Wilcox was having tea with the widow, Lady Elizabeth Monmouth, at her house in Eaton Square. They were seated in her first-floor parlor overlooking the park—the room, south facing and sunny.

Her Ladyship had been a widow for over three years and had transitioned from wearing black to darker colors of grey, blue, and, on occasion, forest green. Her husband had been one of the directors of the British East Indian Company during his lifetime, and she was known by Wilcox to be one of the richest and most eligible elder ladies in London. However, she was plainer than a post—with a horsey face and large arthritic hands.

Wilcox began, “Lady Elizabeth, it was such a pleasure running into you at the opera the other evening with Lord and Lady Cartwright and your dear friend, Amelia.” She smiled as she dabbed her mouth with her napkin. Wilcox leaned forward as if to impart a secret. “But you were very naughty, Your Ladyship,” Wilcox said teasingly.

Elizabeth gasped. “What are you saying?”

“I do not remember you being such an enchantress. But you caught my eye the moment I spied you sitting in your box.”

“Oh, Mr. Wilcox… surely…” Elizabeth waved her hand, dismissing Wilcox’s foolishness.

“You were wearing that enchanting deep maroon gown with the emeralds and your hair was so ingeniously woven with… what were they?

“Pearls,” Elizabeth said modestly.

“A vision of loveliness I said to myself. I thought at first you were perhaps visiting royalty—from France, Russia, or Italy. One is not often struck so profoundly.”

“Now, My Lord, I know you are teasing me,” she said, opening her fan and peering over the top to heighten the impact of her eyes.

Wilcox decided to pull back a bit. “I would not be sincere if I did not express my admiration. Take it or leave it.”

Placing her fan on the tea table, Elizabeth offered, “Another cup of tea, Your Lordship?”

“Thank you, but I have had quite enough.” He stood and walked about the room, examining the many fine works of art that were displayed. “What a delightful collection of artworks—very international.”

“My husband collected from Southeast Asia where we were stationed for many years.”

He sat down again. “What an extraordinary life you must have led, Elizabeth—you do not mind me calling you Elizabeth, do you? I feel we have known each other forever.”

“You may, Wilcox,” she said blushing.

“And I was thinking, with so little fine weather left in the summer, I was hoping you might agree to take a turn with me in Hyde Park. I have an open carriage and we might enjoy a tour of the park and then perhaps have luncheon at my club.”

“That might be acceptable. And I am going to be having a small dinner next Thursday. Perhaps you should like to join us—as my evening companion.”

“I should be delighted,” Wilcox said, rejoicing that he had maneuvered himself into her good graces.

The Barnett household was in chaos. Mama hovered as Dr. Springfield examined Claudia’s ankle. Jenny was anxiously awaiting the Doctor’s verdict knowing it could affect her job at Pemberton. The brother and other sister hovered at the bedroom door, and Papa paced the hallway outside the children’s bedroom.

“Is it broken?” Mama asked as she fussed with her apron peering from behind the doctor.

“Yes, I am afraid it is,” the Doctor said. “I shall need to set it and construct a cast.” He turned to his patient and said, “Miss Claudia, you are going to need to be off this foot for a good many weeks.”

Claudia cast a look at Jenny and then said to the Doctor, “But I am to replace Jenny in the bakery. I cannot be disabled.”

A stab of anxiety shot through Jenny as she realized the gravity of the situation.

“I am afraid that is not going to be possible. You must rest in bed for at least a week and then you will only be able to get around on crutches. You are absolutely forbidden to use this leg until the break has completely healed, and that should take, at the very least, six weeks.”

Jenny put her hands to her face in anguish. How could she possibly take the job at Pemberton now? She must stay with the family. The bakery and the family’s very livelihood depended on it.

Mama could see that Jenny was distraught. She went over to her daughter and took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes.

“Maybe there is someone else who could fill in for you?” she suggested.

“Oh, Mama, you know there is not.”

“Perhaps Robert could step up.”

“No, Mama, there is no time to train him. And even if there was, he is still too small to manage the rigors of the job. The kneading, the lifting, the shopping—it is just not possible.”

Claudia began to cry. “Oh, Jenny, I am so sorry. I was so foolish to climb around on those wet rocks. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, dear Sister,” Jenny replied, but had to admit to herself that she did feel some resentment.

“Might I ask all of you to leave, please?” the Doctor asked. “I need to set her leg now and I think it is best if we are alone.”

The family filed out and walked to the sitting room.

“There must be something we can do?” Mama pleaded with Papa. “This is the opportunity Jenny has dreamed of all her life. Papa, what can be done? You make the meat pies… how difficult can it be if you make the fruit pies as well?”

Geoffrey put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Mama, it is not just the pies, it is the cakes, the tarts, the biscuits. I could never manage that much volume in one morning. Our customers rely on us to be timely, and you know how much we sell each day. It is just not possible.”

Jenny went over to them, facing them and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I will stay. It is what must be done.”

Mama began to cry, covering her face with her apron and turning away.

“Do you want me to go to Pemberton to inform the Duke?” her father asked.

“No, Papa. I must do this myself. I will need to meet with the head cook and go over the details of what needs to be done. At least there, they have enough staff to take over my responsibilities.”

Mother turned and threw her arms around Jenny who was feeling numb by now.

“Oh, my baby, I am so very sorry. Maybe his Grace will find a use for you another time.”

“I doubt it, Mama. I have betrayed his trust and I doubt he will be able to forgive me for that.”

It was already dark when Jenny and her father left Chatsworth and headed toward Pemberton. Geoffrey had an arrangement with a neighbor to use his horse and wagon when necessary, and he had offered to take Jenny to see the Duke, as it was late, and he did not want her walking all the way to Pemberton and back by herself.

Geoffrey halted the wagon at the entrance and Jenny jumped down.

“Do you want me to wait for you here?”

“No, Papa, it is too cold, and I have no idea how long I shall be. Come with me. I am certain they will have a comfortable place for you to wait by a fire.”

They headed to the great door and knocked. Presently, Willoughby answered.

“Oh, Miss Barnett, is his Grace expecting you?”

“No. I am afraid it is an unexpected, but very important visit. Might he be available to see me?” Willoughby gave a glance to Geoffrey. “This is my father, he drove me over.”

“Please come inside,” Willoughby said, standing aside and allowing them to enter. “You may wait there,” he indicated a table with several chairs in the entryway.

It took at least ten minutes before they heard returning footsteps.

“Miss Jenny…” his Grace said as he came toward them.

Jenny and her father stood. “I am so sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but there has been an urgent development.”

Thomas looked startled. “Come. Let us speak somewhere more comfortable.”

He led the way to a sitting room with a lively fire and they sat opposite each other as the fire snapped nearby. Jenny needed to keep her errand in mind because she could not help but notice how appealing his Grace looked with the firelight flickering on his handsome face.

“Please,” Thomas urged, “What is the issue?”

Jenny snapped out of her admiration for Thomas and explained about the accident. “And I am so very sorry, but I shall be unable to make your pastries for the ball. I cannot tell you how distraught I am about that, but I have no choice. My family’s business cannot survive without my presence.”

Thomas was silent as he absorbed the new information.

Then Jenny offered, “I shall be more than happy to meet with your cook and explain what must be done to whoever is to replace me. But it will have to be after work tomorrow afternoon.”

“Of course, I am disappointed,” Thomas said, “but I completely understand.”

“I hope you are not angry with me,” Jenny said shyly.

“How could I be? What happened was an accident. I can take no fault with that. And I wish your sister a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jenny took a small parcel out of her bag and offered it to Thomas. “We do not often have any unsold items left at the end of the day, but I have some day-old tarts. I offer these to you as a thank you gift for giving me this opportunity. I am just sorry I was unable to perform my duty.”

“Thank you, Miss Jenny,” Thomas said, taking the package and smiling, almost sorrowfully. “But what about your recipes—for my cook? How will she know how to make what you do?”

“Oh, I imagine she has her own. My recipes are no different from hers, I expect.”

“Very well, I shall let you work that out with her tomorrow.”

Jenny elbowed her father and they stood. “We had best be going. And again, I am so very sorry to disappoint you.”

Thomas led them out of the sitting room and to the front door. Jenny pulled her shawl over her shoulders and up around her neck, as it would be a chilly ride home.

Before turning to leave, Jenny said to Thomas, “I hope this has not ruined your trust in me. And if at any time in the future I might be able to assist you when you entertain again, I hope you will think of me.”

“Fear not, Miss Jenny, after becoming familiar with your wonderful pastries, you can be certain I shall remain a loyal customer,” Thomas said, taking her hand and kissing it, much to Jenny’s surprise. And she was surprised even more when she felt a shiver run down her spine—and it was not from the cold.