by Amy Corwin
“Ah, there you are,” Farmer Cavell announced, coming back through the noisy door. He waved to a man behind him, who appeared to be a wider and much stouter version of himself. “This here’s my brother, Mr. Frank Cavell. Frank, these young ladies are the Misses Stainton—Miss Stainton and Miss Grace to grant them their proper due.”
The plump man stared at his shuffling feet and mumbled a greeting before nudging his brother with a meaty fist to the shoulder. “Night’s coming—we’d best get the wagon unloaded before thieves do it for us.”
“Thieves?” Dorothy echoed. She cleared her throat. “I am terribly sorry, Mr. Cavell—someone took an apple. I couldn’t stop him—or her—I’m not precisely sure which.”
To her surprise, Farmer Cavell chuckled and shook his head. “Can’t figure as how that child knows when I’m due, but she does.”
“She?” Dorothy asked.
“Or he. A guess, of course, and either seems just as likely. Awful delicate features for a lad, though, and that rag around his waist sure looks like it might once have been a skirt.” He chuckled again and smiled as he began shifting barrels. “Only made off with the one apple, then, did he?”
“I tried to stop him—”
“No bother. He needs the odd apple or two more than Frank, here, no matter how good his wife’s pies may be.” He managed one shrug before grunting as he heaved the first barrel into his brother’s brawny arms. “I’d have given her a few, myself, had I been here. No need to worry, Miss Stainton.”
Between the two men, they emptied the wagon with amazingly swift competence, rolling the barrels on their rims to a ramp, leading down to a cellar opening just beyond the kitchen door.
They were nearly done when Farmer Cavell stopped and slapped an open palm on his forehead. He stared up in consternation at Dorothy and Grace. “Forgive my manners, ladies, I meant for you to join Mrs. Cavell for tea! There was no need for you to wait out here in the dark—where are my manners?”
Sitting on the edge of one of the wagon’s sides, Grace looked at the farmer. “Oh, no, Mr. Cavell,” Grace said as she smoothed her skirts over her knees. “We would much rather stay here with you. And it is neither that dark, nor that cold.”
“Indeed, Mr. Cavell. We were perfectly content where we were,” Dorothy agreed, her gaze fixed on the deepening shadows.
The farmer nodded and lifted one more barrel to his shoulder when the kitchen door burst open. Mrs. Frank Cavell trundled out, her face wreathed in a wide smile and her hands full with two mugs of small beer.
Introductions were hastily made by Farmer Cavell as he shifted the heavy barrel on his shoulder, though he need hardly have bothered. His brother’s merry wife only laughed at his efforts and told him to go on with his burden, winking at the girls just as if they’d known each other their entire lives.
“My Mr. Cavell said as you’d want tea, but to my mind, a mug of small beer is just the thing to wash away the dust of the road, is it not, my dears?” Mrs. Cavell handed them the mugs and stood back, her hands on hips to watch as they drank the cool beverages thirstily.
When they were done, Dorothy had to admit that the cool beverage did ease her dry throat, and she felt much better. Smiling, she collected the mugs and handed them back to Mrs. Cavell, who bobbed a quick curtsey, wished them a happy end to their long journey, and hurried back to her kitchen.
Although Dorothy would never have admitted it, she had been growing more and more nervous about their arrival at their aunt’s home. Even the distraction of Mrs. Frank Cavell and her wonderfully cool and crisp small beer hadn’t completely erased Dorothy’s unease.
She surreptitiously rubbed her hip. A bruise was forming, she was sure of it. Bumping along in the back of a wagon all day had left her both weary and nervous, distracted by the thought that Aunt Mary might be planning on putting them in a dreary attic room again with only piles of torn gowns to keep them company.
Now was not the time to pay a social call on Mrs. Cavell.
“It is not too late for you ladies to have a cup of tea. My brother and sister-in-law live above the shop—you simply need to climb the stairs to be in her kitchen.” Farmer Cavell paused, the last barrel clutched to his chest. His brows rose to the wide brim of his hat in a silent request for their decision.
“While we sincerely appreciate Mrs. Cavell’s hospitality, it is getting late.” Dorothy looked at the mouth of the alley. The small piece of sky visible between the brick buildings was already a deep blue. The plumes of dark smoke from cooking fires deep within the townhouses were growing more numerous. “Our aunt may be worried.”
“Of course, of course!” Farmer Cavell exclaimed, practically throwing the last barrel into his brother’s arms. “Best be on our way, then. I’ll have that ale when I return, Frank. Tell Mrs. Cavell to keep a plate of her mutton stew warm for me—I won’t be long.” He gave his brother a wink and hard shove on the shoulder before climbing back into the wagon.
To Dorothy’s surprise, there was a small area behind the shop where the wagon could be turned if one were patient enough. The broken edges of the bricks gave mute testimony to the number of times such maneuvering was less than successful, but Mr. Cavell managed it without chipping more than one or two in the process.
Soon, the wagon rattled out of the gloomy alley. They were on their way once more, headed in the direction of the setting sun.
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Other Titles by Amy Corwin
The Archer Family Regency Romance Series
The Archer Family series are traditional Regency romances spiced with a mystery.
While these books do not need to be read in order, the list below presents them in the series order.
Lady Victoria’s Mistake
The Necklace (Prequel to the series)
The Unwanted Heiress
A Lady in Hiding
The Earl’s Masquerade
A Stolen Rose
En Garde, My Love
Love Across the Pond
Regency Romantic Mysteries
Regency Romantic Mysteries are sweet Regency romances with a touch of mystery. While they are stand-alone novels, they all take place in the late Regency/early Victorian period and have a similar “feel” to them.
All She Loves
Wreck and Ruin
About the Author
Amy Corwin is a charter member of the Romance Writers of America and recently joined Mystery Writers of America. She writes historical and cozy mysteries with a touch of romance, as well as paranormal romances. To be truthful, most of her books include a bit of murder and mayhem since she discovered that killing off at least one character is a highly effective way to make the remaining ones toe the plot line.
Her books include the historical mysteries, Regency romances, paranormal romances and mysteries.
Join her and discover that every good mystery has a touch of romance.
Connect with Me Online
Website: http://www.amycorwin.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/amycorwin
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AmyCorwinAuthor