“Now, your Grace!” said Nettlebed, in quite a different voice.
But the Duke had gone.
He rode out towards Willsbridge beside his bailiff in a mood of gay good-humour, which much rejoiced that worthy man’s heart. By his request, they gave Cheyney a wide berth, the Duke having no desire to encounter his uncle while going upon an errand of which Lord Lionel would violently disapprove, and Moffat understanding this without the Duke’s having the least need to explain it to him. They reached Furze Farm without meeting anyone with whom the Duke was acquainted, and, tethering the horses to the gateposts, walked across the yard to the open kitchen door. A girl in a cotton apron and a mob-cap, who had stepped out to empty a pail of water, dropped a curtsy to Moffat, and informed him that Missus was in the kitchen, rolling out the pastry. Her voice brought a spare, middle-aged woman to the door. She had a worn, kindly face, and after casting the Duke a doubtful look, smiled at Moffat, and said: “Come you in, Mr. Moffat! Now, if I’d but known you would be passing this way today—!”
“Mrs. Mudgley, ma’am, I’ve brought his Grace to see your Jasper,” said Moffat, indicating his companion.
She gave a gasp, and made haste to curtsy and to wipe the flour from her hands at the same time. “Your Grace! Oh, Mr. Moffat! And me all unprepared, and Jasper out in the fields, and you bringing his Grace to the kitchen, instead of round the front, as it fitting! I do not know what to say, your Grace, but I’m sure I beg your pardon! If you would please to step into the parlour, I will send directly to fetch my son!”
“Will you let me rather come into your kitchen, and talk to you, Mrs. Mudgley?” he said, with his shy smile.
She looked rather wildly at Moffat, faltering that it was not fit. The bailiff said in a heartening tone: “Take his Grace in, ma’am: I’ll warrant he will like it very well!”
She dropped another curtsy, and the Duke stepped over the threshold, and laid his hat and gloves down on a chair, saying, as he looked round the room: “Yes, indeed I do. How comfortable it is! Am I disturbing you?”
“Oh, no, indeed, your Grace!” she assured him. She saw how young he was, and suddenly felt less nervous. She set a chair for him, whisked her pastry up into a damp cloth, and said diffidently: “If your Grace would partake of a little refreshment after the ride? Just a cup of my cowslip wine, belike?”
“Thank you: you are very good!” he said, hoping that it would not disagree with him as much as he feared it would. “Moffat, while I am talking to Mrs. Mudgley, will you be so good as to find her son for me?”