Page 53 of The Return of the Rake

“Lord save us from men,” Mrs Fairway muttered crossly. Having shaped the dough into a large round, she put it in a bowl with as much care as if it were a sleeping babe and covered it with a tea towel. She left it in a corner, close to the range cooker, then bustled off and washed her hands, coming back a moment later with a bottle of brandy and two small glasses. She filled them both to the brim and pushed one towards Anne.

“Drink that and tell me what the wicked fellow said to you.”

Anne regarded the glass for a long moment before reaching for it and downing it in one swallow. She sucked in a breath as the brandy burned a path down her throat and then sighed as the warm glow chased away some of the shock that was still vibrating through her.

“Tea and cake for Mr King and the Reverend Honeywell and Tommy Tanner,” she said faintly.

Mrs Fairway made a sound of exasperation. “That ain’t what’s put you in such a pelter, I know.”

Anne shook her head, still turning over King’s words and trying to discover if there was another way to interpret them.

“Well, out with it!” Mrs Fairway said impatiently. “Do I need to take my cleaver up and chop off his—”

“Hilda!”

Mrs Fairway threw up her hands. “What do you expect me to think? What with you coming down here all flushed and out of sorts and looking like you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

At her indignant words, Anne did laugh. It began as a giggle that escaped her before she could catch it, but a moment later she was nigh on hysterical, with tears running down her face.

“So help me, child, I shall slap you!” Mrs Fairway exclaimed, by now quite frantic.

“Oh, I’m s-sorry, Hilda, truly, I am. It’s only… It’s only… I think… I think…”

Mrs Fairway got to her feet, looking as if she really might run for her cleaver if Anne did not explain herself. “Anne! For the love of everything holy, spit it out!”

“I think he means to… c—court me.”

Mrs Fairway sat down again, so suddenly the chair legs screeched upon the tiled floor. “You’re not serious? Jasper King, take a wife? I don’t believe it.”

“I’m not sure I do either, but… but he seemed to be in earnest,” Anne said, though she felt increasingly doubtful upon seeing her dearest friend’s reaction.

“Well, I never did.” Mrs Fairway lifted her glass and downed the entire thing, then filled both empty vessels to the brim once more.

“Oh, Hilda, we’ve dinner to get through yet,” Anne remonstrated, but took up her glass anyway.

“Medicinal,” the lady said firmly. “For the shock.”

Anne laughed. “I never thought to take a husband. I could not bear to have anyone interfere in my business, but…”

“That had better be an exceptionally well thought out but,” Mrs Fairway said grimly.

“I know, but he admires what I’ve done here. He listens to my opinions, he likes that I have opinions. Mr King thinks I ought to consider politics, for it affects my business, and he likes that I’m… rather…”

“Bossy?”

Anne narrowed her eyes at her oldest friend. “Managing,” she corrected primly.

Mrs Fairway snorted. “And what about all his dodgy dealing, eh? We’ll have a constable down here, you mark my words. Sniffing about, searching the place, and that’s your reputation ruined, my girl, and the hotel’s too.”

“Oh, Hilda, I don’t know! There is too much I do not know about him, and much he does not know about me either, but if he wishes to court me, then, perhaps we can learn those things and then in time we shall see if—” Anne broke off as Mrs Fairway folded her arms and rolled her eyes heavenwards. “What?” Anne demanded.

“Nowt, my girl. Only that you’ve already made up your mind to have the devil, even if he is the devil. I only hope you know what you’re doing.”

Anne swallowed and returned a rueful smile. “So do I, Hilda. So do I.”

Chapter 11

Goodbyes, promises, and fateful meetings.