She'd found nothing more informative than a folded month-old page of the Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, which had slid under a cushion in the library and been missed by the charwoman. The page contained an odd and passionate letter to the editor from a Mrs. Fowler, who accused her enemies of besmirching her name in the attempt to "murder the good reputation of an innocent creature and impose upon the public." Mrs. Fowler insisted that her whole heart belonged to one man, and one alone, and though he was no longer at her side, those who knew her best would never doubt this.

It was a strange letter, fervently written but repellent to Callie's mind; a washing of one's linen in a public newspaper that hardly seemed appropriate to any situ ation. The name Fowler seemed distantly familiar, but it was common enough and there was no reference in the letter to any trial. The remainder of the page was taken up with a description of a concert by an Italian violinist, a discussion of the new Navigation Act, and three advertisements for linen drapers. Callie had smoothed the paper, folded it again, and placed it in her pocket diary. It disturbed her in some way that she couldn't quite fathom, but she found it impossible to discard.

She was carrying the diary when at last she had herself driven to Dove House a week after her return from the disastrous fair at Hereford. She dreaded to call, but when she heard that Lilly had sent to Mrs. Adam for the ingredients for a chest plaster, Callie felt she must look in on the duchesse. Constable Hubble was sitting opposite the garden gate, perched on a crate with the remains of a substantial luncheon about him. He put aside his mug and a half-eaten pie and stood hastily as the trap drew up, straightening his coat with a stern look.

When he recognized Callie, he eased his severe expression and pulled off his hat. "Afternoon, my lady." He offered a rough hand to help her down. "We ain't caught 'im yet, ma'am, but I've set a net, as you can see. We'll snap him up if he comes near, mark my words."

"A net?" She paused, glancing up from the gener ously packed food basket at his feet.

"Aye, ma'am. I'm here m'self, in the f lesh, as you might say, and I got my boys posted both ends up the village, that I do, my lady. He won't get past us!"

Callie relaxed slightly. She had thought for a moment that he meant a real net, one capable of actu ally trapping someone. Once she understood that it consisted of the constable and his two lads barricading the single road through Shelford-well provisioned by Cook, too, it appeared-her immediate alarm receded. Trev was out of the country by now in any case, so there was little fear that Constable Hubble would be required to desert his picnic basket in the line of duty.

"Thank you," she said. "That relieves my mind. I hope you enjoyed your dinner?"

"Aye, my lady, that I did. Her's a mighty cook, that woman come to work for the poor duchesse. Her can make a kidney pudding to rival my old Fanny's, rest her soul, and I wouldn't say that about nobody else."

It was high praise indeed, this comparison to Constable Hubble's beloved late wife. Callie nodded. "I'm pleased to hear it. But do you say the duchesse is poorly?"

He gave a solemn nod. "Cook tells me the lady ain't got no appetite-that's why her brings us out so much broken victuals." He twisted his hat and ducked his head. "We wouldn't gobble so much otherwise, my lady, but Cook don't want it to go waste, y'see."

"I understand." Callie was glad at least to know that Trev must have arranged for ample provisions to the house. She could see that someone had been working in the garden, clearing away the chaos that Hubert had left and trimming the plants down to winter crowns. There was a pot of Michaelmas daisies on the stoop, with purple petals and cheerful yellow eyes.

She took a deep breath, gathered her skirt, and walked up to the door. Lilly answered the bell promptly.

"Oh, my lady!" The maid stepped aside as Callie entered, closing the door. "I'm so thankful you've come-Madame asks so many questions and looks at me so odd, and I don't know what to say! My lord told me that I mustn't worry her, and I've tried, my lady- I've tried, but-" Suddenly her eyes filled and she dropped a belated curtsy. "I beg your pardon, but-" She put her apron over her face and burst into tears.

Callie felt all the guilty weight of her neglect in delaying to call. She put her arm about the girl and guided a sobbing Lilly toward the kitchen. Cook turned about from her chopping, took one look at them, and lifted the teakettle from the hob. Lilly wiped her eyes and plopped down in a chair.

"She asked me when the duke was to call again!" the maid exclaimed in tragic tones. "And I knew I was meant to say that he would be here soon, b-but I c-couldn't seem to say it a-right. And she looks at me so! And now her cough is worse, and her fever is high-Nurse says she's in a bad way, even with the mustard plasters."

"Nurse." Cook snorted, sitting down and reaching over with her great arm to fill the teapot amid clouds of steam. "Don't put much stock on what her says, I don't. That grim sort, them likes to make out like as all's going to wrack and ruin. Gives 'em position, they suppose."

Lilly sniffed. "Do you think?"

"Ma'am's been eatin'. Not in great swallows, her ain't, but I seen that tray don't come back quite so full as it goes up."

In spite of a desire to hurry to Madame's bedside at this news, Callie delayed to share a cup of tea. It was always best to learn what the servants had to say of a situation. Lady Shelford would never countenance a chat in the kitchen with the staff, but Callie had no such qualms. "So there's been no word from the duke this past week?" she asked, careful to keep her voice level and unconcerned.

"No, my lady," Lilly said. She glanced toward Cook and then averted her eyes, heaping lumps of sugar into her tea.

Callie noted the heavy inroads on the sugarloaf, which had been reduced from a neatly peaked cone to a shapeless lump wrapped in blue paper. "You have enough to buy what provisions you need?" she asked.

"Oh aye," Cook said comfortably. "We got us an open account at the greengrocer and the butcher too, and I told the duke I've no need to have recourse to the cookshop. Whatever Ma'am needs, I can make right here, I told him. There was a little trouble when that Easley woman tried to buy a ham off the butcher, claiming her was working here at Dove House, but I took care of that. And I'll send that one on her way if she comes round about here again, no matter if Ma'am wants to waste her time on such rubbish and don't know her own good." Cook nodded and thumped her knuckles on the table, making the teacups rattle.

"Mrs. Easley has come here?" Callie asked in surprise.

"Twice!" Cook said indignantly. "Come asking to see Ma'am, and got herself in too!" She glared at Lilly.

"Madame said she wanted to see her!" Lilly protested. "It's not my place to say she can't see anyone she likes, is it?"

Callie shook her head. "Of course not. I'm sure the duchesse wanted to make certain that poor Mrs. Easley was-that her situation had not deteriorated after she was turned off."

"'Poor Mrs. Easley,'" Cook mocked with a snort. "Her's top-heavy from the gin, that's all o' her situa tion a body needs to know."

Callie could not argue this point. She nodded. "Well, I don't want her to worry the duchesse-if she comes again, you may turn her away."

"But Madame said in particular that she was to be allowed to call," Lilly said plaintively.

Callie frowned. "I see. If that's the case, I suppose we must allow it. I'm sure the duchesse feels some gratitude toward Mrs. Easley, in spite of her faults. She was the cook here for a good while, after all, before-" She cleared her throat. "Before Madame's circumstances were recently improved," she finished.