Evie’s Choice. Terri Nixon. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Terri Nixon
Издательство: HarperCollins
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isbn: 9781472096470
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unsatisfactory sleep, I had taken advantage of the fact that I was temporarily without a formal maid to leave the house unnoticed. I asked the stable-boy Billy to saddle Orion, and rode up to the quarry. Even though it wasn’t a Sunday I knew Will would not let me down. Sure enough he was there, and clearly had been for some time; he was freezing cold and shivering in the biting January wind, and came down the hill to meet me. I slid off Orion and into his arms, and we clung together, leaning into the buffeting wind while I wept out all the anger and despair I’d kept hidden in front of everyone else. When I eventually wiped my eyes, he took my hand and we walked in silence up the hill, over the wet grass, to the big rock at the top.

      ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there yesterday,’ he said as we sat down, heedless of the puddles in the uneven surface. ‘Markham said he wanted to go to support Ruth, if you ever did, and someone had to keep the shop open.’

      I shook my head, dismissing the apology. ‘I knew that diamond was going to cause upset. I told Lizzy so myself the night I got it.’

      ‘Who do you think really stole it?’

      ‘I have no idea. I would suspect the Wingfield boys if they hadn’t been seen elsewhere at the time.’

      ‘What about their mother, Clarissa, isn’t it?’

      ‘She was questioned by the police, and lots of people saw her too.’ I sighed; it had all been going around and around in my head for so long I was dizzy with it. ‘I’m going to write to Uncle Jack as soon as I get home. He works for the government, he must be able to do something.’

      ‘Darling, he’s a diplomat, he’s not part of the –’

      ‘It doesn’t matter! I have to do something!’

      Will pulled me against him and tucked my head beneath his chin. ‘I’m sorry. Yes, you’re right, he might at least know someone who can help.’

      ‘We have to try everything,’ I said, and I felt him nodding.

      ‘We will.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Evie, I know she’s closer to you than your own family, but trying to absorb Lizzy’s unhappiness won’t ease it for her. Can you imagine how cross she’d be if she knew you were spending your days worrying and crying over something you have no power to change?’

      I drew back, suspicious. He sounded awfully selfish, and it surprised and unsettled me. He frowned, then realised what was going through my mind and shook his head. ‘I’m not suggesting you forget about her, that you ignore your feelings or that you be cheerful for anyone’s sake but your own, and hers. All I’m saying is that, when you write to her, you hold on to that determination we all love about you, and don’t show her a moment’s doubt. Do your crying with me, cry all the time if you need to.’ He touched my cheek, and his face was earnest, and more than a little helpless. ‘I don’t want to see you sad, but if you must be sad with someone, let it always be me.’

      That afternoon when I returned home, I wrote to Uncle Jack, and then to Lizzy, keeping Will’s words in mind and forcing my determined cheerfulness onto the paper.

       ‘Dearest Lizzy. I have written to Uncle Jack in the hopes he may help secure your release, I don’t know how, but he does seem to know some terribly important people. I await his response, but will write to you immediately as soon as I hear he is on his way, for I am sure he soon will be!

       Yr loving friend,

       Evie.’

      As I reread the words before sliding the paper into the waiting envelope, I felt them wrap themselves around the despair in my heart and soothe it; there was nothing more I could do, but Uncle Jack would ride to the rescue, there was no question about it. Lizzy’s fate now lay in his hands, and my own rested in mine and Will’s; it had come as a breathtaking shock to discover how suddenly everything could change, and I realised I must treasure every fleeting and fragile moment of joy while it was still within reach.

      The spring of 1913 was dull and wet, and gave way to an equally dull, but dry summer. Will and I continued to meet each Sunday; it was difficult to find any more time since mother had realised I would soon be turning nineteen, and was in danger of becoming the spinster of the parish. Of course, the loss of the Kalteng Star was having an effect on the number of potential husbands that crossed the threshold of Oaklands Manor, but there were still plenty for Mother to urge in my direction, and to question me over after I had returned from whichever dinner or party I had been whisked away to.

      I played my part, of course. I danced with fathers, spoke glowingly to mothers of their sons’ fine qualities, befriended sisters and curtseyed to grandmothers. I laughed with suitors and allowed a brief brush of lips on my gloved hand when we parted, and told Mother I’d had a wonderful time and would very much like to see that young man again. Then I went to my room, dismissed Ruth, and lay in the dark thinking of Will.

      The day after a particularly excruciating party was a Sunday, and despite a strong breeze it was a rare sunny one. With Orion loosely tethered to a bush and munching at the grass, I climbed onto the high rock and looked across the valley to see Will, striding up over the hill with that eagerness he never tried to hide. His dark hair blew back from his face, showing strong, clean lines of jaw and cheekbone, and I enjoyed watching the unconsciously graceful ease with which he moved across the uneven ground towards me.

      I stood up and waved, the wind whipping at my skirts and threatening to tug me right off the rock, and he shouted at me to sit down before something awful happened but instead I began to dance from foot to foot, just to make him walk faster. It worked; he began to run, laughing, until he was able to spring up beside me and press his smiling mouth to mine.

      He tasted cold and fresh after his walk, and his skin was flushed with good health and contentment. I could tell he was going to say something momentous and romantic, and I waited with impatient and growing anticipation, while he searched for the right words.

      Eventually he took my hand, and fixed his eyes tenderly on mine. ‘You’ve got a hole in your jacket.’

      I blinked at him, then gave him a look of mock annoyance. ‘And here I was thinking you were about to declare your endless devotion.’

      ‘Oh, that too,’ he said with a grin, and tugged my hair gently. ‘Ruth not up to Lizzy’s standard then?’ My humour faded, and I sat down. He sat beside me and put an arm around my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to remind you.’

      ‘It’s never far from my mind anyway. I do wish Uncle Jack would write back, no one’s heard from him since the turn of the year.’

      ‘Do you think he’ll be able to help?’

      ‘I’m sure he will. He must be owed a favour or two, after all he’s always shooting off at a moment’s notice and it can’t be all his own choice.’

      ‘And Ruth?’ He waggled his finger through the hole in my jacket pocket.

      ‘She’s a disaster, of course. She might have been a good kitchen maid but her skills don’t extend any further than that, and she doesn’t seem at all disposed to learning. She doesn’t have Lizzy’s deftness of touch, and doesn’t notice when something needs doing. I have to ask her half a dozen times at least.’

      He grinned at my grumpy tone. ‘But is she as cold as ever?’

      ‘More so, I would say.’ But I didn’t want to waste our time talking about Ruth. ‘I’m thinking of telling Mother I don’t want a maid at all.’

      ‘You’d want one if Lizzy was still here,’ he pointed out.

      ‘She was very good, but I miss her friendship more than her skill with a needle. Besides, I can dress myself. And,’ I added drily, ‘I could mend my own clothes a sight better than Ruth Wilkins. I can’t help feeling it’s time to let go of all that nonsense.’

      ‘So you’re still convinced everything is going to change,’ Will said, staring out over the hills. Then he swung back to face me and stared