Sarah handed her a little pot. “Have Cadan help you put this on before bed. It’s an easing salve for sore muscles. It’ll leave your smock a little green, but we’ve got the big wash due for our household tomorrow. All the sheets and cloths, so it won’t be a big addition and you’re going to need your arms in proper working order for scrubbing.”

The idea of washing sheets? Horrible! If she refused to use the salve, would she be freed from the laundry work? The thought lasted as long as it took her to stand from the bench by the table. Her shoulders hated her and didn’t care what she had to go through tomorrow. She took the pot with a heartfelt thanks and placed it on the chest inside his, her, their, room. Hopefully she’d be able to dab it on in the worst spots without resorting to asking for Cadan’s help, her cheeks flamed at the thought.

She came back into the main room and looked for something to do, hoping not to find anything. Sarah had taken a seat by the hearth and waved her to last night’s chair.

“Now’s the time to enjoy a moment or two of quiet before Matthew and Cadan return.” She held up a bundle of wool with two wooden needles stuck through them. “Do you knit?”

Eleanor shook her head, paused, then said. “Our old housekeeper, Mrs Dorin, taught me when I was little, but Mama found out and took the needles and wool away. She said embroidery and art were the only acceptable past-times for her daughter.”

Sarah raised a brow, but merely replied. “Well, if you’ve a mind to take it up again, have Cadan whittle you up some needles, and we’ll trade Old Maggie for some of her wool.”

Eleanor was saved from a decision by Cadan. He all but ran through the front door, eyes wide and anxious, until he saw her. He crouched in front of her chair, taking both her hands in his. “I’m sorry. I made a promise and ran away on it the very first time you needed me. I’ll stay all of tomorrow and every day until you’re comfortable.”

Eleanor’s jaw dropped, what was he talking about?

She heard Matthew murmur to Sarah. “He’s been fretting about leaving her all day. Seemed convinced she’d vanish back to town on the back of a kelpie or some such the minute his back was turned.”

She smiled down at him, he hadn’t even dried his hair properly in his hurry to see her. “I’ve chopped more herbs and things and I knew existed, kneaded bread and had a long conversation with Ingrid.”

He smiled back, and visibly relaxed; she continued. “So don’t you dare loll about here, getting in the way tomorrow, I have far too much to do.”

Matthew seemed to take it for the joke it was, he started chuckling, Cadan looked a little hurt. “You don’t want me around?”

Why did he have to be so difficult? Eleanor huffed. “Of course I do, but we both have things that need doing and they won’t happen if you’re here, not out at your work. Now fetch me a towel so I can dry your hair. If you keep dripping like that, you’re going to end up with a chill and getting underfoot anyway.”

What did she say to make him grin like she’d handed him the stars? He bounded up, then back, faster than a startled hare, settling with his back against her legs as he handed her a drying cloth.

Sarah and Matthew began setting the table for dinner, Sarah saying. “You stay there and sort out your husband, you can bring the pot over once we’re ready.”

Eleanor wasn’t sure if that was to her, or Cadan, but they both nodded, and Eleanor turned her attention to the russet curls at her knee.

She flipped the cloth over his head and began to rub.

“Ow, Nora, that was my ear.” He didn’t move away though. If anything, he leaned back into her hands.

Sarah called out. “Come and eat.”

Eleanor put the cloth over her chair’s arm, it should dry next to the fire like that, and Cadan stood, covering his hand with his sleeve before lifting the pot from its hook by the side of the fire.

He carried it to the table, holding it as Sarah doled out the servings, then returned it to its cosy nook.

Eleanor sat on the bench next to Cadan and breathed in. The stew smelled so good, it was hard to believe she’d had a hand in it.

As the hungry edge of a day’s work eased, Matthew said. “How many people are we expecting at our door tonight then?”

Sarah replied. “None, if they know what’s good for them. Ingrid’s decreed introductions will happen in the bath house tomorrow and not before.”

Matthew looked sceptical. Sarah shrugged. “I suppose we’ll see who’s foolish enough to risk her ire for the sake of their curiosity.”

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