Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave - Stephanie Barron [107]
“The girl is within, then?” I said.
“Aye, and she is. Jenny will have told you of her trouble?”
I replied in the affirmative.
“I'll have her out for you in a moment, then, and you can be the judge of her yourself,” said Mrs. Hammond; and rising with an energy commendable in one of her advanced years, she disappeared in pursuit of her young charge.
She had no sooner returned, with a slight girl of angelic appearance behind, than there was a knock upon the outer door; and with a curtsey, Mrs. Hammond left me with Rosie Ketch.
That she was far along in her condition was immediately evident; although how frail a girl, and of such apparent youth, could be expected to bear a child, was indeed to be wondered at. She had Jenny Barlow's fair hair and blue eyes, but where her sister's face showed that awareness of the world's harsher cares that maturity brings, Rosie's countenance was altogether innocent. I might readily believe her to have come by her condition, without any understanding of how she had been got that way; and pitied her deeply for the vagary of her fate. That any man could so impose upon such a child, was incredible; but that it should have been the late Earl—as I doubted not from Jenny Barlow's dark looks at his name and George Hearst's accusatory words in his study—must detract from his reputation for goodness.
“You are Rosie Ketch,” I said gently.
The girl nodded shyly, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor, and her hands clasped before her.
“I am Miss Austen, Rosie,” I told her. “I am come to bring you the love of your sister, who placed it in my charge when last I was at Scargrave. She is all benevolence on your behalf, and her concern has grown with the distance between you, and what I understand to be her husband's injunction of silence. May I assure her of your good health and steady spirits?”
“Tell Jenny as I am well,” she said carefully, in a clear, high voice, “though I fear for myself when my time comes, and would have her by me, if Ted can spare her.”
“I shall tell her so,” I said. “Are there yet many months to wait?”
“I can't say as I know rightly,” she said.
“And you have been here how long?”
At that, her eyes glanced to the door, which was even then opening to reveal Mrs. Hammond, ushering her latest visitor within. Imagine my shock upon discovering it to be a gentleman of my acquaintance—none other than Mr. George Hearst!
My surprise must have shown upon my face, or perhaps his own sensibility taught him to expect it; for he looked as confused as I. His intelligence quickly overcame his discomfiture, however, and he impeded my questions with a determined swiftness.
“My dear Miss Austen,” he cried, “what can have brought you here?”
“Mr. Hearst!” I exclaimed. “I might ask you as much!”
He coloured at that, but said nothing; and recovering himself swiftly, bent over my hand in greeting.
“You are acquainted with Mr. Hearst?” Mrs. Hammond said, looking from himself to me with a shrewd eye, as well she might; for I discerned that she had given him no knowledge of my presence, though knowing me only lately arrived from Scargrave, and more than likely to have encountered him there.
“Indeed,” Mr. Hearst said; “it has been my privilege.”
“Rosie,” Mrs. Hammond said briskly, “you must attend to the washing now; get along, girl. I'll be with you directly.”
At her charge's exit, she turned once more to me, and said, not without kindness, “You'll be wanting tea, miss, I expect. I'll fetch it and leave you to yourselves.”
As George Hearst clearly awaited my adoption of a seat, I chose the settee once more, and he assumed Mrs. Hammond's position opposite. He regarded me for the space of several seconds, and I, him. I may say that his countenance lacked his customary expression of melancholy; he appeared rather to be freed of some great weight, and at peace with what troubles he may have had.
“I know the confusion