For that night a cold wind came in that howled and howled. She was used to winds like this on the downs of her homeland and knew when it came with a chill it would end berry picking until spring.The warm glow of candlelight filled the kitchen, the smell of baking and the warmth of the crackling blaze in the kitchen fireplace filled Elspeth with a happy, content feeling as she turned her attention to helping the boys roll out their own individual berry tarts.“Isn’t cooking woman’s work?’ Clifford had put the question to her from the kitchen door earlier as he had come in to survey his flour-covered sons. “We’re only helping,” Colin said defensively. “Mr. James in town is a baker,” Harry replied, and Elspeth looked up in surprise. She’d never heard Clifford’s reserved, eldest son speak up to his father and for a moment she felt a surge of fear.But Clifford only suppressed a smile before taking a draw from his pipe and winking at his sons. “So he is,” he said. “And a noble profession it is.
