“I don’t stand on formality here.” Miss Cherrywood waved dismissively.
“I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve been so generous with me while I have nothing to give back.”
“You helped Amelia. That was our deal. This is what my association is for, to help women in need. It’s time we help you.”
Pearl wasn’t sure she’d kept her side of the bargain. It sounded like she’d done nothing but cause a mess. With tears rimming in her eyes, she sipped her tea. It could’ve been vinegar though. “I’m not sure I helped Amelia. I probably have ruined her life.”
“Now, now.” Miss Cherrywood reached out and patted her hand. “Everything will be fine.”
“I’m not sure of that either.” A sob threatened to rip from her throat. “Besides, if the police find me here, you’ll be in trouble. I’m going to leave right after breakfast.”
“Listen, I haven’t been idle these past two days,” Miss Cherrywood said, as if Pearl hadn’t spoken. “I have already sent a few wires and contacted a few people. You’ll be happy to know that I have everything ready.”
“Everything ready?” Pearl asked, lowering her cup.
Miss Cherrywood nodded, and the sunlight streaming through the window sparked on her brandy-coloured eyes. “You’re going to catch the next train for Harpenden.”
“What?” A fit of cough caused Pearl’s eyes to water again. “I can’t return to Gladstone. Christopher hates me, and Mrs Armstrong will have my head on a platter.”
“Mrs Armstrong won’t be there.” Miss Cherrywood patted her curls. “I’ve set my net of women into motion. A few of the maids hired at Gladstone are members of my association. They’ll make sure Mrs Armstrong is out of the estate for the whole day. You’ll have the chance to talk with Christopher alone and undisturbed.”
“If I tell him who I am, he’ll call the police. Besides, I don’t know where the money is. My father has been wrongly accused and—”
Miss Cherrywood held up a hand, silencing her. “As I said, Gladstone is filled with my women. If such an event should occur, trust me, you’ll be out of the estate before the police arrive, and”—she lowered her voice—“the wives of a few police inspectors are my associates as well. I reckon they’ll find a way to help you.”
Pearl wasn’t so ready to share Mis Cherrywood’s enthusiasm. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, dear Pearl.” Miss Cherrywood’s forehead creased, and her lips pouted. “If you don’t see him now and tell him the truth, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Do it. Go to Gladstone. Don’t think too much. Go and take your man. He deserves to know the truth.”
“I—”
“You can trust me.” Honesty and a hint of frustration rang in Miss Cherrywood’s voice. “I know what I’m doing. Claim your man. Now.”
Most likely, Christopher wouldn’t be her man, but yes, he deserved to know the truth.
~ * ~
THE AIR IN THE DINING room of Gladstone was charged with energy, like before a storm. Christopher couldn’t concentrate on reading the copy ofThe Timesin front of him or sipping his coffee in the dining room, and it wasn’t because of the constant thoughts of Amelia torturing him. Doors banged in the corridor. Hurried footsteps echoed, and the muffled voices of the maids reached him even through the shut door. What the hell was happening?
Not that he would be able to read the newspaper, even if the house was perfectly silent. Fatigue rode him hard, and it was as if ice had grown in his chest. He’d tried to take her back, but she’d left. Two days had gone, and she hadn’t contacted him. He wasn’t going to chase her to London. But he couldn’t deny he was mourning, as if someone had died.
Harvey silently slid inside the room, pulling a trolley with a fresh pot of coffee. A strained smile was pasted on his lips. “More coffee, sir?”
Another bang thundered. Harvey winced.
Christopher slammed the newspaper on the table. “What is happening?” He regretted his tone, but he had very little patience these days. Not that he’d ever had a lot of patience to start with.
“An incident, sir. Mrs Armstrong must leave immediately.” He flushed. “Not that Mrs Armstrong is happy to leave. In fact, I believe her anxiety and displeasure are upsetting the staff, as well.”
“What incident?”
Harvey poured more coffee. “Apparently, Mrs Armstrong’s house has been invaded by rats overnight, and now her presence is urgently required to assess the damage the wild beasts did on her belongings.”
“Rats?” Odd. All this chaos was about bloody rats?
“From the sewer, sir.”
“I know from where rats—” Christopher huffed. “Never mind.”
