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The man nodded. “Yes. I must say, you look so much like your late father at the same age, My Lord. My sincerest condolences to you on his passing.”
Joseph cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mr Newcombe.”
“Shall we?” The man indicated the door opposite.
Joseph nodded, following him inside a small room, trying to shake off the memory. It was unsettling. He hadn’t remembered that particular encounter with her in years. Why had it suddenly sprung into his mind, as fresh as if it had happened yesterday rather than five years ago?
But he knew why. It was because he was back in this town. How had he ever believed that he could come back here and itwouldn’thappen? It was like the town was filled with tiny triggers, all designed to set him off when he least expected it.
He took a deep breath, sitting down. He needed to sell this house as soon as he could and get out of Acton-on-Rye. There was no point picking over the past, like a vulture at a corpse. What was done was done. He couldn’t change any of it, and besides, she was probably married and happy now. She probably never thought of him at all.
Chapter 3
Marianne stepped out of Miss Markle’s dress shop. Fanny and her aunt were waiting for her as agreed. Her friend smiled brightly.
“All done?” she asked. “Will the gown be ready in time for the ball?”
Marianne nodded. “Indeed, it shall. Miss Markle promises that it shall be delivered tomorrow. All she needs do is adjust the bodice slightly.” She paused, biting her lip. “I still feel rather guilty that Mama is spending so much on it. I do not need another ball gown. One of my old ones would have done …”
“Poppycock,” said Aunt Petunia firmly. “A young lady needs more than one ball gown, a fact which your good mother is very well aware of, Marianne. Has your current suitor already seen you in your favourites?”
Marianne nodded. “Yes, he has. But it just seems so extravagant, Miss Walford.”
“A lady’s wardrobe is an investment,” said the older lady. “It shall pay for itself if you get a proposal, my girl. A lady must always look her best.”
Fanny laughed. “Shall we have tea? I think we have just enough time before the shop closes for the day.”
They started walking along the street towards the tearooms. Marianne liked spending time with Fanny and her aunt like this, but she was starting to feel guilty about even spending coins on tea and scones.
Perhaps she should suggest they all go back to her house. Cook had baked scones this morning after all, and there was always tea. But just as she was about to suggest it, her eye was caught by the sight of a gentleman walking on the opposite side of the road.
Her eyes widened. She was sure it was Fredrick Knightley. But what on earth was he doing here, in Acton-on-Rye, on a sleepy Thursday afternoon?
He came to an abrupt halt, staring at her. And then, he slowly smiled. It spread across his face like sunshine.
“I say,” he called. “Is that really you, Marianne?”
Her heart was beating fast. She hadn’t seen Fredrick in so long that she had almost forgotten what he looked like. He had barely changed. He still had the same lanky physique, all arms and legs, as her mother had fondly said about him. The same dishevelled sandy-coloured hair and twinkling grey eyes. Except his hair was receding ever so slightly now.
He bounded across the road towards them, dodging a horse and cart, before standing in front of her. Fanny and Aunt Petunia watched with smiles on their faces as Fredrick took Marianne’s hand, bowing low.
Marianne laughed. “Why are you doing that, Fred? I am hardly a noble lady. You do not need to bow to me.”
He straightened, gazing at her fondly. “You should be a noble lady, Marianne. You hold yourself like a queen.” His eyes travelled over her. “Why, you have not changed a bit in all these years! I would think you were still three-and-twenty.”
Marianne swatted his arm gently. “You were always a flatterer, Fred! It seems that some things never change.” She paused. “But why are you here, walking the main street of Acton-on-Rye? I thought I was seeing a mirage when I spotted you.”
Fredrick sighed heavily. He didn’t speak for a moment. “Well, I agreed to accompany a friend,” he said eventually, in a careful voice. “It was a good excuse to get out of London, you see. The season has been so tedious. And there is the other pressing matter of the search for a wife. All the London ladies are as dull as dishwater, and I wanted to look further afield.” He smiled mischievously.
Marianne’s heart started thudding hard. Fredrick hadn’t said a name, but she knew who the friend was. How could she not? Fredrick wouldn’t have bothered to come all this way to accompany anyone else. He had always stayed with this particular friend when he had frequented the district all those years ago.
Her mouth went dry. He was here. The man who had broken her heart five years ago. The man who had left her abruptly for another woman, with no explanation. She had heard he had married the lady. She had also heard that he was now a widower. His wife had died suddenly from a mystery illness and had been in her grave for the past three years.
Joseph. It could be no other.
Fredrick turned to Fanny, staring at her with interest. “I say. You look familiar. We have met, haven’t we?”
Fanny nodded. “Indeed, we have, Mr Knightley. Miss Frances Harding. I think we talked at a ball one night, many years ago.”
