“She was different. She was a filthy beggar who had been born in the gutter and had no concept of morality so, sadly, would have had no hope of being guided into a better life. She wasn’t like Dorrie who worked so hard but who would never commit a crime like stealing. I’m talking about women who were once good and virtuous but who, through no fault of their own, suddenly are cast adrift. Why don’t you write about their plight in your newspaper, Hamish?”
“Because our father would remove the editorship from my hands, you know that.” Hamish was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. He changed the subject. “I’m sorry you’re cross with me, and I have said that if Mr Myers can demonstrate that he can support a wife, then he is welcome to call and state his case.” He paused, adding, “And I’m sorry if I didn’t fulfil my brotherly obligations earlier, Lucy. You know I would have if I’d had an inkling. I’d have come back from France on the next steamer.”
“Gracious! An apology is not what I was expecting,” she said, making light of what had been a frightful time in Lucy’s life when their father had, indeed, lost his temper to such a degree that his violence had nearly gone unchecked. Hamish’s return had been just in time. “And nor is it like you, Hamish, my darling brother whom I have never heard apologise to anyone in his life.”
“I would be the first to admit when I was in error,” he said stiffly.
Lucy put her head on one side and crinkled her brow. “Then you must never have been in error and I should rejoice at my good fortune in having grown up with a paragon.”
Hamish’s face relaxed in an unaccustomed smile. “I don’t know if I should send you home with a clip over your ear or thank you for relieving the tension. Lord knows, it’s needed around here as we prepare to go to print.” He reached for the food she’d brought. “Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he mumbled, his stomach growling as he realised he hadn’t eaten since early morning. “I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when Mr Myers proves himself worthy and you leave me.”
“Lord knows, you can’t look after yourself. You’ll have to find yourself a wife, of course,” Lucy said.
“I haven’t time for that.” Hamish took a bite.
“Time? Or inclination?”
“Both.”
She studied him a moment as he ate, before one of the photographs caught her eye and she reached across and held it up to the light
. “Now that’s a beautiful woman, indeed. And she is with, if I’m not mistaken, Lord Elkington. She’s not his wife, is she?”
“Heavens, no!” Hamish expostulated and was immediately embarrassed for she looked at him with obvious surprise and the expectation of elucidation. Awkwardly he said, “She’s not the kind of woman you should associate with, that’s all I can say, Lucy.”
“You can be such a Puritan sometimes, Hamish,” she grumbled, looking more closely at the picture. “How would you even know that? She looks perfectly respectable to me.”
“Looks can be deceptive,” he said. “And I am not a Puritan. Someone else called me that today and I took exception.”
“Well, you are buttoned-up and judgemental which is tantamount to the same thing.” Lucy flashed him a smile. “You need to fall in love with a girl who will make you forget that you’re just a sinning mortal here on this earth for only a short time.”
“I believe that is the philosophy behind what these people are so very interested in refuting,” Hamish said, indicating Lord Elkington. “His lordship regularly communes with his dead wife at Mrs Bennet’s seances.”
“And this woman?”
“Mrs Eustace?”
“Oh, you’re familiar with her?”
The artless question made his body stir. Their exchanges had been brief, unusual, and few and far between. But each had had a considerable, and intense effect upon him.
His brow clouded. “I know nothing about her. You know I don’t believe in this quackery.”
“You don’t believe in spiritualism, dear brother?” she asked in mock horror. “When the spirits are all around us?”
“You know me, sister. I only believe what I can see.”
“Except for our Heavenly Father.”
He grunted. “You should be heading back, Lucy. Thank you for the pie. It’s much appreciated as I shan’t be home for hours. Get Mrs Dawkins to walk you home. It’s nearly time for her to leave, anyway. I’m sorry but you’ll be dining alone, tonight.”
“It’s hardly a surprise.” Lucy paused at the door. “But do think about what I said.”
He frowned, blank. “What did you say?”
“About finding a wife.”
“Oh, I doubt that will happen very soon. I’m far too busy for that.”