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no more than she gossiped. “You don’t think the estate could be in debt?” she tried.
    “I shouldn’t think so. Jack would know, wouldn’t he? And I’m sure he would tell me something like that. But if Father is unwell, has Dr. Trumper been sent for?”
    Laura rose. There was nothing to learn here. “He never hesitates to summon Trumper if he feels the need, but I’ll check his condition again when I return to the house.”
    She kissed her sister-in-law’s cheek and left the room, feeling as she always did after time with Emma—like a lower form of womanhood.
    As she arrived at the hall, the front door opened and Jack came in bringing brisk fresh air.
    Laura searched him for any sign of evil and found none. “I’ve been visiting Emma and the baby. Congratulations, Jack. A fine, robust boy. A true Gardeyne.”
    “Aye. Nothing frail about him .”
    She kept her smile in place. “Emma seems well, too.”
    “Birthing’s no trouble to her.”
    “Even an easy birth is a considerable challenge, Jack.”
    Perhaps he flushed. “Aye, well . . . Father says you’re going to Merrymead for a week or two.”
    She caught a strange tone and braced for trouble. Would he try to stop it? “Harry should know his other family.”
    “True enough.”
    Laura was sure she heard a silent but . Her attention, however, was on the fact that he must have visited his father in the past hour. “Has Lord Caldfort sent for Dr. Trumper yet?”
    He frowned. “Not that I know of. Why?”
    “He seemed to have a funny spell, though he denied it.”
    His frown deepened. “I thought he looked a bit the worse for wear. His heart?”
    “I don’t know.” She considered for a moment, then added, “It might have been something to do with a letter, since he was reading his correspondence at the time. He didn’t say anything to you?”
    He stiffened, doubtless at the notion that he would discuss estate business with her. “No. Therefore there can’t have been anything of import. Summon Dr. Trumper anyway, Laura.”
    Laura bit back a sarcastic, Yes, sir . “I must be on my way. There’s much to be done if we’re to leave tomorrow.”
    “You’ll bring Harry to visit his father’s grave before you go?” It was phrased as a question, but sounded like a command. Laura was tempted to refuse for that reason, but Jack was right. She and Harry visited the grave every Sunday, taking fresh flowers, so they should do that before going away for weeks.
    “We’ll drive over later in the gig,” she said, but then came to a resolution. “Do you have Hal’s guns, Jack?”
    Perhaps his ruddy cheeks grew a little redder. “Aye, why not? Don’t want them rusting away up there.”
    “Of course not, but I was thinking of what you said about manly ways. If Harry had the little pistol—unloaded, of course—it would be a memento of his father and get him in the way of such things.”
    She was sure she saw hesitation, but then Jack said, “Not a bad idea. I’ll get it.”
    He strode off and returned with the case. Laura opened it. She tried to make her scrutiny look like fondness, but she was making sure that all the essentials were inside. “Sad memories,” she said, and it was true. Poor Hal, who’d enjoyed life so much and was no more.
    She closed the case. “Thank you, Jack.”
    “Be sure to keep the balls and powder hidden. Boys get the hang of that sort of thing more quickly than you’d think.”
    “Of course.”
    Laura left and set off back to Caldfort, considering Jack’s last words. She’d swear his concern for safety had been genuine. Thank heavens she was going to Merrymead. It could straighten the brain of a Bedlamite.
    Once back at Caldfort, she plunged into the arrangements for travel. She sent a groom to order a chaise for the morrow, then supervised the packing, letting the excited Harry help with his.
    “No, Minnow. You can’t take flowers to Grandmama. They’d be dead before we arrived. Come to my jewelry box and you