Page 39 of Debtor’s Daughter

To his chagrin, Larkin noticed her exclamation had taken the attention of two young bucks who stood gazing up at the vision of loveliness with dim-witted expressions that made them look as if they’d each been struck in the head with a mallet. Miss Caroline did not seem to notice but her aunt did and pulled her niece away.

“Come and help Maggie find something for our dear Giddy, Caro. There’s time enough to look downstairs afterwards.”

Thus occupied, the ladies walked off and Larkin found his attention drift back to Mrs Finchley. She had moved to inspect an aviary where little birds chirped and hopped from branch to branch.

“At least these are alive,” he remarked.

“Yes,” she said ruefully, watching the pretty things flit back and forth with a considering expression.

“Are you thinking of buying one?” Larkin asked her.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” she asked, turning to smile at him with such trust in her eyes that Larkin’s heart felt squeezed in his chest. “I don’t really approve of seeing them caged when they ought to be flying free, but when I was a girl, we had dogs and cats, not to mentions all the chickens and ducks and a few pigs. Horses and ponies too, naturally, and yet Gideon can have none of that, for we are in a rented home in a city and only until the season is over. Then we shall have to move again, I suppose, and find something smaller and cheaper. We are not at the manor any longer and I really must get used to that. I keep forgetting, you see. Thinking that when this is done we can go home and… foolish, isn’t it?” she said, such a depth of regret and longing in her voice Larkin moved to take her hand in his, only to remember himself and stop before he overstepped once again.

This was why he ought to get their home back for them if it was possible, though. He could not bear to know how much they missed it, and to realise how much Gideon would miss out on as he grew up.

“Not at all,” he said. “You’ve lost something that has always been integral to your lives, your happiness. It is only natural that you mourn the loss of it.”

Mrs Finchley nodded briskly and blinked away tears, smiling bravely instead and turning back to the birds.

“I think it is important for children to have the care of something. It teaches responsibility, and caring too, but this is all I can offer him. Except for perhaps a goldfish, but that seems a little dull in comparison.”

“Perhaps if you bought two birds, and they had a decent sized cage, so they had space at least. It’s got to be better than the inside of this shop, anyway,” he pointed out.

“I don’t think I can afford a large cage, too,” she said with a frown. “Oh, dear. Perhaps it’s not such a good idea. I shall only feel sorry for the poor little things and want to set them free whenever I look at them.”

Larkin opened his mouth, about to say he’d build the cage for them, but closed it again. Not his family. Not his responsibility, he reminded himself. He really had to stop sticking his oar in.

“What about a train?” he suggested, guiding her to the back of the shop where he’d noticed a display of tin toys. He picked up a smartly painted train in green with red pinstripes and held it up to show her.

Larkin bent down and gave the toy an experimental push to see how it travelled over the wooden floor and Maggie laughed as the little train promptly flew towards the bannisters.

“Blast!” Larkin exclaimed and ran after it, snatching it up in the second before it dived off the edge to the shop below. He let out a breath of relief and turned to see Mrs Finchley watching with her hand over her mouth. She was laughing at him, the wretch, and doing a very poor job of hiding it.

“Oh, I-I b-beg your pardon,” she stammered. “How quick you were!”

She went off again with a peal of laughter that made his heart feel lighter, even if she was laughing at his expense. How lovely she was, her eyes sparkling, the colour in her cheeks a delicate rose that he longed to capture in paint. More than that, he longed to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

No. No, that was not going to happen. Not in a public place. Not in any place. Not ever.

The reminder made him feel oddly out of sorts and despondent, but he shook the sensation off and walked back to stand beside her.

“Well, it works,” he said, finding a smile from somewhere.

“So it does,” she said, gazing up at him with a look that reminded him of everything he had just promised he would not do. He glanced down at her. A mistake, as his gaze fell at once to her mouth, lingering on her plush lips, soft and ripe for kissing. She wanted him to kiss her, a little voice in his head told him, but he silenced it before it got him into trouble.

Instead, he walked back to the display of tin toys. “What do you think, then? Do you think the train is best? There are others?”

“I think he will love the train, especially when I tell him you nearly crashed it in the shop,” she said, giving him a mischievous smile.

Despite his best intentions, the devilry in her eyes called to him, begging him to answer in kind.

“In that case, I shan’t give it to you!” he said, holding the train up where she could not reach it.

“Oh, now, Mr Weston. That is hardly gentlemanly of you,” she scolded.

“Who said I was a gentleman?” he replied, the words out before he could think better of them.

Stop! yelled a voice in his head. Stop this now!