front of Rachel. The smell, hot and bitter, churned Rachel’s stomach and she grimaced.
“No turning your nose up, Miss Dunne. Don’t make me stand here and watch you to make sure you eat, when I’ve so much to do.”
“I would much rather hide in my bedchamber the rest of the day than take a bite of anything.”
“And when did hiding do anybody a bit of good?”
“It might this time.”
“Wheesht. Stop your silliness.”
Rachel obediently took a bite and swallowed some coffee. The first sip made her tongue recoil and her stomach as well. The headache powder—a mixture of willow bark and slippery elm and wormwood with ginger and pepper, diluted in a cup of water—tasted no better.
Mrs. Mainprice patted Rachel’s shoulder and returned to the bread, slipping it into a rack for toasting. “Molly’s passing is hard on all of us, in one way or another. You’re not alone in your suffering, but time will pass and you’ll feel calmer. Trust in the Lord.”
Rachel curled her fingers around the stoneware mug. “I wish I could, Mrs. Mainprice.”
The housekeeper tutted. “He’ll wait for you until you can, miss.” She deposited a plate in front of Rachel. “Here’s some toast, Miss Dunne. Won’t help to starve yourself either.”
Mrs. Mainprice settled across the table from her. The perfectly browned bread, dripping with an extravagant dollop of butter, waited next to the coffee. She watched until Rachel bit off a corner; Rachel didn’t even taste it.
Mrs. Mainprice nodded, looking pleased about Rachel’s meager cooperation. “I’ve been thinking about a bit of work for you, miss, if you’re up to the task. It would be nice to have some trimmings for our bonnets, for the funeral. As your mother was a seamstress, I thought you might have some skill with the needle.”
“I can sew a little. I would be pleased to help.” A positive task to occupy her mind. “I lost my bonnet, though, in St. Giles.”
“I’ve a spare you can have,” she offered generously. There is black crepe in the attic storage. In one of the crates. Left over from when the household mourned for Mrs. Edmunds, God rest her soul. Feel free to search up there when you’re recovered.”
Steps sounded on the flagstones in the hallway and Dr. Edmunds came through the door.
“I thought I might find you down here, Miss Dunne.” He nodded at Rachel then turned to look around the kitchen as if he hardly recognized the place.
Mrs. Mainprice hopped up from the bench, surprised to see him. “Are you needing something, Dr. Edmunds?”
“I just wanted to see how Miss Dunne is faring.” His gaze traveled over Rachel, and she knew he was remembering last night, how close, how tight he had held her.
“As well as might be expected, Dr. Edmunds. Thank you for asking.” Thank you for caring. Though it does neither of us much good.
“Good.” He took a step closer. “I wanted you to know that I have arranged for a funeral for Molly. A proper funeral.”
“Oh, sir,” exclaimed Mrs. Mainprice, “that is most generous of you.”
Dr. Edmunds’s eyes didn’t leave Rachel’s face. She suspected he hadn’t even heard his housekeeper. “I had to, Miss Dunne. It was the least I could do.”
“I understand.” Understood everything about guilt.
Just then, Joe burst into the kitchen. “Sir, Mrs. Woodbridge and Miss Amelia are at the front door.”
“They’re here?” Dr. Edmunds asked, his body going tense.
“Aye, sir. Sure as I’m standin’ in the kitchen.”
“Then I suppose I’d better greet them. Miss Dunne.” He inclined his head and left, Joe on his heels.
Mrs. Mainprice shot Rachel a glance and frowned. “Now why did they have to come today, of all days?”
“Whatever is the matter?”
The housekeeper clucked her tongue dolefully. “’Tis the day of reckoning, Miss Dunne. You stay right here, miss, and finish up your coffee and toast. No need for you to get snatched up by the whirlwind that has just blown in.”
“What is going on, Sophia?” James asked, his voice reprehensibly harsh, his eyes not on his sister-in-law but upon the young girl beside her on the threshold. Upon the golden curls of her hair, the eyes blue as summer skies. Just like Mariah.
Sophia’s face was as pallid as the lining of her bonnet. She carried a valise and used it to push James aside. “Agnes is ill. With the cholera. Let us in, James. Unless you want the neighbors to see your relations out on the steps, arguing with you.”
Amelia blinked up at him, her small hand tightly clutching Sophia’s. Do