“Does he listen to you?” Lucy asked, as curious as she was hopeful.
“Never,” replied Mr Simmons with smiling emphasis.
“And his guard-dog instincts are even more heightened in our Lucy’s case,” observed Miss Sedgewick.
“I have already told him no,” Lucy began, “and…and if you speak to him too, surely he will give up the idea?”
The others exchanged a look that showed clearly how doubtful they found that.
“But what can I do?” said Lucy in despair. “I cannot,cannotlet him tell people we are engaged. It would be…be awful beyond endurance.”
Mr Simmons nodded heavily, that sympathetic understanding back in his eyes. Lucy toyed with her gloves, with a fold of muslin on her skirt, feeling these people understood her far better than she wished. She glanced up to find Miss Sedgewick looking from her to Mr Simmons and back again with an incredulous smile.
“My dears, how has it possibly not occurred to you what the obvious solution is? You both wish to escape the mantle of Jack’s protection. What better way than to do so together?Youshould get engaged!”
They both stared at her in horror.
“I—”
“We—”
“Another ruse, of course,” she explained, laughing at their expressions. “Tell Jack thatyouare engaged. And then he’ll have no right to interfere in either of your business.”
Lucy looked at Mr Simmons, sure her face was quite as ridiculously stunned as his.
“It’s…” he began.
“I…” she tried.
“It’s a stroke of genius,” Miss Sedgewick said firmly.
Lucy kept looking at Mr Simmons, and he kept looking at her. She saw the slow change in his expression, the thoughts that crossed over it just as they crossed over hers, the head-shaking smile that crept into his eyes… They both laughed.
“Preposterous!”
“We can’t!”
“But imagine his face when he hears the news,” Miss Sedgewick said, “and tell me you wouldn’t love to see it.”
That wasn’t the compelling argument she intended. Lucy winced at a stab of guilt. Mr Simmons frowned, and they both looked away.
She instinctively felt that such a ruse would hurt Jack, and that was something she never wanted to do, not really, even if she felt she could sometimes quite cheerfully smack him.But why would it hurt him?asked a voice she often tried to deny. The only answer was one she didn’t believe.
“Can you tell me honestly,” Miss Sedgewick addressed Mr Simmons, more serious now, “that you don’t believe the cure might be worth the taste of the medicine?”
Mr Simmons glanced at Lucy, then away.
“Remember the conversation we had moments ago,” Miss Sedgewick pressed him as he got up and took a few paces to look out of the window, clearly tempted by an argument Lucy did not understand. “You believe as I do: that all he needs to do is open his eyes. Can’t you imagine the good that a short, sharp shock might do him? How many times, I wonder, have you yourself forcibly dunked his head in a water trough to clear it?”
Mr Simmons gave a short laugh. “When he’s drunk, yes. And not half as many as I’ve wished to. Or as he’s needed.”
“He needs waking up, George. He needs to see clearly.”
The room was quiet for a moment as Mr Simmons silently fought his internal battle. What on earth had the two of thembeen discussing before her arrival back at the house? Whatever it was, she felt uneasy.
Mr Simmons turned back to the room. “It is not my decision to make. It’s for Miss Fanshaw to choose.” He bowed towards her. “I am at your service and will willingly aid you in whatever you desire.”
Lucy grew hot at having two pairs of eyes upon her.
