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‘I never imagine things. I’m not an imaginative person.’ Nancy looked infuriatingly smug. ‘And I’ll admit that he’s handsome in a rough kind of way. Is he coming to say goodbye?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Henrietta started to tidy an already neat pile of boxes on the counter, chiding herself for the way her stomach clenched and then seemed to perform a jig at the thought. ‘Although he left his belongings upstairs so I suppose he’ll be back to—’
‘What?’ Nancy clamped her eyebrows together as she stopped mid-sentence.
‘There she is again.’ Henrietta pointed towards the window.
‘Who?’
‘The woman I told you about yesterday. She’s been out on the pavement every day this week, just standing there or walking up and down. She’s peered in at our window a few times, but she never comes in. I think she might be hungry.’
‘She’s dressed like a lady.’ Nancy moved to one side of the window, peering out surreptitiously. ‘Odd that she’s wandering about without a maid, though. Maybe she’s in some kind of trouble.’
‘She keeps looking up at the boarding house as if she’s waiting for someone to come out.’
‘Definitely in trouble, then.’
‘In that case, we should help her.’ Henrietta nodded decisively, wrapping half a dozen Belles in a muslin cloth before heading for the door.
‘Wait a minute.’ Nancy put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘For all we know, she might be a dangerous criminal.’
‘I don’t think so. She only looks about the same age as us.’
‘We could be dangerous criminals if we wanted.’
‘I’m still going to talk to her.’ Henrietta lifted her chin, holding the door open for a group of septuagenarian ladies, then waited on the edge of the pavement for a few moments while a cart rolled past before crossing the road. The woman was facing in the other direction, a large, heavy-brimmed bonnet obscuring her face so effectively that Henrietta had to go and stand directly in front of her just to make eye contact.
‘Excuse me.’ She smiled, trying to look friendly as the woman let out a startled gasp. ‘I don’t mean to bother you, but I wondered if you’d like a biscuit?’
‘I’m sorry?’ The woman’s face, which looked altogether too gaunt and pale against her sombre outfit, appeared panic-stricken.
‘They’re a new variety,’ Henrietta lied, opening up the muslin. ‘We’re asking people what they think. Please...take them all.’
‘I really shouldn’t.’ The woman lifted a hand hesitantly, as if she suspected some kind of trap.
‘You can come into the shop, too, if you like?’ Henrietta offered as the hand wavered in mid-air. ‘It’s cold out here.’
‘No.’ Her voice was the barest of whispers. ‘No, thank you.’
‘We might be able to help. Perhaps if there was someone in particular you were looking for?’
‘How do you know—?’ The woman’s large, hazel-hued eyes widened like saucers before she grabbed two of the biscuits, spun on her heel and ran.
* * *
‘Maybe he’s forgotten about his bag.’ Nancy sank down on a stool behind the counter and sighed wearily. It was the end of the day and there was still no sign of Mr Fortini. ‘It seems an odd thing to forget about, though.’
‘Mmm.’ Henrietta turned the sign on the door over to Closed, wondering if perhaps she’d been too severe with him earlier and he didn’t want to come back. Apparently she was scaring everyone off today.
‘But I’m sure he’ll remember it eventually,’ Nancy continued. ‘Then you can fix whatever happened between you.’
‘I told you, nothing happened.’
‘I know what you told me, but admit it, you want to see him again.’
‘I admit nothing of the kind.’ Henrietta straightened her shoulders. ‘Anyway, I ought to visit David this evening.’
‘Again?’ Nancy scowled. ‘You shouldn’t be wandering about the city on your own. It’s dark already.’
