Chapter 1 #3
Nat frowned at her. “I do not, obviously. You mean to say they took something of yours, and when you attempted to take it back—?”
“They accused me of being a thief, threatened to have me prosecuted, and told me to get out and never come back or they would ruin me entirely,” she said, holding his gaze.
“Moreover, they told me to leave London, for if they ever discovered I worked for people they knew, they would have me dismissed at once, yet I have no money to leave London, or even to feed myself, as they well know.”
“Good Lord,” he said, horrified by such cruelty. “What scoundrels!”
She made a mirthless sound and shook her head. “Indeed. Yet they are respectable members of society, and I am no one, with no family to protect me, no finances to preserve me. In short, I am too insignificant to worry about.”
“Damned if you are!” he retorted, recollecting himself as he registered the shock in her eyes. “I beg your pardon.”
“Not at all,” she said, her voice faint as she gazed at him. “Do… Do you mean to say you believe me?”
“I do,” he said, wondering if perhaps he was being a fool, but dismissing the notion at once. Young ladies like Miss Bancroft did not shelter in shop doorways on such a night unless something had gone dreadfully wrong. “What was it, this precious thing that they took from you?”
Miss Bancroft stared at him for a long moment before she answered.
“The first illustrated edition of Ptolemy's Cosmographia, translated by Giacomo D'Angelo da Scarperia. It dates from the fifteenth century and is extremely rare and beautiful. My father treasured it, which is all that matters to me else I would have sold it, for it is rather valuable. Not enough to live on, but it would have given me a little nest egg.”
“And these… these devils took it from you?” Nat asked, hardly able to believe his ears.
“Yes,” she said with a humourless laugh. “Yes, they did, and I shall never be able to prove otherwise.”
Nat decided he did not agree with this sentiment, for the story had roused all his most chivalrous instincts, not to mention his notions of honour and decency. That whoever these people were might get away with such a nefarious crime made him sick to his stomach.
Still, that was for the future. For now, he had a Miss Bancroft on his hands and not the slightest idea what to do with her. A single gentleman could hardly ask about for a respectable position for a young lady without causing a scandal. Yet surely there was something, some way he could…. Oh!
“Mr Ashford?”
“Hmmm?” Nat replied vaguely, savouring the brilliant scheme that had just hurtled into his brain.
“Are you quite all right? You look a little—”
“Clever,” he said smugly.
“I was going to say bilious,” she remarked, sounding doubtful.
“No, clever. Quite fantastically cunning, actually,” he added, beaming at her.
Miss Bancroft paused, a spoonful of apple pie suspended before her. “I have the most dreadful premonition my disastrous circumstances are about to descend into farce,” she said, with more resignation than horror.
“Well, don’t be like that,” Nat retorted, stung by her lack of enthusiasm. “This is a marvellous idea. It gives you a wonderful place to stay for the next three or four weeks and gets me out of a sticky situation, too.”
The lady sighed and set down her spoon. “Go on, then. I’m too desperate not to listen at least.”
Nat scowled, but as she had obviously had a very difficult day, found that he could not hold her scepticism against her. “Well, the thing is, as you said yourself, I’m something of a catch.”
Miss Bancroft snorted and then tried rather desperately to pretend she was coughing. “S-Sorry,” she managed, gesturing to the apple pie. “The pastry is very good, but a piece got caught in my throat.”
“Hmph.” Nat ignored the slight, relieved to discover she could still find humour in the situation. “Very amusing, I’m sure. But the thing is, my family have been on at me for an age now, nagging me I ought to get married.”
“Quite right too,” the lady said with a nod of approval. “You’re hardly a boy, are you?”
“Do you always say exactly what you are thinking?” he demanded irritably.
Her lovely brows drew together as she gazed down at the bowl of apple pie before her. “No, I never have done, but in the circumstances I don’t have a thing to lose and… and it’s rather liberating if nothing else,” she said, lifting her gaze to his and giving him a rueful smile.
As she did so, one dimple peeked unexpectedly out at him and, for a moment, Nat lost the thread of the conversation.
“So, your family wishes you to marry, and you prefer to carry on your carefree bachelor existence,” she suggested, lifting her spoon once more and applying herself to her pudding.
“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Nat admitted, forcing his attention back to his brilliant idea. “I don’t mean to say I shall never marry, but I’ve no intention of doing so for a while yet, and when I do, I’ll choose my own bride, dam—dash it all—not one my mother found for me!”
“And how—” she began, and then went a spectacular shade of alabaster as her spoon clattered into her bowl. “Thank you most kindly for everything you have done for me. If you will excuse me, I really must be going,” she said, pushing to her feet and giving every indication of fleeing.
“Hold on!” Nat said, lurching to his feet and grasping hold of her arm.
She glared at the hand restraining her and then at him, her expression so fierce Nat released her at once.
“I beg your pardon, but don’t go. You’ve not even heard what—”
“I do not need to hear it,” she replied crisply, and with such starch he could see for the first time what a good governess she would be. Quite terrifying. “I read something of the sort in a book once. The plot was entirely ridiculous, and I will not submit myself to such… such…”
“You mean to say you’ve figured out my plan?” Nat asked, impressed by her quick mind.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve figured you out, at least,” she replied, still tart but looking a little less like she might run away.
“How so?” Nat asked, wondering why he was so desperate to keep her talking, to keep her from running away.
If she ran off now, it was entirely her own decision and would sever any obligation he felt for her.
“Come, come. Sit down. You’ve not even finished your apple pie, and it’s very good, isn’t it? ”
She sent her bowl of pudding such a wistful glance that Nat’s heart ached for her.
“Oh, very well,” she said crossly, sitting down again.
“There’s a good fellow,” he said, smiling at her. “Do you really know what I was going to say?”
“Not precisely,” she said, picking up her spoon again. “But I suspect it will involve my lying to your family about precisely who I am for the entire Christmas period, and that I shall not do. I may be desperate, but I am not and never have been a liar.”
“Of course not. I can see that, but this isn’t a lie designed to hurt anyone. It’s simply to stop them throwing some poor girl at my head for the next three weeks. I’ve never even met her before, and I’m dashed if I’ll let them force my hand.”
“Then don’t let them,” she said, scraping the bowl with her spoon to scoop up every last trace of cream.
“You don’t know my family,” Nat said gloomily.
“They have this marvellous knack of making me feel like a foolish child, and they go on and on, telling me about all stupid things I’ve done and all the rotten decisions I ever made until I feel utterly hopeless.
Then, of course, there is the girl. She’ll likely be nice and terribly embarrassed at the corner everyone is pushing me into, and I’ll end up pretending I don’t really mind and agreeing to marry her just so she doesn’t feel bad. It’s intolerable.”
Miss Bancroft frowned at him. “Are they truly so managing?”
Nat snorted. “If I let them. That’s why I stay away as much as possible. They can disapprove of me and sigh in disappointment all they like, but at least I don’t have to listen to it.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, and Nat ordered another pot of tea, concerned that Miss Bancroft might make another attempt to bolt if he did not give her an incentive to stay.
“You really would be doing me the most wonderful favour and, once it’s over, I’ll confess all to my cousin Della.
She’s a marvellous sort, you’ll like her a great deal, and I know she’ll be able to help you find a new position.
You might even find something in Little Valentine, for she was telling me about this new club the women have created.
Something about all women being equal and having a voice—I can’t quite remember, but it was definitely in the spirit of all for one and one for all. ”
Miss Bancroft gazed at him, a spark of interest alight there now. “A women’s club in Little Valentine?” she repeated, and he was uncertain which item was of more interest.
“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “A rather odd name, I suppose, but it’s a charming place.
A pretty little town by the sea in East Sussex.
My grandmother has a house there. And yes, Della is a member of the club, so she can tell you all about it.
Apparently, it’s run by a widowed lady and some of her friends.
Della seemed most impressed by its ethos. ”
“Surely your cousin will be furious with you for such a deception,” she said, frowning at him, but he had piqued her interest, he was certain of it, and he would not give up now.
“Della?” he said with a laugh. “Certainly not. Her brother would be another matter, I’ll grant you, but we keep out of each other’s way.”
“Why?”
“Why? Oh, because we don’t like each other. Chalk and cheese, I suppose you’d say,” he remarked, thinking this a rather large understatement.
“How so?”
Nat threw up his hands, not wishing to discuss Hawkney. “Oh, I don’t know. I take nothing very seriously and he takes everything far too seriously. That’s it in a nutshell, I suppose.”
Miss Bancroft gazed down at the table, her expression grave. “He will suspect at once.”
“He suspects everything I do is nefarious, so that won’t make a jot of difference,” Nat said with a snort.
She shook her head. “I was right to begin with. The idea is ludicrous and will end in disaster. There are far too many hurdles to overcome, and I will not compound my misfortune by throwing myself headlong into such a ridiculous scheme.”
He could see she intended to leave after this little speech, and he congratulated himself on having ordered the tea. It arrived in the nick of time, and she settled back down again.
“Name them.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said, glancing at him as she poured the tea. “Milk and sugar?”
“Yes, both, please, and I ask that you name every hurdle. If I cannot come up with a reasonable solution, then you may freeze to death on the streets of London with my blessing,” he replied, folding his arms.
She winced at his words, which made him feel like an utter brute, but he refused to apologise for them.
It was about time she faced up to exactly how bad her situation was.
As he saw it, she could try to find refuge in the nearest church, or end in the workhouse.
Neither would be an appealing prospect for a gently bred young woman.
His offer might be somewhat odd, and a little underhand, but no one ever need know and it would give her three weeks of comfort without worrying.
Besides, he was certain Della would help the poor girl once she understood her dire circumstances.
Miss Bancroft handed him his tea and met his eyes. “Very well. I have no chaperone. Are you seriously intending to turn up with me dressed as I am, with next to no luggage, no people to speak of, and no one to lend me countenance?”
“Ha!” Nat said, smug now. “I have thought of all this, so there. I happen to know a young woman — No! Not like that!” he said crossly as she made to get up again. “Good lord, will you sit still? It’s like talking to a jack-in-the-box.”
“What is it like, then, with this young woman you know?” she demanded, glaring at him.
Nat stared back at her reproachfully. “She is the daughter of my landlady, a very well brought up and respectable female. I shall tell my landlady that I have recently got engaged but your maid has been taken ill just when we were due to go down and present you to my family, and would Miss Betty be available to take the girl’s place? ”
Miss Bancroft’s shoulders ratcheted down a notch or two. “I suppose that would be acceptable. But, really, Mr Ashford, your family is obviously wealthy, they will take one look at me and assume I am a fortune hunter.”
“No, no. You sound like a well brought up lady and act the part too. You cannot help your father having fallen on hard times.”
Miss Bancroft put her head in her hands and groaned. “This will never work. I must be out of my mind to even consider for a moment—”
“But you are considering it?” Nat said, grinning at his success, for surely, he had her now.
“As you pointed out yourself, my only other option is to freeze to death on the streets of London,” she said, looking so utterly wretched Nat could have cut his heart out for ever having said such a dreadful thing.
“I shall never let that happen, Miss Bancroft. I shall see you safe and happy, one way or another. I give you my word of honour.”
She gazed at him, her grey eyes bleak and hopeless. “You are a good man, Mr Ashford, for I believe you really mean that.”
“I do mean it, and I shall see it done too!” he said, stung by the silent implication that he might fail despite his good intentions.
“We shall see,” she said, and returned a wistful smile.
“We shall!” he said, determined she buck up and have a little faith. “Now, about how we first met. We need something romantic—”