos once. But he also said the increase in episodes
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