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‘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.
