“I’ll call them whatever you like, so long as you smile at me the way you’re doing right now. I’m Freddie.”
“Well, Freddie, you’re a flirt. I’m Eliza. But around my husband, it’ll have to be Lady Havenwood, or my lady, or your ladyship, or any of that other proper nonsense.”
He grinned. “Hey, do you know you’ve a spook?”
“What?” she asked, squinting at him.
“A ghost.”
“Really?”
Freddie nodded and took a bite of his shortbread, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t figure it much likes us working on your house. Keeps stealing our tools.”
“I’m sorry. My husband will certainly replace anything that’s gone missing.”
“That’s just it, maum—they ain’t exactly missing. Only moved around, like. Shepherd’s plaster trowel was stuck in the side of the house the other day, and my hammer was left hanging from the rafters. It nearly fell on the foreman’s head.”
Eliza shivered, despite the warmth of the mid-September sun. “I see. Perhaps you could try locking everything up once you’ve finished for the day?”
Freddie laughed nervously, brushing his hands clean on his trousers. “Right. That’s the funniest thing of all. We put everything into a trunk with a padlock last night, just to test it. And this morning, all the tools were pulled out and lined up in rows, neat as chessmen. Now ain’t that queer?”
Someone was watching her. She sensed it. A shadowy form, looming over her. Her heartbeat ratcheted and her limbs went rubbery soft ... until her eyes adjusted, and she came fully out of her slumber. It was only Turner, his face shadowed by the noonday sun. She blinked up at him from the hammock. She’d been spending most of her days in the gardens of late, resting in the shade of the chestnut trees. It was an effective way to avoid Malcolm.
“Mum, so sorry to wake you. You’ve a visitor. Miss Whitby. Shall I tell her you’re indisposed?”
“Polly’s here? How unexpected.” Eliza sat up and patted her hair. “Bring her around back. We’ll visit in the gardens.”
Turner gave a crisp nod. “I’ll have Mrs.Duncan bring refreshments.”
Eliza stood and shook the fallen leaves from her skirts. She wondered why Polly was coming to call now. After their acrimonious words over Eastleigh at Sarah’s party, Eliza had dismissed their chances of ever becoming friends. But they were still neighbors, after all. And, as Polly was the local gossip, it would be pleasant if they could come to somesort of accord to temper the scandalous talk about town. It would be nice to be welcomed at the market with smiles instead of spiteful whispers about her loose American morals.
Polly rounded the corner, trailing Turner. She was wearing another one of her fluffy concoctions, this time in yellow, her eyes flitting nervously over the topiary until they finally landed on Eliza.
“Hello, Miss Whitby,” called Eliza with a friendly wave. She closed the gap between them and offered her hand. Polly took it, bobbing an awkward curtsy.
“He ... hello, Lady Havenwood,” Polly stammered. “Lovely day to be out-of-doors.”
“Yes. I’m ever so glad you decided to call,” Eliza said with an ingratiating smile. “Please sit. And please call me Eliza.” She motioned to the table and chairs beneath the pergola. “I find the gardens a peaceful respite from the noise these days, what with all the construction going on.”
Polly took her seat, sighing with what Eliza took to be relief. What had she been expecting? A shunning? Polly turned her attention to the rear elevation of the house, where the workers were taking their lunch break on the scaffolding. “It’s impressive what you’ve been able to accomplish in so little time.”
They’d made notable headway that morning on the fascia and soffits, which gleamed with new copper gutters. “We’ve a good crew. And Malcolm has been overseeing it all.”
Freddie caught Eliza’s eye and waved, then nudged his friend. Doubtless Polly’s arrival had created a stir among the young men.
“My lady ... I mean, Eliza,” Polly began nervously, “more than anything, I’ve come to apologize.”
“Polly ...”
“No. I behaved atrociously at Sarah’s party. There are no excuses for it.” Polly pressed her lips together. “I made myself look a fool over Charles. It was terribly embarrassing.”
Eliza reached for Polly’s hand. “Darling, you’ve no reason to apologize to me. I’ve been young and in love. I know what it means to lose your head over a man.”
“Well. You’ve heard the news, I suppose.” Polly’s voice grew tight as a lute string—her smile even tighter. “About Charles and Una.”
“Oh, yes. They had us to dinner recently so they could gloat about their match. It was awful. I’m afraid I don’t know how to be pleasant to either one of them.”
“I was gutted to hear of it.” Polly absently fiddled with the ruffled cuff of her dress. “I suppose I always made things too easy for him, though. Men like Charles fancy a challenge.”
