by Hazel Aitken
“Mrs Stannard, Mary-Anne, that is, has consented to be my wife. There, now you all know.” His expression was a mixture of self-conscious embarrassment and pride, and out came his handkerchief again to dab his forehead.
“That is splendid, absolutely splendid.” Marcus Lisle jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together and everyone joined in. Mary-Anne Stannard rose to her feet.
“I am going to organise a little refreshment, John,” she said casting a fond look in his direction. “Some sherry wine, I think. Please continue without me.”
“Where was I? I seem to have forgotten. Oh dear, oh, dear.”
It was Elias Williams who inadvertently rescued him. “My Sairin is safe, thanks to you Miss Morley and Dr Lisle. But there is bad news about my wife Dilys. I fear the worst and it won’t be long now. I am returning to Ruthin, see. Soon I shall be back and Mr Gidley says I may make my home here with both my girls, Bethan and Sairin.”
“Mr Gidley…” Hannah spoke hesitantly. “I have been anxious about Miss Phipps. What will become of her?”
The master exchanged a glance with Elias Williams before speaking. “I too have been thinking long and hard, and I have asked the good Lord to shine a light on the way ahead, so to speak. I think she is unsuited to teaching children; it does not make her or her pupils happy. But Mary-Anne tells me she is an excellent seamstress and that’s where Elias comes in.”
“Indeed. We have put our heads together and devised a plan, isn’t it? This place is expanding. I shall need someone to teach the women to sew. Miss Phipps will have a chance to be one of my assistants.”
There was a burst of activity as the door opened and Mrs Stannard entered with a tray of biscuits and small cakes, followed by a woman bearing a tray on which were glasses filled with pale amber liquid.
Hannah was reminded of Marnie and the girl dressed as a milkmaid in Brookwood and expected Marcus Lisle had the same thought.
Their eyes met and she knew she had guessed correctly. He rose and took the tray from Mrs Stannard and offered an elegant glass to Hannah. When everyone else held a long-stemmed glass which they raised to toast the workhouse master and matron, he stood beside Hannah and whispered, “To us also, Hannah. I am determined to get to know you better. You are not going to slip through my fingers.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” she whispered back, “I like to know where I stand. It saves a lot of confusion.”
Later, after they stood outside the master’s office he said, “My mother insists that I take you to meet her. Luncheon in the country on Sunday next, Hannah? How does that appeal?”
“As long as you are there,” she smiled at him and he squeezed her hand, then bent and kissed her firmly on the lips.
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