Page 77 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
Good. He cannot possibly have seen the note yet, she thoughtwith relief. “The lord inspector has died suddenly, apparently. We will sail in a few days, my lord,” she explained.
Lord Ragsdale managed a rather mirthless chuckle. “I never thought he was a man for the rigors of Australia, myself. He probably is only pretending until the ship leaves without him.”
She laughed because she knew he expected it.Go upstairs like a good man, she thought, willing him to move away from the book room, where he stood now with his hand on the doorknob.
“If you do not mind, then, my lord, we will remain here a few more days until we sail,” she said, when he continued to just observe her.And for heaven’s sake, don’t go in there, she thought.
“You know I do not mind, Emma,” he replied, then opened the door and went in, closing it firmly behind him.
I think I will die of embarrassment, she thought as she stood at the door. She held her breath, expecting any moment for Lord Ragsdale to come bounding out, note in hand, to scold her for being an idiot. Nothing happened. She let out her breath and quietly climbed the stairs.
She spent the rest of the afternoon lying on her bed and staring at the wall, Tim curled up beside her, asleep. She dreaded every sound on the stairs and panicked when darkness came and someone knocked.
“It’s only me,” said the footman.
“Come in then, Hanley,” she said, hoping the relief in her voice was not too obvious. Tim sat up and rubbed his eyes as she opened the door.
“Lady Ragsdale would like you and Tim to have dinner with her,” he said, then added, when he noticed the hesitancy on her face. “She does not like to dine alone, Emma.”
“But isn’t Lord Ragsdale available?” Emma asked.
The footman shook his head. “Oh, my, and didn’t he tear out of here like a man with a mission!”
I wonder what that means, she considered as she usheredTim out the door.I only hope he has not returned to his club and his former bad habits.
She and Tim followed the footman downstairs, and she sent them on ahead as she went to the book room door, listened a moment, opened it quietly, and tiptoed to the desk. Relief washed over her. The note remained exactly where she had left it, tucked under the paperweight. She snatched it up, crumpled it into a tiny ball, and threw the note into the fireplace, where she watched until it flamed and crumbled into ashes.
Her heart ten times lighter, she managed to make herself good company to Lady Ragsdale for the evening, never a difficult task. As much as she disliked cards, she knew she could while away an evening with them, nodding occasionally, making comments here and there as Lady Ragsdale chattered, cheated, and triumphed.
She kept her ears open for Lord Ragsdale’s return, but when she finally surrendered her cards at midnight, his candle was still waiting for him on the entrance hall table.
She decided the next day that he must have seen the note, after all, and had chosen to avoid her. It was the only conclusion she could make because he left the house before she woke and had not returned late that evening.
“I do not understand it,” Lady Ragsdale commented as she signaled to Lasker to pour the sherry after another interminable night of cards. “Perhaps he is still with Clarissa. The wedding is planned for early June, after all, and these things take careful planning.”
“I am certain you are right,” Emma agreed, happy to end the discussion by yawning, stretching, then saying good night.What a sham, she thought as she climbed the stairs again.Now I will toss and turn and pretend to sleep, when I am in a perfect agony over Lord Ragsdale. Suppose he has returned to his former bad habits?she thought again. It seemed unlikely; the footman made no mention of anything out of the ordinary.I am stewing over nothing, she decided, but that thought did nothing to hasten sleep.
I cannot manage another day of sleeplessness, she told herself as she dragged out of bed and sat there until she had the energy to rise. Tim was already gone; in fact, his pallet was neatly folded. She rose, looked at the tangle of her own bed, and shook her head at her folly.
She was straightening the sheets when Tim burst into the room. “Emma, there is a message from theAtlas! We are sailing at noon!”
“Thank goodness,” she said and meant each word.The sooner I am gone, the better.
They arrived at theAtlaswithin the hour, after suffering through another round of farewells. She knew that Lord Ragsdale was in his chambers, because she heard him walking about as she tiptoed down the hall. There were more tears from Lady Ragsdale, and then they were safely inside the hackney. She made the mistake of looking back at the house, where, to her horror, she saw Lord Ragsdale standing at his bedroom window. To her further amazement, he opened it, leaned out, waved, and blew her a kiss.
This is so odd, she thought as she waved back but omitted the kiss.There have been too many of those to unsettle a rational mind, she assured herself as she set her heart and mind on the journey ahead.
TheAtlaswas a swarm of activity this time as she and Tim went on board and found their cabin, a tiny cubbyhole crammed ’tweendecks. They drew straws, and Tim won the top berth. She sat on her berth and looked around her.For six or seven months this will be our home, she thought,and then we will be in a most hostile place, from which so few return.She considered the matter and then realized that it did not make a difference where she was. There was no home anymore in Ireland; Virginia had been a pleasant interlude, but only a place to mark time; England was the enemy still.
She lay back and propped her hands behind her head.No, that was not true, she reasoned, thinking of Norfolk and the good people there.And Lord Ragsdale is in England.Silenttears rolled down to wet her hair. “Oh, Clarissa, please realize what a gem you have,” she whispered. “Do you know that you are the luckiest lady in England?”
She dried her eyes before Tim noticed and assured him that she would join him on deck later. There would be no pleasure taken in watching London recede as they worked their way to the Channel. The familiar numbness that had captured her heart the day after Robert Emmet walked up the lane to her house was returning again. She closed her eyes against it, knowing that she had not the strength to resist anymore.
But I must exert myself for Tim, she thought, sitting up.Even if we arrive in Sydney and find no trace of Da or Sam, I have Tim to think of.She straightened her dress and went into the companionway.
It was full of trunks and boxes. She stepped around them and met the apologetic glance of the ship’s steward.
“Sorry, mum,” he said. “It’s the new lord inspector’s stuff, and where am I to put it, I ask?”
