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them. “Germany’s U-boats have been sinking supply ships coming into Britain, and food is becoming scarce. A few months ago the Women’s Land Army organized to aid in the crisis through farming here at home. But it may be weeks before they arrive to help at Roxwood. Until then, the WFC will help supply Britain with food, both here and abroad.”
    “Agnes and I are ready to do our best.” She beamed at her maid. They would feed the nation! Grace felt ready to burst with patriotic pride. “Where shall we start first, Mrs. Vance?”
    Mrs. Vance chuckled. “Your enthusiasm does you credit, Mabry. I’ll assign tomorrow’s duties at supper. Speaking of which, let’s make haste before I have a starving mob on my hands.”
    ———
    An hour later, the six women sat around a long wooden table that took up most of the compact kitchen. While they feasted on a stew of rations and the delicious bread Becky Simmons had baked, Mrs. Vance gave out Monday’s assignment. “Miss Young, you and I will go to the village tomorrow and mend tarpaulins the Army has sent,” she said to Lucy. “Danner, you’ll take Pierpont and tighten the fence on the west side of the garden.” Her gaze swept to Clare and Agnes. “Otherwise the rabbits and deer will soon be devouring our food.”
    To Becky, she said, “The drainage line along the north field needs to be finished, Simmons. Once we start the harvest, we can’t have the hay soaked by rain runoff. You and Mabry have the detail.”
    Clare Danner snorted with laughter. Grace turned to her. “What’s so amusing?”
    But the woman ignored her and rose instead to begin clearing the table.
    Mrs. Vance scanned the table of women. “Everyone clear on their duties?”
    “I very much doubt it.” Clare had leaned close enough so that only Grace could hear. A necklace—a painted white flower on a fine gold chain—escaped her duster to swing inches from Grace’s face before she hastily slipped it back inside her clothes.
    Clare straightened and flashed another smug look before she gathered up the rest of the dishes and took them to a washbasin.
    Grace decided to ignore her. Clare Danner seemed full of herself, but she’d change her opinion once she saw how hard Grace could work.
    With supper finished and the kitchen clean, the women trooped upstairs to ready themselves for bed. As the hour stillfelt early to Grace, she chose to remain in her traveling clothes a while longer.
    “Are you both from London?” asked Becky, seated on her bed in a white cotton nightgown and eyeing them curiously.
    Agnes glanced at Grace.
    “We live in Westminster,” Grace said. “On Sterling Street, in Knightsbridge. My father owns Swan’s Tea Room on Coventry Street in the west end.”
    “I saw it once, Swan’s . ” Lucy spoke softly from the far corner of the room. “It’s q-quite a grand place.”
    “Then you are a high-and-mighty rich girl,” Clare said from her bed near Grace’s.
    Grace forced a laugh to keep from clenching her teeth. “Just because my father is successful—”
    Clare cut her off. “How did you two meet?” She turned to Agnes. “And speak for yourself this time, Pierpont.”
    “Well, I met Miss . . . I mean, Grace, near her father’s tea shop.” Glancing down at her lap, Agnes added softly, “She gave me employment.”
    “She’s your mistress? I thought as much.” Wearing a plain linen nightdress, Clare rose from the bed and turned to the others. “Girls, it seems we have a duchess in our midst, after all.”
    The others laughed. “I am no such thing, Clare Danner,” Grace argued. “I’m just like you.”
    “No,” Clare retorted. “I doubt you’re like any of us. But time will tell, won’t it?”
    Feeling the others’ appraising glances, Grace was about to reply when Lucy spoke up and the conversation shifted.
    “After church this morning, one of the villagers said he delivered groceries to the manor yesterday and got a good g-glimpse of the Tin