“I will stay in the tea shop throughout the day. I don’t need to leave until the shop shuts, and I am sure that Uncle Charles will pop out for anything we need throughout the day.”
“I will go with you if you need to go out in the evening.”
“But you have work to do. It is inevitable that you cannot be here all of the time,” she protested.
“I am going to be here as much as I can be. It is important now that I get this investigation moving a lot more quickly, but my work can stop in an evening to enable me to be free to take you wherever you need to go,” Mark argued.
He mentally planned a second early morning visit to the redoubtable Miss Smethwick. This time though, he was going to take her to the station if she didn’t tell him everything he wanted to know.
“As I said to you earlier, if I cannot be here then I will ensure that someone from my team will be able to take you where you need to go.”
Harriett nodded and felt strangely threatened by the concern on his face.
As if he sensed her fear, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. He was aware of the looks his mother and Babette threw at their clasped hands but didn’t give a damn what they thought.
“Just work with me on this Harriett, and I will keep you safe. Nobody is going to harm you, darling.”
He thought he heard someone say ‘aah’, but couldn’t be sure and didn’t pay all that much attention. When his mother yawned, he glanced at the time and was shocked to note that it was well past midnight.
“If you have to be up early in the morning, I suggest you get some sleep,” he added ruefully and tugged Harriett upward as he rose. “I am going to get mother home and then head off to bed. I will see you first thing in the morning. Don’t leave home without me,” he tipped her chin up and, in the shocked presence of their mothers, dared to kiss her on her startled lips. He quickly said goodnight and waved his delighted mother toward the door.
Later that night, Harriett lay in bed and listened to the chimes of the clock on the mantle. Sleep eluded her. She knew that she would be exhausted tomorrow. Although the tea shop was relatively civilised, it was very busy all the time and she was going to be half asleep on her feet if she didn’t get at least a few hours of rest. Unfortunately, her mind wouldn’t close down and flipped from the near-death brush with the carriage, to the wonderful sensations Mark’s kisses brought forth.
The soft click of a door broke the stillness of the night. She frowned into the darkness. She was fairly certain that the noise wasn’t from inside the house. Her heart began to beat loudly in her ears and she pushed the bed covers off her legs. She crept quietly across the room and eased the corner of the curtain aside so she could see the street beneath the window. The gas lamps hadn’t been installed on Daventry Street, and the lights situated on the main road weren’t bright enough to eradicate the gloom, but she was still able to see Babette scurry down the street.
Harriett scowled at the time and wondered just where her aunt needed to go at such an ungodly hour in the morning.
Was it Babette, or had it been someone else?
She swallowed loudly and moved quietly toward the door. As she stood at the end of Babette’s empty bed her mind raced with the unanswered questions that stole her last chance of getting any sleep at all that night.
Harriett paused beside the back door of the tea shop and watched Mark close the gate to the small yard. Sometime during the night she must have fallen asleep because she had woken up just after dawn feeling tired and groggy. She had no idea what time Babette had returned home, but had been surprised to find her aunt already at the breakfast table with a hot cup of tea at her elbow seemingly unaffected by her nocturnal journey.
“Are you alright to stay here until I come back for you later this afternoon?” Mark asked as he moved to stand before her in a quiet corner of the yard. He could hear the clatter of pots and pans from inside the busy kitchen as Charles prepared the cakes for the day, but his attention was ensnared by the woman before him. From the look of the dark shadows beneath her eyes she had managed to get as much sleep as he had. His night had been plagued with dreams of a wonderfully warm and vibrant Harriett in his arms, intermingled with a deep fear that someone would come along and snatch her away from him.
This morning, although exhausted, he was driven by a desperate need that clawed at him with talons that refused to relinquish their hold. Ideally, he would have liked to have done nothing more than spend the day beside her in her parlour, and share tea and anecdotes with her. As it was, he had a murderer to unmask and fraudsters to gather evidence on. The weight of his workload preyed on him, yet he tipped his head down to hers and took advantage of being alone with her.
Harriett made no objection to his possessive behaviour, and merely melted against him when he slid his arms around her waist and drew her tighter against him. She copied what she did last night and tipped her head back while she clung on to his jacket. With a groan, he immediately deepened the kiss. It wasn’t a long possession, merely a swift claim of ownership that left her slightly off balance and gasping for breath when he finally did lift his head.
“Please be safe today, Harriett, and don’t leave the tea shop unless you have one of the constabulary with you. My men will bring their identity badges with them to confirm they are part of my team if I am unable to get back to you in time.” He couldn’t help it, and dipped his head down for one final kiss before he slowly eased his arms from around her. Stepping back from her tempting warmth was far harder than he had realised it would be and he sighed with reluctance as he took several steps away from her. “Now go inside before you get cold.”
Harriett nodded absently. She wished she could be as unaffected by the kisses as he was. She gently touched her lips as she entered the kitchen and glanced out of the window in time to see the gate close behind Mark.
“Get a hold of yourself,” Harriett muttered as she tugged off her jacket and hung it on the hook beside the door.
“What was that?” Charles called as he bent to put another tray of tea cakes in the oven.
“Nothing. I am going to check we are ready for opening,” she replied with a glance at the clock. She hurried into the tea shop but her mind was stubbornly locked on the tall, wonderfully gentle Detective who had so easily stolen her heart.
Later that afternoon, Harriett stifled a yawn and hurried across the room to deposit the tray of afternoon tea before Miss Haversham. Despite the coolness of the autumn afternoon, the sun was out and cast the room in cosy warmth that left Harriett’s cheeks rosy.
“Take a seat, Harriett, dear, I wanted to have a quiet word with you,” Miss Haversham ordered when Harriett turned to leave.
Glad for the brief respite, Harriett glanced around the busy room and was satisfied that everyone was accommodated for now and didn’t require anything urgent. With a sigh, she dropped into the seat opposite Miss Haversham and she shook her head at the tea the woman held out to her.
“Firstly I want to congratulate you on your engagement.”
Harriett paused and looked the older woman in the eye. The forthrightness in the direct gaze left Harriett in no doubt that Miss Haversham had seen through the ruse, but was fully supportive of it.
“Thank you,” she replied quietly and leaned forward to brace her elbows on the table. “Now what did you want to talk to me about?”
Silence settled between them and Harriett watched as Miss Haversham slowly poured her tea and dropped two spoons of sugar into her cup. When she continued to slowly stir her tea in a mesmerising circle, Harriett took a deep breath and lifted her gaze. Miss Haversham was staring at her in a rather too probing way that was more than a little unnerving.
“What have you noticed about Miss Smethwick?”
“Miss Smethwick?” Harriett frowned and glanced down at the spoon as she thought carefully. “Nothing, she is just as parsimonious as ever,” she replied and closed her mouth with a snap. Miss Haversham’s laugh drew several interested gazes.<
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“Don’t worry dear, my sentiments exactly.” Miss Haversham leaned forward conspiratorially. “I mean that there is something deuced odd about that woman and I don’t mind admitting it.”
“Odd in what way?” Harriett asked, intrigued as well as suspicious. If Miss Haversham was going to start to gossip, Harriett would prefer to get some work done. As much as she wanted to walk away, she was stuck to her seat and leaned forward when Miss Haversham glanced furtively around the room and lowered her voice.
“Unless I am mistaken, our Miss Smethwick has grown by several inches and put on a bit of weight.” She pointed to a spot on her chin. “The mole that used to be there has gone.”
Harriett studied her with a frown. She hadn’t thought about it before but she knew that Miss Haversham was right. Miss Smethwick; the Miss Smethwick whose gate she had always run past as a child because the sight of the house, and the old woman, scared her so, had indeed had a mole on her chin the size of a small pea. The Miss Smethwick who had been at the séance last night had had no facial blemishes whatsoever.
“Unless the woman is drinking some sort of water that the rest of us don’t have access to, she has also got to answer to why someone in her seventies has hardly any lines on her face whatsoever.” Miss Haversham tipped her head forward knowingly and gave Harriett a pious look as she took a sip of her tea.
Harriett was stunned. Now that she came to think of it, last night Miss Smethwick certainly hadn’t had many lines on her face. She hadn’t seen Miss Smethwick out and about much at all during the daytime of late. On the odd occasion when the supposedly old woman had stopped to pass the time of day, she had been snippety and rude, to the point that Harriett had felt decidedly uncomfortable and almost compelled to be on her way.
“Who do you think it is then?” Harriett gasped. “Where do you think the real Miss Smethwick is?”
Miss Haversham gave her a look that warned her to keep her voice down. She took longer than was necessary to put her tea cup down and eventually looked up at Harriett with a sigh. “I don’t know, but the next time you meet the Miss Smethwick who is moving around and about this village, take a closer look and ask yourself if she looks the same as the woman you grew up being afraid of. I know for certain that the woman who is in Miss Smethwick’s house is not over seventy years old. When I have spoken to the person who lives in Miss Smethwick’s house, I have reminisced about several incidents that I have shared with the old Miss Smethwick, but have been met with blank evasiveness that just isn’t right, I tell you.”
Now that Miss Haversham had raised the issue, there were a few odd things about Miss Smethwick’s behaviour. At the first meeting of the Psychic Circle, the devout church goer, who eschewed all vices known to man, including the demon drink, had imbibed several liberal doses of sherry rather than water. When she had interrupted the messages, her voice had rung loudly with a firmness that was at odds with a woman in her seventies. Harriett felt her skin crawl at the thought that she had been in the company of someone who had fooled them in such a way. She had not only sat with the fraudster, but had sat in the dark with her and hadn’t suspected a thing.
Her thoughts immediately turned to the mysterious black carriage last night and she couldn’t help but wonder if the two were linked. After all, if someone had moved into the village to live in Miss Smethwick’s house, what on earth had happened to the old Miss Smethwick?
Harriett opened her mouth to ask Miss Haversham what she thought only for her horrified gaze to be drawn to a large black carriage that rolled steadily down the street toward them. She sat frozen in place, her eyes locked on the sight of the coachman atop the huge monstrosity as it lumbered steadily past. He – or she – was dressed from head to foot in black, with a large black scarf wrapped around the face that was cast in shadow by a huge hat. The sight of him – or her - filled her with horror. It was the coach that had almost run her over last night.
“Now who on earth would want to go anywhere in that?” Miss Haversham snorted as she turned to see what Harriett was staring at.
Harriett visibly trembled and she sat still until the carriage had rolled out of view. As soon as it disappeared, she quickly made her apologies to Miss Haversham and hurried across the room. Fear pulled her in several different directions and she ignored at least two calls for assistance as she hurried into the back room of the tea shop. Once there, she leaned against the counter and took several deeply breaths as she willed her nerves to settle.
“Harriett, dear, whatever is the matter?” Babette’s beloved face swam into vision.
“I saw the carriage from last night,” Harriett whispered and lifted her gaze to Babette.
“Oh good Lord, let me send Bobby for the Constable.”
Harriett nodded jerkily. She wasn’t sure what Fred would be able to do, but she would feel a bit better with the visible presence of the village bobby nearby. If the coachman had any intention of returning for a second perusal, they would at least see the long arm of the law in the vicinity. It might just be enough to put them off doing anything rash; although what they could do with her tucked away into the relative safety of the tea shop, she wasn’t sure.
She stayed in the back room while Babette went to see to the customers and try to find Bobby. Completely oblivious to Harriett’s distress, Charles removed a hot pan of buns from the oven. It was all Harriett could do not to be sick.
Mark scowled down at the young boy and cursed. They had returned to Mr Montague’s haberdashery to inspect the contents of the kitchen a bit more closely when the young boy had slammed to a stop in the shop doorway, and began to babble away about a constable being needed at the tea shop quickly.
Mark’s long legs ate up the short distance in record time. He burst through the front door of the shop, quickly followed by Fred, the young lad and Isaac. They mumbled apologies to the customers as they wove around them on their way to the back room. The sight of her alive and well although scared swamped him with relief and, without uttering a word he stalked across the room and swept her into his arms.
“Thank God you are alright,” he whispered as he dropped random kisses into her hair.
“Lordy, that was quick,” Babette murmured wryly and shared a rueful glance with Isaac.
It took several moments for Mark to be able to loosen his hold.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
Harriett shook her head and glanced around the room as though she wasn’t sure what to do. Charles was in the process of putting his jacket on. The baking had been finished for the day and he was off to the pub before tea, but even he paused hesitantly beside the back door, his face etched in concerned lines.
“I have been chatting to Miss Haversham and she has come up with something that I think you must know.” She glanced from Mark to Isaac and back to Mark again. She could have wept at the speed of his arrival and was very grateful that he had been so close. “I have also seen that black carriage again,” she whispered.
“When?” Mark demanded. His face was masked in a dark scowl.
“Just a few minutes ago. As soon as it disappeared from view I came in here and we sent Bobby to fetch a constable.”
“Which way did it go?”
Harriett explained what she had seen.
“Wait here,” Mark snapped and disappeared out of the back door with Isaac hot on his heels while Fred headed out of the front door.
“Well, I have heard of efficient policing, but those two certainly do take their job seriously, don’t they?” Babette murmured wryly.
A cough from behind them drew their attention and they both looked at Charles, who was clearly impatient to be on his way now that his work was done.
“Of course you can go,” Babette dismissed with an impatient sniff. The fact that there was no love lost between the couple was evident in everything they did. Harriett had wondered many times why they had ever married at all, but had never questioned Babette as to the nature of their relationship. She wasn’t sure
whether she would have liked the answer. Charles and Babette rubbed along reasonably well. Each lived their separate lives and, although their arrangement may suit them well enough, it was a far cry from what Harriett would consider a serious or normal relationship.
“I really don’t know why I bother with him sometimes,” Babette sighed quietly.
“Because divorce is a scandal that you cannot afford,” Harriett replied obliquely and lifted her brows at Babette’s snort.
Mark met with up with Isaac several minutes later. They were both breathing heavily as they met up with Fred, who shook his head in disgust. Together they all walked slowly back to the tea shop.
“I am going to take a look around the village and see if I can catch sight of it,” Fred muttered, and headed off with determined strides.
“I wonder what Miss Haversham has come up with,” Isaac gasped. Disappointment weighed heavily on him and he scoured every inch of the busy road they walked down for any sign of anyone even wearing black.
“I don’t know, but it has to be severe to shake Harriett in such a way. She isn’t usually unnerved like that.” Mark couldn’t remember her being so shaken before, not even when she had found Mr Montague’s body.
“Good afternoon, Miss Smethwick,” Mark called as they passed the older woman who was carrying a basket of coal in the opposite direction. Her purposeful strides were matched with the dark glare she gave him as she rather curtly nodded as she scurried past.
They turned to watch her go. Mark was faintly impressed with the spritely way the woman, who was in her seventies, hurried through her day. He could only wish that he was so agile when he reached his old age.
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