Drummond huffed, but didn’t disagree.
As they left the last gravestones behind, the children closed in around Christopher again. Lottie once more took his hand and tugged. “Come on. We’d better hurry.”
Increasing their pace, the trio dragged him along the path. When they emerged from the woods not far from what he took to be the Grange stable yard, they turned right and chivvied him along a rising track that led upward past well-tended fields to another crest in the land.
The track ended before an ancient ruined cottage.
“This is Allard’s End,” Jamie said. “Come on—let’s see if Johnny’s still here.”
The children led Christopher and Drummond around the side of the dilapidated structure. Rounding the rear corner, Christopher saw a plantation of old trees stretching out across a small field. “It’s an orchard.”
“It’s the goose-fattening orchard.” Lottie pointed excitedly at the flock of birds foraging and pecking in the litter beneath the trees.
“And this is Johnny.” Jamie and George towed forward a young lad, who judging by his lanky limbs must have been about thirteen years old.
Christopher smiled at the boy. “Hello.”
Johnny mumbled something and bobbed his head.
“It’s all right,” Jamie told him. “This is our Uncle Christopher.”
The information seemed to relieve Johnny of his anxiety. He brightened and shot Christopher a grin. “In that case, pleased to meet you, sir.”
Christopher let his smile deepen and nodded at the birds. “Are they your charges?”
“Aye. I keep watch over them ’til it’s time to get them ready for the table.”
“Farmer Tooks supplies the geese for all the village houses’ Christmas feasts,” Lottie said. She stared at the flock. “I wonder which one will be ours.”
Along with Johnny, the children went to look more closely at the birds.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather we stayed where we are,” Drummond rumbled. “Geese don’t like me.”
Christopher chuckled. “I’m not sure they’ll approve of me, either, and I can’t see any reason to find out.”
He stood and watched the children chatter with their friend and noted the way the weak winter sunlight slanted beneath the nearly bare branches as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Despite the sunshine, the air had stayed cold enough to guarantee that the ice on the lake remained solid. Now that the sun was almost gone, the temperature started to slide even lower.
Christopher glanced around. It must have snowed days earlier; the remnants of drifts could still be seen beneath some of the larger trees.
The children noticed the fading light, took their leave of Johnny, and came racing back.
“We can head home now.” Lottie caught Christopher’s hand and dragged him around. Laughing, he let her tow him down the track.
With his nephews flanking them, they hurried along, past the fields that now lay fallow.
Christopher drew the crisp air deep into his lungs and sensed his own memories of long-ago winter holidays pressing close.
Looking at Jamie’s, George’s, and Lottie’s faces, he noted the glow of simple pleasure that gilded their features. It had been a long time since he’d been touched by the same magic, yet he felt it now.
They paused by the stable yard fence to exchange hellos with a wiry man the trio introduced as Jiggs, Longfellow’s groom—the major’s ex-batman and another veteran of the Peninsula campaign.
Although they didn’t dally beyond the introductions and a few words of explanation, both Christopher and Drummond took note. If anything happened and they needed assistance, Jiggs would be one to remember.
They finally reached the village lane again, not far from the entrance to the manor’s drive.
Christopher was relieved when Jamie merely waved at the cottages to their right, and between them, the children rattled off who lived there.
“But now, we’d better get back to the manor.” George led the way. “It’s almost dark.”
Finally, they were striding through lengthening shadows up the manor’s drive. Christopher glanced at Drummond and saw an expression on the man’s face that suggested he was busy mentally annotating the map of the village he carried in his head.
Smiling to himself, Christopher looked at the children, pacing quickly along. “Thank you for your excellent introduction to Little Moseley.”
They turned beaming faces his way.
“Did you enjoy it?” Lottie asked.
Christopher smiled at her, then at the boys. “Indeed, I did. It was fun.”
He followed the trio through the manor’s door and into the front hall and realized he hadn’t lied.
Chapter 4
An hour later, Jamie, George, and Lottie huddled in the shadows of the small alcove beside the head of the servant’s stair on the manor’s first floor. With their eyes trained on the stairs, they waited patiently.
Eventually, they heard the thud of heavy footsteps ascending, then Drummond’s dark head appeared in the stairwell.
The children froze and watched as Drummond, with his gaze fixed on the treads and a stack of laundered shirts and cravats carelessly balanced on the palm of one hand, continued to climb.
Failing to spot them, he stepped off the last stair and straightened.
“Mr. Drummond,” Jamie said commandingly as he, George, and Lottie stepped out of concealment, blocking Drummond’s path.
“Eh?” Startled, Drummond’s eyes flew wide, and he nearly dropped the pile of linen. Scowling, he juggled the garments and settled them once more on his wide palm, then looked at the children. Belatedly, he remembered his position, wiped his face of all expression, and only then remembered to say, “Yes, my lord?”
Jamie, along with George and Lottie, frowned at Drummond. “You may as well give up pretending to be a valet,” Jamie advised him. “You’re not very good at it.”
Drummond attempted to look hurt. “I’m learning, aren’t I? I’m new to the position—Mr. Osbaldestone only just hired me to be his valet-cum-groom.”
“You’ve never been a valet in your life,” George said. When Drummond looked his way, George nodded at the linen. “Those aren’t folded properly. Papa would have a fit if Grenlin—his valet—brought him shirts folded like that.”
“Let alone cravats like that.” Lottie poked a finger at the pile, which was definitely askew and faintly creased.
“You surprised me, miss.” Drummond tried for dignity. “I jiggled them and rumpled them.”
A far cry from the sweet-faced angel Drummond had taken her for, Lottie narrowed eyes like flint on his face. “They were rumpled already—and it’s ‘my lady.’”
Drummond blinked, and Jamie pounced. “If you were really a valet, that’s something you would already know and would never forget.”
Feeling distinctly cornered, Drummond eyed the three warily. To his discomfort, their accusatory gazes never wavered.
“So who are you, really?” Jamie demanded. “Or should that be what are you?”
Seeing any chance of brushing the three and their suspicions aside drifting away like smoke, Drummond set his jaw and tried to wait them out.