But on reception? The worst place she could possibly be. Everyone would come to the desk with their coats and she’d have to hand them a ticket then hang their coats in the cloakroom for them. Seth would be there.
‘Couldn’t Ruby do that and I’ll take over …’
‘No, she can’t, Emma. She isn’t the right sort of person to be on the reception desk. Besides, Cook tells me he needs her to help him today. I’ve already asked Grainger to keep an eye on the children. Get yourself down to reception. And be sharp about it.’
Emma thought about saying Isabelle wouldn’t be happy if she woke up hungry or wet or just needing a cuddle to find it wasn’t her or Ruby doing the cuddling, because Ruby had been detailed to be in the kitchen, but thought better of it. It wasn’t her place to sort the running of the hotel and Mr Smythe’s domestic arrangements.
Emma left the room – but sharpish it most certainly wasn’t. And she wouldn’t be rushing down to reception, either. The dinner guests wouldn’t be arriving for another hour. She had time to make herself look as good as she possibly could – let Seth see just what he was letting pass him by.
‘Mr Jago,’ Caroline said, sidling up to him, but not touching – her voice a purr. ‘I had no idea you’d be here.’
Seth had watched her weave her way through the throng of Olly’s guests, making her way to him. But subtly – she’d stopped to pass a word with this one and that. But now she was here.
And she didn’t sound in the least put out that he hadn’t told her he’d be attending Olly’s function. But Mr Jago indeed. In case anyone was to overhear, obviously.
‘Olly invited me. We’re friends. And he does repairs to my boats.’
‘I don’t need your reasons for being here chapter and verse. But seeing as you are here, you can make yourself useful,’ Caroline said. ‘You can take my fur to reception. I hate queueing for things. I see my parents are deep in conversation with some boor already.’ She turned sideways on to Seth and slipped her fox fur cape from one shoulder – the better for him to admire her milky flesh, no doubt.
Anxiously, Seth searched the doorways where staff were standing waiting to be called to do some task or other, looking for Emma, but couldn’t see her. He breathed a little more easily.
‘My fur.’ Caroline leaned towards him. ‘I don’t bite,’ she whispered. ‘At least, not in public.’
She made little gnawing gestures with her teeth that Seth hoped and prayed no one else had seen. He was regretting every second he’d spent with Caroline now.
‘Of course,’ Seth said. ‘Your fur. I’ll take it to reception. Ah, there’s your father. He’s walking this way with your mother. I’d better …’
‘Golly, Mr Jago, anyone would think you were nervous about a little dinner given by a carpenter.’
‘Boatbuilder,’ Seth corrected her. ‘Olly’s a boatbuilder. A master craftsman, in fact. You should know that, seeing as he’s so recently finished building a boat for your father.’
‘I stand corrected. Oh, there’s the waiter with the drinks. If you could just relieve me of my fur, I’ll go and stand over there and wait for him to glide by. I hope it’s good champagne,’ Caroline giggled, slipping her other shoulder from her cape. Seth took it, careful not to touch her. She seemed, Seth thought, to be totally unconcerned that people might think, from her action, they were well acquainted.
‘It will be,’ Seth said to Caroline’s retreating back. Olly might like a drink or two in the pubs, like many his age did, but he was an astute businessman as well.
He made his way across the foyer towards the reception desk and almost stopped breathing. Emma was behind the desk dealing with the coats. He hadn’t expected her to be there. How beautiful she looked. Wonderful even. He thought, in that moment, that his heart might burst with love for her, while at the same time wishing he was anywhere but waiting his turn. But his wishes would go unanswered.
‘Mr Jago,’ Emma said, holding out her hands towards him to take his coat and Caroline’s fur wrap when his turn came. ‘May I take those for you?’
Mr Jago? Well, of course she would have had to call him by his surname, but it still felt alien to him coming from Emma’s lips. How glorious and so very desirable, she looked – even in a plain white blouse and a black skirt. Her hair was shining under the lamp over the desk. Her skin glowed with health, and how good that was to see after all she’d been through. Her eyes glistened and he hoped that wasn’t with tears; that he wasn’t the cause of any distress. Did she know he was here with Caroline?
Stupid thought – he had two garments in his arms and one of them a woman’s. She’d know he was here with someone.
‘Thank you,’ Seth said.
Their hands touched for the briefest of moments as he handed over the coats.
‘You look beautiful,’ Seth said, sotto voce, when Emma turned around to face him again, and was heartened when a flush came to her cheeks and she put a hand to her left one. She tore two tickets from a small book and handed them to him.
‘You can return to Mrs Prentiss now,’ Emma said, coldly. ‘There are others waiting behind you.’
So she did know who he’d been seeing. She’d probably seen the seating plan Olly had handed in and put two and two together.
‘Of course,’ Seth said. He lowered his voice. ‘Might I speak to you later?’
He would tell her that this was a duty dinner for Olly. Tell her that this was definitely the last time he would be in Caroline’s company. Just seeing Emma told him where his heart really lay.
But Emma shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You may not. Please don’t ask me again.’
She stepped sideways behind the desk, turned her smile on the next guest. He’d been dismissed.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Mr Smythe,’ Emma said, ‘I want to ask you something.’
She’d been asked to cover on reception because Mr Bell was still ill. Thank goodness Ruby had finished her morning chores quickly and was able to see to Isabelle.
‘Then make it quick,’ Mr Smythe said. ‘I have to be at the bank for one-thirty.’
‘Of course. It’s just that I wonder if you might consider having a Christmas tree for the children?’
Emma had long given up hoping he might spend more time with his children than merely kissing them goodnight, or chastising them with a strap across their hands if they were naughty, as the twins often were. But Christmas was fast approaching and he’d made no arrangements, as far as she could tell, for any sort of celebration for them. Or presents.
‘A Christmas tree?’
‘Yes. I thought the children might like to make decorations for it. I understand that last Christmas was too soon after …’
‘Yes, yes. We both know why a thing like that was out of the question last year. Get a Christmas tree if you must. I suppose we must be grateful to Prince Albert for introducing that little bit of jollity into our lives.’ He tapped the desk between them. ‘Take the money from petty cash. And while you’re at it take some money and buy some presents for my children. Make up stockings. My wife always took on that sort of thing, although it was a shoe by the hearth in the French fashion.’
‘Then that’s what I’ll do for them,’ Emma said, glad to see the man had a heart after all.
She smiled at him, and was surprised when he smiled back.
‘I’ve had another thought, Emma. Perhaps we might go into town together and you can show me what it is you think my children might want from Rossiter’s.’
‘Oh, I don’t …I mean, it’s not appropriate. I …’
‘It will be perfectly appropriate, Emma. As you are my sons’ French tutor and have the care of my daughter it will be perfectly in order for us to be seen together on an errand for them.’
‘Oh,’ Emma said. That was the last thing she h
ad expected him to say. She wished she hadn’t mentioned the tree now.
‘Mr Bell assures me he will be fit for duty the day after tomorrow. We will go then, you and I. And while I have Christmas on my mind, I wonder if I might put on a little something for the staff. You all work so hard.’
And then, not waiting for Emma to respond he went on his way.
Goodness, Emma thought, whatever had got into him?
‘Good morning, Giles,’ Seth said when Caroline’s front door was opened. ‘May I see Mrs Prentiss?’
‘I’ll ask, Sir,’ Giles said.
But as the maid turned to fetch her mistress, Caroline came rushing down the hallway. ‘Seth,’ she said. ‘I hope no one saw you …’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Good. Daddy’s been asking me if you and I are better acquainted than we ought to be, given your father and brothers are in prison.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘What do you think? Your attentions to me at Mr Underwood’s dinner were only those of a gentleman to an unattached lady. But be that as it may, this is still a lovely surprise to see you.’
A surprise, probably, Seth thought, but it was doubtful she’d consider it a lovely one. Giles stood looking dumbstruck at the conversation going on in front of her – did Caroline think her maid was deaf? In that moment Seth felt unutterably sad for the poor young woman – it was as though she didn’t exist.
‘May I come in? For a moment?’
‘Of course.’ Caroline turned to Giles and told her to go to the kitchen and begin preparation for lunch. And to stay there until she was called.
The maid scuttled off and Caroline led the way to her drawing-room. She sat on a couch and indicated for Seth to sit beside her.
‘I won’t be stopping,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to apologise for not returning your telephone calls. Mrs Drew gave me the messages and I ought to have acknowledged them. That was very bad-mannered of me.’
While installing a telephone so he could be kept abreast of developments concerning his father and brothers in Court had its advantages, it also had its disadvantage – copious phone calls from Caroline being one of them. Not to mention the fact Mrs Drew now also knew he had been seeing her.
‘I understand. You’ve been busy with the boats. Daddy said that whenever he sees you, you always seem to be seeing a boat off, or unloading one. But you’re forgiven. Now, do come and sit beside me.’
Caroline patted the seat beside her.
‘No. I have something else to say. And that couldn’t be said over the telephone. It needs to be said in person. I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed times spent in your company because you are a very lovely woman. But I can’t give you my heart, and for a relationship …’
‘I wasn’t asking for your heart,’ Caroline snapped. ‘And I wasn’t stupid enough to think I had it. There was always part of you that was detached, if you get my meaning.’
‘I do,’ Seth said. Always his head and his heart were with Emma, even if his body had been with Caroline. ‘And I apologise for that.’
‘Whoever she is, I hope she makes you happy. That body of yours will go to waste if she doesn’t. I’ll get Giles to see you out.’
And that, Seth thought as Giles ushered him from the front door, is me dismissed – but thankfully with no bad feelings, it seemed.
He hurried on into town. He had Christmas presents to buy for Mrs Drew and Edward. And for his pa and brothers, even though he felt less charitable towards them than he should, given Christmas was a festival of giving.
And Emma. He wanted to buy something for Emma. Some perfume, perhaps? His ma had always loved scent, as she called it. Or a pretty scarf. Something frivolous she might not need but which she would love.
His head – and his heart – was full of Emma. He knew that although she’d been frosty towards him the night of Olly’s dinner, and had said that no, she didn’t want to speak to him or for him to ask her again, she had reason for it. He had respected her wishes and given her time. But the Emma he’d met laying roses on her mama’s grave in the churchyard was the real Emma – her feelings for him had been there in her eyes then, right enough. He just hoped she would realise it soon, too. His Christmas present to her would surely tell her how he felt about her.
With the happy prospect of having her back in his life soon, now that he had broken things off quite conclusively with Caroline, Seth approached Rossiter’s. The window was decorated lavishly for the festivities with bows and swags and tails and he stopped to look at the displays of clothes and china and glass, and clocks. There were three cars parked outside. Three. The town would be over-run with cars soon. He’d even considered getting one himself, once he built up a healthier – legal – profit from the fishing. How wonderful it would be to be able to drive Emma somewhere – the moors perhaps? Or even as far as Cornwall. He had a fancy to see Padstow, see how the fishing fleets operated there. They made greater profits than he did, so he’d heard.
Deep in thought, Seth approached the door of Rossiter’s. The door was being held wide for someone coming out.
Emma. She had an armful of parcels and was laughing. She had a felt hat on her head – midnight blue, with feathers nodding in the breeze. Who was she buying the presents for? He made to walk towards her when his question was answered for him.
Mr Smythe from Nase Head House was with her. He was as close to Emma as he could be without touching her. And he was laughing, too, looking down at Emma. Happy in her company. Neither had noticed him in the throng of other shoppers going in and out.
So, that was the lie of the land. That was why Emma had been frosty to him when she’d taken his and Caroline’s coats. It was nothing to do with her having been jealous he was with Caroline. Emma had her feet well and truly under the table at Nase Head House, didn’t she?
Seth turned on his heel. He didn’t feel in the least bit like buying presents now. Or being charitable.
‘A clothes allowance?’ Emma said, after she’d settled two very excited little boys and a very tired baby girl for the night. ‘You want to give me that as a clothes allowance?’
Mr Smythe was dangling a £5 note between thumb and forefinger. He’d given a small present to every single member of staff, and treated them to a lavish Christmas lunch with wine and brandy, but she was certain she was the only one being given a clothes allowance. She didn’t know that she wanted it.
All she wanted at this moment was to get back to her room, because she was tired, too.
‘You do understand what a clothes allowance is, Emma?’
‘Of course I do. It’s for clothes to wear here, in the hotel. But I’ve got my black skirt and white blouses to wear with it …’
‘This is for occasions when you might be with the children. Outside the hotel. Occasions when I might also be with you.’
Emma wanted to talk to him about that – about the children. Isabelle was taking up more and more of her time now that she was walking. And beginning to talk. She could no longer put her in her cot, certain she’d lie down and go to sleep while she got on with something else. No, the child hollered for all she was worth if Emma did that these days.
‘I’d like to ask you something, Mr Smythe,’ Emma said.
‘Please do.’
‘Have there been any applicants for the postion of nanny? Someone who’s qualified for the post? You said you were advertising …’
‘None suitable,’ Mr Smythe interrupted.
He looked away from Emma as he spoke and she had a feeling he wasn’t being entirely truthful with her.
Perhaps it was time for her to look for somewhere else to work, which would force the issue of Mr Smythe engaging a trained nanny. Somewhere far away from Nase Head House. It had hurt her too much to see Seth with Caroline Prentiss – which she had done. They�
�d been sitting side by side at Mr Underwood’s dinner, chatting and laughing, and while Emma wished now she hadn’t spied on them through a crack in the door, she had, and so she knew. Often she wanted to wind back time. But no one could do that, could they? However rich they were, however important, and whatever dreadful thing had happened to them.
‘The money, Emma,’ Mr Smythe prompted.
Still Emma kept her hands clenched by her side.
If she took Mr Smythe’s £5 note then it would be like a shackle. More and more would be expected of her. More than she wanted to give. But to refuse him now, at Christmas, when he’d been so unexpectedly generous to everyone, would be churlish.
‘Would it hurt you so very much to take it?’ Mr Smythe asked.
Emma took a deep breath. Swallowed.
‘I’ll bring you the receipts,’ she said. ‘So you can see what I’ve spent your money on.’
And in the saying of it she felt the metaphorical shackle lock around her ankle. It looked like she was going to be here for some time yet.
Chapter Eighteen
For the Coronation of King George V, Mr Smythe threw a grand party, opening Nase Head House to the people of the town. Extra staff were taken on to bake scones and cakes. Anyone who had a spare idle moment between duties was put to making bunting from red, white and blue crêpe paper. Crockery was washed and cutlery polished to a high sheen. Timed tickets were issued to anyone who wanted one so that everyone didn’t come at once and a three-piece band had been hired.
Emma had never been so busy. Certainly, she’d never seen the hotel so full of visitors. In the six months between Christmas, when she’d been given her surprise clothes allowance, and June, many of Mr Smythe’s London friends had been coming down to Devon for long weekends, glad to be away from the hustle and the bustle of the city, but they were all back there now – some of them, no doubt, had lined the streets to see the new King and his Queen ride by in their golden coach.
Ruby, in particular, had been excited about the Coronation party. Over-excited almost. Especially when staff were told they could forego their uniforms for the day and wear their best clothes – jewels too, if they wanted to.
To Turn Full Circle Page 23
