She gave another glance at his arms. They could wait, but she would tend him. It was the least she could do after he had come to her aid so many times these past few days.
When she entered the room, her father slept soundly, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. Perkins dozed in the corner, chin against his chest. As quietly as possible, Grace picked up the tea service and carried it from the room. She would need to see about some form of sustenance before the day was out and before they all starved.
Vicar Trent was still standing in the entry when she came back down the hall. “How is your father?”
“Resting peacefully.” Grace could feel the smile on her lips. Though she shouldn’t smile, given her father’s grave condition, there were signs that he was on the mend and for that she was relieved.
Vicar Trent followed her into the kitchen and she placed a new pot of water on to heat.
“Please sit, and let me look at your arms.”
He did so, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His arms were marred with cuts and scrapes though most of them had stopped bleeding. But it did appear the hens got the better of him. There was brisk knock at the door and Grace straightened and Vicar Trent turned in his seat. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I will be right back.”
It wasn’t far to the front door but Grace prayed it wasn’t another nosey, judgmental neighbor. Had anyone else been with her besides the Vicar, her reputation would be in shreds already. No doubt Mrs. Montgomery wasted no time in going into town and spreading her filthy innuendos to the first person who would listen. But, at least those in town knew her and wouldn’t believe what the woman said since she was with Vicar Trent.
Grace took a deep breath and flung the door open. A sigh escaped when she realized it was his brother, Mr. Trent.
“Good morning, Miss Cooper.” He bowed slightly. “How is your father?”
She stepped back so he could enter. “He has awakened but only long enough to take some tea.”
“That is a good sign, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Mr. Trent glanced beyond her and started to chuckle. “What, pray tell, happened to you?”
Grace turned to find Vicar Trent standing in the door leading to the dining room. His shirtsleeves rolled up revealing the bloody scratches on his arms.
“Chickens.”
“Hens,” she corrected.
“Do I want to know why or how?” Mr. Trent continued to chuckle and placed his hat on the table just inside the door.
“Vicar Trent was kind enough to help me milk the cows this morning and gather eggs. The hens didn’t particularly care for him.”
“Cows? Hens?” Soon Mr. Trent would be laughing too hard to remain upright and Vicar Trent’s complexion had taken on a lovely rosy hue. What would it be like to have a sibling? For years it had been just she and her father. A younger, or older, brother or sister would have been nice. Then she wouldn’t feel so all alone, especially after her father’s accident.
She moved forward and gently grasped Vicar Trent’s upper arm. “Back to the kitchen.”
He turned easily enough and didn’t pull his arm from her grasp. She could hear Mr. Trent’s boots click across the wood floor as he followed them through the dining room into the kitchen. The tea kettle was whistling when she entered and she moved to take it from the stove and placed three cups on the table.
“Do you take anything in your tea, Mr. Trent?”
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “I can pour my own. You should see to my brother.” There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and he bit his lip as if to hide a grin.
Grace placed sugar and milk on the table before rummaging through another cupboard that held bandages and salves. These she placed on the table before wetting a cloth and cleaning Vicar Trent’s arms.
The two men talked as she worked.
“What did Brachton say?” Vicar Trent asked after Mr. Trent placed a cup of tea within reach.
“He will not even give consideration to a hearing or guardianship until after Mr. Cooper recovers enough to tell us what happened, or new evidence is found that can tell us who tried to kill him.”
Grace felt as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Even though she hadn’t given any thought to the upcoming hearing, it apparently had been in the back of her mind, sitting like a rock of worry because as soon as Mr. Trent said there would be no hearing yet it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted.
“My father isn’t well enough to tell us anything yet,” Grace offered as she smeared a foul smelling salve across the cuts. “Even then he will have to write what he knows.”
Mr. Trent leaned forward and placed his cup on the table. “Do you know of anyone who could have done this?”
She paused in her task and looked at him. “I won’t want to believe his brother would, but who else has anything to gain by my father’s death?”
“Had anyone else been around the area that day, before you came to Brachton’s?” Vicar Trent asked.
Grace picked up the roll of bandage and began to wound it around his arm, going over the day’s events in her mind. “When I left town I passed Mr. Thorn in the woods. I then cut through the yard.” She tied off the end and picked up another roll and began bandaging Vicar Trent’s second arm. “On the road I passed Mr. Richards. He wanted to discuss our potential betrothal.”
“Anyone else?” Vicar Trent prompted.
“No. Uncle left Brachton’s before us and we all saw Mr. Draker.”
“Who did appear to be in a hurry,” Mr. Trent offered.
“But I can’t imagine any of them having anything to gain.” She sank down into a chair and picked up a cup of tea.
“Perhaps when we are more rested something will come to us.” Vicar Trent stood and began to roll down his sleeves.
“You do look like you didn’t get much sleep, brother.” Mr. Trent blew into his tea but Grace could see the grin on his lips. Certainly he didn’t think something improper happened, did he. His brother was a vicar for heaven’s sake.
“It was a long night. Mr. Cooper didn’t wake until this morning.”
The grin disappeared from Mr. Trent’s face and he became serious.
“I need to return home to clean up.” Vicar Trent looked to his brother. “Could you please stay with Miss Cooper and her father until I return?”
Mr. Trent stood. “Of course. I’ll see that they are protected.”
“Thank you.” He nodded and turned to Grace. “I will return shortly. If anything should happen in the meantime, send Perkins with a message. I would rather my brother remained to watch out for your welfare.”
It was sweet of him to be concerned but Grace knew she would be safe. “I will.”
With a nod Vicar Trent turned and left the room. She could hear his footsteps as he walked toward the front door and outside.
“How are you holding up, Miss Cooper.”
She offered Mr. Trent a slight smile. “Better, now that Father drank tea. But, I will not fully be relieved until he is awake and communicating.”
Mr. Trent helped her gather the salves and bandages and took them from her and placed them in the cabinet just as the front door flung open with enough force to bang against the wall. Mr. Trent reached inside his coat and pulled out a gun. Grace’s heart raced.
“Grace, where are you?” Audrey’s voice called.
“I am in the kitchen.” She moved toward the front of the house as Mr. Trent put the gun back into his pocket and followed her. “And, please, keep your voice down.”
Audrey met her in the dining room. “Oh, you do look horrible. I didn’t want to believe mother, but she was so convincing.”
“Believe her about what?”
Audrey stiffened and narrowed her eyes, looking past Grace’s shoulder. With a none-too-gentle shove, she moved Grace to the side and marched up to Mr. Trent and lifted her arm, hand straight and poised as if to smack him across the face.
“Audrey, what are you doing?” Grace cried out as Mr. Trent grabbed her wrist with the swiftness of a cobra strike to keep her friend from hitting him.
“Haven’t you already done enough damage?” She yelled at Mr. Trent, ignoring Grace.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Mr. Trent drawled, not relinquishing hold of her wrist.
“You know very well what I am referring to,” Audrey practically spit. “You’ve caused the ruin of one young lady and I will not stand by while you ruin my dearest friend.”
Grace stepped forward, ready to intervene. She had no idea what her friend was talking about. “Audrey, what has gotten into you?”
Audrey looked over her shoulder at Grace before jerking her arm out of Mr. Trent’s grasp. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Grace took a step back. “There is certainly something.”
Audrey tucked a stray curl behind her ear then straightened her gown. “I was afraid this would happen when he came to town.”
“He? Mr. Trent?”
“Yes, Mother said he was here all night and it is no secret what a lothario he is.”
“Lothario?” Grace looked past her friend to Mr. Trent who simply shrugged his shoulders. “Mr. Trent was not here last night. In fact he arrived barely an hour ago.”