The leisurely and relaxed carpenter’s wife was gone, and the mistress of Whitefield had returned. She calmly soothed Remwick.

“Don’t blame yourself, Remwick. Let’s focus on sorting out the situation. Is anyone else injured?”

“Fortunately, no. Deborah, who happened to be nearby, tripped Betty and brought her down.”

“Well done. Has Betty been safely handed over to the authorities? When is the trial scheduled?”

“Well… about that…”

Remwick licked his lips again, a habit when he was uneasy.

“Mr. Finch doesn’t want to press charges against Betty.”

“…Doesn’t want to?”

“Yes.”

Laura sighed softly.

“It must have been a lovers’ quarrel.”

“It seems so, my lady.”

“For now, Remwick, go and find out the details of the incident. We need to know the circumstances to decide who should be dismissed and how.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The two sipped peppermint tea in silence.

The refreshing mint tea tasted like bitter medicine in Laura’s mouth. With Noel bedridden, there would be a vacancy in financial management. Ian had to return. Staying here while he went back was neither meaningful nor possible. The life in the cabin was over.

A bundle of dried wildflowers. Forget-me-not wallpaper. The twin braids he had woven by hand. It was time to say goodbye to them all.

‘Farewell, the Dalton carpenter couple’s cabin.’

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of boots being dusted off came from the entrance. Soon, with a click, the front door opened.

Ian stepped into the cabin, arms full of paper bags.

“I’m back, little lady… Remwick, what brings you here?”

Remwick couldn’t respond. It wasn’t the embarrassingly sweet nickname ‘little lady’ that froze him. It was the master’s attire that caught him off guard.

A bulky green coat stuffed with cotton, a blue sweater, and a fur hat covering his ears. He looked like a shop errand boy.

The blue sweater Ian wore was a birthday gift Laura had spent a month knitting. He wore it until it was threadbare.

Ian passed the stunned Remwick and approached his wife’s seat. He took off his fur hat and pressed his cold lips to her cheek. Laura, in response, gently caressed his jawline.

After the sweet spousal greeting, Laura spoke in the clear voice of Whitefield’s mistress.

“Darling, we need to return to Whitefield Hall.”

“Why?”

Laura glanced at Remwick. Ian frowned and glared at him.

“What bad news have you brought, Remwick?”

“So, in broad daylight, a drunken Betty Rosy, completely intoxicated, stormed into the kitchen during teatime and suddenly swung a knife at Noel, who was having tea?”

Clack, clack.

Ian asked this inside a carriage, rattling along a cleared road after trudging through a muddy forest path of melted snow. He wore a fitted chestnut suit, his hair neatly slicked back. Though only a day had passed since returning from the cabin, he had reverted to the impeccable appearance of a landowner.

Remwick, seated across from him, nodded.

“That’s correct, sir.”

“Good heavens, how absurd. What kind of couple handles a lovers’ quarrel like that?”

Ian shook his head. Coming from someone who had once made a scene about dying if not allowed to marry, it was an odd remark, but he couldn’t fathom this drama of love and hate pushed to extremes. Ian had never even imagined harming someone he loved.

“Perhaps hearing it directly from those involved might make it clearer.”

As the carriage swayed, glassware clinked in a basket on Remwick’s lap. He held it tightly to prevent the dishes from cracking.

“It would be best to persuade Betty to face charges. After all, Mr. Finch is a rare honest land agent in England, flawless in accounting and secretarial duties. We need to establish that he’s the wronged party to justify keeping him employed, sir.”

Ian rubbed his furrowed brow with his index finger.

“I don’t care about justifications. I want the truth. I won’t forgive anyone who causes a mess in my estate.”

By ‘mess,’ Ian meant things like Noel impregnating Betty Rosy and abandoning her or extorting money from her like a scoundrel. The master of Whitefield, fastidious to a fault, couldn’t tolerate men who treated women dishonorably. If Noel had given Betty cause, Ian intended to banish him from Yorkshire.

But Remwick had no suspicions in that regard. The Noel Finch he knew was a man with a thin, frivolous character but far from malicious.

“If Noel Finch is blameless, dismissing him would be cruel. Stabbed and fired from his job for the crime of dating the wrong woman.”

The carriage entered the village. Every other house had a snowman in the yard. Snowmen with button eyes, old scarves, or tree-shaped garlands. The round figures stood with twig arms spread wide, smiling under the sparkling sunlight, unaware of the fate awaiting them in the warm spring breeze a month away.

The carriage stopped in a modest residential area lined with simple homes. Noel was renting a place near Whitefield.

Ian and Remwick stepped out and knocked on the door. Soon, footsteps approached from inside.

“Who is it?”

A young man’s voice. Remwick answered.

“The master of Whitefield Hall is here.”

The door opened. A polite-looking young man with brown curly hair and glasses appeared.

“Welcome, sir.”

The visibly flustered young man bowed to Ian.

“Who are you?”

Ian’s question was met with a nervous reply.

“I’m Billy Hill, Noel’s brother-in-law.”

Question marks hovered over Ian and Remwick’s heads.

‘Noel was married?’

“Please, don’t misunderstand. My sister, Noel’s wife, passed away fifteen years ago. After her death, with no family left, Noel took me in and raised me.”

Remwick nodded.

“I see. Understood. May we come in, then?”

The young man quickly stepped aside.

The modest house revealed whitewashed walls among old furniture. It was clean, with no dust and fresh air, showing care in its upkeep.

“I apologize for receiving you in such humble conditions. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Longman, quit recently, so I’ve been managing the household.”

“No, we should apologize for arriving unannounced,” Ian replied, pretending not to notice the mismatched furniture.

Remwick handed Billy the basket he’d been carrying.

“This is rice pudding made by our cook, Mr. Philip. It’s Mr. Finch’s favorite, so it should help his recovery.”

“Thank you, Mr. Remwick.”

“You know me?”

“Of course. My brother-in-law speaks of you often. He says you’re worth three ordinary butlers in that small frame of yours. He always tells me to be as dutiful and upright as you.”

Remwick was inwardly taken aback. He hadn’t expected such praise.

Billy, after placing the basket in the kitchen, led them upstairs.

At the bedroom door, Billy knocked.

“Brother-in-law, are you asleep?”

“No, Billy, I’m awake.”

“The master and butler from Whitefield Hall are here to visit.”

Rustling and a pained “ow” came from inside.

“Tell them to come in.”

The two men followed Billy into the room.

Noel, in pajamas, leaned against the bed’s headboard. He hastily tidied the newspaper he’d been reading and smoothed his thinning hair to greet his guests.

“Good heavens, sir, to come all this way despite your busy schedule…”

Ian approached Noel’s bed.

“There’s always time to visit someone close. How’s your condition?”

“It’s not serious, so I’ll be fine. Please forgive me for not standing; I don’t want the stitches to tear.”

Noel apologized with a contrite expression.

The fish-gutting knife Betty Rosy had swung left a four-inch gash on his abdomen. Fortunately, it was shallow, and with care to avoid infection, it would heal quickly. But had Betty been sober, with intent and force aligned, he might have spilled his guts over a tea table with warm financiers and Chinese tea.

Billy pulled two chairs from the table and placed them near the bed. Ian and Remwick sat down.

Billy bowed and left.

“You live with your brother-in-law?” Ian asked.

“No, Billy works as a clerk at a small shipping company in Shropshire. Well, worked, I should say. He quit and rushed here when he heard I was injured. Impulsive lad.”

He added the last bit as if scolding, but he seemed proud of his brother-in-law.

“Understandable for someone raised by a brother-in-law,” Ian said.

“He grew up on his own. All I did was send him to school and occasionally check his homework. If anything, Billy’s been a greater comfort to me. As you know, I have no children.”

“So you had a wife. I didn’t know you were married. That’s surprising.”

Noel chuckled.

“Even I forget sometimes. It was so long ago, and we were only together for about three years before she passed. If she were still alive, I’d probably have nephews and nieces under Billy.”

“How did she pass?”

“During childbirth.”

Remwick’s heart sank. He quickly glanced at his master and saw Ian’s face stiffen.