Latimer was mystified. ‘What the devil has that got to do with it?’ he asked angrily.
Straightening up, she gave him a knowing look. ‘Only that every second one of them is a blessed sketch of Miss Georgina,’ she said airily. ‘Bits of her face, her eyes, her nose—couldn’t help noticin’, havin’ to pick ’em all up, you know.’
He let out a curt laugh. ‘My good woman!’ he protested. ‘I am an artist, after all!’
She gathered up the soiled linen and tossed it into her basket. ‘Can’t see as how that stops you being sweet on her.’ Then, placing her hands on her hips and lifting her chin, she challenged him. ‘Seems to me like mebbe you’re running away!’
‘And it seems to me that you are a touch impertinent!’ returned Latimer in astonishment, as he turned to leave the room. ‘How I choose to spend my time is none of your business and I’ll thank you to remember that—just get on with the job that you are paid for!’
‘I’ll tell her you’ve left then, shall I?’ retorted Annie rudely as he made for the stairs but, with a shrug, he ignored her and carried on down to the sitting room, intending to collect the remainder of his possessions.
Gathering up his artwork, he saw with a grimace that the dratted woman was quite right—most of the sketches were of Georgina. He sat down heavily, staring in painful fascination at the countless images that he had idly and, it seemed, quite unconsciously, created. How could he possibly pack up, move on and forget her? He had spent the entire night tossing and turning in his bed, wrestling with the dual problems of how to extricate himself from this ludicrous corner he had boxed himself into and, at the same time, still manage to retain some semblance of self-respect. It was fortunate that he had been rather more skilful at planning military manoeuvres, he reflected dismally, for it was becoming increasingly clear that far too little thought had been spent on this escapade.
He had very soon reached the conclusion that the only possible solution to the whole abominable mess was to come clean and beg forgiveness in the time-honoured way—always supposing that a suitable opportunity presented itself before the Cornwell female appeared on the scene. Then, with a heavy sigh, he realised that there was no way that he could possibly know when that unfortunate meeting was likely to take place—always supposing that it hadn’t already done so. In any event, after his abominable behaviour yesterday evening, he doubted whether Georgina would be prepared to receive him at all.
When, some time later, Annie Jacklin entered, carrying her brooms and dusters, he still had not moved from his seat. Eyeing him warily, she sensibly elected to hold her tongue but, nevertheless, proceeded to flounce round the room, flicking her duster over the furniture and straightening the Blanchards’ possessions, obstinately reasoning that he had instructed her to get on with her job and that was just what she was doing.
As he gradually became aware of the flurry of activity about him, Latimer forced himself out of his reverie and, with a rueful smile on his face, watched the scrawny little woman’s deft movements. All at once he had a brainwave and leapt to his feet in great excitement, causing the startled Annie to knock a china candlestick clean off the mantelshelf.
She gave a wail of dismay as the ornament hit the marble hearth and broke into several pieces.
‘Oh, now look!’ she moaned, falling on her knees to gather up the shards of pottery. ‘That’ll come out of my wages!’
‘No, it won’t,’ Latimer assured her. ‘It was my fault. I will pay for it.’
He bent forward to help her to her feet, wresting the broken pieces from her fingers and tossing them into the waste bin. ‘Don’t worry about it. Sit down, I want to talk to you.’
He motioned her into a nearby chair and, after casting a nervous glance at him, the woman reluctantly complied, carefully perching herself on the utmost edge of the seat, ready for instant flight.
‘I’m not going to bite you!’ laughed Latimer, returning to his own seat.
‘Never thought you was,’ returned Annie, tossing her head defiantly. ‘Thought you was leavin’, anyway!’
‘Possibly I am but, for the moment, I have something I wish to ask you.’
He remained silent for several more moments, surveying the apprehensive woman in front of him, a deep furrow on his brow. He was not altogether sure of the wisdom of engaging in any sort of conversation with a serving-woman and it was totally out of character of him to do so, but there were things he needed to know and he felt certain that she would be able to furnish him with all the information that he wanted.
‘You were perfectly correct in what you said earlier,’ he told her, adopting what he hoped was a light and careless manner, in order not to frighten her off completely. ‘I have to admit that I have developed—how shall I put it?—certain feelings for Miss Cunningham.’
He smiled ruefully as Annie grinned and gave a satisfied nod, then went on, ‘Unfortunately, it is by no means the straightforward matter that it probably seems to you. There are certain obstacles which, I am sorry to say, I was unwilling to confront until you accused me of running away.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘But, thanks to your spirited intervention—’ he shot her a speaking glance ‘—I now see that it just won’t do.’
For a moment Annie said nothing, since she was not exactly sure what part she was expected to play in this game. Then, as Latimer seemed to be expecting some sort of response, she offered tentatively, ‘If there’s anythin’ I can do, sir…’
‘That is very good of you,’ replied Latimer. ‘And it is just possible that there is a little something you can do for me. You will no doubt have heard that the Cornwells have returned to the village?’
At this Annie Jacklin gave a broad smile and, with some eagerness, she quickly informed him that the news about Miss Nell and the vicar was all over the village and that everyone was on tenterhooks waiting to hear old man Cornwell’s decision.
‘Should’ve let ’em marry last year,’ she declared. ‘We all knew what was goin’ on—the poor young Reverend’s been beside himself these last few weeks—time it was sorted.’
‘You don’t happen to work for the Cornwells, too, I suppose?’ Latimer enquired hopefully, but Annie shook her head.
‘Do a bit of washin’ sometimes, when they’ve got a houseful,’ she replied. ‘But one of my girls happens to work in the kitchens—so I generally gets to know what’s goin’ on. Miss Nell and Miss Georgina have been great friends for years, o’course, and Becky tells me stuff.’
Latimer spent a moment or two carefully considering his next move, then, making up his mind, he asked, ‘Would it be at all possible for your daughter to get a note to Miss Cornwell, do you suppose?’
At once the woman bristled and her beady eyes grew wary. ‘Why’d you want to go sendin’ notes to her?’ she demanded suspiciously. ‘Thought it was Miss Georgina you was sweet on!’
‘Oh, it is, Annie, you may be sure of that!’ Latimer assured her fervently. ‘But I have reason to hope that Miss—Nell will be able to assist me in my present difficulty and, if she can…’ A sudden glow appeared in his eyes and his mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Do this for me, Annie,’ he beseeched her. ‘You won’t regret it, I promise you!’
The minutes ticked slowly by as, head on one side, her lips pursed in concentration, Annie Jacklin studied him. Filled with anxious impatience, Latimer found himself clenching his fists and holding his breath until, to his immense relief, the woman eventually gave a brief nod and said briskly, ‘You give me the note, sir, and I’ll see what our Lucy can do, but, I have to tell you, sir, that she’s only a scullery maid and it won’t be that easy for her.’
‘And you will tell her that this has to be kept secret, won’t you?’ Latimer adjured her, as he scribbled a few hasty words on to a piece of paper. Carefully folding the missive, he then lit a taper and, holding a stick of sealing wax beneath its flame, allowed a blob of wax to fall across the edges of the folded paper, thereby sealing its contents from prying eyes. Then, to
Mrs Jacklin’s astonishment, he removed a heavy gold signet ring from the inside pocket of his jacket and pressed its monogram firmly on to the melted wax.
He looked up and caught her staring, wide-eyed, at the ring. ‘A secret, remember, Mrs J.,’ he reminded her gently. ‘And I won’t forget your part in this, you have my word. If you keep your counsel, you will not go unrewarded.’
She shrugged her narrow shoulders. ‘I’m only doin’ it for Miss Georgina,’ she returned bluntly. ‘Her poor old pa were that kind to me when my boys went off to the war—I wouldn’t want to see her hurt in any way, sir.’
Latimer stood up and passed her the letter. ‘No more would I, Annie,’ was his firm rejoinder. ‘That is precisely why this note is so important. It must not fall into the wrong hands—only Miss Cornwell’s. If Lucy cannot give it to her personally, you must return it to me, do you understand?’
Annie carefully pushed the letter deep into her apron pocket and nodded. ‘As long as you’re sure it’s all for Miss Georgina’s sake, sir.’
‘Cross my heart, Annie,’ he assured her. ‘And, if this little venture is successful, I promise you that I have several other ideas concerning Miss Georgina’s future happiness.’ He hesitated for a moment before enquiring eagerly, ‘I suppose you didn’t happen to see her when you passed the house earlier?’
‘She’s abed with a cold, sir—got soaked yesterday, so Becky tells me.’ Picking up her work tools, she turned to go. ‘I usually pop in to their kitchen to share a cup of tea on my way down—what with my basket bein’ so heavy and all.’
At her words Latimer’s eyes filled with alarm. ‘Have they sent for the doctor?’ he asked anxiously. ‘They’re certain that it’s only a cold?’
‘So Becky tells me, sir,’ she answered, hiding a smile as she caught the worried frown on his face. ‘She’ll look after her, don’t you fret, sir. Been with the family ever since they moved in with old Mr Cunningham, she has. Told me she made Miss Georgina go back to bed on account of that there Mr Pickens arrivin’ so early—brings nothin’ but bad news, he does. Becky reckoned Miss Georgina had quite enough to put up with without havin’ to sit listenin’ to his claptrap as well!’
Well, he certainly won’t be bringing bad news today, mused Latimer, as he watched her leave the room. Then, with a heavy sigh, he slowly began to unpack the bits and pieces that he had so impetuously stowed into his valise earlier.
He wished he knew what was happening up at Westcotes and exactly how the Cunninghams would greet the news that Marcus Pickens brought with him. If only he and Georgina had still been friends, he was certain that she would have been only too eager to tell him about the splendid offer they had received for her father’s book collection. But as things stood, he thought wryly, he must suppose that he was now the last person in whom she would confide. If only Eleanora Cornwell agreed to his request, he might, perhaps, be given a chance to redeem himself. Otherwise, what other course was open to him?
The discordant jangling of the doorbell at the front of the house rudely interrupted these bleak thoughts but, hearing Annie at work out in the hallway, he ignored its summons and presumed that she would attend to the matter. Then, suddenly transfixed, he became aware of the sound of Sophie’s excited chatter, accompanied by another female voice. His heart leapt, but sank immediately as he registered that the second voice was not, as he had hoped, Georgina’s, but her sister Katharine’s. With a puzzled frown, he was on his way to open the sitting room door when the pair entered, accompanied by the two boisterous retrievers.
He could see that both girls’ faces were agog with hardly suppressed excitement but, unfortunately, their jubilant manner had clearly transferred itself to the two large dogs, which were dashing round the room, alternately chasing their own tails and leaping up at Latimer, trying to lick his face, much to Katharine’s amusement.
‘Get down, you pesky creatures,’ he commanded sternly. ‘Down, I say! Sit!’
‘Oh, Mr Latimer, you are so clever!’ Katharine clapped her hands in astonishment as the animals ceased their antics and obediently sank to their hindquarters. ‘They never do a thing I tell them!’
Latimer smiled. ‘You must be firmer, my dear. Just let them know who’s in charge. And now, ladies.’ He scanned their bright faces. ‘To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’
Katharine giggled. ‘Is it a pleasure, Mr Latimer? Truly? Mama wasn’t at all sure that we ought to interrupt you at your work, but Sophie insisted, you see, and Gina has caught a chill, so I thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t mind just for a few minutes.’
‘I’m perfectly sure that I wouldn’t object to your company for much longer than just a few minutes,’ said Latimer gravely, hiding a smile. ‘But you still have not told me exactly why you have come to see me.’
‘It’s my book, Mr Latimer!’ Sophie burst out, then quickly corrected herself. ‘Papa’s book, I mean—I have to have it back! The men are coming soon and I shan’t be able to look at it at all, after that…’ She gulped and, as her voice trailed away, tears began to well up in her eyes.
At a complete loss, Latimer turned to Katharine. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand. What men are coming?’
‘Mr Templeton’s men,’ she answered gleefully. ‘Mr Pickens came first thing this morning and informed Mama that he has found a buyer for Papa’s entire collection and you’ll never believe the amount we’ve been offered!’
His face clearing as the gist of her words sank in, Latimer held up his hand to silence her. ‘I really must caution you to keep that sort of information to yourself, my dear,’ he said quickly. ‘I am sure that your mother would not want you to advertise such a very private matter.’
Katharine had the grace to blush but, still chuckling, admitted that she supposed he was right, adding, ‘Gina is always telling me that I’m far too outspoken. It is good news, though, isn’t it?’
‘Very good news,’ agreed Latimer with a smile, immediately turning his attention back to the still woebegone Sophie. ‘Don’t look so sad, little one,’ he pleaded. ‘Perhaps this—Mr Templeton—will not want the pyramid book. He’s hardly likely to know of its existence, after all. I’m sure your Mama will allow you to keep it for yourself.’
She raised a pair of shocked and tear-stained eyes to him. ‘But that would be dishonest, Mr Latimer,’ she said indignantly. ‘Mama would never allow that. Mr Pickens said the entire collection!’
Latimer was lost for words. No sooner had he dealt with one problem than another one presented itself and he was hard pressed to see an immediate answer to this particular dilemma but, as he lifted the book down from the bookshelf, a sudden thought struck him.
‘This book is far too heavy for either of you to carry all the way up the lane,’ he said. ‘I will bring it myself—if you will allow me to accompany you?’
Katharine was, of course, only too happy to agree to this sensible suggestion and was in the middle of expressing her gratitude when Sophie interrupted her.
‘But my picture, Mr Latimer,’ she said anxiously. ‘You will still finish it, won’t you? Otherwise, I shan’t have anything at all!’
Latimer assured her that the little sketch was almost complete and, after promising to deliver it to her very shortly, he ushered the two sisters out of the door into the sunshine.
Chapter Ten
In spite of her daughter’s protests, Mrs Cunningham had insisted on moving Georgina into Sophie’s small bedroom at the front of the house for the duration of her indisposition, worried that any infection might spread itself amongst the other members of the household. The very recent experience of her late husband’s sickness and sudden death had left her with a great fear of even the slightest sign of fever.
‘You must stay in bed and keep warm,’ she adjured her daughter, tucking a hot brick under the blankets. ‘Becky will bring you up a glass of lemon barley directly and I will tell the others not to disturb you.’
‘But I’m really not tha
t sick!’ protested Georgina, who loathed the thought of being cooped up all day in Sophie’s tiny bedroom. ‘I promise you that I just have the headache and feel a little shivery—hardly surprising after yesterday’s soaking!’
‘Nevertheless,’ her mother soothed her, ‘’tis better to be safe than sorry. You just be a good girl and stay here until tomorrow morning and then we’ll see.’
Reluctantly, Georgina agreed to Mrs Cunningham’s request and, lying back on the pillows, she obediently closed her eyes. Her head did ache, to be sure, but she felt that this was most likely due to having lain awake for the best part of the previous night, worrying over Latimer’s strange behaviour and his non-attendance at the evening service.
Furthermore, as soon as her mother had come up to impart Mr Pickens’s exciting tidings to her, it had not taken long for Georgina to realise that Saturday’s impetuous visit to Sir Arthur might now prove to have been completely unnecessary and that, if her uncle was true to his word, which she had no reason to doubt, he could well be descending upon them at any minute and the mere thought of that interview was enough to send her into a feverish state of agitation.
Would Mrs Cunningham refuse to receive him? she wondered anxiously, then immediately discarded that thought; she knew that her mother was far too well bred to act in such an impolite manner. The likelihood was that she would thank Sir Arthur graciously for any offer he made and, now that she had the promise of this London book-collector’s generous remittance, simply inform him that his assistance was no longer required.
With a wistful smile Georgina recalled the joyful expression that had appeared on her uncle’s face at her unexpected arrival. She was perfectly sure that she would have enjoyed the opportunity to further her acquaintance with the tall, gentle man who had reminded her so much of her beloved father. Rupert, too, would benefit greatly from the influence of an older relative in his life, for his behaviour recently had become increasingly unruly. Only Latimer seemed to have any calming effect on him lately, she realised with something of a shock, remembering how quickly her brother had responded to Latimer’s slight frown and almost imperceptible shake of the head at the boy, following a particularly embarrassing incident of Rupert’s lack of conduct during yesterday’s dinner. Even the dogs seemed to regard the impossible fellow with a wary respect, she thought crossly. Why, oh, why did he have to be such a mystery? Her mind returned once more to dwell on the vexatious problem of Latimer’s inexplicable departure directly after the meal.
Dorothy Elbury Page 13
