Half Moon Street - Anne Perry [88]
The old lady spent a wretched day. She thought it must be the most tense and miserable time of her life. She had no more excuses to remain upstairs unless she pretended to be ill, and she did not want to behave in any way other than usual, in case it aroused suspicion. No one must ever know what she had done.
But she could hardly bear to look at Caroline. Her own thoughts consumed her. Perhaps it would be easier if she called on someone else, but she must be there in case he came early, or should Caroline change her mind and decide to go out. She might need all her wits to counter such a thing.
This afternoon would make up for all the years of the past when she had done nothing but endure, like a coward. It would wipe all that away, cancel it as if it had never been. She would be rid of it. The thought of that freedom was like a crushing burden lifted. She would not despise herself anymore, nor feel that boredom of shame like a stone inside her.
She would have liked to talk about something trivial, to keep her thoughts occupied, but she could think of nothing, and it would be out of character. She and Caroline never chatted in friendly, inconsequential fashion. So she sat in silence while Caroline wrote to Charlotte in Paris, and there was no sound in the room but the flames in the hearth, the occasional fall of ash as the coals collapsed, and the scratch of Caroline’s pen over the page.
Then suddenly it happened. The maid was at the door.
“Mr. Ellison has called, ma’am. Shall I say you are receiving?”
Caroline looked surprised. “Oh! Yes, please tell him we are.” She was smiling. She looked very elegant in her afternoon dress, and there was a slight flush to her cheeks.
The door opened again and Samuel came in, his eyes going straight to Caroline. He could not keep the pleasure from his face. He barely glanced at Mariah.
“How nice to see you,” Caroline said courteously. “It is a little late for tea. Would you care for some other refreshment?”
“Thank you,” he accepted, coming farther into the room. “I hope it is not an inconvenient hour?” At last he acknowledged the old lady. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Ellison.”
This was going extremely well. She could hardly have orchestrated it better. She rose to her feet.
“If you will excuse me,” she said, grasping her stick. “I shall return directly.” And without further explanation she left the room. She must send the other letter immediately. It was already written. There was an all-purpose manservant. He would deliver it if she gave him the necessary cab fare. She had that ready also.
She went up to her room and fetched the letter. She knew it by heart. It was very simple.
Dear Joshua,
Will you please return home the moment you receive this. Do not hesitate. The situation is serious, and only your presence may avert disaster.
I am very sorry,
Mariah Ellison
She took the envelope and several shillings and gave them to the manservant.
He looked startled.
“Will you take this to Mr. Fielding immediately, please,” she requested. “It is most urgent, a matter of the utmost importance.”
“ ’E’s in rehearsal, ma’am,” he protested. “ ’E won’t want to be interrupted.”
“Of course he won’t,” she agreed. “But he will want even less the disaster which will happen if you do not deliver this to him at once and see that he reads it. If you have any loyalty to him at all, do as you are told!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Looking puzzled and unhappy, he obeyed.
Mariah went back upstairs, checking the clock on the landing, wondering how long she would have to wait.
Perhaps she should go downstairs again, in case Samuel was aware of being unchaperoned and left? Or Caroline perceived the impropriety of it and asked him to go.
She turned and walked back, still uncertain.
She stood at the top of the stairs and saw the parlormaid go across the hall with a salver with a decanter of whisky and a glass. Excellent! At least he would remain until he had