‘That is a shame,’ she said, not allowing herself to show her disappointment at hearing this news.
He cleared his throat. ‘I have come today in the hope that we might take another outing tomorrow. If, of course, it’s not too soon after our busy day out today?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said, without stopping to at least look as if she was considering his invitation. She gave her father an appealing smile. ‘Father? Would you mind me taking the day off from work?’
Her father moved next to Florence and rested his right hand on her shoulder. ‘I have given Mr Boot permission to go out with you tomorrow.’
She couldn’t hide her surprise. Her father must like Mr Boot very much to allow her another day off immediately after the one she took today. ‘Thank you, Father,’ she said, trying not to show her delight.
‘I have a fancy to see the new lighthouse at La Corbière.’
Florence only vaguely heard him. She was too stunned by her father’s permission for another day off to truly take in what Mr Boot had said.
He cleared his throat nervously when she didn’t answer straight away. ‘Only if you wish to accompany me, Miss Rowe. Please feel free to say if you’d rather not.’ He passed his leather gloves from one hand to the other.
Horrified to have given him the wrong idea, Florence shook her head. ‘Not at all, Mr Boot,’ she said, trying her best not to sound too enthusiastic. ‘I would very much like to accompany you to the lighthouse tomorrow. Thank you for asking me.’ Her mother had a particular abhorrence of women having an unladylike enthusiasm for anything, and found it extremely distasteful.
She waited in the living room as her father showed Mr Boot to the door.
Her mother didn’t appear happy at Florence agreeing to go on another outing with Mr Boot. She wasn’t sure why, so felt compelled to ask her.
‘Do you mind me accompanying Mr Boot on outings, Mother?’
Florence followed her mother as she walked into the kitchen, pulling the straps of her apron carefully over her head and tying it around her waist. She clattered about in the kitchen, not needing words to convey her feelings.
‘Mother, is something the matter?’
‘Nothing is the matter,’ her father said, joining them. ‘Your mother probably would like some help with the supper, or a little peace to continue with its preparation.’
‘Peace would be my preferred choice,’ her mother snapped without turning to address them.
Her father waved for her to follow him back to the living room. Florence shared her concerns.
‘Your mother has nothing against Mr Boot,’ he assured her as they sat opposite each other on the comfortable armchairs in front of the unlit fire. ‘How could anyone have an issue with such a pleasant man?’
Florence couldn’t say. ‘Why then does she appear upset that I am to see him again? Is it something I’ve done?’ If it was, she had no idea what it could be.
He leant forward and lowered his voice. ‘She likes Albert. I suspect your mother is anxious that your affections will gravitate from him to Mr Boot. After all, Mr Boot is quite a bit older than you and you must have noticed his occasional pain when he moved.’
She had but couldn’t understand what that had to do with anything. He was kind, entertaining and very good company. Surely that was what she needed from a man, not worrying about his age or the fact that once in a while he suffered pain in his legs.
‘Albert and I are merely friends, Father,’ she explained. ‘I only let Mother think that we might end up courting, because it stops her fretting that I’ll end up being a lonely spinster. Although, I can’t imagine ever being lonely, and I have no issue with remaining a spinster, whatever Mother says.’ As soon as the words left her lips, she wished she could recall them. She hated being rude to her parents and loved her mother, never intending to speak badly about her. ‘That is to say …’
Her father rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t concern yourself. I don’t like to think of your mother being misled. However, for the time being or until you’ve had a chance to change your mind about Albert’s prospects as a husband, maybe allowing her to believe that you have a fondness for him is the best option. .’
‘You prefer Albert over Mr Boot, Father?’
He considered her question for a moment. ‘I don’t believe it’s a case of liking one man more than the other. I am only concerned that you, as with your siblings, choose to be with someone who makes you happy, be it Albert or Mr Boot.’
Florence was relieved to hear him say as much. Although she barely knew Mr Boot, she could not deny to herself that there was something appealing about him as well as his business ethics. Her disappointment at hearing about his earlier than anticipated return to Nottingham had given her quite a jolt. It made her realise that she was enjoying his company even more than she had ever supposed she might.
Florence had spent the morning and previous evening planning how to make the best of her outing with Mr Boot. She was looking forward to spending time with him.
She walked down Mulcaster Street towards the Pomme d’Or Hotel, wishing she had thought to pack less in the picnic hamper she had brought with her. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea of hers, she mused, moving the handle from her right to her left hand. It was far heavier than she had expected when she’d packed it up earlier. She didn’t even know what foods Mr Boot liked, or if he would be happy with the idea of a picnic.
‘I’m so stupid,’ she murmured to herself. If only she wasn’t using her mother’s hamper, then she could maybe leave it with someone and ask if she could collect it later.
She wished she had a free hand to fan herself and hoped she wasn’t too hot by the time she met him. The last thing she wanted to do was arrive in a flustered state. That really wouldn’t do at all. She passed the entrance of the hotel and spotted him waiting for her outside the terminus building. He was looking up at the blue sky, and she followed his gaze, noting that there wasn’t a cloud to be seen.
Seeing her, he waved and began walking to her. As he neared, he called out to her. ‘Good day, Miss Rowe.’ He noticed the hamper and reached out to take it from her. ‘That looks rather heavy.’
Relieved he had taken the weight from her hand, she checked her hair was in place and her hat straight. ‘Thank you. I hadn’t thought about carrying it here when I was packing up our lunch.’
‘I wished you had told me,’ he said as they began walking; ‘I would have collected you in a carriage. This really is far too heavy for a lady to carry.’
‘Not at all,’ she fibbed, not wishing him to think of her as weak. ‘I’m used to lifting boxes of books, don’t forget.’
He smiled at her. ‘That’s as maybe, but there wasn’t a need for you to bring this hamper all this way, especially in this heat.’
Florence laughed. ‘I have to admit, I was thinking the same thing when I was halfway here.’
They reached the terminus entrance. ‘I’ve already purchased our tickets,’ he explained, patting his chest pocket. ‘The train is waiting for us to board.’
Once seated on the train, the hamper on the floor next to Mr Boot’s feet, Florence relaxed slightly.
‘Thank you for bringing a picnic,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t know the last time I’ve been lucky enough to enjoy one.’