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Something in Judith’s expression changed, not dramatically, but enough that Baines noticed. The impatience disappeared, and she turned her mare towards the cottages without explanation.

He followed. A woman emerged from one of the houses as they approached, wiping her hands upon her apron. “Miss Finch, how kind of ye to come.” She bobbed her head.

“I trust you are well, Mrs. Bell. How is Thomas?”

The woman’s face tightened. “Better, miss, thank ye. Fever broke yesterday.”

“Good. Did the broth help?”

“Aye, miss. More than I can say.”

“And your husband?”

“Still no work, miss, but I thank ye for asking.”

Judith’s mouth compressed. “The mill?”

“Closed another week, they say.” The woman glanced towards Baines and became more guarded.

Judith noticed immediately. “This is Major Baines, a guest at Blackthorn.”

Mrs. Bell curtsied.

Baines bowed and said nothing, which seemed the wisest course.

Judith dismounted before he could offer assistance and walked with Mrs. Bell towards the cottage, asking quiet questions about food, coal, and whether the parish had answered her husband’s request for relief. Baines remained beside the horses, close enough to hear portions of the conversation but not so close as to intrude.

Baines was sure Judith did not know he was studying her. She knew the children by name, knew which neighbour had lost employment, knew a coal merchant had raised prices, and knew the parish overseer had refused assistance to one family because the father had attended a reform meeting.

This was no drawing-room interest in politics. This was personal.

When Judith returned, the little girl by the wall followed her. “Miss Finch?”

Judith stopped. The child held out a small bunch of crushed primroses. “These are for you.”

Judith’s face transformed in a manner Baines had not yet seen.

“Oh, Annie.” She knelt and accepted the offering. “They are beautiful.”

“They got squashed.”

“Then they have character.”

Baines nearly smiled.

The child looked at him. “Who he be?”

Judith glanced over one shoulder. “Trouble.”

Baines placed one hand over his heart.

The child considered him solemnly. “Aye, he has the look.”

Judith laughed. Not the brief, reluctant laugh he had coaxed from her before, but a warm, unrestrained sound which altered her whole face and made Baines forget, for one ridiculous second, why he had come north.

He was in dangerous territory. He suspected he had met his match in her where Napoleon’s finest had failed.

They mounted again after Judith had promised Mrs. Bell she would send flour and coal from Blackthorn, and Baines waited until the cottages had disappeared behind them before speaking.