Sick of Shadows - M. C. Beaton [74]
The carriage stopped outside Mrs. Losse’s door. Harry heard a voice say, “I won’t be needing you any more tonight,” and the carriage moved on. A portly figure moved up the front steps and then turned as if aware of being watched.
There was a lamp over the door. Harry recognized the heavy-lidded protruding eyes, the sensual mouth and the thick beard. He was smoking a cigar.
As Harry watched, the door opened. Mrs. Losse stood there.
King Edward turned back and entered the house.
Harry began to walk towards Chelsea. It struck him that he had been unkind to Becket. Just because he, Harry Cathcart, had been unlucky in love, there was no need to make Becket suffer. He would miss him, but Becket should have his chance to marry.
He would set Becket and Daisy up in some business and Phil could take over as manservant.
Rose did not hear anything from Harry and fretted, wondering what to do. She and her parents had been invited down to Mrs. Barrington-Bruce’s country home at the weekend. An invitation had been issued to Harry as well, but he had not telephoned to say he would be joining them or to make any apology.
As they travelled to Mrs. Barrington-Bruce’s, Rose was aware that Daisy was in a state of suppressed excitement. She kept taking out a letter and reading it over and over again.
“What’s in the letter?” asked Rose.
“Later,” said Daisy, flashing a warning look in the direction of Lady Polly.
Brum was the one who collected and delivered the servants’ mail. Daisy, although she had been elevated to the rank of companion, still qualified as a servant in Brum’s eyes, and so she received a letter from Becket unopened. Had it gone to the earl, he would most certainly have opened it and read it.
When they finally reached their destination and were shown to their rooms, Daisy waited until the maids had unpacked their clothes until she said to Rose, “I have the most wonderful news!”
“What’s that?”
“Becket has received permission from the captain to marry me. He is going to set us up in business.”
Rose looked at her in dismay. “You will be leaving me?”
“Yes, but you’ve got Turner,” said Daisy, made cheerfully selfish by the good news. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
“Of course, Daisy. I am sad because I do not want to lose you.”
“I’ll be around. Oh, I did so hope the captain would come this weekend and bring Becket. What’s up with the man?”
“It’s my fault. He . . . he tried to kiss me and at that very moment a steel came loose in my corset and dug into me and I made a face and he stormed off in a temper.”
“Then write to him and tell him what happened!”
“I cannot. Ladies do not talk about stays.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, tell him you had a bad twinge of indigestion.”
“He shouldn’t have tried to kiss me anyway. It is an engagement in name only.”
Daisy looked at her with concern. “If you go on the way you’re going, you’ll soon have no engagement at all. Off to India and without me. Don’t be so stubborn. Write to him. Tomorrow’s Saturday. You could catch the Saturday post.”
Rose smiled. “I’ll do it.”
Before dinner, she sat down and wrote a simple apology, making it as light-hearted as she could.
Then she called Turner and the long slow process of getting changed and dressed for dinner began.
There were various other guests at dinner and Rose was seated next to a Major Guy Alexander, who rattled away pleasantly about all sorts of society gossip. He turned out to know Harry but did not comment on his absence.
After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing-room to leave the gentlemen to their port.
The drawing-room was overheated and Rose quietly opened the French windows and let herself out onto the terrace. The dining-room was next to the drawing-room and she could hear the sound of laughter. Then she thought she heard Harry’s name and moved along the terrace and stood listening. Major Alexander was talking.
“You were asking about Cathcart? I know why the sly dog