Free Friends and Lovers by Joan Smith Page A

his house, and we broke our agreement. I will find those demmed old pokers and tongs this day, and restore them as well.”
    “This is not the time to take up swearing, my dear, when that wretched man is having us investigated. We did not give our usual plum cake to the church bazaar last Christmas, either, when Mrs. Pudge had the cold. That is bound to come up, and cause a scandal. But then, your papa was a minister of the church, the best man who ever drew breath. That will have some weight in our favor. Three livings—a very successful minister.”
    Three livings was the very thing to turn the common folks against us, smacking of privilege and even of a grasping nature. Every minutia of our simple lives was put under scrutiny, the process continuing long after we got home.
    “Are we to have control of the kiddies?” Mrs. Pudge asked when we were admitted.
    “I fear it will be a long process,” I told her. I was coming to see it would also be expensive. Culligan would wear a new shirt with unfrayed cuffs now, if he wished, and a proper chain and fob for his watch too.
    “Never worry about it, Miss Wendy,” she said, taking pity on me in my affliction. “I have been looking it up in my Psalter, given to me by your dear papa, and have found succor. The wicked man, in his pride, may persecute the poor—aye, boast of his heart’s desire to get hold of our children, but he'll never do it. God that sits in His heaven won’t allow it. He shall laugh at the ungodly. Our Gwen and Ralph will be laying their dear little heads to rest here before you can bat an eye.”
    “I hope so, Mrs. Pudge.”
    “I’ll bring you both a cup of tea this very instant. You look as worn out as a pair of old shoes. I would have had it ready for you, but that old devil cat of Menrod’s has been chasing my Lady again, the bounder. Something is wrong with the world when I have to keep her locked inside the house to preserve her from the scoundrel. Speaking of which, Mr. Everett was here. He left you off a note.”
    She brought the note with the tea. Both were delightful. The note informed us that Menrod was seen passing Oakdene in his traveling carriage, obviously en route to London. Some fine-honed questioning in town had confirmed this suspicion, which he knew would be good news for us. He added that the children were not with him.
    I sat right down at my desk and wrote to Culligan, telling him that already Menrod had abandoned the children. When Pudge returned from delivering the note for us, he had a reply from Culligan, a letter containing such an outrageous and brilliant idea that my opinion of the man rose higher. It was couched in confusing legal jargon, as so many of his speeches were, but the gist of it was that I should kidnap the children, bring them to Lady Anne’s cottage, while I had the chance. He assured me I would be immune from legal action, as Menrod had no more real right to them than I. Till custody had been granted by the court, the children were in fact wards of the court. In a prosaic vein, he added that possession was nine points of the law, though he could find no actual precedent in his books for this common knowledge.
    Mama was extremely doubtful about the wisdom of this course, but when both Mrs. Pudge and her husband lauded it, she was talked around.
    “Didn’t the good Lord send an archangel to lead the baby Jesus away from Herod?” Mrs. Pudge demanded of Mama. There was no denying such an oft-told tale. “Miss Wendy will lead those innocent babes of Miss Hettie’s home to safety too. We’ll have all the heathen in derision by the time he gets back, with the doors barred,” she added, causing some little doubt as to who were the heathens in the case.
    To tell the truth, I felt as guilty as one when I drove up to Menrod Manor and presented myself to the butler under the pretext of taking Gwen and Ralph for a drive.
    “Lord Menrod did not forbid it, I trust?” I asked, with a smile. “He assured me I