the same room, the same walls and stove and implements, could be so altered. It was like that with the rest of the basement, too. Ethan and James had come over to move furniture down from the spare bedrooms, and Mrs. Trask had created a cozy chamber in back. Lucy wouldn’t have believed you could do that with furniture from this house, but Mrs. Trask just had a gift. She did, and Miss Charlotte, too, who was doing the same upstairs. Lucy suspected she was still arranging and rearranging, even though she’d dismissed them. It was like a curse had been lifted from the place, and the Trasks were the good fairies.
The thought made her smile. Lucy deeply admired and respected the old couple. She couldn’t imagine a practical problem that Mr. Trask couldn’t solve. She hoped they liked her well enough, too, though she sometimes felt they watched her rather close. Strangers getting to know each other, probably.
She hadn’t realized they were Ethan’s grandparents right at first. The name should have told her, but she’d just been too flummoxed to think. When it sank in, she’d been amazed by his kindness in getting them to come here. And seeing him with them since, she’d begun to wonder if she was mistaken about his character. ’Course a fellow might behave one way with his family and quite another with women he fancied. More than likely too; Lucy knew that. Still…
As if summoned by her thought, Ethan came tromping down the basement stair from the back hall. “Grandad just can’t resist a garden, eh?” he said. “What does he think he can do with that patch of hardpan out there?”
“Was he being careful of his back?” asked Mrs. Trask sharply.
Ethan saluted. “Following orders, ma’am; no heavy digging. I believe he’s set the cat to that. She’s started a fine hole by the wall. ’Course maybe that’s an escape tunnel. I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Scamp.” She went back to crimping the edges of her pie. “And what are you doing here again? Not slacking on your work?”
“No, ma’am. Ladies have gone to my Lord Earnton’s, with James in attendance, except for Miss Lizzy, who’s still confined to quarters. I have a list of errands a yard long. Can’t even stay till that pie’s out of the oven.” He grinned at her.
“This is for dinner, my lad. You keep your greedy hands out of my baking.” But she smiled back.
Ethan dropped into a chair. “Lucy. Tess.”
Nodding back, Lucy noticed yet again how polite Ethan was with Tess. He never flirted with her.
“If you’ve so little to do, you can go out and help your grandad,” said Mrs. Trask. There was an odd little twist in her tone, more, and less, than regular teasing.
“He’s just wandering about dreaming a garden, Gran. He doesn’t want me underfoot.” Ethan turned to Lucy. “Grandad pictures it all in his head beforehand—the garden. You should see the plantings at the Wylde country place. Sir Alexander says they’re like a painting. The gentry come from all over to see Grandad’s gardens and consult him on what they should do with their own, too. He’s like to be famous.”
Mrs. Trask flushed with pleasure.
“It sounds wonderful,” said Lucy. “I hope I can see them one day.” There was a short silence. Lucy felt as if she’d said something awkward, though she hadn’t.
“Susan says hello,” Ethan went on then. “Oh, and Jennings sent word that if you want to come see her on your day out, she’d be happy to continue with the training.”
Lucy’s chest swelled with happiness. Maybe things would come out right, after all. Who would have thought this terrible house could feel like a home, for instance? Yet it was really beginning to.
Ethan and his grandmother chatted about folk from Derbyshire. The scent of apple pie filled the air. After a while Mr. Trask came in, Callie at his heels. Amazingly, the cat curled up on the hearth and went to sleep.
The front doorbell rang. Tess started and dropped the pan she’d been scrubbing. But after a moment she straightened her apron and went to answer it. Lucy couldn’t help a tremor of apprehension herself. Who would visit them here, and what good could come of it?
***
Alec handed his card to a very young housemaid at his uncle’s former residence. She left him standing in the street for several minutes. “Madame is not at home,” she told him shakily when she returned.