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“Martha, I do wish you would be more careful. How would I explain an injury like that to your mother if it were serious?”

Martha laughed as she removed her hat, sinking down onto a chair in the kitchens, where she usually removed her mud-caked boots and outerwear. It saved the housekeeper the trouble, and the cook didn’t mind so long as she was not in the middle of something. A daily walk or two and a ride had become a routine since arriving, and this afternoon’s walk had been glorious, indeed.

Eliza, however, did not seem to think the same.

“It was only a slight turning of my ankle,” Martha assured her, still laughing. “I was too impetuous and attempted to walk across a fallen log. I fell off straightaway, but only my ankle suffered. It was a silly thing, and I feel minimal pain.”

Her cousin frowned, her expression perfectly capturing an exasperated and worried mother.

Not Martha’s, but the ideal mother everyone wished for.

“Still, I would feel much better if you were able to walk your usual distance before this evening without pain,” Eliza told her, folding her arms. “Perhaps I might send you into Allington for bread. That is not far, and you would be able to send word hastily if your pain is too great.”

Martha sighed as gently as she could manage while feeling patronized. “My pain will not be too great. The boots you and Mr. Cummings purchased for me are remarkably sturdy, just as you said they should be. I have tested them now, and find them more than satisfactory.”

“You’ve tested them,” Eliza repeated, her tone less than enthusiastic.

Resisting the urge to bite her lip, Martha nodded, smiling.

There was a beat of silence, then Eliza released a heavy sigh, smiling herself and shaking her head. “Well, I suppose that is one way of putting it. Really, cousin, what am I to do with you?”

Martha laughed and bent to remove her boots. “Continue with your hospitality and let me breathe in the countryside, as you have done. The greatest weapon at my disposal presently is finding great enjoyment in my exile, and I aim to use it.”

Eliza waited for her to finish the removal of her dirty boots, then took them over to dry by the fire. “There, they’ll be dry in no time, and then you can see if your ankle truly is as unaffected as you think.”

Her tone still held notes of skepticism, which made Martha’s smile spread. “If I am mistaken, cousin, I give you full leave to lord over me and treat me like one of your children for the rest of my visit here.”

That made Eliza laugh as she came back to Martha’s side. “If I did that, I would not have you for conversation.”

Martha pushed to her stockinged feet and put her arm around her cousin’s waist as they moved out of the kitchen. “Do you not have a husband to talk to?”

“When one has been married as long as we have, dear, variety in conversation is much appreciated.” Eliza’s small smile spoke of restrained laughter, and Martha could understand why.

Her few days spent at Lanfare thus far had already given Martha proof enough that Eliza and Mr. Cummings were as devoted to each other now as they had been when they wed. Perhaps not as demonstrative or so obvious as in courtship, but there were enough shared smiles and stolen glances to convince Martha of their mutual adoration. More than that, they seemed to genuinely like one another.

They were friends, not just lovers.

The word made Martha blush, even as she walked beside her cousin. It was silly to be embarrassed by the fact, considering there were so many children dashing about the place, but she would give credit where credit was due. Her ignorance saved her from feeling anything besides embarrassment, for good or for ill.

A victory for ignorance, in this case.

Martha saw nothing wrong with the way her cousin’s family lived. Yes, it was perhaps lacking in finery, but there was such joy within the walls of Lanfare! Laughter in abundance, and even in her short time here, Martha had laughed more than she had in her entire life, she was convinced of it.

And when the youngest of her cousin’s children was eagerly crawling across the floor, there was nothing to do but love on that little cherub and tickle her mercilessly just to hear the musical gurgle of her laughter.

Eliza was a sort of mother that Martha had never seen. One who managed the home and seemed to know what every child was doing at any given time. One who could somehow show individualized love and affection to every single child despite the intimidating number of them. Who enjoyed every moment with her children, even when she was exasperated. Who still managed some kind of energy to share smiles and winks with her husband.

And Mr. Cummings …

Martha had never imagined seeing a man crawling on the floor on all fours with his children, but Mr. Cummings did so every evening. He read stories to the children before bed, helped the younger children cut their food, and answered every question with either a calm answer or a humorous one. Never once had he raised his voice, never once had he appeared stern, and never once had he insisted they go elsewhere.

The phrase “seen and not heard” was not uttered in this home.

She rather enjoyed the change from the formality she was raised with.

Everything about her life had been formal until she had come to Wiltshire. She hadn’t known there was another way to live before she had arrived here, and the revelation was something she was still reeling from. Eliza had seemed to sense Martha’s confusion in the first few days, having come from the same sort of home and upbringing, and she had taken the time to answer her questions and expand her understanding.

It had given Martha a sense of freedom she had not expected from her exile here. Permission to breathe and relax the perfect composure she had spent years maintaining at the behest of her mother. An opportunity to explore the parts of her personality and manner that she had never been able to before.