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another in complicated patterns.
    Such gardens required constant care. Freddy, the gardener she’d met at the inn, had probably tended it until the supposed ghost had frightened him away. This was an old, well-maintained garden, judging by the age of some of the plants. People had occupied the Grange for two centuries in spite of the legend of the ghost—so what had happened recently to cause such chaos?
    Richard came into view, striding around the house past the ruined tower, a slate in one hand and chalk in the other. He seemed to be counting or measuring something. John appeared with a ball of string. Yes, they were indeed measuring, for John stood in one spot whilst Richard unrolled the string to another spot and tied a knot. They moved along and measured again and again until they reached the front door.
    Richard looked up suddenly and saw her. He turned unsmilingly away, saying something to John, who raised his eyes and waved a greeting. Evidently, whatever generous impulse Richard had succumbed to last night hadn’t led him to become cordial this morning—but at least he didn’t encourage his children to be rude as well. It was almost as if he was two different people—the kind, considerate father and the harsh man who disdained her.
    She made her way to the kitchen, where Mrs. Cropper was rolling out pastry amid more delicious aromas, while a scrawny maid scrubbed pots and pans. “Sausages? And fresh bread?”
    “Aye, Mrs. White. Soon they’ll be coming in to their breakfasts, and who doesn’t like sausage and fresh-baked bread?”
    “I know I do,” Edwina said. She smiled at the scullery maid, who had turned to stare.
    “That’s Nell from the village,” Mrs. Cropper said, and the maid bobbed a curtsey. “She comes in days to give me a hand, but she doesn’t stay after dark.”
    Edwina seated herself at the deal table. It seemed ages since she’d had enough good, wholesome food. Her relatives had fed her grudgingly, and dining alone in her room at the homes of her employers meant she only got what the kitchen deigned to serve her, and no more. “I saw Sir Richard and John outdoors. They were measuring something on the house.”
    “Aye, it’s to do with finding the treasure, ma’am,” the cook said. “Will you have some coffee?” Without waiting for an answer, she poured a cup and set it in front of Edwina with a loaf of sugar and a pitcher of cream.
    Edwina thanked her and nipped off a few lumps of sugar—another much missed luxury—and dropped them into the steaming, aromatic brew. “Sir Richard hopes to find the ruby necklace?”
    “How else is he to get rid of them treasure seekers? It’s a miracle not more of the house has tumbled down, what with them digging in the cellars, and without so much as a by your leave, too! I tell you, ma’am, while the house was empty between one Sir Richard and the next, I was overrun with them. And not only foreigners like the Yorkshire men what got what was coming to them, but local boys as well, all mad to find the treasure.”
    Edwina poured cream in the coffee and stirred. “Yes, Joseph told me about his brother when he drove me here yesterday.”
    Mrs. Cropper snorted. “That Jemmy and his friends. But it wasn’t them what tried to poison Felix.” She jerked her chin in the direction of the dog, who thumped his tail in acknowledgement. “Dunno who did that.”
    Edwina stared. “Oh, how horrid! Poor Felix.”
    “Aye, but I nursed him back to health. And me alone in the house, unable to stop them, and even fearing for my life,” Mrs. Cropper said. “I was that happy, ma’am, when Sir Richard and the children got here. The lady ghost did a fine job of taking over for Felix and scared most of the fools away, but a ghost does not make good company, ma’am, make no mistake.”
    “I suppose not,” Edwina said weakly, although she would have preferred to chastise Mrs. Cropper for being superstitious. “How long were you here alone?”
    “All