Chapter 41 #2
“It was just such a shock,” she replied shakily.
“To be confronted with…with Penarth suddenly like that,” she confessed on an outward breath.
She spoke the name of her hometown in a horrified whisper, like it was a curse word.
“After we had been talking about it too! When I felt like I had left it all so far behind me.”
“Our past does have a tendency to haunt us,” he agreed, then wished he hadn’t when she shivered.
“Oh, don’t!” she begged, then looked embarrassed when he lifted an eyebrow at her reaction.
“It is only, well, your words put me in mind of that—that horrible dream I had.”
“Have you been thinking of that again?”
“Yes, I skipped ahead in my book and read ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’ this morning,” she admitted. “I thought we might discuss it over lunch, but…” She bit her lip.
“It made you think of that day at the pergola?” he said slowly.
Reluctantly, she nodded her head. “It’s stupid, I know, and not in any way comparable but…it does feel now rather like I saw an apparition that day.” She hung her head. “And now I’m ruining our lovely luncheon.”
He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “No such thing,” he said, comforting her instead of pressing his advantage. What was he doing? He ought to be pointing out that her reticence indicated she had a hankering for respectability after all. That she ought to damned well marry him!
“Now cast your eye over the menu,” he recommended instead. “There must be lots here to tempt your tastebuds.”
She put on a brave face, but it was clear that Caroline had been badly rattled. She was distracted throughout their elegant meal, and Gervaise was forced to carry their conversation by speaking of the various acquaintances he and Ralph had sought out that morning.
By the time they were served with orange blossom ice cream in two cut glass pedestal bowls, Caroline had regained some of her composure. Gervaise tentatively turned the conversation back on her. “So, you said Violet liked your new gown. Did you speak to any of the new bar staff?”
She cleared her throat. “A couple of them,” she answered lightly. “An old friend of Effie’s called Moira and an Irish girl called Kitty from Cork.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “To be honest, I think Effie and Vi were keeping the rest at bay. Did you ask them to shield me from them?”
“No, though I am glad to hear it.” He gave her a wry look. “I think Reg and Jeb were doing the same for me in the scullery this morning.”
She gave a gurgle of laughter at that. “Really?”
He nodded. “It was quite alarmingly overrun in there. They were trying to toast bread over the fire.”
“I am not so sure a scullery will suffice now there are so many people living there. The place could really do with a functioning kitchen complete with cast iron stove.”
“The Citadel is neither a restaurant nor a home, Caroline,” he pointed out calmly. “Effie’s barmaids will be more than happy to purchase their meals from street vendors.”
“You called it home yesterday,” she said, peering at him over the top of her glass.
“I did?”
“Yes. I marked it most particularly because you had not done so before.” Gervaise was silent a moment as he cast about for some reply, any reply that would not offend her. “Perhaps because you have made it so much more homely, since you have bought us so many nice new things,” she suggested.
“If I referred to it as ‘home,’” he answered finally, “then I did so because you are there.” He let that sink in, before continuing carefully. “The place is…insufficient for our needs. It is a mere four rooms in an attic.”
When she did not reply, he took a deep breath. “Lately, I have been thinking I could buy us a house. What would you say to that? It was living with my dull uncle that was the barrier to matrimony last time we discussed the matter, was it not?”
Caroline set down her glass. “I thought you had no money.”
“Rent one, then,” he answered with a shrug. “I ran into my uncle this morning,” he said, studying his wineglass. “The old boy made it plain he has no intention of disinheriting me after all. He’s smoothed things over with the Blessings and that whole business seems to have run its course.”
“You ran into him?” she said slowly. “In one of your clubs?”
“Yes.” He did not mention the fact he knew old George would be in Worthalls, as was his custom.
“Did you…? Did he…?”
“Ask after my wife? Of course he did.”
Caroline flushed. “And did you set him straight?”
“No,” he admitted. “I did not.”
“Gervaise,” she murmured disapprovingly.
“I have already told you my intent on that score.”
“But Gervaise—”
“You like the new furniture,” he reminded her. “Imagine how much you would like a whole house filled with the stuff.”
Caroline looked grave. “But your uncle surely expects his heir to reside under his roof.”
“Who cares what Uncle George expects? I never have. I lived at Melbury Square purely for convenience’s sake, not for any other reason. The responsibility of maintaining my own household never appealed to me before.”
“But if you expect him to finance a house, it hardly seems—”
“I am not wholly dependent on my uncle,” Gervaise cut in, more sharply than he had intended.
He always prided himself on the fact he was quite shameless, but Caroline’s expression of reproach touched him on the raw.
“Good God, madam! Do you want me to present you with a ledger of my accounts before you will consider my suit?”
She sat very still. “As to that, my lord, I believe it is a father’s role to ensure his daughter is financially secure in her marriage. And as you know, mine is dead.”
“And a thoroughly bad lot, if memory serves,” he added before he could stop himself. It was a sad fact that Gervaise’s tongue could be cruel when he felt provoked.
“Quite so,” she said quietly, and he saw she had turned rather pale.
“Come, let us not quarrel,” he said briskly. “I will see you back to The Citadel, and then I have to meet up with Ewell. He wants to introduce me to some acquaintances of his.”
He hailed a cab and they rode back to the gin palace in silence. Instead of leaving her on the step, he saw her up to their rooms. Caroline did not protest, merely preceded him up the stairs and made straight for her sewing box.
Almost he regretted not hailing Lady Sharpe himself. If he had introduced Caroline as his wedded wife would not that have put some pressure on her to make it so?
No sooner was she seated than he bade her farewell. “I want you to give my offer of marriage some serious thought, Caroline,” he said by way of a parting shot. “Consider, if we were safely married then you need not dissolve into a milk jelly at the prospect of seeing anyone from your past.”
Caroline looked up quickly. “But that’s not why I was in a quake at all!
I don’t care two straws about my reputation, for no one there believed any good of me anyway!
I’m sure Lady Sharpe’s opinion of me was as low as anyone else’s in Penarth, though I don’t believe she thought very highly of Mama.
” She gave him a wry look. “I once heard her describe Mama as ‘that Needham woman,’ saying she was a ‘pretty ninny’ and she had no patience with her.”
“Then why? Why were you reduced to such a state by it?” Gervaise asked forthrightly.
“It’s hard to explain,” she said, averting her eyes.
“Try.”
“Not now, Gervaise,” she said, covering her eyes with her hand. “I will…formulate an answer for you. Only…can we not discuss it now? Please?”
Biting back his instinctive reply, he gave a short nod. “Very well,” he said curtly. “I will see you tonight.”