Misinterpreting the sceptical look Lucy couldn’t quite suppress, Nell said, “Nora would’ve come here today too; she’s as excited as any of us! But she received an invitation to spend the day with one of her dearest friends—Miss Maxwell, do you know her? I dare say not, but her uncle is the Duke of Richmond.Sortof an uncle anyway. But they are very close.”
“Quite understandable,” murmured Lucy. Acquaintances of dukes outranked soon-to-be sisters.
Returning to her favourite topic, Jack’s mother said, “How very droll we were last night when you and Nora returned from that ball, Nell, trying to figure out which of us could claim congratulations for having brought the thing about. For my part, I’m convinced it’s me, because if I hadn’t been poorly, you’dnever have got it into your head to invite Lucy. But what an argument you and Nora got into over it!”
“I believe she’d drunk far more champagne than she ought, Mama. She was in such a silly, excitable mood.”
Jack’s mother laughed. “She would keep insisting it was her doing because if she hadn’t beenborn, she’d never have needed to come to London for her come out.”
Nell sniffed. “It’s quite obviouslymewho saved the family. I invited Lucy. She and Jack would never have seen each other at all if it wasn’t for that, andthenwhere would we be?”
“Saved the family? Why, whatever do you mean?” asked Lucy brightly, innocent as could be.
The two ladies exchanged a look, Nell colouring hotly while Jack’s mother took to smoothing the lie of her dress. “Oh nothing, my dear! But obviously it’s an excellent thing for Jack to be taking a wife, and we couldn’t be happier that it’syou, of course.”
“After all, we did practically make you one of our own when you were such a lonely little child,” said Nell. “I think it a perfect sort of justice that all our kindness gets repaid.”
“Repaid?” asked Lucy, still smiling very sweetly.
“Goodness!” said Jack’s mother. “Is that the time? How it does fly!”
Lucy agreed politely and showed them to the door.
“Oh,” she said, “and if you are still wondering which of you is most to be congratulated for mine and Jack’s engagement, I can answer it with certainty. It is none of you. Jack is the only Orton I have ever liked. I came to your house every day for him and him alone. The rest of you make me want to run a mile. Good day, ladies.”
The door was closed upon two stunned faces, but not before Lucy heard Jack’s mother say, in hopeful tones, “It’s the wedding stress, I daresay. Poor girl is not quite herself…”
But the laugh Lucy gave as she returned to the parlour turned into a sob. She pressed her hand to her mouth, wanting Jack. Wanting to wring his neck. Wanting answers to a hundred things. But the clock just ticked in the silent room and no one came.
No one and nothing. Until the letter.
It was delivered about an hour after the Ortons left, its postmarks declaring it to be from Northumberland, but the hurried scrawl of the address wasn’t her aunt’s handwriting.
Anxious, she broke the wafer.
Dear Miss Fanshaw,
I hope you forgive my writing to you when I am unknown to you. But I am the physician who has been attending your aunt, Mrs Agatha Bodlam, during the course of her illness these past two weeks. She has given me leave to write to you, being unable to do so herself. It is bad news. Your aunt’s illness is likely to be fatal, and its progression makes such a result likely in the next few days. She begs that you return here as soon as you may. She has expressed an earnest wish to see you. I believe it would give her great comfort and can only add my own plea that you make haste.
The matter is urgent.
Thirty-Two
Jack’s meeting with Blatherstock confirmed what he already feared. It would be at least a twelvemonth until his income would grant what he felt was required for Lucy’s comfort. After last night, such a long engagement was impossible.
He rode out to Richmond on his single remaining horse to visit an old friend of his father’s who performed some important role in government, though Jack wasn’t entirely sure what. But the man might be persuaded to get him a position, as indeed seemed to be the case. General Winstanley made many promising remarks, and Jack returned to town feeling far brighter than when he’d left it. He smiled at the sight of George walking in the street ahead of him, having just turned away from Jack’s front door.
Passing the alleyway to his stables, Jack rode quietly up alongside George, slipped down from the saddle, and slapped a hand on the man’s shoulder with a cheery and very loud, “Hello!”
The shorter man jumped half a foot in the air, giving a curse seldom heard on his lips. “Jack! For the love of…!”
“What’s the matter, George? Guilty conscience?”
George gave him a sideways glance, grimacing and pale. “I was coming to explain. To apologise.”
“You slipped away from Ashburton’s soneatlylast night. Offering your carriage to Nell and Nora just as they were leaving for the ball—a masterstroke!”
“I wasn’t avoiding you.”
