‘Well, of course, no one was expecting him to call. I was indisposed, so Lucinda and Jane received him in here.’
‘He said he was on his way to Sally Lunn’s to meet his friend Mr Smith-Withers for luncheon and asked if we wished to join them,’ piped up Lucinda.
‘Lucy instantly said yes before I could stop her,’ said Jane with a laugh. ‘She ran into the hallway and was putting on her pelisse and bonnet before I knew it.’
‘Lucy!’ I said, shocked at her wilfulness.
‘I am sorry, Aunty Fliss. I was just so happy that he had called. It was an impulsive, butkind gesture as he was passing by and thought we might like the outing.’
She gave me a downcast look, but her countenance did not seem that contrite.
‘Of course, I could not let her go alone with him,’ murmured Jane. ‘Especially as he was meeting his friend. So I roused Elizabeth and explained the situation of there being two unmarried gentlemen—’
‘Suffice to say, I had to play chaperone despite still having my headache,’ interrupted Elizabeth. ‘It was most inconvenient. But surprisingly, the outing has done me the world of good. After a cup of tea and a bun and an interesting conversation, I feel much better.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ I said flatly, wondering what this ‘interesting conversation’ entailed. ‘So why was there not time to wait for me?’
‘He was in a hurry to meet his friend,’ explained Elizabeth. ‘And we did not know exactly where you were. We did look over at the park, but we couldn’t see you walking back. And Mr Hart kept taking out his watch and glancing at it, so ...’
Humph, I thought. But I could imagine them all peering out the window worriedly to see where I was and, I supposed, mentioning me to Mr Hart. So I was not really forgotten.
‘We missed you, of course,’ Lucinda confirmed. ‘And Mr Hartsends you his regards.’ She thrust a box at me. ‘He said he was sorry you had not been there when he called and bought you a bun.’
He bought me a bun?I opened the box to see an innocuous-looking brown bun sitting there.
‘Well,’ I said, slightly mollified by the explanation and the bun gift.
‘He was going to buy Edward one too, but Aunt Elizabeth said he wasn’t allowed sugar,’ said Lucinda.
The bun had been cut in half, and each side was slathered in melted cinnamon butter. When I took a bite, it was still warm and tasted delicious.
‘So you all had tea and buns with Mr Hart and Mr Smith-Withers and then came home?’ I asked, taking another bite of my bun and leaning back on the sofa, now feeling more inclined to hear the rest of the story.
‘Yes, he dropped us off but could not come in as he had another appointment,’ relayed Jane.
The fact that they were all very well disposed to Mr Hart had not escaped my notice. It was as if he had waved a magic wand over them, and now they could not think highly enough of him. It couldn’t have been the Sally Lunn buns that had sweetened them up, surely?
‘And did you learn any new information about the gentleman?’ I asked Jane and Elizabeth. ‘Last night, we were all convinced he was a rake and shouldn’t be let within two feet of Lucinda. Now here you both are, singing his praises!’
‘Yes. Well, some things came to light when we were at the tea room,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I do not usually go back on my first opinion of people, having extremely good instincts, you understand. But in this case, I was so very wrong ...’
I looked enquiringly at Jane since Elizabeth seemed disinclined to say more.
‘It appears our Mr Hart is not a rake but has been wrongly accused of being one by Mrs Spencer,’ she said. ‘Cecilia and Mr Hart were in fact very much in love ... and were cruelly separated.’ Jane gave a sorrowful sigh.
‘In love?’ I said, startled. ‘Are you sure? Did Mr Hart tell you this?’
‘Yes,’ replied Lucinda, joining in the conversation. ‘And before you say anything, it was a subject that was not prompted by us. Indeed, it was his friend Mr Smith-Withers who commented that Mr Hart was looking much jollier today.
‘I asked him, “Why should he not be jolly?” And he told us that his friend had had his heart broken some months back. Cecilia the girl’s name was, and he had been about to propose but had been thwarted.’
‘Ofcourse, we all wanted to know what had happened,’ said Jane, taking up the story. ‘But Mr Hart did not reply. He just sat there, eating his bun and sipping his tea. He left it up to his friend to convey the sorry tale.’
She went on to say that Mr Smith-Withers, with sympathetic glances at his friend, had told them Mr Hart had called on Cecilia for Sunday luncheon. Mrs Spencer had left them alone for a minute to speak to the cook about the gravy. ‘And when she came back, she had caught them kissing.’ Jane lowered her voice dramatically. ‘He was thrown out of the house and barred from seeing Cecilia ever again.’
‘This must be the conduct that Mrs Spencer had deemed “very bad”,’ I mused. ‘Did his friend say anything else?’
‘Only that Mr Hart had been in despair and kept writing to her, but to no avail. He never received any reply. Her parents must have been confiscating his letters.’
