Free Not by Sight by Kate Breslin Page A

accident.
    “Very little, milord, though it says she’s qualified in driving a horse-transport team, record keeping, and operating a motorized vehicle.”
    “Perfect,” Jack said as an idea began to form. “Arrange a meeting between Miss Mabry and myself immediately.”
    “Excuse me, milord . . .” The normally unflappable steward hesitated. “I thought you ordered her off the premises.”
    “Change in plan,” Jack said. “With Barnes gone to the Front, I need a driver for the Daimler. Dr. Black suggested I take the country air. Miss Mabry should suit for the task. Tell her I’ll pay the going rate.”
    “Milord, are you planning to offer her a full-time post?”
    Hardly, Jack thought. “Mornings only.” Since her stay would only be temporary, he could manage two or three hours in her presence each day.
    “If it’s only part-time work, your lordship, she may not be interested.”
    Jack hadn’t considered that. “Inform the supervisor to keep her on at Roxwood. Miss Mabry must be available to me every day until noon. She can work for the WFC afterward.”
    “Pardon, milord, but she’s been dismissed from service. After the, uh, incident with the pigs. The WFC makes the rules for their workers.”
    “Then tell them to unmake them,” Jack said with impatience. “I undercut the price of my hay and fodder to the British Army more than any other landowner in the district. I hardly think they’ll deny me such a small favor. Now see to it, man.”
    “Yes, milord, immediately.”
    Once his steward had left, Jack headed downstairs to breakfast. With the skeletal staff he employed at Roxwood, his cook, Mrs. Riley, brought in the meal herself and then left him to eat in privacy.
    After removing his mask, he poked at his plate with a fork, satisfied to find the fried kidneys at seven o’clock, two soft-boiled eggs at six o’clock, and a slice of toast and blood pudding at twelve and one. He began tucking into his food. It was the breakfast he had every day and always in the same arrangement. It not only simplified the menu for Mrs. Riley, who had served since his grandfather’s day, but it assured Jack there would be no surprises. He found a measure of control in knowing what to expect and when to expect it, a sense of order that the blindness had robbed from him.
    Yet he set his fork aside as doubts over his new plan dampened his appetite. He’d been somewhat of a tyrant with Miss Mabry in the hedge maze; she might not wish to meet with him. Jack hoped if she was here to spy on him, she would seize any opportunity to renew their acquaintance. If she wasn’t, their interview would likely end up being uncivil and one-sided—much like the memory of his conversations with Violet Arnold.
    No, Miss Mabry would agree to stay, he felt certain of it. And then . . .
    Retribution ignited in him like a flame, illuminating his dark world. While he no longer held the proof she might be seeking, he planned to turn the tables on her, nonetheless. He would use his skills to interrogate her during their time together and extract information, enough hopefully to charge and convict the traitor who fathered her and beat him at his own game.
    Jack retrieved his fork, seized with new appetite. Surely, God would grant him the justice he deserved.

    Frowning, Agnes stood at the door to their bedroom and eyed her mistress. Dressed in her blue traveling suit, Grace Mabry adjusted the straps on her portmanteau and haversack, both packed and lying on the bed.
    The look of defeat on her pretty face nearly broke Agnes’s heart. She understood the feeling all too well. “You’re really leaving then, miss?”
    Grace offered a wan smile. “It appears so. I seem to have a habit of bringing about disaster wherever I go, don’t I?”
    Agnes shook her head vehemently. “Mrs. Vance really should have given you more time. You aren’t used to this kind of work like the rest of us.” She went to her own bed and pulled out her bags,