Chapter 7 #2
The conversation with Mr. Hayes lingered in her mind as she spoke with Mr. Drake on her left. What would Papa say if she asked to curate the window display?
He would refuse, she was nearly certain.
But what if he did not? Papa wanted her to be happy. He had always given her everything he could—everything within reason. Mama’s death had made him overly anxious about anything that might put his daughters or their reputations in danger. But what if she convinced him there was no danger?
Sometimes, she wondered if he continued to see her as but fourteen. Perhaps his decision to allow her to come to London was evidence that he was growing more open and realizing she had left behind her schoolroom days.
If she never asked about the window display, she would always wonder.
Mr. Hayes did not tease Arabella again with the bracelet, engaging her in polite conversation and seeing to it that her plate always had what she desired until the women left to the drawing room.
Aunt Louisa went to fetch her knitting, and Felicity waited until the door was closed before coming over to Arabella.
“I saw that butterfly pendant at the market yesterday,” she said excitedly. “He bought it for you, didn’t he? You are the friend he spoke of.”
“He only wishes to tease me,” Arabella said.
“Then you should tease him back,” Felicity said.
“That is the art of flirtation, Bella, and when it is done right, it is simply delicious. Take Mr. Drake, for example. I am already impatient for the men to rejoin us to continue our conversation. Not that I shall let him know I am impatient, for that would entirely destroy the fun.”
Arabella frowned. “What shall you do?”
Felicity shrugged a shoulder, her face full of happy mischief. “Ignore him for a time. Converse with Mr. Yorke, perhaps, to elicit a bit of jealousy.”
Arabella could barely wrap her mind around such stratagems, much less execute them herself.
Besides, she was hardly certain what she wanted from Mr. Hayes.
It was strange for her to feel so na?ve and uncertain, for at home, she was the eldest, and Mary and Catherine looked to her for instruction and wisdom.
Aunt Louisa returned presently, eager to discuss their guests.
She was quite taken with all three of them, deeming Mr. Yorke an able conversationalist acquainted with all the most important names in the Commons, Mr. Drake charming and handsome but a suspected fortune hunter Felicity and Arabella were not on any account to fall in love with, and Mr. Hayes an engaging and attentive gentleman who had the misfortune of being terribly obscure.
“What did you think of Mr. Hayes’s bracelet, Mama?” Felicity asked with a glance at Arabella.
“I thought it strange,” Aunt Louisa replied. “I do not think I have ever seen a man wear a bracelet.”
“And had you any other thoughts about it?” Felicity asked, a hint of amused impatience in her voice.
“It was pretty,” her mother responded.
“And do you have any guesses as to the identity of the friend to whom it belongs?”
Arabella shot her cousin a look.
Aunt Louisa’s mouth turned down at the edges. “How should I? I barely know the man, much less whom he claims as friends.”
“Did it not remind you forcibly of Bella’s masquerade costume?” Felicity urged.
Aunt Louisa looked up from her knitting, her gaze settling on Arabella for a moment. It shifted to her daughter. “Say what you mean, dear.”
“What I mean is that Bella has her first admirer.”
“You exaggerate, Felicity,” Arabella said, her cheeks warming.
Aunt Louisa’s knitting resumed. “She is bound to gain any number of admirers. You shan’t let your head be turned by them, though, will you, child?”
“No, Aunt,” Arabella assured her.
Perhaps Mr. Drake felt a similar impatience as Felicity, for the men did not linger over their port for long. True to her plan, Felicity paid him no heed, but contrary to that plan, it was Mr. Hayes she engaged in conversation rather than Mr. Yorke.
Arabella’s heart pricked with jealousy, which she snuffed out like a candle by speaking with Mr. Drake.
For her part, she could not understand why Aunt Louisa suspected him to be a fortune hunter.
The designation had always brought to mind the image of a man with a devious grin and calculating eyes.
Mr. Drake, on the other hand, had pretty manners, a ready smile, and seemed harmless enough.
But perhaps this was yet another example of Arabella’s lack of experience.
When Aunt Louisa rang the bell for tea, Arabella found herself seated next to Mr. Hayes again.
Whether it was happenstance or something he had orchestrated, she did not know, but she was glad for it.
Of all the people in the room, it was he she most enjoyed conversing with, and despite the amount of time they had spent together at Covent Garden yesterday, she had unfinished business with him.
“I have been meaning to thank you, Mr. Hayes,” she said, stirring her tea.
“Have you?”
“Yes. For coming to my aid at Vauxhall.”
His eyes flitted to hers. “It was my pleasure, Miss Easton.”
She ignored the rhythmic pattering of her heart. “I also owe you an apology for being so reluctant to accept your help.”
“You were being careful. I do not fault you for that. For what it is worth, though, I feel you would have managed well enough without me.”
She smiled ruefully. “I am not so certain of that.”
“And I respectfully disagree. You proved yourself capable of defending yourself.”
Her brow furrowed as she thought back on that night. “When did I do such a thing?”
He chuckled. “Do you not remember when you struck my arm?”
She winced. She had forgotten when she had smacked his arm while chiding him for leaving his wife in the maze. In retrospect, it had likely been unnecessary, but there had been no time for thinking through her actions in the moment.
He smiled, and it was she who was struck now by the utter charm of it. “Do not worry your head,” he said. “I am sure I deserved it.”
She spun her teacup absently on its saucer. “I am becoming acutely aware of how life in the country has ill-equipped me for London Society.”
He regarded her keenly. “You have good instincts, Miss Easton. You should trust them.”
She raised a brow. “What of the instinct that led me to refuse your help?”
He smiled. “Let us think rather on the one that led you to trust me.” His eyes held hers thoughtfully. “I would never hurt you, you know.”
The feelings that swirled in Arabella’s chest were so entirely novel and unfamiliar that it took her a moment to pull her eyes away. She cleared her throat. “And what of you? You hail from Devon, I believe.”
“I do.”
“And did you travel all this way alone?”
He looked at her for a moment, then his gaze dropped to his tea, and a slight frown appeared on his brow. “Yes. My parents dislike Town. My father needed business transacted and sent me in his place.”
“Business,” she repeated. “What sort?”
“Investments. He dislikes the hustle and bustle of Town, but he does not dislike the opportunities it provides for his pocketbook.”
Arabella smiled, and a thought occurred to her. “My father is always looking for investors. Perhaps I could arrange for you to meet—if it is of interest to you and your father, of course.”
His eyes warmed with gratitude. “Certainly. That is a kind offer.”
“He should be in Town soon. Tomorrow or the next day, I expect. Perhaps Mr. Fairchild can help us arrange a meeting.”
“I shall persuade him to do just that.”
Mr. Yorke came up beside Mr. Hayes. “We should be going, Hayes. I promised Lady Broughton I would make an appearance tonight, and it is growing late.”
Mr. Hayes nodded and rose from his chair. “I am being whisked away, Miss Easton, so I must bid you goodnight. I shall await word from you, though—or Fairchild will await it, rather.”
“I will send it as soon as I can.”
He bowed, then went to thank and bid farewell to Aunt Louisa and Felicity.
Arabella’s gaze was drawn to him again and again—his smile and the ease with which he made others smile. When the four men left the drawing room, she was conscious of a sense of disappointment—emptiness, even.
Felicity went over to the window that looked over the street.
Arabella hesitated a moment, then allowed her curiosity to win and joined her cousin as the front door shut. The four men had come on foot and could be seen in the light of the gas lamp in front of the house, buttoning their coats and donning their top hats.
Her eyes fixed on Mr. Hayes as he said something that elicited a laugh from Mr. Drake, and she wished she knew what he had said.
A carriage rolled to a stop in front of the house just as the men began their walk away.
“Are we expecting anyone, Mama?” Felicity asked.
Aunt Louisa laughed. “I certainly hope not! Who on earth should we expect at this hour?”
Arabella squinted and drew her face nearer the window glass until the crest on the chaise became clearer. “It is Papa.”
The postilion opened the carriage door, and sure enough, Papa stepped down, wearing his brown traveling greatcoat.
“We do not expect him for another two days, though.” There was a hint of panic in Aunt Louisa’s voice as she stood and made her way to the window.
“It is too bad the men just left,” Arabella said, thinking of her promise to introduce Mr. Hayes to Papa. Not that she minded having a reason to see him again soon.
“Indeed,” Aunt Louisa said, though she did not sound confident in her agreement.
Two minutes later, Papa strode through the door of the drawing room, and Arabella went over to him. Much as she was enjoying London, there was something about having him here that brought a sense of home. If only Mary and Catherine could have been here, her joy would have been complete.
Papa wrapped her in his arms and kissed her upon the head.
Arabella breathed in his familiar scent. “We did not expect you so soon.”
“My business was transacted more quickly than I anticipated, so I thought I would surprise you. Have I done so?”