Chapter 4 #2
And yet, it was the legacy that had saved her, for it belonged to her, not to Papa, and he couldn’t do a thing about that. At least, she hoped not. She feared he would exert whatever authority he could muster to take her back home.
On the way downstairs, she heard Mrs. Wix’s voice from above. “Sorry, missus, I was up top getting rid of all sign of ghosts and such. Didn’t hear the door.”
“Nonsense,” Thisbe said, turning to glare up at her.
“It was sheer laziness, and as for subjecting Sergeant Dolman to unnecessary embarrassment, you should be ashamed of yourself.” She continued down, then stopped, sniffing.
Did the woman never bathe? She always smelled of meat and onions, which was to be expected of a cook, but last night of dirt and horse as well.
Those powerful odors still lingered. “By the way, Mrs. Wix, I believe you would benefit from a bath.”
Soon they were in Lady Best’s well-sprung carriage, rolling along the road to Brighton. “Thank heavens summer is over, for Brighton is ghastly when it’s full of holidaymakers,” Lady Best said.
“Are you familiar with Brighton?” Miss Transom asked.
“Not really,” Thisbe said. “I have spent most of my life at my father’s estate in Surrey, but we came here once for a brief holiday. Papa wanted to see the place that had so captured the imagination of the Regent.” He’d praised it to the skies; he always followed the Prince’s lead.
She was about to enquire into Miss Transom’s family, when Lady Best changed the subject, pointing out landmarks along the way and discussing families in the area, and giving her no chance to ask her burning questions. Which, Thisbe reminded herself, was all for the best.
The shopping trip proved delightful. They stopped at Lady Best’s modiste, a charming lady with whom Thisbe sympathized—it was frightfully hard for a gentlewoman to be obliged to earn her keep.
Next, they visited a millinery, a haberdashery, and a fabric warehouse.
All Thisbe could bring herself to buy was some ribbons to change the appearance of a few gowns and a bonnet, as well as pins, needles, thread, and a thimble, none of which she’d thought to bring from her father’s house.
They encountered two ladies to whom Lady Best introduced her—Lady Josephine Cranfield and her cousin and chaperone, Mrs. Julia Elford.
Thisbe’s circle of acquaintances was growing remarkably quickly.
If only she could keep up appearances! Perhaps she should start helping Sergeant Dolman.
She could wield a pair of shears well enough to clip the hedges.
All the while, the urge to learn about her handsome Mr. Transom ate away at her.
Lady Best treated them to tea and cakes at the Old Oak Inn and outlined their plans for the coming weeks. “Lady Somerville’s house party will end with a grand ball—I’ll see if I can get you an invitation, Mrs. Rose—after which Lily will return to her parents’ estate.”
Thisbe leapt into this opening. “Where is your family home, Miss Transom?”
“North of Chichester,” Miss Transom said.
Ah! “I danced some years ago with a Mr. Transom at an assembly in Chichester. A relation of yours?”
“My brother Gervaise, most likely. Was he very charming?”
“Exceptionally so,” Thisbe said, unable to prevent herself from smiling. “Handsome, too, fair-haired like you, and an excellent dancer. He said he was about to leave for the Continent. Was he a soldier?”
“No, he was a diplomatic aide-de-camp,” Lady Best said.
“Whatever that means,” Miss Transom said. “I believe he was a spy.”
“Perhaps that is so,” Lady Best said, “but you must not say so aloud.” She cast a glance at Thisbe. “I’m sure Mrs. Rose will not mention it to anyone.”
“Of course, I shall not,” Thisbe said.
“Your parents would be mortified if people learned of it, Lily dear,” Lady Best said. “Spying is an ungentlemanly occupation. It does not redound to your family’s credit.”
“It should do!” Miss Transom said.
“I agree,” Thisbe said. “It’s an important occupation in wartime, an extremely dangerous one requiring courage and daring.”
“Dear Gervaise,” Miss Transom said sadly. “He always had plenty of that. I miss him so much!”
Thisbe’s heart plummeted. “Oh no, did he die?”
“No, he’s alive,” Miss Transom said, “but he’s not at all well.
I don’t mean physically. He’s healthy, but he has become restless and impatient, and he won’t stay at home.
Shortly after he returned from the war, he left us again, travelling all over England.
He even returned to France. One would think he’d had enough of the place! ”
“But he is in England now?”
“Yes!” she cried. “Imagine my surprise and—and delight when he came to Best Manor briefly last evening. It was lovely to see him, but…” She bit her lip, and a tear winked in her eye.
“But he’s not the same Ghostie we knew, and I don’t know that he ever will be,” Lady Best said.
“Ghostie?” Thisbe asked.
“His initials spell the world ghost, which I suppose gave him the idea,” Miss Transom said. “He played ghost at school to frighten the masters and wagered he wouldn’t get caught, and he never did!”
“He’s still my husband’s close friend, which gives me hope. I think they’ve got another of their silly wagers going on.” Lady Best rolled her eyes. “God knows what it is about, but to me it’s a sign that he’s on the mend.”
Thisbe was too embarrassed to mention that he’d wagered he would steal a kiss from her. Dear heaven, will I meet him again someday?