Her chaperon picked up the hand bell set upon the table and rang it with vigour. Then she came to sit in the chair opposite, adopting a determined air of cheerfulness.
“There, that is more comfortable.”
Apple did not feel in the least comfortable, but she was seized by a qualm of conscience. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I’ve been abominably rude.”
The widow tutted again. “I quite understand. I only wish I might ease your mind.”
Before she could say more, a servant appeared. Mrs Tinkler put in her order for tea and resumed her seat, regarding Apple in concern. “Would it not help to talk about it?”
“I don’t know if I can.”
She let out a slow breath, trying to ease the tightness in her chest. She’d never fully believed in the notion concocted by Lady Luthrie, but Alex’s reaction had filled her with dread.
“My mother must have heard from Lady Mere. Can’t think what else would bring her hotfoot to the capital. And if it ain’t true, she wouldn’t have come.” He’d promised to return as soon as he’d found out what was going forward. Seeing her instant dismay, he’d offered a sop. “Might be something else entirely, Apple, so don’t go fretting and fuming until I’m able to get back to you.”
She’d been in no mood to accept that. “How can I not? And you know very well it isn’t anything else. Your mother would not subject Georgy to the jolting of the coach in her condition unless she was determined to wrest you from my clutches.”
“Don’t be a hen-wit, Apple. Wrest me from your clutches indeed! She knows I’ve no intention of … well, you know what I mean.”
“Yes, but she must know how quixotic you are, Alex. She will suppose you may take some foolish notion into your head of having compromised me or some such thing.”
“Balderdash!”
“It isn’t balderdash! And the way you keep going on about taking responsibility for me is enough to cause any cautious mother to take fright. You should never have followed me after I went away with Mr Vergette.”
The exchange had been taking place in this very parlour, and Apple recalled how he’d not hesitated to seize her by the shoulders and give her a little shake.
“That’s enough, Apple! Stop it at once!”
The autocratic tone was back and it caught at her rising hysteria. She gazed up into his stern features and a kaleidoscope of memories flashed through her brain. She drew in an unsteady breath and hazarded a small smile.
“Oh, dear, I’m being perfectly bird-witted again, aren’t I?”
His grin dispelled the stern look. “Feather-headed little monkey!”
A giggle escaped her and he laughed. “That’s better.” He caught her into a rough hug and let her go immediately. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
With which, he was gone, replaced soon after by Mrs Tinkler, who fluttered in full of question and interest. “Lord Dymond requested me to keep you company until he returns.” She looked appreciatively about the little parlour. “This is cosy indeed, Miss Greenaway. How very thoughtful of Lord Dymond.”
Apple had replied suitably, but without Alex’s sustaining presence, her nerves rapidly shredded and her fears became ever more lurid. Her chaperon’s invitation to share her troubles was tempting, but she hesitated to reveal the awful truth.
The arrival of the tea provided a welcome delay, allowing her time to think how much she felt able to reveal as Mrs Tinkler busied herself with dispensing the brew.
Sipping a little of the hot liquid reminded Apple of the earlier excursion to the coffee house with Alex, and how she’d felt impelled to speak as if it was goodbye. With the threat of confirmation hanging over her head, she was seized with an urge to rush to a coach office and buy a ticket that might take her away from here. To where she had no notion, but anywhere was preferable than sitting in this parlour waiting for the blow to fall.
On impulse, she looked up. “Mrs Tinkler, would you go with me if I am obliged to leave the country?”
In the act of taking a sip of tea, her chaperon all but choked. Recovering, she gazed at Apple as if she had taken leave of her senses. “Good gracious, is it as bad as that? What in the world have you done, Miss Greenaway?”
“It’s not whatIhave done,” said Apple, indignant. “It’s what my father has done. If heismy father.”
Mrs Tinkler was looking perfectly bewildered. “Gracious, whatever do you mean?”
Apple capitulated. “It’s of no use to keep it from you, I suppose. You are bound to know it all, should you choose to come with me.”
“Come with you where, my dear Miss Greenaway? I do wish you would strive to be more coherent.”
A somewhat hysterical giggle escaped Apple. “I feel as though I’ll never be coherent again. Oh, I can’t explain it to you. It’s much too complicated.”
