There was no hint of jealousy in Miss Garvis’s words; she only seemed genuinely curious. “Miss Shroud, this is Mrs. Garvis. Mrs. Garvis, Miss Shroud.”
Mrs. Garvis.Then Miss Garvis must be…
“Scarper!” A young child of only four or five raced toward them. “What did you bring me?”
“Mandy! That is no way to greet Mr. Scarper.” Mrs. Garvis shrugged and motioned for the two of them to come in. Little Mandy, with dark locks that matched her mother’s, stood at Mr. Harrison’s feet. Since coming around the corner, she hadn’t taken her eyes off of the package in his hand.
“What did you bring me this time? Some string? Some ribbon?” She hopped in excitement. “I hope you found some blue. I really need blue.”
Mr. Harrison laughed. “I never know what is in it until you open it. Miss Creighton readies it for you.” Mandy tugged on his hand, pulling him into what must be the sitting room.
Who was Miss Creighton? If it was ribbons and string, it could be the pretty young shopkeeper Lucy had met when she first visited Fenswallow. It was the only store she hadn’t been into since, so the fact that she didn’t know Miss Creighton by name made sense. Lucy pursed her lips together. Why did Miss Creighton—the one woman who obviously had a relationship with Matthew—have to work at the milliner’s shop?
And why did Lucy have to worry about two women in one day? Jealousy was hardly a becoming trait. If Mr. Harrison was in love with someone else, she would deal with it. It wasn’t as if the two of them had a smashing rapport.
The Garvises’ sitting room was small, but clean, with a settee and two chairs adorning the fireplace. Mrs. Garvis motioned for Lucy to sit in one of the chairs, and she took the other. Once Mandy was seated on the settee, Mr. Harrison sat on the other side and handed her the package.
Mandy jumped up with excitement.
Mr. Harrison stood.
Mrs. Garvis smiled and leaned over to Lucy. “We love it when Mr. Scarper comes to visit. He is such a strange fellow. He won’t ever sit if Mandy is standing.” Laughter enveloped her voice. Certainly enough, Mandy in her excitement sat back down on the settee to pull on the strings, then jumped back up when she saw what was inside.
Mr. Harrison followed all of her movements like the gentleman he was, yet Mandy was hardly a young lady. She wasstill a child. Lucy leaned toward Mrs. Garvis. “Why does he do that?”
“I think he did it by accident the first time he met her, and it thrilled her so much, he continued the practice.”
“There’s blue!” Mandy brandished a scrap of ribbon, only a few inches long, and ran out of the room. The rest of the package was left open, sitting next to Mr. Harrison. There were a few more pieces of ribbon, some threads, and a few squares of fabric. Once Mandy was out of the room, Mr. Harrison sat.
Mr. Harrison pulled ribbons out of the box and laid them down one by one. Lucy leaned toward Mrs. Garvis. “How’d you get to know Mr. Scarper in the first place? I’ve been workin’ with him for four days and he’s usually so aloof. I thought the only two beings who knew him at all were Mr. Bennion and his horse.”
Mrs. Garvis laughed. Mr. Harrison looked up, but when Mrs. Garvis waved a hand at him he went back to sorting the strings and scraps from the box. Mrs. Garvis lowered her voice. “He does love Marge, doesn’t he? And I can’t take credit for him becoming close to our family. That was all my husband and Mandy. It took us some time, though. I think he’d ordered at least ten books before Peter convinced him to come over for dinner. Somehow Mandy got to him completely, though.”
“She is delightful. ‘Tis no surprise.”
“Your packages bring her such joy,” Mrs. Garvis said louder for Mr. Harrison to hear. “Thank you for gathering those things from the milliner's shop.”
“Your husband’s books bring joy to me,” he responded. Every piece of information she learned about Mr. Harrison was like a window into her possible future. This particular window—books and kindness coupled with the cheerful way he interacted with this family—held a view bright with promise. When they were married, perhaps Mr. Harrison would sit by the fire with a bookin his hand, his hair uncombed and the shadow of a beard starting to show. They would be alone, in their own home, so he might even remove his jacket and unbutton his collar.
Mr. Harrison, she decided, would look very good with an unbuttoned collar. And there was just something about a man with a book…
Lucy swallowed and looked down at her hands. Picturing a man with his collar open? What had become of her?
Still, it was a nice picture, and hewasto be her husband.
She looked up and allowed her eyes to roam over Mr. Harrison. She was here to observe, after all. Nothing about his rough clothing hid the well-proportioned man beneath it. His large, well-used hands were a contrast to the delicate ribbons and strings he pulled from Mandy’s box. He wasn’t flashy or elegant. In so many ways, he was the exact opposite of his mother. Mr. Harrison was solid, diligent, and unobtrusive. True, he was taciturn, but that had made the few words he did speak to her more meaningful. And if they were married, he wouldn’t need to feel quite so withdrawn with her. Perhaps he would be more like the Mr. Harrison he was to this family—kind, thoughtful, and cheerful. None of the sitting rooms in Bridgewater house were this cozy, but she could change that. She was the one who would provide the money for the home.
Mr. Harrison’s eyes lifted from the ribbons he’d been arranging by color. He must have noticed something different in the way she looked at him, for one of his eyes narrowed in a question, as if he was waiting for her to say something. She rubbed her fingers together in her hands and dropped her gaze. What could she say? That she thought he would make a very nice evening companion? A delicate hand landed on her wrist, and Lucy turned to see Mrs. Garvis looking at her in very much the same manner.
Oh, heavens. Mrs. Garvis must have asked her a question. She had been so busy staring at Mr. Harrison, dreaming of open shirts, fires, and books held by his robust hands, that she hadn’t heard what she’d said. “Pardon?” she finally managed to sputter, her face hot.
“I was wondering what brought you to Fenswallow.”
She let out a puff of air. At least she knew the answer to that one. “Mr. Scarper did.” Lucy was lucky to get three words out of her mouth with the way her heart was pounding. Mrs. Garvis raised her brows and glanced at Mr. Harrison. Oh, dear. That answer didn’t convey her meaning at all. “I mean…I’ve been lookin’ for a man like Mr. Scarper for years…” Blast. She was making it worse. “What I mean is, he is exactly what I want?—”
Mr. Harrison cleared his throat. “Her father owns a company that delivers goods, and she is here observing my work.”
Lucy nodded so quickly, her neck suffered from it. “Aye.” She turned to Mrs. Garvis. “’Tis exactly what I’m doin’ here.”
