“Of course not, Arthur. I don’t imagine the garden needs much tending to in such weather, and Mr. Kingsley’s grandfather will be grateful for his presence. Please pass on that he should take tomorrow off, given his unfortunate stranding here.”

Arthur held my gaze for a moment, and it was with a grandfatherly kind of concern. The type that came with someone who knew you better than you knew yourself. “Of course, milady,” he said with a gentle tone. “Would you prefer if Caleb saw to your aunt’s animals before or after returning Mr. Kingsley to his residence?”

Of course.

I was in charge.

For as long as my father wasn’t here.

And my brother was partying it up in bloody Greece.

“After will be more than fine,” I replied after a moment, looking away. “If you’ll excuse me, Arthur, I’d like to take a shower while the weather permits it.”

“Very well, milady. I’ll handle the young men for you. For what it’s worth, I believe the power will stay with us.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, reaching for his hand. I squeezed his wrist. “Would you mind trying to contact Daddy or Aunt Cat once Caleb and Miles have set off?”

“Of course not.” He patted a wrinkled hand against my fingers. “Do be careful, milady. You’ve taken enough tumbles for one day.”

I fought a laugh. “And for that, Arthur, we are in agreement.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I peered out of the window as Caleb trundled his old Land Rover towards the village. The roads were as clear as he’d said, but unfortunately, the low-lying areas of the village had taken the brunt of the heavy rainfall.

The same rain that continued to fall, albeit more gently than even a few hours ago.

After my shower, once Caleb had seen to all the animals and Arthur had tended to the house, I’d insisted on being taken to the village.

There wasn’t much I could do right now, but I could help at the church.

Arrowwood Estate was entrenched in the local history. The village that surrounded our estate was simply titled Arrow Woods, which lent its name to our estate and the aristocratic seat my father’s paternal line had held for a long time.

Over the years, our family had helped the village through both personal and financial means.

Two hundred years ago, my great, great-grandmother had sewn blankets with the local spinsters after a flood and helped young girls with their own needlework so they could be of more help.

Sixty years ago, my grandmother baked loaves of bread to take to the church to feed people after a torrential storm made the river burst its banks.

Today, I was going to the church with excess blankets and a soup spoon.

Spinsters in the traditional term were no longer a thing today, and I couldn’t bake to save my life, but that didn’t mean anyone could forget how women once held towns and villages together. I’d studied British history extensively for both obligation and interest, and it was interest that had taught me more than mandated history ever could.