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Chapter 18
The day after Lucy and Aunt Joan had arrived back home in London, they had gone out shopping. Lucy’s gloves were worn, and Aunt Joan, eager to put a smile on her niece’s face, suggested they go and buy her a new pair.
“It’ll be my treat,” Aunt Joan said.
“Aunt Joan,” Lucy replied. “I couldn’t possibly—”
“I dragged you all the way out to the countryside,” Aunt Joan replied. “Let me do you a good turn.”
Right then, Aunt Joan’s eyes were on the kid gloves that were on display. “Look at these!” She picked up a pair that were the colour of fresh cream. They were lovely. “They’re soft as butter!”
Lucy touched them, feeling the creamy, luxurious softness of the leather. She had never had such a fine pair of gloves before.
“I do like them,” she admitted, though she felt guilty. Her eyes sought a much less expensive pair of gloves. She saw a pair of black ones that were less pleasing to the eye.
“Then you shall have these.” Aunt Joan beamed at her. She took the gloves back from her.
Lucy looked at them, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “Thank you, Aunt Joan.”
Her aunt smiled, touching two fingers gently underneath Lucy’s chin. She took the gloves over to the counter, where the shopkeeper stood, waiting to be of assistance.
Lucy waited, meanwhile perusing the other wares in the shop. There were luxurious cashmere scarves, silk gloves. She touched the soft fabric of a scarf. It felt like a cloud, stolen from the sky.
“Lucy? Lucy Wilds! Itisyou!” cried a familiar voice from behind her.
Freezing in place, Lucy turned slowly to find that Susan Hamm stood behind her. She was dressed modishly in pink, her ringlets framing her cheeks.
“Susan,” Lucy said. “It’s been a while.”
“It has! How have you been?” Susan pressed both of Lucy’s hands in her own.
“I’ve been well. And you?” Lucy was trying to find out if Susan was actually happy to see her. After all, Susan was the one who had stopped speaking to Lucy. She would have thought that her former friend would have avoided her.
“I’ve been extraordinarily well. It’s so good to see you,” Susan remarked, letting go of Lucy’s hands. “I’ve missed our conversations. No one can rival your wit and intelligence.”
Lucy felt her cheeks redden.Then why did you forsake them for the company of others?she wondered bitterly.
“Thank you,” she murmured, feeling woefully unprepared for this sort of attention.
“You should come over, for my visiting hours. I am at home on Tuesdays and Thursdays, from noon to four.”
“Certainly.” Lucy felt that Susan was only being polite. She couldn’t mean it—not when she hadn’t felt inclined to have any sort of contact with Lucy at all for the past several years.
Lucy smiled. Aunt Joan was walking over.
“Miss Hamm!” Aunt Joan said. “What a surprise!”
“Miss Wilds! It’s so good to see you.” Susan beamed at Lucy’s aunt, with what Lucy read as relief. Aunt Joan was easier to converse with. She had none of Lucy’s unfavourable qualities, and was widely liked and accepted.
“Well, we’ve got to get home,” Lucy said, ignoring the look that Aunt Joan gave her—one which said,you very much know that we do not.
“Of course, don’t let me keep you,” Susan replied.
Aunt Joan and Susan said their goodbyes, then Lucy and her aunt left, walking arm in arm along the sidewalk. It wasn’t far from the shops on Goldsmith’s Street to return home to their little house on Harley Street.
Aunt Joan was conspicuously silent. Lucy knew that she was thinking about the encounter with Susan and braced herself for questions.
“What were you and Miss Hamm talking about?” Aunt Joan asked as they walked. Lucy’s eyes were on a gentleman climbing out of a carriage to go into a solicitor’s office. He wore a top hat and fine frock coat. Like Silas, he stood very tall, and he walked as though he owned the world. He wasn’t Silas, however, and she was able to relax.
