She dipped her head, then turned and left the room, her skirts swishing in that no-nonsense way she had about her. He turned back to his desk, went over to it and sat. The chair groaned beneath him. Had it done the same for his brother? He tried to imagine Edmund sitting here. Working. Keeping up an estate, raising a daughter, loving a wife.
And not for the hundredth time, he wondered why Edmund had left him in charge of Louise.
He sifted through the papers, going more slowly, until he found one with the name of Smith. Submitted a fortnight ago. His head dropped into his hands as he realized how greatly he was failing.
Perhaps he deserved to lose it all, but that didn’t mean he would go down without a fight.
* * *
Henrietta waited in the carriage promptly at four o’clock. On her lap she held a jar of ointment. She’d mixed it up earlier, moving slowly under Louise’s scrutiny, explaining each ingredient and its medicinal qualities. Now Louise sat across from her, swinging a foot.
“Where is Dom?”
Drawing her watch from her reticule, she said calmly, “He is only three minutes late. Be patient.”
“I can’t.” She threw back her head. “He is always late. It is his greatest downfall.”
“That is surely not true.”
“Whose downfall?” Dominic opened the door of the carriage and popped in. “Henrietta’s watch is probably set early to keep her from ever being late.”
She sniffed. How had he known that?
Grinning, he wagged a finger. “I know your type.”
“Fustian nonsense.” She slid the watch back into her reticule. “Let us be off.”
They bumped through the countryside, Louise’s chatter causing the earl to laugh in deep tones that rolled through Henrietta in bursts of awareness. He was a strange man in some ways. Difficult to dissect. Which made him all the more intriguing. Like an unknown illness. Familiar symptoms, but put them all together and she still could not make a diagnosis.
Turning to the side, she watched as the land flattened into emerald swaths of grass. Cottages peppered the land, little squares of ivy-laced homes, sometimes well-tended, mostly not. Gardens and rectangles of farmland speckled in neat order.
As they neared the Smiths’, Henrietta pointed out their cottage. Dominic gained the driver’s attention. The carriage rolled to a halt. When she placed her hand in the earl’s to step out of the carriage, it seemed as though he held her a millisecond too long.
Long enough for her to glance up at him, questioning, thinking he had something to say. But no, his face was shuttered.
Mrs. Smith met them at the door. She looked less haggard today, her hair neatly parted into a bun and her dress clean and pressed. Her home had been straightened, but the hole in the roof trickled afternoon sunlight.
“My lord,” she said, sweeping a deep bow.
“Mrs. Smith. It has come to my attention that you’re in need of thatching.”
“Ay, yes.”
“Is Mr. Smith about?”
“No, my lord. Mr. Smith has taken a job in Suffolk at the factory, for a wee bit.”
“He doesn’t farm here?”
Mrs. Smith startled, her fingers plucking at the apron. “There wasn’t any work to be had. No one to...” She trailed off, looking miserable and helpless at the same time.
Louise skipped out of the house, bored. Henrietta took pity on the poor woman. She touched her shoulder. “May I see your arm? How is it?”
Now the woman grew more red, visibly uncomfortable.
“My lord,” Henrietta murmured, understanding the situation at once. “Would you be so kind as to check on Louise?”
His brows lifted, but understanding filled his eyes. He left, and she gestured Mrs. Smith to the table. The woman lifted her sleeve and Henrietta had to stifle her gasp. A hot, viscous anger poured through her as the smell of the apothecary’s mistreatment rose from the rash. What had been crusty yesterday now oozed pus and odor.
She had seen worse. But she shouldn’t see it here, not on a prosperous estate. This was completely unnecessary. Swallowing the distaste and anger that kept rising in her throat, she wet her lips. “You will need to clean this with hot-water compresses three times a day. Stop using the cream he gave you. It’s completely ineffective.”
She fumbled in her reticule until she found the jar of ointment. “I have made you a liniment, and I will be back to check your arm tomorrow morning. Keep your rash covered with clean cloths, changing them after every hot compress. You must let me know immediately if the rash spreads.”
“How did this happen? Did the apothecary cause it?”
Mouth tight, Henrietta shook her head. “No, most likely there was broken skin from the rash, which could have been caused by a minor irritation. But infection got into the skin and the ointment he gave you did absolutely nothing. I’m not certain what’s in it.”
Mrs. Smith tilted her head. “Ye’re the governess. How is it ye know of these things?”
“I was trained in nursing and doctoring. The governess position is temporary.” Henrietta frowned. “Let’s clean this first.”
Sometime later, Henrietta left the cottage. Mrs. Smith’s wound was cleaned and covered. She’d shown her how to apply the ointment.
She felt alive. Useful.
“You’re glowing.” Dominic came up to her from where he’d been lounging against the carriage. His gaze skipped across her face.
“That apothecary of yours is inept.”
“And yet happiness is fairly leaping from your face.”
She lifted a shoulder, unable to keep from smirking. “My true calling is doctoring. Mrs. Smith will recover if she does as I say. Shall we be off to tour your estate? I’m sure your tenants would appreciate hearing from you.”
The crinkles at the corner of his eyes disappeared. He shuffled his feet in a surprisingly unsure movement, as though he wanted to run but could not. Perhaps that urge to run was inherited, she mused. Like uncle, like niece?
She pulled her bonnet more securely across her brow as the sun had not yet sunk below the horizon.
