The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [126]
I tried to remember what Emerson and I had discussed when she was present; but again the abominable habit of treating servants like pieces of furniture got in my way. I had paid so little attention to her . . . One thing stood out, however, and if I had been in the habit of blushing, which I am not, I might have done so.
‘I don’t know what Emerson is going to say,’ I murmured.
Miss Minton’s mischievous smile vanished. She clasped her hands. ‘Oh, must you tell the professor?’
‘I don’t see why I should not. Marriage, Miss Minton, necessitates straightforward and absolutely honest behaviour between . . . But this is not the proper time for such a discussion. I must say, I am annoyed that you seem to care more for his opinion than for mine. Emerson does have that effect on susceptible females; he cannot help it . . . Sometimes he cannot help it.’
‘You don’t understand.’ The rosy colour in her cheeks deepened, but she met my eyes steadily. ‘Listening to the exchanges between you – being privileged to hear, if not actually to behold, the intercourse of two minds so utterly in harmony . . . Mrs Emerson, it has given me a new idea altogether of what a man can be – of what a woman may expect he should be. His humour, his kindness, his strength and tender care . . .’
I was relieved to learn she had not actually beheld the intercourse of two such minds. The master thinks he commands the servant, but the servant knows – more than he should. Yet my righteous indignation lessened as I listened, and when her voice faltered and broke, I felt a deep, if unwilling, sympathy. It was clear to me now why she had stayed on after it became apparent her ruse had backfired. How well could I, of all women, understand the spell Emerson casts on a woman with the intelligence to appreciate him! And I rather suspected that in addition to appreciating his humour and his kindness, she had not been blind to his blue eyes and raven hair and his admirable musculature, of which she had probably seen a good deal more than she should.
It was she who broke the deep reverie into which we had both fallen, contemplating, I have no doubt, the same object. ‘I will go,’ she said. ‘I beg, madam, to give notice. Will half an hour be too long?’
‘You may not leave your post, you are dismissed,’ I said. ‘And without a character. Take half an hour or an hour, but leave my house. I will make some explanation to Mrs Watson.’
‘Yes, madam,’ she said, biting off each syllable. Well, I could hardly blame her for disliking me, who possessed (as she believed) all rights to the object of her adoration. I, who knew only too well the bitter pain of jealousy!
But as she started to go out the door I remembered what Kevin had told me. She had a room in London, but she might not have the money for cab fare or for food. I could not send the girl out of the house, at night, without a penny in her pocket. And there were other considerations.
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘I have changed my mind. You will stay here tonight – still in your capacity of housemaid, of course. No, don’t argue, I will admit no discussion. In the morning you may go where you like and do what you like. Unless, that is, you would prefer to let one of your admirers, who are probably pacing up and down in the square, take charge of you.’
‘What did you say?’ She turned to stare. ‘Admirers? I have no –’
‘Perhaps the word was ill advised. But there are certainly two young gentlemen anxiously awaiting the word I promised to give them – word of your safety, Miss Minton. It was cruel and thoughtless of you to leave your friends in doubt as to what had happened to you.’
‘I have no friends,’ she said wildly. ‘Only rivals. And there is no man I know whose protection I would accept.’
Except one, I thought. And he would give it, too, even after the treacherous trick you played on him. But not the sort of protection you would want,