Eleanor was in Wakefield's kitchen, a pot of soup simmering away over the range and she was placing another log on the fire when Isaac stormed in, his face betraying the rage he felt. The sound of the vase crashing against the wall made her wince as she looked up at Isaac.

"I'm sorry Eleanor, there's no need to be alarmed," Isaac said rubbing his thinning hair. "That dreadful man irks me, and he can't even see what he's doing. He had to be told and I'm pleased I finally ...