by Laura Hile
“Mr. Starkweather is the secretary,” he explained. “Would you like to remove your hat?”
“Certainly not. This isn’t a friendly call.” Something about his expression caused her to explain. “Only among particular friends does a lady remove her hat—when she will be staying for a good while. Which I shall not be doing.”
“I see.” Again she saw his gaze sweep the room. They were quite alone now. “Would you care to sit down?” he offered. “I cannot imagine what is keeping Starkweather.’
Patrick should not have omitted the Mister, but Elizabeth refrained from correcting him. His reference to her hat brought an uneasy thought. “Mr. Gill,” she whispered, “is my hat straight?”
“You look fine.” He smiled. “Do you doubt my word? There are mirrors, as you see.”
The thought of a mirror made Elizabeth flinch, and this did not go unnoticed. “Did I say something wrong?” he whispered.
“I’ve been avoiding mirrors lately,” she confided. “They confirm that my worst fears are true.”
His eyes gleamed with sudden amusement. “The beautiful Miss Elliot? Never!”
Elizabeth could feel a blush rising. Why had she given this answer? Now he would press her to explain. And she would capitulate! “It’s my face,” she confessed. “The mirror tells me that I am old—old and drab and haggish.”
He grinned. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Nevertheless, it is perfectly true. I am, in fact, a spinster. I do not mind that—much. What I mind is looking like one.”
Patrick Gill chuckled. “Then we’d best avoid the green drawing room,” he said, “for there are five or six mirrors in there.”
“You will have your little joke. I could well end my days as an old maid.”
“Never.” His eyes were smiling into hers. “I have known you only a short while,” he continued, “and look at all the fellows who have lost their hearts to you.”
By this he meant Mr. Rushworth and Sir Henry. Elizabeth inclined her chin. “That is not amusing.”
Patrick Gill laid his hand on hers. “My dear,” he said, smiling all the more, “I think you’d be surprised at whose heart you have managed to capture.”
His eyes looked into hers with an expression of such intensity that Elizabeth found it difficult to breathe. “Why, Patrick,” she stammered, flushing a little, “are you … are you … making a proposal?”
Silence hung between them, punctuated only by the fearful hammering of her heart.
The impact of her words showed first in his eyes. Shock and surprise shot through their blue depths, and with this came uncertainty.
Fearfully she studied his pale countenance. She saw him take a ragged breath. And still she waited, longing desperately for the warm, friendly sparkle to return. But his eyes showed no merriment, only grave concern. She saw his lips part, but no words came.
The sound of an opening door caused them both to jump. A dark-haired man came forward. Elizabeth pulled her hand from Patrick Gill’s.
“Starkweather.” Mr. Gill’s voice was strangely rough.
Together they followed the secretary into Admiral McGillvary’s library. This was a noble room, but Elizabeth noticed little about it. She walked across the thick carpet as if in a daze. A leather-upholstered chair was pulled forward for her. She stood beside it, staring at the admiral’s massive mahogany desk.
Patrick Gill made a stiff bow and said, in a strained voice, “If you will excuse me for a moment, Miss Elliot,” he said. To her horror, he turned and strode away.
“But—Mr. Gill!” Elizabeth was startled by the bleat of her own voice. How small and shrill it sounded! “Where are you going? I thought you would remain!”
He turned, his hand on the latch of the door. “Starkweather will wait upon you while I am away,” he said.
“But—”
“All in good time, Miss Elliot.”
“Would you care to sit, Miss?” The secretary politely indicated the chair. Elizabeth remained where she was, gazing at Mr. Gill.
The forbidding expression in his eyes softened somewhat. “Sit down, my dear,” he said gently. “I shall return in a moment, I promise.”
Trembling, Elizabeth did as she was told. The door swung shut behind Patrick Gill.
~ ~ ~
McGillvary came into the passageway cursing beneath his breath. Of all the things to go wrong, surely this was the worst! “Pym!” he shouted, fighting his way out of Patrick Gill’s hateful tweed coat. “Pym!” He glanced down the empty passageway. Where the devil was Pym?
A door opened and Pym came hurrying forward, cradling in his arms a garment of deep blue.
McGillvary caught the glint of gold braid and winced. “Blast it all, Pym!” he exploded. “My plain coat! Not the dress uniform!”
Pym blanched. “But, sir,” he stammered, “you said you wanted the best blue coat, and I thought you meant—”
“My best plain blue coat. Confound it, Pym, I thought I made that perfectly clear.”
The little man began blubbering something incoherent, which McGillvary ignored. Over his shoulder he took a swift look at the clock. There was no time to rectify the error. He had promised Elizabeth that he would be away for only a moment, and this was one promise he meant to keep.
“Don’t just stand there, man,” he growled. “Help me into it, instead of carrying on like a goose.”
Pym sprang into action, fussing over the set of the coat on McGillvary’s shoulders and taking swipes at it with his brush. “Your hat, Admiral,” he said, offering it.
“Put it away, man. I’m only going as far as the library.”
But McGillvary knew he might as well be headed for the guillotine. He took the brush from Pym and used it for his hair, ignoring the man’s wail of protest. Soon Mr. Gill’s scraggly locks were smoothed into a more conformable style. Then, much as Elizabeth had done, McGillvary squared his shoulders and made for the library door.
Starkweather emerged. He came forward to report that all was in readiness and added, “She desires no refreshments, sir.”
“Of course she does not. This is, after all, a business meeting.” McGillvary studied his secretary’s expression. “She is comfortable, Starkweather?”
“She is, sir.”
“Thank you. That will be all.” McGillvary put his hand on the latch. Gad, he was trembling like a schoolboy! It would never do for Starkweather and Pym to see him this way—along with God only knew who else.
He glanced behind. Who knew better than him how to spy on the occupants of this house? And Elizabeth’s comment about a proposal—disaster! He’d made a mull of it, and she would surely hate him for it! But how could he have spoken then? Right there in the entrance hall before so many sets of prying eyes? Or ought he to have thrown caution to the wind?
Thus Patrick McGillvary stood before the door to his library, cursing himself for being a weakling. Again he put his hand to the latch, and again his hand trembled. This would never do. He would use the inner door!
Abruptly McGillvary turned and stalked down the hallway. Some battles were better faced privately.
~ ~ ~
Small and alone, Elizabeth sat in the leather chair. The secretary had departed, which was a relief because now she could get hold of herself. She fought to order her thoughts, but along every line of reasoning lurked danger. Patrick Gill she could not think about. She had made a fool of herself a few minutes ago, and she could only hope that he would forgive her. The man was a sincere friend, and she had ruined everything by mentioning a proposal.
She focused on Admiral McGillvary instead. Any minute now she would see him, if the secretary were to be believed. Her only comfort was that Patrick Gill would be present as well. Admiral McGillvary would sit in that large chair behind the desk, and he would speak. What would she say in return?
Her carefully-rehearsed speech, which she had recited to Mr. Gill, was gone from her mind. After all, what could she tell him? Surely he knew everythi
ng about her father’s situation! Elizabeth continued to study his chair. The man who would sit there was the man who stood between her father and debtor’s prison—or worse!
She then became aware of the ticking of a clock. All at once Elizabeth came out of her seat—she could sit and wait no longer. Her feet began to move of their own accord; she found herself pacing back and forth before the desk. No doubt he would read her a lecture on the evils of debt—as if he knew anything about it! And then what would happen? Nothing dishonourable, according to Patrick. How she prayed this would be true! Patrick had also mentioned a new payment contract, which was probably there on the desk.
Elizabeth glanced swiftly at the closed door and, after a moment’s hesitation, she edged closer to the desk. Cautiously she came around the corner of it. There! On one of the documents she spied her father’s name written in bold letters. After another look at the door, she reached over and carefully moved that page aside. Her father’s familiar signature greeted her.
“Dear God,” Elizabeth breathed.
It was the only prayer she could manage.
Again she paused to listen, but she heard no approaching footsteps. Again Elizabeth grew bold. She examined another of the documents and then another. She even found a copy of Mr. Lonk’s letter, the duplicate of the one in her reticule.
She bit her lip, thinking. It was all here, every bit of evidence against her father. What if she tore these pages up and threw them in the fire? It would then be her word against Admiral McGillvary’s!
Such exhilaration was short-lived. This would be the worst course of action she could take. With trembling fingers she replaced the copy of Mr. Lonk’s letter.
So intent was Elizabeth’s concentration that she did not hear the click of the latch on the library’s private inner door. This door, designed to resemble one of the bookcases behind the desk, took her completely by surprise.
She gave a gasp and backed away. In the shadowy passageway stood Admiral McGillvary.
Her friend, Mr. Gill, was nowhere to be seen.
If the admiral noticed her discomfort, he gave no sign of it. Without hesitation he stepped forward and turned to secure the door. Light from the windows caused the gold on his uniform to glitter.
He turned to face her fully. “Miss Elliot, I presume?” he said.
~ ~ ~
End of Book 2
~ ~ ~
Patrick and Elizabeth’s story concludes in
The Lady Must Decide
Mercy’s Embrace: Elizabeth Elliot’s Story
A Persuasion-based Regency romp in three parts
Thank you for spending many reading hours with Patrick and Elizabeth. If you enjoyed Mercy’s Embrace: So Lively a Chase, an honest review at Amazon or Goodreads is very welcome. I’d like to know what you think.
The more reviews an independently-published book receives, the easier it is for new readers to discover.
For news of my new releases, follow me
on my Amazon author page.
ALSO BY LAURA HILE
Darcy By Any Other Name
Mr. Darcy, trapped in Mr. Collins’ body?
What could be worse?
A delightful Pride and Prejudice body swap romance
A Very Austen Christmas
Heartwarming romance novellas for the holiday season
Marrying Well for Fun & Profit
Laughable advice from Jane Austen’s Sir Walter Elliot
If you enjoyed So Lively a Chase, you will probably enjoy this book by Robin Helm
Understanding Elizabeth
What would you do to get exactly what you want?
How much would you be willing to pay?
A Pride and Prejudice romance
About Laura Hile
My Regency novels feature intertwined plots,
cliffhangers, and laugh-out-loud humor.
And something to think about, too.
Escapist, sweep-away romantic
stories for thinking readers … like you!
The comedy I come by in my work as a teacher.
There’s never a dull moment with teens!
I live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband, sons, and a collection of antique clocks.
Visit me on-line at laurahile.com
Do stop by. I’d love to meet you.
For news of my new releases, follow me
on my Amazon author page.
* * *
[1]Sir Walter is indebted to Benjamin Franklin for his theory regarding the Deficiency of the Fluids (Advice on the Choice of a Mistress, 1745).
