Percival wasn’t sorry for it—he’d done it on her behalf.
Quite suddenly, they both heard Miss Mayton talking as if she was in the very room.
They looked at one another, Jameston raced to the door and peered out, then came back.
Then they both stared at the chimney.
“Away from the draft at the window,” he heard Miss Mayton say as clear as if she were very nearby him.
“After Lynette has brought your dinner,” Miss Mayton went on, “I will have to go down for my own and you will be quite alone for a few hours. Alone, at least a few hours starting at seven. I suggest you sit here, right by the fireplace where I am speaking now, with that intellectual book you are reading.”
“She’s talking next to the chimney,” Jameston whispered.
They heard no more after that. Nevertheless, at seven o’clock, Lady Cordelia would be seated near the chimney.
He was fairly certain Miss Mayton wished him to know it. Did Lady Cordelia know about the chimney?
“Jameston,” he said quietly, “I do not wish to be disturbed after seven.”
“But my lord, dinner has not yet been sent up. I really do not think it should be skipped, in your condition I mean.”
“I have a bottle of wine, good cheese and excellent bread and I have a conversation in a chimney that needs to be had. That will do quite well.”
*
If Cordelia couldpace her room, she certainly would be pacing.
Her ankle would not allow it though.
After her dinner, Lynette and Miss Mayton had helped her to a low, cushioned chair by the fireplace.
Lynette could not understand the point of it. Why was she to sit there of all places. If she did not wish to be abed, then why not sit by the window and watch the fireflies?
Miss Mayton had hushed her questions and given her the night off.
Lynette said she did not want the night off.
Miss Mayton ordered her to take the night off.
Lynette had left deeply suspicious, but she had left.
Cordelia watched the clock strike seven. She held her breath.
Not a moment later, she heard his voice.
“Lady Cordelia, I wonder if you can hear me? It is Lord Harveston.”
Cordelia bent closer to the hearth. “Yes,” she said, “I can hear you, and of course I know it is Lord Harveston.” She paused, then said, “I would always recognize your voice.”
“Would you? Excellent, yes, good,” he said. “This might seem very untoward, but I happened to hear from Miss Mayton, inadvertently through the chimney you see, that you would be on your own. At seven.”
“Yes,” Cordelia said. “It is seven now. I am quite alone.”
“Ah, yes it is seven. I also am alone. Now that it is seven.”
Cordelia leaned forward. Her instincts told her that Miss Mayton was right—he was on the verge. She could hear it in his voice.
“I wonder, Lady Cordelia, if you have ever thought, that is, I am aware that we got off to a rocky start, on the wrong foot, as it were. But then, it seems to me we have got on rather better footing since then.”
