chapter Five
Jasper spent the following week doing everything he could to distract his cousin’s thoughts from Susannah. It seemed to work—he even persuaded Gerald to accompany him to the theatre rather than attend the card party in Royal Crescent. Gerald was happy enough to go with him and he never once mentioned Miss Prentess. Perversely, she was rarely out of Jasper’s thoughts. He told himself it was the unanswered questions he had about the woman and nothing to do with their last exchange, the way she had boldly returned his gaze, challenged him to flirt with her. That merely showed how dangerous she was to innocents like Gerald.
He sent his valet off to make discreet enquiries about Miss Prentess. Peters was a loyal, intelligent employee who had proved his worth over the years in ferreting out secrets others would prefer to keep hidden. But on this occasion he was unsuccessful.
‘No one will say a word against the lady,’ he reported back. ‘The men know nothing, and the women—the maidservants I have spoken with—they have nothing but praise for her.’ The valet shook his head. ‘Odd, very odd, if you asks me, m’lord. There’s usually some juicy gossip to be had.’ He coughed. ‘There was one thing, though.’
‘Yes?’
‘Friday morning, my lord. You asked me to lay out your riding dress because you was going riding with Mr Barnabus, but then you had a message from the young gentleman, sir, saying as how he was indisposed.’
‘Yes, I remember that,’ said Jasper, a touch impatiently. ‘What of it?’
Peters fixed his eyes on some spot on the wall and said woodenly, ‘I saw him walking with Miss Prentess that self-same morning. They was in Henrietta Street. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, and wouldn’t have mentioned it, only you wanted to know about the young lady, and I thought that mighty odd...’
Yes, very odd indeed, thought Jasper, and when he had tackled Gerald, his cousin looked sheepish and laughed it off.
‘Oh, well, you know how it is, cos,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d be a trifle vexed if you knew why I had cried off, but Miss Prentess asked me particularly to come with her.’
Gerald apologised and they left it at that, but Jasper didn’t like to think his cousin was keeping secrets from him, and even less did he like the thought that Susannah was encouraging him to do so.
Jasper had even taken to walking out every morning and keeping a watch for Miss Prentess’s carriage. He had been rewarded just once, on a misty morning when he saw the vehicle bowling along Horse Street. He had quickened his pace and was just in time to see it sweep across the bridge and turn on to the Wells Road. He did not know if Miss Prentess was inside on that occasion, nor did he have any idea of its destination. All he knew was that both Miss Prentess and her aunt were in Bath for the concert the same evening.
He had seen her almost as soon as he entered the Assembly Rooms. Her gown of kingfisher-blue satin was an unusual choice for an unmarried lady, but he had to admit it suited her, contrasting with the gleaming golden curls piled around her head. He tried to approach her at the interval, but she was at the centre of a crowd and not all Jasper’s considerable address could separate Miss Prentess from her friends and admirers. Instead he escorted Mrs Wilby out of the concert room in search of refreshment.
‘We have not seen you since the afternoon at Royal Crescent,’ she remarked, encouraged to speak by his silence.
‘No, I have been rather busy,’ he handed her a glass of wine. ‘I thought I saw Miss Prentess, however. Early this morning, heading out of Bath.’
If he had not been watching closely he would have missed the slight tremor of the widow’s hand as she held the wine to her lips. Her answer, when it came, was composed.
‘You are mistaken, my lord. That was merely our carriage, going off to collect provisions.’
‘You send your servants in your own carriage, ma’am? Is that not rather extravagant? How far do they have to travel?’ He added helpfully, ‘I saw it heading off on the Wells Road.’
The hunted look in the widow’s eyes convinced him he was on to something.
‘N-not far, but the vegetables are so much better, you know, from out of town.’ Her fan fluttered nervously. ‘We should be going back, my lord. The concert will be starting again soon and I do so dislike latecomers...’
He escorted her back to her seat and as soon as he moved away she had her head close to her niece and was talking animatedly. Jasper stood watching, until Susannah looked up and met his eyes. Her face was impassive but he was close enough to read a frown in her clear gaze. He smiled and inclined his head, but she immediately looked away, and when the concert ended she whisked her aunt out of the building before he could approach them.
* * *
‘If mine was a suspicious nature I should say Miss Prentess was avoiding me,’ he murmured, thinking back to that concert as he strode along High Street a few days later. It was Tuesday. Gerald was intent upon going to Royal Crescent that evening and Jasper could offer no good reason why he should not do so. ‘Well, I shall accompany Gerald this evening. She can hardly avoid me in her own drawing room.’
A familiar figure on the other side of the road caught his eye.
‘Charles!’ As the man stopped, Jasper crossed the road to greet him. ‘What the devil are you doing in Bath?’
‘I might ask you the same thing,’ retorted Charles Camerton, taking Jasper’s hand in a friendly grip.
‘Family matters,’ said Jasper vaguely. ‘Are you staying at the York or the Christopher?’
‘Devil a bit, they are too far above my touch,’ replied Charles. ‘I am at the White Hart. I have been visiting my godmother in Radstock. Doing the pretty, you know, in the hopes that she will die soon and leave me her fortune.’
Since Jasper knew Charles to be very fond of his godmother, he grinned at this.
‘Then what are you doing in Bath?’ he asked again.
‘She thinks that a treatment at the hot baths will do her good. I am here to seek out lodgings for her.’ He glanced up at the lowering sky. ‘Although I have persuaded her she should not attempt the journey for another month at least. We are barely out of February and it looks like snow is on the way.’
‘So you are here for a few days?’ Jasper said, an idea growing in his mind. ‘Will you dine with me this evening?’
‘With pleasure,’ returned Charles, promptly. ‘There is little else to do in a watering place populated by the old and the infirm.’
Jasper smiled. ‘Oh, I think I can find you some entertainment. You are fond of cards, I believe...’
* * *
‘Miss Prentess!’
Susannah gave her hand to Gerald and he raised it to his lips.
‘Welcome, sir.’ She looked behind him. ‘You are alone?’
‘Yes. I am sorry I missed your last party.’
She smiled at him as she gently withdrew her fingers from his grasp.
‘I do not expect you to attend us every week.’
‘But I like to come.’ He glanced around the drawing room and lowered his voice. ‘I like to help where I can, Susannah, which is why I was so pleased you allowed me to escort you to see Odesse the other day.’
‘I hope your mama will like the lace you ordered for her.’
‘I am sure she will, and if she tells her friends that may bring in more orders.’
Susannah smiled at him.
‘It may indeed. You see, you have been a great help, Mr Barnabus—’
‘Gerald,’ he corrected her. ‘Are we not friends enough now to dispense with formalities?’
‘Gerald, then.’ She shook off the twinge of guilt at allowing such familiarity. She had made it plain they could only ever be friends, after all. Then, hating herself for succumbing, she asked the question that had been in her mind ever since he arrived. ‘Has Lord Markham left Bath?’
‘No, he is still here and means to look in presently. But enough of this. Are you free? Will you play picquet with me?’
She shook her head.
‘You know you always lose.’
‘Tonight I feel lucky,’ he declared. ‘And I have improved vastly since we last played. Mrs Logan said so.’
She laughed at that.
‘Very well, then, but do not expect me to hold back. I shall show you no mercy!’
* * *
In the event, mercy was not necessary. Susannah had chosen a table where she could watch the door, and such was her distraction that Gerald won the first game. The second was closer, but the entrance of more visitors caused her to lose track of the discards and she was defeated again.
‘I told you I had improved,’ chortled Gerald, sweeping the coins from the table.
‘You are very right,’ agreed Susannah, getting up. ‘But perhaps you will oblige me by taking your winnings to the loo table and giving my aunt a chance to recoup.’
With a smile she excused herself, glancing at the clock. It was gone ten, there would be very few visitors arriving now. Even as she thought this the door opened and Lord Markham walked in. His appearance made her spirits leap most shamefully. Susannah could not deny that she had been looking out for him, as she had done in vain the previous week. He might be suspicious of her, and cause her nerves to flutter alarmingly, but any party where he was not present was an insipid affair. When she had seen him at the concert she had wanted so much to speak to him, but Aunt Maude had warned her that he had asked awkward questions, and she knew it would be folly to linger and risk further interrogation. All such thoughts were bundled into the back of her mind now as she moved forwards to greet him, wondering why it was that he was not charmed by her smile like every other man in the room.
‘Lord Markham.’
She held out her hand but, despite steeling herself, his touch still sent a tremor of excitement running up her arm, and when his lips brushed her fingers the excitement flooded through her before settling into an indescribable ache somewhere low in her body.
‘Your servant, Miss Prentess. I have brought someone to meet you. May I present Mr Charles Camerton? He is an avid card player.’
‘Indeed?’ She subjected the newcomer to a swift appraisal. He looked genial enough, some years older than the viscount, she guessed. His figure was good, his clothes elegant and his curling brown hair was fashionably short. A man used to the London salons, perhaps. ‘I hope we will not disappoint you, sir. This is merely a friendly little gathering.’
‘Those are the best sort, Miss Prentess. I am here with every intention of enjoying myself.’
‘Then what will you play, sir? I could find two more players, if you and Lord Markham would like to play whist, or...’
Mr Camerton looked around the room until his eyes came to rest upon Kate, who was at that moment opening two fresh packs of cards.
‘Vingt-et-un,’ offered Susannah, following his gaze. ‘It is very popular.’
‘And it is my favourite game. If you will excuse me?’
With a practised smile and a bow he moved off towards Kate’s table.
‘Which leaves you with me.’
The viscount’s low murmur was like a feather on her skin. She glanced at her arm to see if it was covered in tell-tale goose-bumps. Thankfully there were none.
‘I am sure we can find something—’
‘I thought we might play picquet. You and I,’ he added, so there should be no misunderstanding.
‘Thank you, sir, but I think not.’
‘Afraid?’
She would not rise to his taunt. Instead she replied frankly, ‘Your cousin tells me you are an expert at the game. I will not risk it.’
She looked about her, hoping to distract him. ‘My aunt is playing macao and there is room at her table...’
‘If you were a true gambler you would not be able to resist the challenge.’
Her chin went up.
‘If you were a true gentleman you would not press me so.’
That only made him smile more.
‘Is it the game that frightens you, or me?’
Her cheeks flamed at his quiet words. She could feel the heat flooding through her and her heart was beating wildly, making her breathless. Her senses were heightened, as if by a sudden danger. She was enveloped by his closeness. She wanted to flee, but was rooted to the spot. She must be rational. This was her drawing room, they were surrounded by people. What possible harm could come to her here? Yet everything around them was muted. It was as if they were alone, shut off from the world. She could smell the tangy scent of him, sandalwood and lemon and a faint, indefinable fragrance that she now recognised was his alone.
Her eyes were fixed on his chin, on that mobile mouth with its finely sculpted lips and the faint creases at each side that deepened when he smiled. She dare not look higher and instead dragged her eyes down and stared at the diamond winking from the folds of his neck cloth.
‘Well, Miss Prentess?’
He was so close she felt his breath on her brow, soft as a caress.
This must stop. Now. Gathering all her strength she drew herself up and forced herself to look him in the face.
Well, she fixed her eyes somewhere around his left temple.
‘It is not fear, Lord Markham,’ she said coolly. ‘It is common sense. One should never take unnecessary risks.’
She turned to walk away and he touched her arm.
‘One more thing. You were seen with Gerald on Friday morning.’
She spun back, quickly schooling her features into a look of haughty unconcern.
‘What is so wrong about that, my lord?’
‘He cried off from an appointment with me to accompany you.’
She had not known that, and regretted it, but she was determined the viscount should not know it. She summoned a glittering smile, as if it was her victory.
‘That is unfortunate, of course, but it is no concern of mine.’
The tightening of his jaw told her he was angry. With a slight nod she turned and walked away from him, the knowledge that he was watching her sending a ripple of unease along the length of her spine.
* * *
‘Well, Camerton, what did you think of Bath’s latest hell?’ asked Jasper.
They were walking away from Royal Crescent, keeping up a brisk pace to offset the icy wind that whipped around them, tugging at their coats. Charles Camerton laughed at Jasper’s description.
‘Mrs Wilby’s soirée is no hell, my friend. The stakes are so low they would be ridiculed in town.’
‘True, they are unlikely to arouse the interest of the magistrates,’ agreed Jasper. ‘You saw no instances of foul play?’
‘None. Mrs Wilby and her niece are canny players, as sharp as any females I have ever encountered.’
‘Aye, and they favour the games where skill and a good memory will aid them. What of Mrs Logan? I noticed you spent a great deal of time at her table.’
Camerton grinned.
‘With such paltry sums at stake I had to find something to entertain me! She is different and I like that. I suspect she was a professional gamester at some time. She gave me a run for my money. However...’ he patted
his pocket ‘...I came away the richer, so I am not complaining.’
‘Nor do the other men that play there, but I am convinced they rarely win.’
‘Ah, but they are not there for the cards. They are there to worship at the feet of La Prentess.’
‘You noticed that?’
‘Of course. She is a diamond. Your cousin Barnabus is most definitely enamoured.’ Jasper frowned. That was not what he wanted to hear. He dragged his thoughts back to Charles, who was still speaking. ‘And you say she is an heiress? Interesting. With her looks she should be in town. She could make a brilliant alliance.’
‘That is what I thought,’ agreed Jasper, frowning. ‘I believe her family come from London. Dammit, Charles, there is some mystery here.’
‘And you have an interest in La Prentess so you want to know what it might be?’
Jasper was quick to disclaim.
‘I am only interested in saving my cousin from a disastrous liaison.’
‘Don’t see that marriage to an heiress would be that much of a disaster.’
Jasper had said very much the same to Gloriana, but now it was important to him that Susannah Prentess should not marry Gerald.
‘You know,’ mused Charles, ‘I might even have a touch at La Prentess myself.’
‘I beg you won’t!’
Charles laughed. ‘No, I won’t. Her friend Mrs Logan is much more to my taste. I shall leave La Prentess to you, Jasper.’
They had reached the top of Milsom Street and Jasper was relieved to part from his friend. Their conversation was becoming far too uncomfortable.
* * *
A week of chill winds and snow flurries kept all but the most hardy indoors. Servants scattered cinders over the footpaths to prevent pedestrians from slipping and Aunt Maude insisted they take chairs to the Assembly Rooms the following Monday, rather than risk the horses on the icy cobbles.
Susannah expected the rooms to be very thin of company, but the Dress Ball was incentive enough for Bath’s residents to turn out in force. Susannah was wearing another new gown from Odesse, a cream silk with a finely frilled hem and short puff sleeves, the rose-coloured decoration set off by matching long gloves. She carried a silk shawl embroidered with tiny rosebuds to combat the icy air that she knew would penetrate even the building, at least until the ballroom filled up and everyone was dancing.
Gerald was looking out for her and immediately led her away to join a country dance. Susannah was surprised to find Kate was already on the floor, partnered by Charles Camerton.
‘You, Kate, dancing?’ she teased when the movement of the dance brought them together.
The widow’s self-conscious look surprised Susannah even more and when there was a break in the dancing she sought out her friend.
‘I do not think I have ever known you to dance here,’ she remarked. ‘And with Mr Camerton, too.’
Kate shrugged one white shoulder and busied herself with her fan.
‘He seems keen to dance with me. And after the way he fleeced me so unmercifully on Tuesday I thought it might help to find out what he is about.’
Susannah sighed, momentarily diverted.
‘Our losses last week were very disappointing. Aunt Maude went down a couple of hundred pounds to Lord Markham and I even lost at picquet to Gerald Barnabus.’
‘I am beginning to suspect it was a concerted effort by those three gentlemen.’
‘By Mr Camerton and the viscount, perhaps, but not Gerald, that was entirely my own fault. I was...distracted.’
‘Well, we must be on our guard,’ said Kate. ‘Such losses cannot be sustained for long.’
‘Perhaps we should refuse to admit Mr Camerton and the viscount in future.’
Kate’s response was swift.
‘Oh, no, we must hope they keep coming.’ She added airily, ‘That is why I am going to dance again with Mr Camerton now. I hope to lull him into complacency, so that when we play again I will catch him off-guard.’
Kate sailed off in search of her prey. She was clearly enjoying herself and Susannah was not convinced by the reasons she had given for dancing with Mr Camerton.
‘Something amuses you, Miss Prentess?’
The viscount’s voice at her shoulder was warm and seductive, like being wrapped in sables. Susannah scolded herself for being fanciful.
‘I have been talking to Mrs Logan. She always amuses me.’
He glanced across the room.
‘She certainly seems to be on the best of terms with Charles Camerton. He is leading her out for another dance.’ He held out his arm. ‘Shall we join them?’
Susannah had already made up her mind that she would avoid the viscount whenever possible, but surely Kate’s arguments had some merit. Perhaps instead of alienating Lord Markham she should try harder to charm him. In that case, it was clearly her duty to dance with him.
She placed her fingers on his arm and accompanied him on to the dance floor. It was a lively affair and Susannah enjoyed it immensely. She was surprised when the music ended—surely the orchestra had stopped too soon? Lord Markham invited her to remain on the floor for a second set and she thought it would be churlish to refuse him.
* * *
When he finally led her from the floor she was happy to stand with him at the side of the room, watching the dancing. Even when he mentioned seeing her carriage on the Wells Road again she was not discomposed.
‘Surely it is no one’s business if my servants use my carriage for their errands?’
‘True.’ He guided her to an empty bench and sat down beside her. ‘It is, however, unusual. But in an heiress such extravagance will not be criticised.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to explain that for the next couple of years she had no access to anything more than an allowance, but that would undermine her explanation. She held her peace.
Sitting with the viscount was causing some comment. Brows were raised, Susannah saw one or two of the matrons whispering behind their fans, but when one particularly haughty lady smiled and inclined her head towards Susannah, a chuckle escaped her.
The viscount’s brows went up.
‘Being seen in your company is proving most useful for me,’ she explained, her eyes twinkling. ‘There are several very high sticklers here tonight and I have never known them to look upon me with such approval.’
‘Why should they not approve of you?’
‘Oh, well...’ she waved her hand ‘...because my father was a mere captain. Because my uncle was a nabob.’
‘A very rich nabob,’ he corrected her.
‘True.’ She sipped at her wine. ‘But birth is everything.’
‘Is it?’ He shifted his position to face her. ‘You are a gentleman’s daughter, and heir to a fortune. I should have thought that would open every door in Bath to you.’
‘Perhaps it would, if I would conform and toady up to those matrons who think themselves so superior.’
‘From what I know of you, I cannot imagine you doing that.’
His sudden smile flashed and for a moment she was dazzled by his charm, as if someone had knocked all the breath out of her body. She looked away quickly. She was meant to be charming him.
Jasper felt rather than saw her sudden withdrawal. She had been relaxed, prepared to confide in him and he was reluctant to let the moment go. He remembered something Gerald had said to him.
‘Living in the Crescent, in such an elevated position, could be seen as having pretensions.’
‘Perhaps.’
He smiled. ‘But you don’t really care for their good opinion, do you?’
He read the answer in her face.
‘To have their approval could be very useful,’ she said carefully.
‘To enhance your little card parties?’
‘Of course. Imagine how much I would like to have a dowager duchess in my drawing room.’
Her eyes twinkled wickedly. She was teasing him again and Jasper was surprised how much he enjoyed that.
‘No doubt you would not refuse to play picquet with her.’
‘Of course not.’
‘But you will not play with a mere viscount.’
‘Not with you, my lord.’
‘Why not? You have played picquet with my cousin on more than one occasion.’
‘That is different.’
‘Why, because you are going to marry him?’
‘No!’
He cursed inwardly as soon as he uttered the question, but the tone of her denial and the serious look in her eye reassured him. She was sincere.
She gave a sigh. ‘Can you not content yourself with winning two hundred pounds from my aunt last week?’
‘A mere trifle. Two games of picquet for pound points would recover that.’
‘Or double the loss.’
‘True.’ He leaned forwards. ‘What would it take, Miss Prentess, to make you play with me?’
He saw the shutters come down. He had pressed her too hard. She laughed and shook her head at him.
‘Fie, my lord, I have no doubt you are used to playing in the London clubs, to losing thousands at a sitting. Do you expect me to risk my pin-money against you?’ She rose. ‘You may come to Royal Crescent, my lord, and I will play with you at vingt-et-un, or loo, where there are others at the table.’
‘You consider me too dangerous an opponent to play alone?’
Jasper was standing, too. The top of her head, crowned by those guinea-gold curls, was level with his eyes. She was the perfect height for kissing. He shrugged off the distracting thought as he held her gaze. She returned look for look, but there was no sign of laughter now in those hazel eyes. Suddenly all Jasper’s senses were on the alert, aware that they were not speaking merely about playing cards.
‘I think you could be extremely dangerous, my lord.’ Her words fell softly between them before she turned and walked away.
* * *
‘The lady seems displeased with you, Markham.’ Charles Camerton came up to him. ‘What did you say to her?’
‘I asked her to play cards with me.’ He did not take his eyes off the retreating figure. ‘She refused me.’
Camerton chuckled.
‘You must be losing your touch, old friend.’
The comment rankled, but Jasper tried to ignore it.
‘Or perhaps,’ mused Charles, ‘she is playing with you, to excite your interest.’
‘Perhaps.’ Jasper kept his tone light, but in his heart he didn’t want to think that Susannah was toying with him.
* * *
‘Good morning, Miss. I’ve brought your hot chocolate.’
Susannah groaned. After tossing and turning all night, she had only just dropped into a deep slumber when Dorcas’s cheerful voice disturbed her. The curtains were thrown back and the feeble light of a grey winter morning filled the room. Susannah groaned again and pulled the covers over her head. Her maid responded with a tut.
‘Come on now, mistress. You ordered the carriage to be here in an hour. That doesn’t give us long to get you ready...or shall I tell Edwards to go away again?’
‘No, no, I will get up.’
Susannah sat up and rubbed her eyes. She stared at the flames blazing merrily in the hearth. She had not heard the maid come in to light the fire, so she must have had some sleep, even if it had been disturbed by dreams. She sipped at her cup of chocolate while Dorcas bustled about the room.
‘It’s a cold morning, miss, will you wear the high-collar spencer?’
She held out the short, rose-coloured jacket with its fur trim.
‘Yes, yes, that will do.’ Susannah cast an eye at the bleak, overcast sky outside the window. ‘And you had better look out my old travelling cloak as well.’
* * *
The clock was just chiming the hour as Susannah descended the stairs. Gatley informed her that the carriage was ready, but instead of opening the front door for her, he accompanied his mistress to the lower floor and let her out of the door leading into the garden. Susannah was enveloped in her serviceable cloak and with the hood pulled over her curls she hoped she might pass for a servant as she sped through the garden and into the narrow alley that led between the stables fronting Crescent Lane, where her carriage was waiting. Before settling into her seat she drew down the blinds. If Lord Markham was abroad again this morning she would not risk being seen, even if she did have Lucas, her footman, standing at the back to give her countenance.
She stifled a yawn. It was thoughts of the viscount that had disturbed her sleep. She had gone to bed after the ball with her head spinning. When she closed her eyes she was once again dancing with Lord Markham, fingers tingling from his touch, heart singing from the caress of his smile. Yet no sooner did she relax in his company than he began to talk of the card parties and she would be on the defensive, suspicious of every remark. She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled, despite the thick cloak and the warm brick her servants had placed in the carriage for her feet to rest upon. If Lord Markham would only leave Bath then she could be easy again.
But how dull life would be without him.
Susannah gave herself a mental shake. These megrims were unlike her, brought on by lack of sleep and travelling in this gloomy half-light. She pulled at the side of the blind and peeped out. They were well out of Bath now, and she thought she might safely put up the shades. The carriage rattled along through the country lanes, up hill and down dale until at last the carriage slowed and turned off the main road towards the village of Priston. Susannah sat forwards, knowing that very soon now she would have her first, clear view of her destination.
The carriage picked up speed as it followed the road that curled around the side of the valley and there, nestling against the hill on the far side of the valley, was a rambling Jacobean mansion built of the local Ham stone which glowed warmly, even in the pale wintry sunlight. It was not as grand as the other properties she had inherited from her Uncle Middlemass and it was in dire need of repair, as witnessed by the scaffolding surrounding the east wing, but she thought it by far the most charming. She was impatient to reach five-and-twenty, when she would have control of her fortune and would be able to fully renovate the building. Until then she must make do with what little money she could spare from her allowance, and the profits from the weekly card parties.
The carriage slowed again to negotiate the turning and her heart swelled with pride when she saw the newly painted sign fixed to the stone gatepost: Florence House. They bumped along the drive and on to the weed-strewn carriage circle in front of the house. They came to a stand before the canopied front door and Lucas jumped down and ran around to let down the steps.
As she descended, a motherly figure in a black stuff gown came hurrying out to meet her, the white lappets from her lace cap bouncing on her shoulders.
‘Miss Prentess, welcome, my dear. Pray come you in and do not be standing out here in this cold wind.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gifford.’
The older lady ushered her indoors to a small parlour off the hall, where a welcome fire was burning.
‘Has our builder arrived yet?’
‘Not yet, ma’am, but you have made very good time—I do not expect him for another half-hour yet. You have time for a little refreshment. Jane is bringing a glass of mulled wine for you.’
‘Thank you, that is very welcome.’
Susannah untied the strings of her cloak and looked about her. She had always thought this parlour a very comfortable room. With its low, plastered ceiling and panelled walls it was certainly one of the easiest to keep warm. A door on the far side led to a much larger dining room, but that needed refurbishment and was currently not in use, the occupants of the house finding the smaller apartment sufficient for their needs. A padded armchair and sofa were arranged before the fireplace while under the window a small table and chairs provided a surface for dining or working. At present the table was littered with writing materials and a large ledger, indicating that the housekeeper had been at work on the accounts. Susannah draped her cloak over one of the chairs and went to the fire to warm her hands. She turned as the door opened and a heavily pregnant young woman entered, carrying a tray. She walked slowly, holding the tray well out in front to avoid her extended belly. Susannah straightened immediately.
‘Jane, let me take that, you should not be waiting upon me—’
‘Thank you, but I can manage perfectly well. And it is a pleasure to bring your wine for you.’
Susannah sat down, recognising that to insist upon taking the tray would hurt the girl’s pride. ‘Thank you, Jane, that is very kind of you.’ She watched her place the tray carefully on a side table. ‘When is the baby due?’
‘The midwife thinks it won’t be for a week or two yet.’ Jane smiled and rubbed her hands against her swollen stomach. ‘It cannot come soon enough for me now, Miss Prentess.’
‘Call me Susannah, please. There is small difference in our stations.’
Jane’s smile disappeared.
‘Perhaps there was not, at one time, but now—’ She looked down at her body. ‘I am a fallen woman.’
‘I will not have that term used here,’ Susannah replied fiercely. ‘You have been unfortunate. ’Tis the same for all the ladies we bring in.’
‘And if it was not for your kindness we would be even more unfortunate,’ replied Jane. ‘We would have to go to Walcot Street, and we would not be called ladies
there,’ she added drily.
‘Will you not sit down?’ Susannah indicated a chair, but Jane shook her head.
‘If you will excuse me, I will go back to my room now and rest. The midwife might say this little one isn’t ready to be born, but it seems pretty impatient to me.’
‘She is a dear girl,’ said Mrs Gifford, when Jane had gone. ‘Her stitching is so neat that Odesse says she will be happy to take her on, once the babe is born.’
‘Good.’ Susannah sipped at her wine. ‘Since we have a little time perhaps you would like to give me your report now, rather than wait until after I have spoken to Mr Tyler.’
Mrs Gifford sat down and folded her hands in her lap.
‘I have had to move everything out of the east wing because the chimney is unsafe and we fear it might come crashing through the roof if we have a storm. Then there is the leak on the south gable, which is getting worse. But this section of the house is reasonably sound, and I have been able to find dry bedchambers for each of our guests. Miss Anstruther—Violet—is settling in well, although she is still very despondent and keeps to her room.’
‘That is to be expected, having been cast off by her family,’ replied Susannah. ‘I will go up to her later, if she will see me.’
‘If?’ uttered Mrs Gifford. ‘Of course she will see you. ’Tis you who made it possible for her to be looked after. She has much cause to be grateful to you, as do all the others...’
Susannah shook her head.
‘I will not trade on their gratitude,’ she said quietly. ‘Everyone here is a guest, and I want to treat them with the same respect I would like for myself. But enough of that. Do go on.’
‘We have only three ladies here at present: Lizzie Burns, Jane and Miss Anstruther.’
‘And how is Lizzie? When I was here last she was not well.’
‘I think we have avoided the fever, but the doctor says she should keep to her bed for another week. However, her baby is now three weeks old and doing well.’
‘That is some good news then. And what of you, Mrs Gifford? How is your sister?’
The older lady’s face was grave.
‘Very poorly, I’m afraid.’
‘Then you must go to her as soon as maybe. The woman we interviewed to replace you—Mrs Jennings—how soon can she be here?’
‘She is moving in this afternoon. I hope to get away this evening.’
‘Good. And you have enough money for your journey?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ The old woman blinked rapidly. ‘Bless you, Miss Prentess, you have been very good. I do not expect to be away for long, I fear my sister’s end is very near.’
‘You must take as long as you need,’ Susannah told her softly. ‘We shall manage here. Now—’ she looked towards the window ‘—if I am not mistaken, the builder has arrived, and we will find out just what work is needed.’