For Darkness Shows the Stars

though, did they not, Elliot?” her father asked. “I saw our CORs there.”
    “They were invited by the Innovations,” Elliot said. “Their behavior, as well, was beyond reproach.”
    “No doubt because Elliot was there to oversee them,” Benedict pointed out. “It was good that she attended, to remind your servants of their place, Uncle Zachariah.”
    Elliot gave her cousin another look of surprise. Why was he coming to her defense?
    “Indeed.” Her father’s expression remained shrewd. Abruptly he straightened. “Well, Elliot, as you can see, Benedict has come home at last. He needs a room made up for him for tonight, and then tomorrow we can see about having his old rooms redecorated for him.”
    “His old rooms are currently housing Grandfather,” Elliot said.
    “You don’t say!” Her father shook his head in disbelief. “But he’s bedridden. He can’t possibly need an entire suite.”
    Her grandfather was used to having an entire home, and was forced to give that up so the Norths could save their estate in the wake of the baron’s mismanagement. Elliot checked her frown before her father noticed.
    Where had he expected her to put the Boatwright? In the cellar?
    “I’m sure there’s no cause to uproot an old man twice in such quick succession,” said Benedict. “And I’m not used to large quarters anymore, anyway. Please, Elliot, Uncle Zachariah—don’t worry on my behalf. Now, where has Tatiana gone? Shall I go fetch her? I’d love to spend the evening reminiscing.”
    Her father’s face softened at once, though Elliot wondered what it was these two men would have to reminisce about. Benedict’s rebellious teen years? The way her father had devalued the estate since Benedict’s father had died? The disgusting infraction that had gotten her cousin banished seven years ago?
    “I’ll go look for Tatiana,” Benedict said. “It would be a shame to waste all this lovely light.” He tapped the edge of a lantern. “Uncle, you should truly consider replacing some of these with Post sun-lamps. There is an initial investment cost, but sunlight is always free, and you get so much more of it in the north.” He smiled and departed.
    Elliot looked at her father, but he appeared neither red nor sputtering, as one would expect following a recommendation to use a Post product. Then again, he was also in possession of Post horses, and he hadn’t been too proud for those.
    What was Benedict doing here? Why had her father chosen now, at long last, to retrieve the missing heir? Or had it been Benedict who’d finally come home to his estate, and was her father’s apparent welcome an effort to heal the breach should her cousin attempt to take the estate from him at once?
    She didn’t know what to make of the man, either. The rumors she’d heard all her life made him out to be little better than the master of Andromeda’s old estate. But it seemed obvious he embraced Post fashions and technology. And his subtle jabs at her father hinted at something else: a mind-set more like her own.
    Her father turned to the desk. “Do you have the numbers for the harvest?”
    “Yes, Father.” She pointed to a piece of paper on the desk.
    He glanced at it. “I see the loss of your precious field for my racetrack didn’t affect the bottom line as much as you feared.”
    “No, Father.” The loss of a normal field of wheat would not have. However, had it been left standing, its contribution to their stockpile would have been significant. Perhaps so significant that she couldn’t have hidden it from him if the grain had been brought to harvest. In all of her careful planning, she hadn’t thought of that. She’d been too eager to make sure there was enough food, enough money, to keep the estate afloat. Perhaps the next time she tried her experiment, she wouldn’t do a whole field. Half a field would more easily hide the additional grain, and she could steadily increase the percentage each year so that . . .
    “Oh, Elliot,” her father said, not looking up from the paperwork. “I noticed that COR foreman of ours at the picnic this evening. You know, the one with the child?”
    Elliot’s blood ran cold. “Dee.”
    “That’s the one. She’s quite far into her pregnancy to still be walking about, isn’t she? Move her into the birthing house tomorrow.”
    “But father,” Elliot said, “she lives in a Post cottage. She has a son to care for. And her condition has not affected her work at