‘Better, thank you.’ She managed to cram her foot back into her shoe.
‘I cannot imagine what you hoped to achieve by coming here today.’ His tone was brusque.
‘I thought I had done rather well.’
‘Your job is to charm your friends out of their money, not go grubbing around in the dirt like a scullion. If I had not been here, you might have broken your lovely neck…’
‘Fustian! You are making much of nothing.’
‘Miss Hemingford…’
‘What happened to Anne?’
‘I lost her in the sea.’
‘No, you did not. You turned your back on her.’
‘That would have been a very ungentlemanly thing to do.’ He managed a smile. ‘I would find it very hard to turn my back on you. You have a way of making people notice you…’
‘Oh, I know I am a hoyden.’ She laughed. ‘You may blame that on my upbringing.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He was still kneeling at her feet, but as there were no more chairs, it was either that or stand and he did not want to tower over her.
‘There is little to tell. Both my parents died in a coaching accident when I was quite small and Harry and I went to live with my grandfather at Sutton Park. He was an important man, too busy to worry over a couple of motherless children, and we were left very much to ourselves. Harry and I would have been close even if we had not been twins, so whatever he did I had to do too. His mischief was my mischief. Nothing much was done to teach me to be a lady until he went away to college and Aunt Bartrum was brought in to school me in the ways of society and bring me out.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘Every now and again the old Anne comes to the fore, making me the despair of my aunt.’
‘Is that why she is trying to make a match for you?’
‘Yes, she thinks I need someone strong, someone able to curb me, but I fear the men she thinks are suitable are those she likes herself and inevitably they prefer her. It is little wonder; she is sweet and gentle and knows exactly how to behave in society, while I am as you see me.’ She spread her hands to encompass her dishevelled appearance.
‘I like what I see.’
‘You do?’
‘Oh, indeed I do. You are lovely and a man would be a fool not to see it.’
‘Lovely and dirty. And you abhor dirt.’
He looked up at her and laughed. ‘There is that, of course.’
She joined in his laughter. ‘That is the pot calling the kettle black. You are as grubby as I am.’
He looked down at himself, half kneeling on the floor; it was a position he would have adopted if he had been suing for her hand in marriage and for a brief moment he was tempted, but he knew it could not be. He had chosen his life and he could not ask her to share it. It would be too hard, even for a stalwart like her, and if the gossip spread, she would find herself either pitied or the object of derision. His laughter faded and he rose to his feet. ‘You are right as always,’ he said, attempting to brush himself down.
She watched as he washed his hands in the bowl, then took it outside and emptied it before refilling it with clean water. ‘There, I will leave you to wash and tidy yourself. The cab will be here soon.’
The magical moment had gone, vanished as quickly as Tildy’s little friend had vanished and she was left so disappointed she was near to tears. Why could he not see what was in her mind? She supposed for the same reason she was not at all sure what was in his. Why could they not speak out?
‘Justin,’ she said slowly. ‘Why have you never married?’
‘I am married to my work.’
‘I do not believe it. I have heard—’ She stopped, seeing annoyance cloud his face. His eyes hardened and his jaw stiffened as if he were having trouble controlling his temper. ‘I am sorry, I should not have mentioned it.’
‘But you are obviously curious. You wish to know if I am capable of breaking off an engagement to be married. The answer to that, Miss Hemingford, is yes. Now, I will leave you to tidy yourself and will go outside to watch for the cab.’
She watched him fling himself out of the door and slam it behind him, her mind, body and emotions so confused she could not move. She had hoped for an explanation, not that curt admission, and now she had destroyed whatever had been between them. Slowly and painfully, not so much because of an aching foot as an aching heart, she rose, brushed as much of the dust out of her hair as she could, then went to rinse her hands and face in the bowl of water, drying herself on a piece of cloth Mrs Smith had left.
He returned, apparently once more composed, to tell her the cab was waiting outside. She slipped into her pelisse, crammed her bonnet on to her head and picked up her reticule and hobbled out to the cab, disdaining the offer of his arm. ‘I can walk.’
He handed her up and climbed in beside her. The cab jolted as it moved off on the uneven track. She hung on to the strap and said nothing. She continued to hang on to it even when they had reached the road proper and were bowling evenly down towards the centre of Brighton. Ten minutes later they drew up outside her door. He jumped down, let down the step himself and offered her his hand. She could not refuse it and stepped down on to her good foot first. When she had both feet on the ground, he offered her his arm to escort her to the door.
‘I think you should rest that foot for a day or two,’ he said, as the door was opened and Mrs Bartrum appeared.
‘There you are, Anne! Mrs Smith sent Tom to tell us what had happened.’ She hurried forward to take Anne’s other arm and help her indoors. ‘I was going to send the carriage for you, but he said his mother had already despatched a cab.’
‘It is nothing, Aunt. Everybody is making such a fuss. I shall be right as rain by tomorrow.’
Mrs Bartrum looked at the doctor, her eyebrows raised. ‘Well, Doctor, what have you to say?’
‘Miss Hemingford is probably right. It is a slight sprain that should heal itself in a day or two.’
‘And how did it happen?’
She was addressing Justin, but it was Anne who answered. ‘Aunt, I will tell you once we are inside.’
‘Then come in at once.’ She bustled her niece indoors, leaving the doctor staring after them.
Anne turned. ‘Doctor Tremayne, will you not come in for refreshment? I have not thanked you properly.’
‘Thanks are unnecessary. And Mrs Armistead will have my dinner waiting for me, so I will decline refreshment, if you do not mind. I will take the cab back.’ He doffed his hat. ‘Good day to you, ladies.’ And he was gone.
Anne allowed her aunt to help her indoors, knowing she was in for a roasting, not least because Mrs Bartrum had been obliged to send her apologies to Captain Gosforth for their non-appearance at his musical evening, an occasion that she had been anticipating with pleasure. Anne prepared to endure it stoically, to apologise and to try to make up for her aunt’s disappointment in any way she could.
The doctor returned just before noon the following day to see his patient, he was at pains to explain to Mrs Bartrum, who received him and accompanied him to the small downstairs sitting room where Anne was sitting with her foot up on a cushion, reading. She put her book down to greet him and assure him she had perfectly recovered, though when he took off her shoe to examine her foot, she could not repress a slight wince. ‘I am perfectly able to get about with a stick to lean on,’ she told him. ‘Before you know where you are, I shall be back at work.’
‘Do you think that would be wise?’ he asked mildly.
Remembering their conversation, what had been said and what had not been said, and his reaction, she knew it would be far from wise. But when had she ever taken wisdom into consideration when she wanted to do something? Wisdom might have stopped her going to the doctor’s house in the first place, wisdom would have prevented her from swimming to the cove; it would certainly have put a stop to their intimacy. ‘I have learned my lesson. I will not fall again,’ she said.
He put her foot back into her light kid shoe for her, aware
of the double entendre. ‘I am sure you will take great care not to,’ he said. ‘But these things happen. You can never be sure what is round the corner.’
‘If one went about forever worrying what was round the corner, one would never live,’ she retorted. ‘We have to take some risks.’
‘Of course,’ Aunt Bartrum put in. ‘But not unnecessary ones.’
‘I promise you I shall take great care,’ she told her, though she was looking at Justin. ‘I shall diligently watch where my steps are leading me.’ She laughed suddenly; it was a hollow sound, a little hysterical perhaps, and she stopped abruptly. ‘I am sure Dr Tremayne has put repairs to the stairs in hand.’
‘Indeed, I have.’
‘Then I shall purchase the paint and brushes and whatever else is necessary and have it all delivered to the house so that work can begin in three days’ time.’
He bowed. ‘Very well. I will have the painters ready.’
He had outfoxed her. She could not say she wanted to do the painting herself, not in front of her aunt, and he knew that. Besides, there was far too much for one person and the painters were necessary. But she meant to return to Cliff House. It was where she felt happiest.
He took his leave, knowing his outburst had not shaken her off, which was what he had intended at the time. He had thought that if she knew the worst about him, she would turn her back on him, and then he would be saved the anguish of wondering and wishing, but she had no more turned from him than he had from her. It just could not be done.
He had barely left her door, when he found himself face to face with Sophie and Captain Smollett. The Captain glowered at him, but Sophie gave him a dazzling smile and slipped her hand beneath his arm, to look up into his face with the smile of a tiger. ‘Still seeing the lady?’ she asked. ‘I had thought you would have given up…’
‘If you mean Miss Hemingford, she has sustained an injury. I have been treating her.’
‘An injury? Oh, dear, nothing serious, I hope?’
‘No, a twisted ankle. It will be better in a day or two.’
‘I am glad to hear it, but how did she come to do it?’
‘She put her foot through a rotting stair tread at Cliff House.’
‘Dear, dear! But I warned you it was a ruin, didn’t I?’
‘The stairs can be mended.’
‘Yes, but how many other hidden hazards are there? I should be very careful, Justin, very careful indeed.’
Was it a threat? It sounded like it, but what could she do? He put his hand on hers to disengage her arm, bowed and continued on his way. He could hear her laughter as he went.
Anne had gone to the window to see him leave and had witnessed the scene without being able to hear what was said, but it was clear to her that his sister-in-law still held him in thrall. If they had been engaged, why had he broken it off? Was he still in love with her? It was a sobering thought.
Two days later, Anne was able to walk without a stick and she and her aunt spent a happy morning choosing paint for the new hospital. Then they set off for Bracken Farm to make the postponed visit to Captain Gosforth, though this time there would be no music.
He received them amiably and made a great fuss of Anne, helping her to a chair and putting a small stool beneath her foot, though she assured him the injury was quite cured.
‘You cannot be too careful, Miss Hemingford,’ he said. When I received dear Mrs Bartrum’s message, I was all for rushing into town to be with you both, but she had said she would send word if I should be needed and as there was work to be done here, I waited.’ He turned to Mrs Bartrum. ‘I trust I did not disappoint you?’
‘Not at all, Captain.’ She smiled. ‘There was nothing you could have done and it turned out not to be as serious as I at first thought.’
‘I am very glad to hear it.’ He paused as a maidservant came in with a tea tray. She set everything out on a small table bedecked with a crisp white cloth and, at a signal from him, withdrew. ‘Mrs Bartrum, would you be so kind as to do the honours?’
Aunt Bartrum busied herself with the teapot and the cups while he watched admiringly. Anne was amused and could not believe her aunt was indifferent to him.
‘Tell me, Miss Hemingford,’ he went on, when they were each balancing a cup and saucer in their hands, ‘why were you at Cliff House that afternoon? I thought you had decided not to go near it?’
‘My aunt decided she would not, but that did not mean I concurred,’ she answered. ‘I went to see how Mrs Smith was faring. She has worked so hard and made a vast difference.’
‘But it is still in a state of disrepair?’
‘Not so much now. The roof tiles and window glass have been replaced and I believe the stairs repaired. It needs only painting before the furniture and equipment can be brought in and then we shall have our hospital.’
‘Splendid! It is a shame it was allowed to fall into such a state, but people were reluctant to take on the lease…’
‘Because of the ghost, you mean?’
‘Yes. I assume you saw no evidence of it?’
‘No, I did not, but something strange did happen.’
‘You did not tell me that,’ her aunt said.
‘I did not want to agitate you.’
‘Do you mean it was the ghost who pushed you down the stairs?’
‘No, no, Aunt. No one pushed me and besides, there is no malice in that house, none at all. If there is a ghost, it is a kindly one.’ She smiled at her aunt’s expression of shock and eager anticipation as she leaned forward to learn more. Anne proceeded to tell them about Tildy’s little friend. ‘It is nothing out of the ordinary, so Mrs Smith tells me,’ she finished. ‘Tildy is sometimes lonely and often conjures little playmates up from her imagination, but to her they are very real.’
Aunt Bartrum shuddered. ‘I do not know how you can go near the place, Anne. You have quite overset me.’
‘Oh, dear lady, do not be alarmed,’ The Captain said, taking her cup from her trembling hand and setting it down on the table. ‘Do let me show you round my house; it has no ghosts, I assure you.’ He offered his hand and she took it to rise. ‘Miss Hemingford, would you like to accompany us?’
Anne smiled; the last thing he wanted was her company. ‘No, I think I shall stay here and rest my foot, if you do not mind.’
They were gone a long time. Anne could occasionally hear their footsteps and doors shutting and sometimes a light laugh and when they returned, her aunt had shining eyes and bright pink cheeks. ‘It is a lovely house, Anne,’ she said, resuming her seat. ‘So comfortably furnished, so elegant. You should have come too.’
‘Another time, perhaps.’
‘Yes, of course,’ the Captain said. ‘You will always be welcome, especially if my hopes are fulfilled.’ He looked straight at Mrs Bartrum as he spoke and left Anne in no doubt that he had again proposed.
‘Oh, dear, look at the time.’ Mrs Bartrum jumped to her feet, compelling him to rise too. ‘We really must be going home. I promised Mrs Barry I would attend her soirée this evening. I think there is to be an announcement of Jeanette’s betrothal to Lieutenant Harcourt. Her little adventure seems to have brought it to a head.’
Reluctantly he ordered their carriage to be brought round to the front of the house from the stables where the horses were being rested, and escorted them to it. ‘I shall see you again very soon,’ he said, handing Mrs Bartrum up. ‘Then I shall hope for my answer.’ He turned to Anne with a polite smile. ‘Miss Hemingford, if you have any influence at all, I beg you to use it on my behalf.’
‘So, he has proposed again,’ Anne said as they left the farm behind. ‘And from what he said, you are still holding out against him.’
‘How can I think of that when you are not yet settled? What would Harry think of me?’
‘What has it to do with Harry?’
‘I promised him I would find you a husband.’
‘That was a foolish promise, Aunt Georgie. I shall have words with him
when we get home. You must both have known I would be too headstrong to fall in with your scheming.’ She turned to smile reassuringly at her aunt. ‘And it is as well I am, for by now I would be a very disappointed woman. Captain Gosforth has eyes only for you.’
‘So he told me.’
‘And what do you think of him?’
‘He is a fine gentleman. I like him well enough.’
‘Enough to accept him?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘I remember you said you liked a man to be persistent as a measure of his regard. He certainly seems that.’
‘Yes, he is, isn’t he? I begin to believe he is in earnest.’
‘Of course he is in earnest. But he is not the only one, there is the Major…’
‘Oh, he is too puffed up for me and too influenced by his mother. She is a friend, but I do not think I should like her for a relation.’
Anne laughed. ‘I am sure you did not tell him that.’
‘No, of course not. I said we should not suit.’
‘And did he accept that?’
‘I believe so. I think he was not serious and prefers you, after all.’
‘Then he will be doubly disappointed, because I know we should not suit. Aunt, do please give up this crusade on my behalf. If I want a husband, I think I can manage to find one for myself. I am sure Harry will understand.’
They were approaching the town and there was still an hour or so of daylight left. ‘Aunt, do you mind if we go to Cliff House? I want to see how Mrs Smith is doing.’
‘Very well, but I shall stay in the carriage. Nothing at all will persuade me inside.’
Anne asked the coachman to turn up the lane and leaned forward in her seat to catch her first glimpse of the house, then she gasped with dismay. Plumes of smoke spiralled above the trees. ‘It is on fire. Oh, Daniels, do make haste.’
Almost before the coach had stopped, a fair way from the burning building because the coachman did not want to spook the horses, she was out of it and sprinting. ‘Anne, do take care!’ Aunt Bartrum called to her. ‘Remember your promise.’
The words were carried away on the breeze that was fanning the flames. In any case, Anne would have paid them no heed. Her only concern was for Mrs Smith. Had she been in the house? Had she got out safely? Who else might have been inside? Mrs Armistead? Tildy? Justin? Terror filled her whole body, so that she did not feel the increasing heat as she battled her way towards the kitchen door.
Marrying Miss Hemingford Page 21
