Yes, of course, the Duke and Duchess of Kesgrave.
Feathers in any country hostess’s cap!
“George will apologize,” she adds with a placid smile at her still seething husband. “Your points are valid, Mr. Hyde-Clare, and if you had not made them, then my son—you may sit down now, Seb—would have in a more forceful manner.”
Sebastian readily complies with his mother’s request, while his father glares bitterly at the custard on his plate, as though he has been reminded of his manners by the dessert. Swallowing his resentment, he manages to regard my parents with benign indifference and says, “I am sorry for any insult given.”
It is a terrible apology, curtly offered and taking no responsibility, though Papa accepts.
Mama sighs with relief.
No doubt the idea of having to pack up all our things in the few short hours before daybreak crushed her.
“It is I who should apologize,” Mr. Nutting says, the color in his face still high. “Listening to the case Miss Hyde-Clare compiled against me has been a sobering experience, and I think my friend can be excused for responding rashly. If I had understood the extent of the matter, I would have accepted her offer to speak privately. But I refused and it is too late for that now. I hope you can forgive me, Mrs. Holcroft, for ruining your dinner, which looks by all appearances to have been a genial meal. In regard to the Russian flame shawl, Miss Hyde-Clare, all I can say to you now is what I said to you earlier, which is I gave it away. You are correct in your assumption. I did not know how dear it was and simply donated it to charity.”
Mr. Holcroft hails this course of action as worthy and sensible.
Better to clear out the fribbles than let them collect dust!
“Exactly,” Mr. Nutting replies with a fleeting smile.
Agreeably, I own myself happy to accept that explanation. “If you will just tell us to whom you donated the shawl, then wecan confirm the information with them and put this unfortunate exchange behind us.”
Mr. Nutting declines. “I will not give you that information and expose others to your ugly suspicions. If they all must fall on me, so be it. Despite some evidence to the contrary, I am innocent and am confident reasonable people will see it that way.”
But the table is occupied by several people who may be described as reasonable, and they all find his refusal to answer highly dubious.
Even his friend Mr. Holcroft is struck by the squirrelly avoidance. “Good God, man, just tell the girl you left it at the vicarage and then threaten to sue her for slander!”
Mama shrinks back at the directive.
A Hyde-Clare brought before the court on the charge of slander is her worst nightmare. Other worries disturb her sleep, but the threat of a public spectacle literally keeps her awake at night.
But Nutting recoils too, and that is intriguing.
He is not scared of slander.
Nobody can force him to bring legal action where he has no interest.
So it is the first half of the statement that unsettled him.
Why flinch at the mention of the vicarage?
As spiritual leader for the neighborhood, Mr. Burgess oversees many charitable efforts and would be such a logical choice for the castoff that Mr. Nutting would be hard-pressed to come up with a more appropriate individual.
Staunchly, Mr. Nutting affirms his original stance—he does not wish to subject anyone else to my vulgar speculation—and suddenly I am struck by vulgar speculation.
“You gave it to Miss Burgess, with whom you are conducting an affair,” I say, surprise weaving through my voice.
Mama gasps, then shrieks, “Flora!”
Mr. Nutting also marshals his outrage. “Your gall knows no bounds!”
Papa rebukes me as well, murmuring my name with a disapproving edge.
I pay them no heed as the niggling notion blossoms into a fully formed idea.
It makes so much sense.
