She turned a sort of purple-pink and the flowers on her poke bonnet jiggled. ‘I’m trying to find Lady Thorndike. I heard she was unwell. But no one will tell me anything. I’ve brought her favourite remedy—calf’s-foot jelly.’
‘Lady Thorndike is convalescing at my house,’ Robert said. The stench of the noxious substance filled the street.
‘At your house!’ Miss Armstrong put her hand over her mouth and flushed scarlet. ‘I hate to say it, but isn’t that most improper?’
‘My ward is there, as is her stepmother. They are visiting from London.’
‘If I can be of any assistance, I will be. Lady Thorndike has named me as her assistant on the Corbridge Society for Hospitality. I would adore the chance to show Mrs Ravel and her daughter true Corbridge hospitality. It would really make me feel like I was doing something to assist poor dear Lady Thorndike.’
He paused. Miss Armstrong could be excitable, but she was a strong upholder of society values. Henri would have a reason why she had asked Miss Armstrong to be her deputy. It seemed to him that Henri did so many things herself that she forget others could do them if given an opportunity. This would be a way of demonstrating to Henri that village life continued without her—that she was allowed to take the time to recover without worrying frantically about organising everything.
‘I would look on it as a great honour if you could take Miss Ravel and her mother under your wing,’ he said, making a bow. ‘They are strangers and are in need of friends.’
‘I shouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Lady Thorndike.’
‘Lady Thorndike is indisposed and likely to remain that way for some time.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She has badly sprained her ankle. The doctor is hopeful that it is not too severe, but time will tell.’
‘You mean she won’t be able to make the ball?’ Miss Armstrong’s eyes widened. Her hue went a violent shade of pink. ‘And here I thought she’d be dancing the first quadrille. And who will supervise the hanging of the garlands now? We do live in interesting times.’
‘Indeed we do.’
‘Oh, I’d be honoured to be Miss Ravel’s chaperon.’ Miss Armstrong gave a trilling giggle. ‘Lady Thorndike will have to admit that I can do things as well as she can, particularly when a gentleman like you requests.’
‘You’re far too kind.’
Robert gave a nod to where Cawburn stood glowering, following the whole exchange. He hoped so as much had been for his benefit. Cawburn knew enough about Corbridge to know that Miss Armstrong would be an entirely different duenna to Henri. Calm cool logic over the unfettered emotion.
* * *
Every available surface of the small sickroom room was covered in small tokens to help her recover. Henri had lost count of the number of jars of calf’s-foot jelly that had been delivered to the New Lodge since late morning. Even if she could abide the stuff, one jar was far more than sufficient. But they kept arriving with little notes saying that they had been made to her exacting receipt. The stench was enough to turn even the most ironclad stomach. And Henri knew she’d have to eat every mouthful as one never refused a gift.
And then there was the letter from Lady Winship, which had accompanied her offering. Lady Winship was dreadfully sorry about the accident and Henri must concentrate on getting well, rather than worrying about the forthcoming ball. Lady Winship understood completely if Henri wished to withdraw from the first quadrille on the grounds of ill health. And Miss Armstrong had offered to step into the breach with the hanging of the garlands from the chandeliers. The pugs sent their love.
‘Bother!’ Henri exclaimed and threw the letter down on the bed.
Tears of frustration came into her eyes. All she wanted to do was to forget about her late-night encounter with Robert and the way her thoughts increasingly revolved around him. She’d even gone to the trouble of dressing in a simple mauve gown, rather than staying in bed like an invalid in case he decided to continue their conversation in the morning light. But he’d left without saying goodbye.
Everybody at New Lodge seemed intent on treating her as if she was made of spun glass and liable to break. Mrs Ravel had banned all the well-wishers on the grounds that they were likely to make her overtired and so her mind kept going over and over her various encounters with Robert.
‘Is everything all right, Henri?’ the man in question asked as he came into the room, carrying another jar of calf’s-foot jelly. Annoyingly he had not grown two heads or developed some hideous deformity. Instead he was as handsome as ever and her heart did a little jump at seeing him. ‘Mrs Eastwell stopped me on the way home from the station. She remembered how you brought her some when she was ill last winter and how you proclaimed that it was the perfect thing for anyone who was under the weather, and she wanted to make certain that you had sufficient. She hopes you recover very quickly.’
Henri flopped back against the armchair, grateful for the excuse to distract her mind. ‘Another one! And an extra-large one at that. Botheration.’
‘How many?’
‘I stopped counting after ten. I always used to bring calf’s-foot jelly to invalids, but that was because I didn’t actually have to eat the concoction.’ Henri put her hands on top of her head and tried to concentrate on the brown jug rather than the way Robert’s coat moulded to his form. ‘It is gratifying that so many are concerned about my well-being but…did they all have to bring the same thing?’
‘A first. Henrietta Thorndike admitting that she might have been mistaken in her approach.’ His brown eyes danced. ‘Calf’s-foot jelly is supposed to be excellent for building up strength.’
‘There is no need to give my lecture back at me.’ Henri shuddered. ‘The very thought of calf’s-foot jelly turns my stomach. Do you think Cook might be able to do something with it? I shall have to eat it all as people gave it as a gift. Could it be put in pies?’
‘Then I won’t tell you that more is on the way. Several people stopped me. They want you well and were concerned for the future of village society. I assured them all the entertainments would take place, but others would have to help. There was no shortage of volunteers.’
Henri covered her hands with her eyes. ‘I’ve only sprained my ankle. I’m hardly at death’s door. Why are they treating me like this? Why are they punishing me?’
‘Hardly punishing. They are concerned about you and are only taking your advice. You should be proud.’
Henri felt her shoulders relax. It would be so easy to start to depend on Robert. But that was not how her life plan went. She’d learnt the hard way that depending on people only led to heart-break. ‘It will be a lesson to me to try to be more inventive in the future with my gifts to the sick.’
‘I saw Miss Armstrong earlier. She enquired after your health. She has also agreed to take Sophie and her mother under her wing while you are indisposed. She is your deputy in the Corbridge Society for Hospitality. Apparently she has very little to do and wishes to fully take up the mantle of her office.’
‘How kind of her.’ Henri’s heart panged slightly. She liked doing that sort of thing. And Mrs Ravel was the sort of person she knew could be moulded to help out. She debated if she should warn Robert about Miss Armstrong and how easily she misconstrued things, but decided that such a warning might be construed as meddling and against the spirit of their new-found friendship. Robert could learn for himself why Miss Armstrong was given honorary titles with very little to do. ‘She will take her duties seriously, I’m sure. You should consider having a supper party before the ball.’
He gave her a puzzled look. ‘A supper party?’
‘It will make Mrs Ravel and Sophie feel more at ease before they go to Lady Winship’s. I can…help with the plans.’
‘No.’
Henri looked at him in dismay. ‘But why not? It is the perfect solution.’
‘You’re to get well and rest. The reason you are here rather than at your aunt’s is so that you will rest. Plotting supper parties is hardly
resting.’ He picked up a small woollen blanket and tucked it around Henri, a little meaningless gesture, but one that brought a lump to her throat.
‘Mrs Ravel will be able to manage adequately without me,’ she said quickly.
‘She will?’ His eyes widened as he swallowed rapidly. ‘And you will let her?’
‘I’ve every faith in Mrs Ravel. Mrs Ravel and I had a long discussion this morning and I learnt what an accomplished hostess she is. They give her headaches the day after, but I’ve explained that she will be fine as the air is much better in Corbridge.’
‘The air?’
‘She is looking forward to visiting people in the neighbourhood,’ Henri continued, warming to the theme and beginning to enjoy seeing Robert unsure and off balance. Mrs Ravel, except on the subject of her stepdaughter’s matrimonial prospects, seemed to be very sensible. She simply needed confidence, and hosting a dinner party would give her that. ‘I assured her that Sebastian hates At Homes with a passion, and in any case my aunt refuses to have an At Home without me.’
‘And you promise not to be involved with the supper party.’
Henri shook her head. ‘I’ll forgo that pleasure.’
‘It is settled then.’ He put the calf’s-foot jelly down and held out a small bouquet of forget-me-not flowers from behind his back. ‘I brought you these. They reminded me of you.’
Henri bit her lip and the room swam in front of her eyes. She attempted to take small calming breaths. All she had to do was to hold out her hand and her fingers would brush his linen shirt front. She focused on the tiny pearl buttons of his shirt front. Time stood still.
‘Henri?’ he asked softly. ‘Have I brought the wrong sort of flowers?’
‘They’re my favourite. Nobody else thought to bring them. I adore flowers.’ She bent her head quickly and inhaled their sweet scent. She wanted them to remind her of Edmund’s eyes, but her mind went back to Robert on the day of the Croziers’ wedding and their wager. She put her hand to her mouth and held back a muffled sob. ‘Truly I do.’
He gently squeezed her shoulder. ‘They were supposed to cheer you up, not make you cry.’
Somehow it made it worse, his being concerned. She put the flowers down and gave a shrug. ‘I could say my ankle hurts far too much, but that is self-evident. Everyone is rallying round and making it easy and that is most unexpected. I help people, but I didn’t expect people to…well…help me.’
‘What are you afraid of, Henri? What is so wrong about accepting help? With admitting sometimes you need to put yourself and your health before others? That the village can continue without you?’
Henri thought of the box that sat gathering dust under her dressing table. She had promised herself that if she was ever not busy, she’d open it and take the time to properly read the letters and truly say goodbye. Over the past ten years, she’d successfully avoided looking at the box, but now it appeared the good intentions of everyone meant that she’d be left with no alternative. She’d have to face it and the grief. At the time, the grief had been all-consuming and now she worried that it wasn’t there. And if it wasn’t there, did that mean she hadn’t loved him enough? Was that why he had refused to fight the illness any more, despite her finding other possible remedies? Why Edmund sent her out of the room when he knew that he was going? But she refused to explain that to Robert. The words stuck in her throat and the tears continued to slip down her face.
‘Henri, it is more than the flowers.’ He took the small bouquet from her unresisting fingers and laid it on the table. Then he silently passed her a handkerchief. ‘I can fix what is wrong if you tell me.’
She wiped the tears from her face. She had to give him some reason for her tears or otherwise she’d be in his arms again. ‘After Edmund died, everyone tried to be kind and I hate a fuss being made. But I was so used to looking after him that suddenly there was nothing for me to do. For a long time, I sat staring out of the window and then I saw a beggar woman collecting sticks for her fire. I knew I couldn’t do much, but I could help that woman. I could do things like visiting and taking baskets around. So I started helping and people stopped treating me like I was an object of pity. And now today there is every sort of fuss. Stupid to cry. I haven’t cried since Edmund died, not like this. It must be the laudanum.’
‘Only the laudanum?’
‘Has to be.’ She lifted her chin, and forced her lips to smile. She tried to ignore how warmth infused her being. ‘All better now.’
Robert tilted his head to one side, regarding Henri’s defiant face with concern. A sheen of tears still shone in her eyes. The flowers had unnerved her far more than she wanted to admit. He had wanted to make her smile and instead he’d caused her to cry. He’d thought her a specific type of person, but now he discovered that she was very different, far less secure than he had considered. ‘There is only a fuss because people are concerned about you. People do not bring jars of calf’s-foot jelly to just anyone.’
A watery smile crossed her lips. ‘I suspect it was sheer curiosity. The Ravels will be a source of much fascination. And I suppose to gloat that I have hurt my ankle. I’ve proclaimed the dangers of being unaware often enough.’
‘You hold yourself in too little regard, Henri. And there is nothing to be ashamed about. The dog slipped its chain. You were unfamiliar with the dog and it happened.’
‘Even so, I handled it poorly.’ She raised her shimmering eyes to his. Robert clenched his fists to keep from dragging her into his arms. She was a neighbour and that was all. ‘I keep thinking about…the attack. I dislike being a bother and now everyone is making me rest and trying to take burdens from me. I want to use my mind.’ She held up a hand. ‘And, no, I don’t want to read Ivanhoe or a Minerva Press novel. Or even the latest Fenimore Cooper. Sophie has already suggested the possibility, but they hold no attraction. I want to do something with my mind. Something useful.’
Robert tapped a finger against his lips. Yesterday he’d seen the softer side of Henri Thorndike and found, to his surprise, that he enjoyed it. He wanted to explore the woman behind the façade of efficiency, the one who wasn’t always standing, being capable. He enjoyed puzzles and Henri had secrets that she wanted to keep hidden. All he had to do was to keep her off balance. He didn’t want the new softer Henri to be subsumed back into the fearsome Lady Thorndike.
‘Do you dislike numbers?’
‘I can do arithmetic…well enough.’ She tilted her chin in the air. ‘I manage the accounts. My aunt is hopeless. And I’m much better than Sebastian. It infuriates me when men proclaim women can’t add up. We can. I am better than most. But I won’t read about the scientific method and archaeology despite our truce. A woman must have her principles.’
‘Another project of mine.’ He returned in a few heartbeats with a huge sheaf of papers and put them in her lap. His hands brushed her shoulder. Her flesh quivered under the gentle touch. ‘Make yourself useful and sort out my research on aluminium. Find where I’ve gone wrong. Aluminium is one of the most abundant minerals on the planet, but in its pure form it is worth a king’s ransom. If a process can be found, it could change the world.’
Her brow knotted. ‘I know how rare aluminium is. It is worth more than gold if you can get it as a metal, but I know nothing about such things. Seek someone else to make sense of it and find a flaw in your reasoning.’
‘But you can learn. You have a quick mind. It would be a great help to me. Of course, there’s always sewing.’
Henri screwed up her face as he guessed she might. Henri might have started the Ladies’ Aid Sewing Circle, but he’d never seen her with a needle in her hand. ‘Sewing and I are nodding acquaintances only.’
‘But I thought you gave lectures on the importance of needlework? You have organised classes for the lasses from the factory.’
‘Telling other people that it is a good thing and actually enjoying myself are two separate things. My threads always tangle and I have a habit of pricking my thumb. I
leave it to the experts.’
‘Either you can wallow in self-pity about your ankle and contemplate the amount of beef jelly being delivered, or you can do something productive and help me. Your choice.’
She folded her hands in her lap and her face took on a mulish expression, which was far better than her earlier broken-hearted one. ‘And you trust me with your research, but not with the Roman encampment?’
‘Find a hole in my logic, and we will discuss the treasure-hunting picnic.’
She was silent for a long time, her neat white teeth worrying her full bottom lip, turning it a luscious red. ‘It is tempting, but.’
‘No buts, just do it.’ He leant forwards so their foreheads nearly touched. ‘Prove a woman is just as good as a man at such things, Henri. Prove to me that there is more to you than unadulterated self-pity.’
Chapter Seven
Henri scrunched up a piece of paper and threw it on the study floor. Two days into her helping Robert to sort out his research and she found she actually was beginning to be interested in the scientific method. She could see how he’d started, how some experiments hadn’t worked and how other ones had. She could see how it could be applied to the excavation. She also had learnt that Robert Montemorcy had a habit of making notes in the margins. She might not be able to calculate as well as he could, but she certainly could organise.
‘You are downstairs.’ Robert came into the room. Henri’s breath caught slightly. His hair curled at the ends as if he had been caught out in the rain. ‘How did you keep your weight off your foot when you came down the stairs? Cane or banister? If you’d called, I’d have been happy to carry you.’
‘I leant on Sophie’s arm. We made slow but steady progress. Doctor Lumley is certain that the ankle is only sprained and there will be no lasting damage.’ Henri forced her breathing to be even. The sudden image of Robert carrying her, her breasts flattened against his chest and her mouth turned towards his, flooded her brain. In the cold clear light of morning, she knew she could control this unsettled feeling. ‘And I can rest as well down here as up in the sickroom. And the pies Cook makes with the calf’s-foot jelly are unexpectedly delicious. I shall have to get the receipt and recommend it. I shall have gained weight by the time I’ve finished, but it is the way to eat the stuff.’
To Marry A Matchmaker (Historical Romance) Page 9