"I couldn't very well not look at it. If the birds had been pecking into her thatching, they could create serious damage. As it is, I think the nest should be moved to a nearby tree. I am not certain how to do it, though, without disrupting the chicks. I have heard that the mother bird will not tend to her young if a human has touched them."

Helen shook her head. "Where do you learn such things?"

"From my brother-in-law, actually," Ellie said with a wave of her hand. "He has always been quite scientific. Ah, here we are. The last cottage of the day."

"This is the home of Sally Evans," Helen said. "She has been widowed for nearly a year now."

"How sad," Ellie murmured. "How did her husband die?"

"A fever. It swept through the village last year, but his was the only death."

"Is Mrs. Evans able to support herself? Does she have children?"

"No children," Helen replied. "She had been married less than a year. And I am not certain how she makes ends meet. I think she will be looking for a new husband soon. She has a small vegetable garden and a few animals, but when her pigs are gone, I don't know what she'll do. Her husband was a blacksmith, and so she has no land on which to try to grow crops. I doubt she could manage it on her own even if she attempted it."

"Yes," Ellie agreed, lifting her hand to knock on the door, "farming is truly backbreaking work. Surely too much for one woman to do by herself. Or one man, for that matter."

Sally Evans was younger than Ellie had expected, and Ellie could instantly see the lines of grief etched on her pale face. Clearly the woman was still very much in mourning for her husband.

While Helen made the introductions, Ellie looked around the small cottage. It was neat and tidy, but there was a distracted air to it, as if Sally could manage the small tasks of life but couldn't quite tackle the larger ones yet. Everything was in its proper place, but there was a pile of mending as tall as Ellie's hip, and pieces of a broken chair stacked neatly in the corner, waiting to be fixed. The cottage was so cold that Ellie wondered if Sally had lit a fire in days.

During their interview it became apparent that Sally was just going through the motions of life. She and her husband had not been blessed with children, and now she was all alone in her grief.

While Ellie was pondering this, Helen suddenly shivered, and it was a toss up as to who was more embarrassed—Sally for the temperature of her cottage, or Helen for drawing attention to it.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Pallister," Sally said.

"No, do not worry, it is me, really. I think I am coming down with a touch of a cold, and—"

"You needn't make excuses," Sally interrupted, her face rather melancholy. "It is colder than death in here and we all know it. It is just that there is something wrong with the fireplace, and I haven't gotten around to having it fixed, and—"

"Why don't I have a look at it?" Ellie said, getting to her feet.

Helen looked suddenly and extremely panicked.

"I'm not going to try to fix it," Ellie said with an annoyed expression. "I never try to fix anything I don't know how to fix."

Helen grimaced in such a way that Ellie knew she was dying to bring up the toast incident.

"But I do know how to recognize what is wrong," Ellie continued. "Here, why doesn't one of you help me move this log?"

Sally got up immediately to help her, and a few seconds later Ellie was standing in the fireplace, looking up and seeing nothing. "It's dark as night in here. I say, what happens when you try to light a fire?"

"It spews black smoke everywhere," Sally replied, handing her a lantern.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ellie looked up and saw right away that the chimney was beyond filthy. "All it needs is a thorough cleaning, in my opinion. We shall send someone over immediately to sweep it out. I am sure the earl would agree with me that—"

"I would agree with you that what?" came an amused voice from the doorway.

Ellie froze. He was not going to be pleased to find her with her head up a chimney.

"Charles!" Helen exclaimed. "What a surprise! Come over here and see—"

"I am certain I heard my lovely wife's voice," he interrupted.

Sally replied, "She has been ever so helpful. My fireplace..."

"What?!"

Eliie winced and seriously considered crawling up.

"Eleanor," he said sharply, "remove yourself from the fireplace this instant."

She could see a foothold in the masonry. Just a step or two and she'd be out of sight.

"Eleanor!" Charles, not sounding amused.

"Charles, she was only—" Helen, sounding conciliatory.

"All right, I am coming after you." Charles again, sounding even less amused, although Ellie hadn't really thought that was possible.

"Your lordship! There really isn't room." Sally, sounding quite panicked.

"Eleanor, I will give you to the count of three." Charles again, sounding—well, Ellie didn't really see any point in contemplating how unamused he sounded.

She meant to get out and face the music, she really did. She wasn't naturally a coward, but when he said, "One," she froze, when he said, "Two," she stopped breathing, and if he ever said, "Three," she certainly didn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears.

Then she felt him squirming into the fireplace beside her, and she suddenly located her brain again, and yelled, "Charles! What the devil are you doing?"

"Trying to pound some sense in that contrary little mind of yours."