The Widow of Larkspur Inn
“Fiona muttered to the hamper lid as she trimmed the ends of the twine she’d used to make repairs. Philip had found the dusty old hamper last week while foraging about in the empty groomsman’s apartment over the stables. Now that Fiona had it cleaned, it looked practically new, but she hadn’t realized until this morning that the catch was broken. At least it holds enough food, she thought, lifting the hamper an inch from the table to test the patch job. It was quite heavy, causing her to smile a...t her mistress’s earlier worries that they would all starve. It’s cutting back we’ll be needing to do soon, or we’ll lose our figures for sure.
She was untying the apron from around the waist of her saffron-and-white checked gown when the bell tinkled at the courtyard door. Patting her straw hat down upon her crown, Fiona walked across the corridor to open it. Luke Smith stood there with an anxious smile across his clean-shaven face. He wore a black Sunday suit instead of his usual work clothes and had slicked back his hair with oil.MoreLess
She was untying the apron from around the waist of her saffron-and-white checked gown when the bell tinkled at the courtyard door. Patting her straw hat down upon her crown, Fiona walked across the corridor to open it. Luke Smith stood there with an anxious smile across his clean-shaven face. He wore a black Sunday suit instead of his usual work clothes and had slicked back his hair with oil.MoreLess
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