“Send for every available laborer. Tell them they will be paid double wages until the channel is clear.”
The foreman hurried away.
Clara stepped beside him.
“Will that be sufficient?”
“I do not know.”
He looked toward the sky.
“But we must try.”
The wind drove rain against their faces.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Julian turned toward her.
“Clara, before anything else happens, I owe you an apology.”
She looked surprised.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“There is a river threatening to overflow its banks.”
“I am aware.”
“Then perhaps—”
“I was wrong about Bess.”
Clara stopped.
Julian continued.
“I was wrong to treat suspicion as proof. I was wrong to allow Vane to govern the inquiry. And I was wrong to speak to you as though you had no right to question me.”
She stared at him.
He held her gaze.
“I have instructed Pembroke to restore Bess to her position. Her wages will be paid. Her family's cottage is secure. And I shall apologize to her personally.”
Clara's expression softened.
“Julian.”
He drew a breath.
“I cannot promise that I shall never make another mistake.”
“I should hope not. Such a promise would be ridiculous.”
“But I can promise to listen before I judge.”
For a moment, the noise of the river seemed to recede.
Clara looked at the man standing before her.
His coat was soaked.
His boots were muddy.
He had ridden through a storm to find her, and he was offering an apology without attempting to excuse himself.
It was a small thing, perhaps, compared with the dangers gathering around them.
But to Clara, it mattered enormously.
“Then,” she said quietly, “we shall begin again.”
Julian smiled.
“Again?”
“I did warn you that I was difficult.”
“You are.”
“Unbearable, perhaps?”
He reached for her hand.
“Never.”
Their fingers touched.
Then a shout came from the riverbank.
“Your Grace!”
They turned.
A laborer was pointing toward the old weir.
The water had begun spilling around its eastern foundation.
A section of the bank trembled beneath the pressure.
Julian released Clara's hand.
“Go to the schoolhouse,” he said. “Find Mrs. Calder. Tell her to prepare the building for anyone who must leave the lower cottages.”
Clara nodded.
“And you?”
“I shall see whether we can prevent the river from reaching them.”
She caught his sleeve.
“Julian.”
He turned.
“Be careful.”
His expression softened.
“I intend to be.”
Then he hurried toward the men.
Within an hour, Mereford had become a village preparing for disaster.
The church bell rang to summon the inhabitants.
Farmers arrived with carts. Stable boys led horses from the lower fields. Men carried sacks of sand toward the bridge while women hurried between cottages gathering children, blankets, and whatever possessions could be moved.
At the schoolhouse, Clara took charge of the preparations.
She did not do so by issuing grand orders.
She asked Mrs. Calder how many children could be accommodated.
She sent Mrs. Porter to arrange food.
She requested clean blankets from the rectory.
Then she moved from house to house with Bess Finch, who had come from her family's cottage as soon as she heard the bell.
Bess knew every narrow lane and every family likely to require assistance.
Together, they helped Mrs. Beale gather her daughters and move their belongings to higher ground.