Page 27 of When She Loved Me
After several minutes, in which time she was able to resume her work with some degree of composure, his voice reached her again.
“Are you familiar with a Louisa Cornell?”
Nicole held onto the ladder, only slightly turning her head toward him. “Yes. We shared the same dance instructor and sometimes lessons as well.”
“Hmm,” he said, peering at the paper before him. “Seems she ran off to Gretna Green last week and eloped with one John Rothwell.”
Several things struck Nicole just then. First, that her friend, whom she’d liked quite well and had thought most sensible, had taken up with such a glorified dandy as Rothwell to the extent of actually running off with him, and secondly, but just as significant, Trevor’s casual attempt to...what? Simply make small talk with her? Offer a prelude to more serious conversation? Fill the quiet air with sound?
“Is that so?” She asked, for lack of a better response. She attended once again the cleaning of the library shelves, deciding whatever his purpose, she’d not let it or him disturb her.
After another minute or so, she heard, “This might interest you as well—‘On Thursday morning an engagement took place at Hyde Park between a Mr. F— of the city, and Lieutenant P— of the Navy, attended by their seconds; the first fire wasted; then they closed to six paces, and fired a second time. The ball of Lieutenant P—passed through the right thigh of Mr. F—. A surgeon was present, and by his care, we are happy to state that no danger is to be apprehended from the wound. The squabble between the parties arose on Monday last’.”
When she made no comment, he added, “I am to understand the stated Mr. F— is none other than your good friend, Mr. Fellows. Might’ve seen that coming.”
Refusing to be lured by his attempts to rile her either into conversation with him, or to throw in her face again that sad scene more than a year ago when he’d caught her with Guy Fellows in the gardens, Nicole only offered, “Interesting.”
“Do you need any help up there?” He asked then.
Nicole stared straight ahead still, at the books, made motionless by this question.Please go away, she begged inside her head. “No but thank you.”
After a few more minutes had passed, he spoke again. “Says here that a tradesman in Ireland, one Geoffrey Sedwards, has established the Skibbereen Abstinence Society, apparently an organization devoted to teetotalism. God’s blood—teetotalism?”
“Very good.” She scrubbed now harder at the poor books.
“I should say not” he said with a short chuckle. “Abstinence from alcohol? Not sure what the point of that might be.”
“Hmm.”
“Apparently, there was also some sort of riot at—"
“Is it then your plan to make conversation all morning?” She asked when she could take no more.
“I suppose so.”
“But could you possibly do it in another room?” She despised the near frantic tone that had delivered these words.
Now his chuckle was deeper, longer. “My understanding is that conversation requires two or more people.”
“You might find a willing participant in the kitchens.”
“I want to talk with my wife.” This came softly from directly below her now and she froze once again, her hand arrested upon the shelf.
“You don’t actually have a wife. You have a girl that you married and discarded and nothing more.”
“That’s a start, a girl that I married. Would you please come down from there now, or must I read the entire blessed paper to you to get you off the ladder?”
Realizing that she was likely to get little done in the library now, whether he stayed or not, she splashed the rags into the bucket and grabbed the handle, lifting it off the shelf and starting down the ladder. It was only partially an accident—she would blame it on the nerves he stirred in her—that she was careless or jittery in her descent, sloshing water over the rim, which fell straight down as had the books earlier. She knew it landed on him by his soft curse. She found herself debatingaccidentallydropping the entire pail on his head. But he’d grabbed the bucket from her hand before she’d made a decision about that tantalizing prank and found herself in the next instant standing upon solid ground, and staring up at him, while the wet and matted hair on the left side of his head dripped dirtied water onto his face.
Nicole sucked in her lips to keep from laughing and watched as he pulled a linen square out of his pocket and wiped it across his face. His eyes stayed on her and she thought him still the most beautiful man, though she wished mightily that she did not.
And when he might have said something now, she told him, “That will need to be returned to the kitchen,” and she pointed to the bucket and walked out of the library. She could feel again his eyes upon her, but she was fairly confident that he stared more with surprised amusement at her leaving him again, as she felt no heat or censure upon her back.
She made it all the way back to her chambers, pressing her back against the door as she closed it and laying her hand upon her belly to banish the tensions he’d wrought before she breathed again.
And then it was more than an hour later until she dared to venture out of her room again. She hadn’t sat idle, of course, but had used the time to organize her wardrobe, deciding finally that she really hadn’t any need of those silks and thought to take them into the village. She gathered up seven of them—leaving herself only two, of which she still imagined she’d have no use—and took them down to the foyer, laying them across the large table in the middle of the hall. Then she found the kitchen again, hoping Abby had some tea or chocolate available, maybe a biscuit or two.
She was happy to find only Abby in the kitchen, and she did indeed have chocolate warmed for her.
