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Jerald Wolfbridge. Um…all the details about borders and so on. Parcel of land…” his voice tapered off as he read.

“Oh my.” Gwyneth knew her eyes had widened as she saw the words on the paper. “Royce…”

“Yes,” he said. “Harry should confirm this, but what I’m seeing here says that this sale was for land originally part of an estate known as Pinebridge Mere.”

Jeremy frowned. “Really?”

“It doesn’t exist anymore, of course,” said Gwyneth, still leaning over Royce. “According to this, Pinebridge Mere, the property of Nicholas Markeley was to be divided into two parcels. One sold to Lord Wolfbridge, thereupon to be known as the Wolfbridge estate, and the remainder to be retained by the Markeley family and to be henceforth known as…Fivetrees.”

“But…” Evan stared at the two of them.

“Doesn’t that mean…” Gabriel frowned in thought.

“Giles always said that he thought originally all the land was owned by one person.” Jeremy breathed the words. “He was right.”

*~~*~~*

Gwyneth was still wondering about the latest developments as she and Evan walked through the fields to visit Mrs Barnsley that afternoon.

The snow had melted from the lane, leaving great puddles of slush and mud, and she and Evan both had to leap carefully from one side to the other which made their progress slow, and their breaths condense in the cold air like puffs of smoke.

“We should have brought the gig,” muttered Evan, narrowly avoiding a large patch of slippery grass.

“If you didn’t cook such delicious meals we might have,” grunted Gwyneth, doing her own version of a rabbit hopping over puddles. “But I need the exercise.”

“Oh really?” Evan’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “We’ll have to keep you in good health, of course, but there has to be a better way to exercise than turning into a goat on a long walk.”

She laughed back, understanding his meaning, and knowing she was blushing a little as all sorts of images flashed through her mind.

However, when Mrs B welcomed her and commented on her flushed cheeks, she airily dismissed it as the effects of a brisk walk on a winter’s day.

Jane was there, with the baby, and the time passed happily as everyone chatted about various matters, gossiped a little and caught up with the local news.

“Is there any word on the sale of Fivetrees?” Jane asked, cradling a sleeping Clifford in her arms.

Gwyneth shook her head. “No, not yet. Nor have we heard about buying some of the land, but that is apparently of interest to the Withersbys. So I believe they have their people working on the details.”

“T’would be a good thing, I reckon,” observed Mrs B. “Bit more land, more work for our menfolk, more crops…”

“More everything,” nodded Gwyneth. “More raspberries for Evan’s jam.” She grinned at him as he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll need more hands when it comes to the making of it, then,” he sighed.

As Mrs B turned to Evan, always happy to talk about cooking and recipes, Gwyneth held out her arms to Jane.

“Can I hold him for a little? I’ll try not to wake him.”

“Of course,” smiled Jane. “And you won’t wake him. He’s just nursed. After his meal he sleeps very well indeed. Like his papa on a Sunday.”

Both women laughed and Gwyneth settled back, enjoying the unusual warmth of a sleeping baby in her lap.

“How are you getting along with Mrs Fields?”

Jane nodded. “Very well. ’Tis snug of course, but much more room than here, with so many of us in and out all the time.” She rolled her shoulders. “Trick is talking of building on a room as well. I think he’ll be speaking to Mr Royce about that come the New Year.”

“I’m sure it will be agreeable,” reassured Gwyneth. “And you’ll appreciate a little more space as this one grows.” She looked down at the round face, soft and pink, eyes closed and tucked up warmly in a wool blanket. “So sweetly he sleeps, doesn’t he?”

“Not always.” Jane’s tone was wry. “If he’s hungry, he will let me know in no uncertain terms.”

“You are so lucky. He’s strong and healthy, Jane. He’ll be a wonderful son and grow into a wonderful man with parents like you and Trick.”

The two women were silent for a moment, watching the baby wrinkle his little mouth in a dream.

“Will you have a child, my Lady?” Jane asked tentatively.

The question caught Gwyneth off guard. “I have no idea,” she answered honestly. “I haven’t heard of a Lady of Wolfbridge ever having a child.”

“Neither have we,” replied Jane. “But I just wondered.”

“Something best left to higher powers, I imagine.”

“Of course.”

The little one stirred as Evan glanced over at her. “We should leave soon my Lady. Darkness falls very quickly these days.”

With a sigh, Gwyneth handed back the child to Jane, taking a moment to drop a tiny kiss on his forehead. “There you go, lovey. Back to mama.”

Jane accepted him with practised ease, tucking him into her side. “Oh, before I forget, a letter was delivered here to Ma, and it’s for Mr Jeremy. The lad who brought it wanted to get home before that snowstorm and knew he wouldn’t if he had to go on to the Manor, so we said we’d bring it to you.” She looked worried. “I am sorry, I should have given it to him before now.”

“That’s all right. I’m sure Jeremy will understand. What with the snowstorm, the death of the Queen and everything else, it’s been a rather hectic time, hasn’t it?”

She stood as Evan came to her side. “We’ll take it with us and give it to Jeremy.”

Goodbyes were said, and she and Evan were on their way home, filled with pleasure at the visit and also filled with Mrs B’s unsurpassed gooseberry pie.

“She will not part with

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