The Virtuoso

“I vote dinner,” Nick said. “The swim will settle the meal and cool us off before bed.” The boys concurred and struck out for the springhouse.

“Which reminds me,” Val turned to regard Nick as the boys moved off, “where will we put you, my friend? The cots in the carriage house are too small for me and Dare, but they would torture you.”

“I have a bedroll.”

“Would you be willing to take a hammock? Ellen has one that is quite sturdy and she won’t miss it.”

“A hammock would be lovely, but how is it you vouch for the sturdiness of this hammock?”

“Shut up, Nicholas.”

“Valentine?”

“What?”

“There is another use for pennyroyal.” Nick’s tone was thoughtful. “It settles the digestion, true, but women use it to bring on their menses.”

“Why would a woman want to do that?” Val asked as they headed toward the carriage house. “Seems to me the ladies are always complaining about the cramps, the mess, and the inconvenience of it all.”

“Let me put this less delicately. Women use it to bring on menses that are late, sometimes very late.”

“To abort?” Val shot a curious glance at his friend. “Lord above, Nick, the wicked things you know will never cease to appall me. Is this an old wives’ tale or documented science?”

“I don’t know as science had gotten around to considering the subject, but I know of many women who swear by it, if used early in the pregnancy. I also know of one who died from overusing the herb too late in her pregnancy.”

“So this plant is a poison. Just what we need.”

“What do we need?” Darius asked from the porch of the carriage house, “and where are our pet heathen?”

“Laying out supper,” Val replied. “Somebody left a poison plant on Ellen’s counter.”

“Pennyroyal,” Nick added. “And she pitched it out the window while Day and Phil watched.”

“Ellen pitched a plant? She was offended, I take it? I didn’t know the stuff was poison. I thought pennyroyal was for bringing on menses and settling the digestion.”

Val rolled his eyes. “Does everybody but me know these things? Let’s go get dinner before the locusts devour all in their path. And Nick, I elect you to go fetch Ellen.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Nick bowed extravagantly and spun on his heel, while Darius—the lout—guffawed loudly.

Dinner was good, the hampers having been prodigiously full, owing to the addition of Nick to the assemblage. Ellen didn’t say much, but she did eat, mostly because Nick pestered and teased and dared her into taking each bite. Val sat back and watched, wishing he could do something besides feed the woman and put a roof over her head. Those were necessities, things Freddy Markham should have been doing out of sheer duty, things Francis had intended Ellen never want for again.

Hoof beats disturbed the meal, and Val got up and went to the door of the springhouse. A rider was trotting up the lane on a winded, lathered horse. The man swung down and approached Val directly.

“Are you Valentine Windham?” He was a grizzled little gnome, and he looked vaguely familiar.

“I am Windham.”

“This be fer you.” The man thrust a sealed envelope into Val’s hands. “I’m to wait for a reply, but I’ll be walking me horse while I do. Poor blighter’s about done in with this heat.”

“There’s water in the stable.” Val eyed the envelope—no return address, but he recognized the hand. “We’ve a groom who can walk the beast. Yell for Sean and then hold your ears while he cusses a blue streak. When you’ve seen to the horse, come to the springhouse, and we’ll find you some tucker.”

“Obliged.” The man nodded once and led his horse toward the stables.

“We have callers?” Darius asked, emerging from the springhouse.

“A courier from Hazlit.” Val eyed the packet dubiously.

“The snoop? I didn’t know you used him.”

“Needs must.” Val tapped the edge of the envelope against his lips. “And he’s an investigator, not a snoop. Moreover, he was critical in securing your sister’s safety, so have some respect.”

“Val?”

He glared at Darius in response.

“Ellen is safe now,” Darius said gently. “I know you want to break somebody’s head, but how about not mine, at least not until I’ve updated you on your home farm?”

“This is not good news, I take it?”

“Not good or bad. The storm did us the courtesy of removing most of the roof remaining on the hay barn. The Bragdolls and I spent Sunday morning getting it tarpaulined, but another steady blow, and that won’t serve.”

Val closed his eyes—would nothing go right this day? “We will pull crews from the house to work on the barn.”

“Makes sense. You’ve got an entire wing under roof now here, and the other wing isn’t in immediate danger of disintegration.”

“Tomorrow I’ll look over the hay barn with you first thing, and we can make a more detailed plan. For now, I want to get Ellen off her feet, dunk my stinking carcass in the pond, then find some sleep.”

“Long day,” Darius said. “Maybe there will be some good news from your investigator.”

“Fuck you, Lindsey,” Val replied with a weary smile.

“So many wish they could.” Darius swished his hips a little as he strode off, and Val felt a smile tugging at his mouth. He set the envelope on his cot in the carriage house and returned to the springhouse just as the boys were clearing the table.

“You.” Val put a hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “Remain seated. Your day has been busy enough. How is your room?”

“Lovely. It’s as big as my entire cottage, though.”

“So enjoy it. Have you wash water there?”

“Phillip and Dayton made sure I have every possible comfort.” She gave him a semblance of a smile, but her eyes were tired, and Val found it just wasn’t in him to force small talk on her.

“Come.” Val took her by the hand and laced his fingers with hers, not caring who saw, what they thought of it, or what ribbing they might try to give him later. When he and Ellen left the springhouse, he put an arm around her waist and tucked her close to his body. That she went willingly, despite all the eyes on them, alarmed Val more than her fatigue or her quiet.

He dropped his arm to usher her into the house. “What’s really wrong?”

She paused, and if he hadn’t been watching her with close concern, he might have missed the effort she made to compose her features.

“My cottage was all I had. It was my home, my refuge, where I grieved, and where I healed. It has been violated.”

He regarded her in silence then led her up the stairs to her bedroom. In a single day, it had gone from being an empty chamber to a cozy, inviting nest. Embroidered pillows from the cottage told Val whose nest it was, and the fluffy bed tempted him beyond endurance. He led her out to the balcony, which sported two wooden rockers padded with embroidered cushions.

“We need to talk,” Val said, settling her in one rocker. It took all his willpower not to scoop her into his lap and just hold her, but that wouldn’t solve anything, except maybe the vague, relentless anxiety he’d been feeling since Axel had pulled him into the library a couple nights ago.

“I am really quite tired,” Ellen replied, but Val saw more than fatigue in her eyes.

“You are really quite sad,” he countered, “and upset. We’re going to repair your cottage in no time, and it will be better than new. What is the real problem, Ellen?”

He wanted her to tell him and before he opened that packet from Hazlit, or received any others.

She just shook her head.

“You pitched the pennyroyal out the window. You would never harm something growing, much less growing