Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave - Stephanie Barron [86]
And so he left me. As the Lieutenant observed, Mr. Hearst parts only grudgingly with his grievances. Or perhaps my awareness of a matter he has chosen to keep dark, has stirred a guilty conscience. But why? I was not allowed to ponder the matter long, however for a jocular Cockney voice soon rang out from the doorway.
“So you're the cheeky bit as ‘as turned my master's ‘ead.”
I looked over my shoulder in astonishment, to find a dapper fellow in his shirtsleeves still applying a rag to one of Lieutenant Hearst's boots. “Never done talkin’ about you, he is. Miss Austen this, and Miss Austen that! If I didn't know the gent's way with the ladies, I'd swear he was a goner. What'll it be, love?”
I swallowed and maintained my composure with difficulty; never had I been addressed in such intimate terms by one of his station. “You are Lieutenant Hearst's batman, I take it?”
“Jack Lewis's the name, and war's the game,” he rejoined, scraping an affable low bow, “but I ‘aven't got all day, and that's a fact. The old sod'll be ‘ell-bent for leather, soon's he gets back from ridin’ that nag, and I'll be jumpin’ two steps ahead o’ his lash all the way to Londontown.”
“Lewis!” A curly head peered around the sitting-room door, eyebrows drawn down and scowling. “Don't stand here nattering with Joan, for God's sake—get my damn bags packed.”
“As you like, guv,” the batman tossed over his shoulder imperturbably. He turned back to me with a wink. “Doesn't like me movin’ in on ‘is territory.” For one fearful instant I thought the fellow might actually seize my hand for a kiss, but he satisfied himself with a grin and a broad nod, encompassing me in some scheme of which I knew nothing, but greatly misgave the outcome. “I leave you to it, sir.”
“Miss Austen!” Lieutenant Hearst exclaimed, upon entering the room, all consternation and discomfiture; “I had no idea you were within. Pray, let me call for some tea and make you comfortable! I fear Private Lewis has incommoded you dreadfully.” This last, with a scowl for his batman, and a gesture of the head towards the door. Jack Lewis heaved a sigh, ran his insolent eyes the length of my figure, and turned upon his heel; but his air of disgruntlement was entirely for his own amusement, I judged, since he was whistling as he moved down the corridor.
“What an extraordinary man,” I said, in a tone of wonderment, uncertain as yet if I had imagined him. “His impertinence is beyond belief, Lieutenant.”
“I fear you are right,” Tom Hearst replied, gesturing to the one straight-backed chair in the room, and standing until I had seated myself. “I should have dismissed the rascal long ago, but for the obligation I owe him.”
“And what can you possibly owe such a man?”
He hesitated, and then shrugged. “My life, Miss Austen.”
Whatever I had expected, it was hardly this; I felt myself overcome by a surprising humility, and looked to my clasped hands.
“But you did not come to Scargrave Cottage to discuss Private Lewis, however extraordinary you may find him.” Tom Hearst threw himself into an armchair by the fire. “To what do I owe this honour, Miss Austen, and in the midst of all our packing?”
“In truth, Lieutenant, it is because of your batman that I am come. I understand him to be in possession of the belongings of the late Marguerite Dumas, which you so thoughtfully sent him to retrieve of the washer-woman, Lizzy Scratch.” I spoke the words as though they were nothing out of the ordinary way, but narrowly observed his response.
“How came you to think of this?” he said, his handsome aspect puzzled.
“Isobel has charged me with returning the maid's things to her family in the Barbadoes,” I said. That this was, in fact, an untruth, I forced myself to put from my mind.
“But she has—” he began, and then stopped, as if considering. “It was my very same thought, and had the trip to London not put it out of my mind, the girl's few belongings should already be on their way.”
“I must say that I wondered at your thinking