LITMIR.BIZ

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soon after dear Mr. Newfield’s demise, but I’ve no room.” She wrung her handkerchief. “My widowed sister has just come with her children, you see, and she needs a place to live.”

       Edmond watched with horror and amazement as this latest cannonball struck its target, for surely the young lady would crumble under this siege.

       “I understand.” Dry-eyed, Miss Newfield embraced her neighbor and murmured comforting assurances. A strange light shone in her fair brown eyes, and a hint of a smile graced her lips.

       Edmond prayed the barrage of bad news had not commenced to drive her mad.

       “Well, then,” Mr. Danders said. “My wife will help you to gather your things, and you can be off.”

       Mrs. Danders shoved her way in front of Miss Newfield. “And don’t be thinking you can run off with anything that ain’t nailed down. I have a list from Squire Beamish—” she pulled a folded paper from her large reticule “—and I know every candlestick and serviette that belongs to the parish.”

       Now the young lady swayed slightly and her eyes lost their focus, as they had when Edmond had so brutishly announced her brother’s death. But he could not help her, for his own head grew light. Rage over his weakness kept him from fainting, and he leveled a glare upon Danders. The man tugged at his collar again.

       “Here, sir.” Matthews was suddenly beside him, easing him back into his chair. “I’ve set a plate for you on this side table. Some nice cold meats, rolls, cheeses and pumpkin pie. The local housewives have made quite a feast.”

       “Let’s get on with it, Miss Newfield.” Mrs. Danders gripped the young lady’s upper arm and dragged her toward the hallway.

       “Yes, yes, of course.” Miss Newfield’s voice wavered. “Please do permit me to…”

       The rest of her words were lost in the shuffling of feet as they exited the parlor door.

       Edmond tried to rise and follow, but his legs betrayed him.

       “Now.” Danders hovered over Edmond and adjusted the spectacles resting on his pudgy nose. “Exactly what is your business with Miss Newfield? Squire Beamish will need to know exactly what has been going on here at the vicarage. If her character is suspect—”

       Once again, anger brought Edmond to his feet. “How dare you?” Mrs. Brown’s presence prevented him from speaking as he would to a scavenging mongrel. Good sense informed him that this weasel could do much harm to the young lady’s reputation. Edmond suspected he was dishonest, but had no strength to investigate the matter, at least not yet. The best course was to give Danders the information he sought. “I have just arrived to inform Miss Newfield that her brother perished in America fighting for England.”

       “Ah. Well, then.” Danders waved away the news as he would a fly.

       “’Tis the truth, Mr. Danders.” Mrs. Brown continued to wring her handkerchief. “The cap’n here did just arrive. And furthermore, Miss Newfield’s the soul of decency. Anyone in Blandon’ll speak for her.”

       “Hmm.” Danders lifted his nose and sniffed. “Ah, the smell of nuncheon. While my wife sees to the packing, I shall see to the kitchen. The pantry and all that’s in it will of course belong to the parish.” Before Edmond could respond, Danders hurried from the room.

       “Will you sit, sir?” Matthews once again helped Edmond into the chair.

       Frustration closed his throat. He could not think of eating. “Matthews, follow the women. See that Mrs. Danders does not mistreat Miss Newfield. If there is a dispute over any item in this house, we will not leave until this mysterious Squire Beamish has presented himself to settle the matter.” Nor will I leave until Miss Newfield is assured of a safe place to live. It was the least he could do for the sister of the man who died to save him. And only then could he return to his family’s home and begin rebuilding his own life and health. Only then could he begin to consider God’s purpose for taking a remarkable man like Peter Newfield and leaving a scoundrel like Edmond Grenville.

      Chapter Two

      “This is the receipt for the storage chest.” Anna held out the paper to Mrs. Danders. “My father purchased it for me nine years ago.” She lifted a prayer of thanks for Papá’s meticulous record-keeping. Had he known she would one day have to give proof of ownership for her possessions?

       The woman snatched the page from Anna’s hand. “Hmm. Could be a forgery. But no matter. The trunk was bought with church money, so it belongs to the church.” She ran a finger over the chest’s finely carved lid.

       “But my father purchased it with his wages. He gave it to me as a gift.” Anna’s head felt light, and she braced herself against the bedpost. “Surely it is mine.”

       “Not likely.” Mrs. Danders lifted the lid and rummaged through the contents—Anna’s summer dresses recently put away for the winter and a few linen towels she had embroidered in her younger days when she had hoped to marry. “Hmm. Nothing here of value.” She dropped the lid, allowing it to slam against the base with a clunk.

       Anna jumped. Her mind refused to work. Lord, am I to lose everything?

       “What about jewelry?” Mrs. Danders’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that broach you’re wearing?”

       Anna clutched the silver filigree pin with a tiny sapphire set in the center. “My mother’s.” Not a lie. Papá had bought it for Mamá—with his wages.

       “See here now.” Major Grenville’s man, Matthews, stuck his head in the door and aimed a glare at Mrs. Danders. “The major’ll want an accounting of what you’re up to.”

       Relief flooded Anna’s heart. Answered prayer! “Thank you,” she whispered to both the young man and the Lord.

       “Indeed.” Mrs. Danders balled her fists at her waist and glared back at the soldier. Then she looked about the room again. “Other than the furniture and this storage chest, there’s nothing of value here. I’ll see to those books in the parlor.” She pushed past the aide and stomped down the hallway toward the staircase.

       “We should follow, miss.” Matthews waved one hand in that direction.

       “Yes, of course.” Anna tried to force her mind to work but other than her frantic prayers, no sensible thoughts would form. Gone were her plans to wander from room to room in a leisurely manner recalling her family’s happy years in this vicarage. Gone were her hopes of packing away one or two mementos of her loved ones to carry with her wherever she went. She could cling only to God’s promise that He would guide and take care of her, no matter what the circumstances. And that no one could take from her.

       Returning to the parlor, she found the major sitting stiffly, leaning on his cane and watching Mrs. Danders like a hawk eyeing its prey. When Anna entered the room, he stood and gave her a slight bow. Before she could insist that he sit back down, she noticed Mrs. Danders pulling books from the shelf beside Papá’s chair. No, no longer Papá’s. It all belonged to the new vicar now. Anna hoped the gentleman would appreciate this small library that Papá had bought book by book, often instead of much-needed new clothes.

       The pile of books on the floor toppled over, and Papá’s Bible slid across the floor.

       Anna grabbed it before Mrs. Danders could. She clutched it to her chest, fighting tears. “My father brought this with him from Oxford.”

       The woman snorted in a most unladylike manner. “Keep it, then.”

       Mr. Danders hurried into the parlor with Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Pitcher, the baker’s wife, hard on his heels and scolding him like magpies.

       “I give that to the vicar’s wife meself.” Mrs. Pitcher pointed to the delicately painted porcelain teapot in the solicitor’s hands. “It ain’t yours. It’s Miss Newfield’s. And you’ll give it to her now, or I’ll fetch the oaken rolling pin you were so anxious

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