“But if your reunion went as smoothly as you say, he is clearly bearing less resentment than you expected of him.”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “Which is odd, for he told me once that his good opinion once lost is lost forever.”
“Then you have clearly not lost it. The question is whether or not you want it.”
“I suppose that is true.”
Elizabeth only comprehended that she had becomelost in her thoughts again when Mr Hartham interrupted them.
“Come, let us peel my aunt out of her chair and take her home. I think we have both danced our fill for the evening, do not you agree?”
She did, and they duly made a discreet exit, both working to help Lady Preston into the carriage—Elizabeth pulling her by her arm from within, and Mr Hartham propelling her from behind. A persistent rain did not help, though it did give her ladyship something about which to complain for the duration of the short journey home. Once the same operation had been repeated in reverse at Marine Parade, with Lady Preston handed over to a servant to be escorted to bed, Mr Hartham, instead of following her inside, made a surprising suggestion.
“How about that tour of your house that you promised me, then?” He pointed at her property, looming darkly next to his aunt’s brightly lit home.
“Now?”
“If you are concerned about being alone with me, John will accompany us,” he said, indicating the coachman. “Though I assure you, there is no need.”
“It is not that—but it is very late.”
“Then we may watch the sun rise from your roof terrace. It would be terribly romantic if I were in any way inclined to woo you. As it is, I am merely insatiably curious. Do decide soon though, for I am getting wetter by the minute.”
Unable to think of a good reason why not, Elizabeth agreed and they hastened inside out of the rain. She found herself talking in hushed tones once they were inside, for the stillness of the house and the lateness of the hour rather seemed to demand it. She ledMr Hartham across the vestibule—which looked far tidier than it had the previous day—and into the drawing room, where she stopped and let out a muffled sound of surprise.
“What is it?” he cried with muted alarm, looking about as though he expected to see an intruder lurking in the shadows.
“It is this room!” Elizabeth replied, looking around in awe. “’Tis—well, it is furnished, for one thing.” She stepped farther into the space, marvelling at how much larger and grander it looked with the correct pieces in all the correct places. There was just enough light to see that the walls were still bare, and there was still a large patch of unpainted plaster on the ceiling where the pianoforte-shaped hole had once been, but none of that looked quite so bad in the dark. “This is the most wonderful transformation!”
Mr Hartham screwed up his face and looked around once more. “Is it? I hardly dare ask what it looked like before.”
She laughed happily. “Worse!”
He sighed. “What a shame. For such a wonderful old house to fall into such rack and ruin is shameful.”
“I understand my aunt endured years of legal wrangling before taking possession. She must have spentsometime here, for your aunt seems to have known her, but it cannot have been for many years. I certainly cannot remember her coming here. Then again, I understand she did not travel much after my uncle died.”
Informing her that he meant to adjust his expectations accordingly, Mr Hartham was more disposed to be pleased by the other rooms Elizabeth showed him.
“This next one is a particular disaster,” she said asthey reached the top of the second flight of stairs and approached the bedchamber that had suffered water damage from the leak in the roof. Before she could show him, she heard the distinct sound of voices from within and came to a halt. Another look showed faint light coming from beneath the door.
“Someone is here!” she whispered urgently.
Mr Hartham grew serious. “Let us leave and summon the magistrate.”
“I cannot leave with people in my house! Who knows what damage they might wreak?”
“I am flattered that you think otherwise, but I assure you I am not built for fighting. I should be of no use to you as a protector. Come. Let us away.”
Elizabeth was not foolhardy; she knew there was no sense in either of them attempting to intervene in a burglary. Yet before she had moved anywhere, one of the voices was abruptly raised.
“I do not give a fig where you have put your trunks. You can stick them down your trousers for all I care.Ifound this house, andIshall be the one to choose where I sleep.”
“What on earth? That sounds like Lord Saye!” Elizabeth said indignantly.
“Who?”
“Viscount Saye. He means to lease the house, but he was not supposed to take it yet! We had at least another fortnight to work!”
