Page 52 of A Date with Dishonor

Chapter Fifteen

‘The post has arrived, Papa.’

Beatrice had called out to her father then, twirling about by the front door with two letters in her hand, she hurried to his study to find him.

‘There is one for you and I’m sure it is from Aunt Dolly as I recognise the hand.’ Beatrice put the letter on the leather-topped desk. ‘This one is addressed to Elise and is from Verity Chapman; I know her hand, too, you see.’

‘Indeed, you are right about mine; this is certainly from my sister,’ Walter confirmed, having scanned the writing and given his elder daughter a congratulatory beam.

‘Who was hammering on the door as though they would break it in two?’ Elise had been reading a novel in her chamber when the banging startled her.

‘There is a letter arrived for you from Verity.’ Beatrice proffered the parchment. ‘Papa has one from Aunt Dolly.’

Beneath constricting ribs Elise felt her heart skip a beat. Had her friend and her aunt heard of an imminent scandal concerning them and simultaneously written to warn them of it?

Beatrice gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘I should have liked a letter to open.’

The sound of the doorknocker again being employed brought three heads up.

‘There you are, my dear,’ Walter Dewey said, placing his letter back on the desk. ‘The fellow is back with the one for you he forgot to deliver. And in a better frame of mind, I suspect, as the door’s not taken such a battering.’

The summons to open up had seemed less forceful and Beatrice hurried back out into the hallway.

There was the sound of a muffled male voice, then moments later her sister reappeared with a gentleman at her side.

‘Doctor Burnett has come to visit, Papa.’

‘Ah...come in...come in, Colin, my dear fellow.’ Walter pushed to his feet, flapping a hand to urge him forwards. ‘Let me introduce you to my children, newly returned from the metropolis only days ago.’

Colin Burnett swung a smiling look between the young ladies. ‘How fortunate you are, sir, to have such exceptionally pretty daughters.’

Elise glanced at her sister just as Beatrice gave the complimentary fellow a shy smile.

‘My elder, Beatrice, let you in and this is Elise.’ Walter held out his hands either side of him, proudly indicating the two young ladies. ‘Now, shall we go to the parlour and have some refreshment?’ He clutched at his stick leaning against the wall and came around the desk in a slow gait. ‘The girls might be persuaded to entertain us with tales of their parties and balls in town.’

‘I’ll ask Mrs Francis to bring some tea, Papa.’ With a little bob for the doctor Elise went ahead of them towards the kitchens.

She desperately wanted to open her letter rather than attempt a polite conversation with their guest, but instead slipped it into her skirt pocket. She knew she must wait until she could properly digest its contents and steel herself against dreadful news. Thankfully her father had abandoned his note unopened on his desk so they had some respite...at least until after Colin Burnett had left.

Elise felt guilty and selfish then for hoping the doctor would soon be on his way. Their life in the country was humdrum and before she’d gone to town she would have enjoyed a visitor calling on them. Her father and sister had both looked pleasantly surprised at the doctor’s arrival. She purposely dwelled on him and how taken aback she’d been by his appearance. In her imagination the new doctor would resemble her first memory of the old one: a middle-aged fellow of dry character and spare build. But Colin Burnett seemed a congenial and cultured young man, perhaps in his late twenties, and was rather attractive in a bucolic way. Had she not known his profession she might have taken him for a country squire’s son with his bluff complexion and shock of auburn hair falling forwards over one eye, causing him often to push it back with large square fingers.

‘Ah...Miss Elise...I was going to find your father and ask what to prepare for supper, but I dare say you’ll do as well as him.’

Elise had been on the point of entering the kitchen when Betty Francis had exited the pantry opposite, holding by the legs a chicken in one hand and a rabbit in the other. First one, then the other, lifeless creature was raised for Elise’s inspection. ‘My Norman will pluck or skin it, so no problems in the choosing; you may have whichever you fancy, or both if you reckon Mr Dewey will run to it.’

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