Page 72 of Miss Determined
The clerk fussed with the tea things, stepped aside, and put his hands behind his back like some liveried footman. Lissa was certain the fellow was eavesdropping, and she hoped he’d sing the news of Purvis’s defeat in the streets.
“Jones,” Purvis snapped, “fetch the ledgers and printed bank drafts. We’ll be making a disbursal from the DeWitts’ account at Wentworth’s.”
Lissa went to the window, which—like all London windows—could have benefited from daily scrubbing at least on the outside. A handsome coach and four—matched blacks—pulled up, and a fashionable lady was handed down by a liveried footman. The woman glanced up at the window where Lissa stood, her expression… resolute.
Miss Hecate Brompton frequently wore a resolute expression, though she also had an astonishingly mischievous smile.
“If you are expecting Miss Brompton,” Lissa said, “she has arrived.”
“If so, then she’s early,” Purvis said, accepting some papers from the clerk and retreating to his desk. “Not a habit that endears a client to her man of business. I much prefer the punctuality that you ladies favor.”
He was filling out what were presumably bank drafts, or some sort of order to release funds, so Lissa did not chide him for his rudeness. She knew Hecate Brompton, had sat out many a dance with her among the potted palms and drowsing dowagers. Lissa couldn’t quite call Miss Brompton a friend—her fortune eclipsed Lissa’s by a wide margin—but Miss Brompton didn’t put on airs or suffer fools.
She had Lissa’s respect, and Lissa hoped the sentiment was mutual.
“There you are,” Purvis said, tossing sand on his signatures. “I trust you ladies have concluded your business with me?”
Mama collected the bank drafts and shook them gently over the dustbin. “For the nonce. The list of repairs needed at Twidboro can be handled by mail, and it is lengthy, sir. I don’t suppose my son has contacted you in the past few months?”
He capped the ink bottle, laid his pen in the tray, and set the ink bottle back on the silver jack. Purvis was not a man to tidy up after himself, and yet, there he was, putting all to rights and sweeping a stray bit of sand into his palm.
Dithering, delaying, organizing his lies.
“No word, Mrs. DeWitt, though I have alerted my associates in Paris, Rome, Vienna, and Copenhagen to be on the lookout for him.”
Not Edinburgh or Dublin, which were more likely locations for an Englishman with an indifferent command of Italian, much less Danish or German. And Lissa sorely doubted Purvis had any associates in foreign capitals, come to that.
“We’ll be on our way,” Lissa said, pulling on her gloves. “We will expect the next disbursements at the end of June, and we will provide you a complete list of pending repairs at Twidboro Hall at that time. The feeble gestures you’ve approved thus far are just the beginning.”
Purvis had taken a post by the other window, and the gaze he turned on Miss Brompton’s coach and four was almost fond.
“Of course, Miss DeWitt.” He couldn’t be bothered to see them out apparently, casting more doubt on the state of good manners in London. “I am at your disposal should it be necessary to draft any settlement agreements. We take particular joy in that happy task.”
Lissa decided that she and Miss Brompton needed to share an informal cup of tea in the very near future.
“I’m sure you do,” was all Lissa said.
“Is Miss Brompton here to discuss settlements?” Mama asked, which was atrocious of her.
“That one.” Purvis’s smile boded well for somebody, probably him. “She’s to marry a certain handsome young marquess newly returned from the Continent, but you didn’t hear that from me. A very agreeable match for both parties.”
No, it was not.Though clearly, Purvis regarded such a match as agreeable for him.
Lissa left his offices feeling as if she needed a long, hot, soaking bath and a scrub from head to toe.
“Odious rodent,” Mama muttered. “You dealt with him splendidly, Lissa. I wish we’d brought him to heel much sooner.”
They walked along a street lined with maples unfurling gauzy green leaves and pigeons strutting about the pavement like so many burghers and dowagers. London wasn’t so awful, not when the weather was decent.
“So do I,” Lissa said, “but I hadn’t thought to invoke the scorn of the bankers. Mention of Wentworth’s worked like a magic incantation.” And Trevor had been the one to suggest that tactic.
They paused at a streetcorner while a dray laden with barrels lumbered past. Pickled herring, from the scent on the air.
“Did you get the impression,” Mama murmured, “that Purvis became bored with us? Miss Brompton commands a much larger fortune, and her lineage in no wise leads to the shop. Purvis is clearly expecting a match for her in the near future.”
They crossed the street and angled northwest, toward the wide avenues of Mayfair.
“You need not be so delicate, Mama. Purvis expects Tavistock to offer for Miss Brompton.” He’d all but opened the window and shouted that scheme to the world.
