Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [162]
He leaned forward and kissed her long and very close, and then again, and then a third time. “Sometimes I haven’t the slightest idea what you are thinking,” he said at last, looking puzzled.
She smiled. “Well, that’s something, I suppose.”
Gracie woke up, and it was a moment before she remembered what had happened the day before, the strange, sweaty candle in Finn’s room, the look in his eyes when she had touched it … the guilt which had betrayed to her what it was, and then his anger when she had run away, then his arrest. It was hard to feel different about him quickly. There was too much memory of sweetness. One could not turn off emotion in a few hours, not when it had run so deep through you.
She got up and washed and dressed. She did not care how she looked. Clean and tidy was all that mattered, good enough for the job. Pretty wasn’t important anymore. Only the day before it had mattered so much.
She went downstairs and passed Doll looking busy but with a faraway smile on her face, and Gracie found it in herself for a moment to be glad for her.
In the servants’ hall she met Gwen, taking a quick cup of tea before going up with hot water for Emily to wash.
“I’m sorry,” Gwen said with a little shake of her head. “He seemed like a nice fellow. But far best you’re out of it now, and not later. One day you’ll maybe find someone decent, and you’ll forget all about this. At least you’ve still got your character, and no one thinks the worse of you.”
Gracie knew she meant well by it, but it was no comfort. The broken ache of loneliness inside her was just as deep—in fact, in ways deeper, because other people knew about it. Better they were sympathetic than not, probably. But it was surprising how kindness could hurt, make you want to sit down and cry.
“Yeah, I s’pose,” she said, not because she agreed, but she did not want to prolong the conversation. She poured herself a cup of tea. The hot liquid might warm her up inside, and it would give her something to do other than stand and talk. Maybe Gwen would go and carry the water up soon. Then she could draw her own and take it up to Charlotte.
“You’ll be all right,” Gwen went on. “You’re a sensible girl and you’ve got a good place.”
Sensible girls could hurt just as much as silly ones, Gracie thought, but she did not say so.
“Yeah,” she agreed absently, sipping at the tea. It was too hot. “Thank you,” she added, in case Gwen thought she was sulking.
Gwen put down her cup and went out, patting Gracie quickly on the arm as she passed.
Gracie sipped her tea again, without really tasting it. It was time she ran the water for Charlotte. She would probably have to take up enough for Pitt too. Don’t suppose Tellman would think of that.
Her tea was too hot to hurry. She was still only halfway through when the door opened and Tellman came in. He looked terrible, as if he had been up half the night, and had nightmares the little he had been in his bed. At another time she might have been sorry for him, now she was too consumed with her own hurt.
“D’yer want some tea?” she offered, indicating the pot. “It’s fresh. And yer look like summink the cat brought in.”
“I feel like it,” Tellman replied, going to the teapot. “I was up until heaven knows when.” He looked as if he had been about to add something more, than changed his mind abruptly.
“Wot for?” she asked, passing him the milk. “Yer ill?”
“No,” he replied, looking away from her.
In spite of her own absorption in misery, she was aware that something must have happened. Perhaps it was to do with Finn. She had to ask.
“Why were yer up, then? Did summink ’appen?”
He looked at her closely, searching her face, then made his decision. “Mr. Pitt was up too. We were just trying to solve the case, that’s all.”
“And did yer?”
“No, not yet.”
“Oh.” She did not want to know any more about Finn. She was afraid of what it would