Caitrin stepped forward and took his hand. It was warm, the skin soft, the bones hard ridges. “I am Caitrin, who just married Hector.”
Hereward’s thin lips creased into a smile. “Hector, your parents will be so delighted to have this wonderful creature in the family.”
“Yes, Sir, they will.”
To everyone’s surprise, Hereward winked. “No doubt you will have strong, healthy babies.”
“I should imagine so, but he’ll only be making a contribution, while I’ll be the one making the commitment,” Caitrin said, and Hereward laughed, a rustling sound that sapped his strength. Wallace tilted his head so he could drink water.
“You have a good one here, Hector. Fresh blood flowing in the ancient family’s veins.”
“I believe so, Sir.”
“Sit down, sit down, and tell me more.”
Sir Hereward listened intently to their conversations and laughed at their witticisms, as though he had not heard a human voice in weeks. He stressed how sorry he was to see them go. But the next day they were happy to leave, and Wallace escorted them to the car.
“Thank you both for coming,” he said. “We have had no one here for such a long time.”
“It was good to see you both.”
Wallace seemed to notice his ruined surroundings for the first time, and to him they changed as he spoke. “It’s not like it used to be. Twenty-five servants we had back then, if you include the gardeners and stable lads. And such a lively family too. Always people coming and going. And dogs, we had dogs for the children. There is nothing like a child’s laughter. Kept me on my toes, I’ll tell you, day and night. But it was all worth it.”
“The place may be run down, but I noticed the flowerbeds directly outside Sir Hereward’s window are well-maintained,” Caitrin said.
Wallace looked down at his shoes, his head making little shy bobbing movements. “It’s all he’s got to look at every day, so I put on Jessup’s old smock and hat, he was the head gardener, and take care of the flowers. I wave to Sir Hereward and I’m too far away to be recognized, so he waves back, thinking it’s Jessup and everything is like it used to be. It’s not much, but I do what I can for him.”
Hector put a hand on his shoulder. “You must take care of yourself, Wallace.”
“I do my best, Sir, but Sir Hereward’s my greatest concern. Life will look after me as it should.”
Caitrin bit her lip. This man—this poor, fragile, wonderful little man. She embraced him. “You’re a marvel, Wallace, and I’m so glad to have met you.”
She stepped back. “Give life a nudge or two to make sure it takes care of you properly. That’s important to me.”
Wallace blinked back tears. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
He stood outside the front door and waved until they disappeared from view.
“Poor Wallace,” Caitrin said as Hector drove them away. “Sir Hereward could drop dead there any day. So could Wallace, and not be found for ages.”
“They probably will, and they won’t be the only ones,” Hector replied. “So many estates had one or two sons who died in the Great War, or now in this one, and that is the end of the family.”
“How sad.”
“The Walters-Hammersleigh family is an ancient one, stretching back to the Elizabethan era. Sir Hereward’s son died at Mons, and he was the last of the line.”
As the sun rose, they were driving through a different landscape. The countryside was more open, and the Cotswolds’ honey-colored, thatched cottages had been replaced by the red-brick, tiled-roof houses of the Midlands.
Caitrin fidgeted in her seat, stretched, and yawned. “Hecky, I am hungry. No, I am ravenous.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“True. My dad used to say with me it was like feeding a donkey strawberries.”
“Look at the map. Are there any decent-sized villages ahead?”
She spread the map across her knees and read place names aloud. “Burton Bank, Snudgeley, Westthorn, all tiny places smaller than their names. Oh, here’s one a bit bigger: Momble under Neen. That sounds like something a doctor would say about a hernia. Got a bad one here. The lad’s got a bad case of Momble under his Neen, nurse. To save his life, we’ll have to operate right away and take his head off. Them’s Mombles can be deadly if left untreated.”
“Sounds more like someone from a Gilbert and Sullivan opera. Hail, here cometh Pooh Bah, the Grand Momble under Neen.”
“It does have a square, a church, and a post office, though, so if we’re lucky it might have a tea shop.”
“How far away?”
Caitrin measured the distance on the map, raised her hand with the thumb and index fingertips a few inches apart, and said, “That far.”
He frowned at her. She grinned back and said, “Where are we going to today, exactly?”
“I do not know, exactly.” He pushed the list of stately homes to her. “Why don’t you peruse this and take your pick?”
“Peruse, huh?” She held up the list and read aloud, “Castle-morton Manor.”
“Too far to the east.”
“Ashleworth House.”
“Behind us.”
