Once she’d left on this errand, Wood folded his napkin and rose from his place, still looking pointedly at Clarkson. When the awkwardness had nearly become unbearable, he donned his hat and set out.
“He is insufferable,” Clarkson murmured the moment the door had shut on Wood’s back. “I never get more than one puff of that tobacco before he smokes the whole sack, and he knows it.”
“You could each buy your own,” Lyman suggested, “as we had to do for the stationery.”
“It’s so miserly,” Clarkson said with a sigh. “Three grown men should be able to share a few common comforts without bickering.”
“Here you are, then.” Mrs. Hirsch returned with Lyman’s mail in hand.
It was a slim, light envelope addressed not to him, but to his publisher. Their address had been crossed out, and Mrs. Hirsch’s written beside it in Armstrong’s neat hand. A note at the bottom read:
This came for you at our office.
—J.A.
Lyman flicked his gaze to the sender’s address to see who had written him, expecting some unknown reader to fill the space. Like his first letter from Miss Danby. Instead, Michael’s name hit him like a slap in the face.
He scrambled to open it with shaking hands.
Ashton,
There’s an important matter we need to discuss. Write me back to say where you can be found now. Don’t come by the house.
—Villiers
Lyman had to read it twice, as if more information would present itself upon further scrutiny. Not a word of concern from his brother-in-law after years of silence, nor even a salutation. Well, it was toomuch to hope that Michael’s hatred would cool with time. But what was the important matter they needed to discuss? Had something happened to Ellen?
Once their deed of separation had settled the terms of their living arrangements, she’d told him never to contact her again. He’d tried to respect her request. It seemed the only courtesy still in his power to grant. Why would her brother reach out now, when he’d had no word for so long?
“Is something the matter?” Clarkson’s smooth baritone broke the silence. “Bad news?”
“My brother-in-law wrote me.” Lyman wished it was in his power to say more than that, but he had no idea what to add. It could be anything.
“I thought you said you two weren’t on speaking terms.” Though his fellow boarders had been too polite to ask Lyman directly how he found himself in accommodations like these, he had given Clarkson a general outline of his story once they’d become friends. Wood had no doubt picked up the information from rumors.
“We aren’t,” Lyman replied. “I haven’t heard from him in years. He says there’s something important to discuss, but he doesn’t say what.”
“If it was anything terrible, he would have told you directly,” Clarkson assured him.
He was probably right. If Ellen was ill or dying, Michael could have said so in a letter rather than calling for a personal meeting. And if he was hiding something serious, any of their mutual acquaintances would have let him know. A number of them had cut ties with Lyman after the disastrous breakdown of his marriage, but he still had a few friends who would get word back to him if anything drastic happened.
Michael probably just wanted more money.
Lyman was worrying over nothing; at least, nothing he had the power to change.
“I suppose so.”
“I should head downstairs soon.” A trace of regret pinched Clarkson’s brow. “Are you all right?”
“Of course, of course. Don’t let me stop you.” Lyman stood, though his plate was still half-full. He hated to waste good food, but his appetite was ruined. “I have somewhere to be soon, anyway.” It was somehow Tuesday again, and he was due at the Danby residence in an hour. His misgivings about their meetings only seemed to have made the week go by that much faster.
“I’ll see you this evening then. Take care.” Clarkson fetched his hat from the stand near the door and gave a final nod before he set out for his day, leaving Lyman alone with his troubles.
***
The truth is, dear reader, there are many things menhide from usdo not share with us, should the subject be deemed unsuitable for the gentler sex. We ladies must often rely on one another forguidanceknowledge. I hope, then, that this humble volume shall be a friend to you,telling youimparting the secrets—
“How is your book coming?”
