John had sliced a hot baked apple for his landlady’s dessert and carried it upstairs. As he sat to take a fork to his own, his back to the warm bricks below the little baking oven in the hearth wall, someone knocked timidly at the door.
Sighing, he set his plate down and went to the door. “How can I assist—Miss Grimes?”
She frowned up at him, hands tucked into her armpits.
“Come.” He opened the door wider and stood back.
She hesitated before stepping into the light. Her whole face was tense and suspicious, jaw set, brows drawn as far together as they would go. She chewed at the corner of her pursed mouth. Where was her pelisse? Were those slippers poking out from under her arm?
“Are you angry with me?” He tried to think of what he might have done to make her glare like that. He tried not to want to kiss her until she stopped.
Her frown deepened. “Of course not. Why would I be?”
Because I asked you to marry me. “What is the matter, Miss Grimes? You oughtn’t to go out in such weather without your coat.”
She shrank away with an annoyed-sounding huff of breath. “Mrs. Humphrey gave me the sack.”
He recognized her expression then: the tightly armored face and posture of a person who expected to be punished. He only just managed not to say What did you do? “What happened?”
She looked away. “I…”
“Here, come sit by the fire. Have you eaten?”
She shook her head hopefully, frown easing at last. Drawing her to the hearth, he let her take his spot below the bake oven. She removed her bonnet and huddled there while he ladled beef stew into a bowl for her and cut a thick slice of bread.
Some of the tension left her limbs as she gulped down her first mouthful. “You use enough salt. I can’t remember the last time I had properly salted stew.”
Inwardly, he prayed for patience. “The allspice makes it flavorful, really.”
Her snort lacked its usual conviction. “I wouldn’t know. Mrs. Humphrey doesn’t let me use more than one berry at a time.”
“To feed that whole house? That’s false economy. Better to leave them out altogether, for you won’t taste them.”
She took an enormous bite of bread. Silence stretched as she chewed. Finally she took a deep breath. “I ate some raisins.” Another pause. “Two raisins. Soaked in brandy. Well, I wouldn’t say soaked. Sprinkled with brandy, more like.”
He blinked. “She dismissed you for eating two raisins?”
The rest of her tension melted away. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Probably he ought to make an effort to be fair. Raisins weren’t cheap. He tried to guess at Mrs. Humphrey’s weekly expenses—but he already hated Mrs. Humphrey, and he’d grown up in a kitchen. There were many things a servant never got: the prime cut of meat, the first piece of pie, an ice fresh from the mold. So many things had to go up to table pristine and whole. But in exchange, one might taste a meal as it grew, opine if the gravy needed more butter, pop a toasted nut in one’s mouth on the way to the scullery. It was one of the great pleasures and privileges of belowstairs life.
Besides, he saw that Sukey had expected him to condemn her, and hated the picture of himself as haughty judge. Or worse, a loyal family retainer. “It’s a disgrace,” he said. “Your mistress is a shrew.”
She laughed. “Harsh words.”
He took down a new plate. Cutting his baked apple in two, he gave her half. “Did you wish to see Mrs. Pengilly?” That must be why she had come, mustn’t it?
“Do you think she’d hire me in?”
“I don’t think she’s ready to admit she needs someone here,” John said. “But her son will be here at Christmas, and it’s his money.”
She plucked the stem from her apple half, toying with it. “I reckon you’re right.” Her hands were small, every movement lovely. “I came to see you, in fact.”
He took a sip of tea to wet his dry throat. He didn’t dare eat his own apple, in case he might need to speak. “And how can I be of assistance?”
“My mother…” She trailed off. “I’ve got to go live with my mother until I find another place, and…” She rubbed at her arms.
There was no reason to take off his coat and hand it to her. He had another upstairs he might have given her, and it was hardly toasty in the kitchen. But his heart pounded as she slipped her slender arms into the sleeves, pulling it close to savor the warmth his body had given it. He wished her to know that he would freeze for her if she asked him to, and even if she didn’t.
He also wished her to look at his arms in his shirtsleeves, and she did, a smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.
He took his overcoat from the peg and put it on, then sat cross-legged on the floor opposite her and waited, his skin on fire with impatience.
She looked terribly sad all of a sudden. “I think I want to marry you.” Her eyes filled, a tear slipping down her cheek.
John didn’t know what to say. “I never intended the idea to make you so unhappy.”
“I meant to get by on my own. I ignored my mother when she said I’d end in the workhouse. I didn’t want to need help. I don’t want to get married only to have some man to take care of me.”
“It isn’t weak to wish for a helpmeet.” Perhaps the coat had been the wrong gesture. “I wish for one myself.”
She looked at him, and then she straightened, a little more cheerful. “That’s right. You’re lonely.”
He had to fight a smile at the pleased way she said it. He widened his eyes and stuck out his lower lip, just a hair. “Terribly lonely,” he agreed solemnly.
“And you want that job at the vicar’s.”
“Badly.” He held his breath, waiting for her to decide that really, she was taking pity on him.
She turned up her little retroussé nose. “Really, I’m taking pity on you,” she said slyly, eyes gleaming.
He met her gaze. “I hope you will.”
Sukey caught her breath. She set her apple down, looking indecisive, and then launched herself into his lap, her cold hands at the back of his neck and her mouth on his. He gasped, kissing her, slipping his hands inside his own coat to circle her narrow waist. She was so eager she overbalanced him; he fell back on the floor. She sprawled atop him, slight breasts against his waistcoat and hipbones pressing into his stomach. He dug his fingers into her gown, feeling the quilting of her corset, so he wouldn’t pull her cap off and yank the pins out of her hair.
Less circumspect, Sukey put a hand down and cupped his cock. Sensation shot through him, illuminating the dark kitchen.
“You don’t have to growl at me between your teeth like that.” She pressed down, her palm right over the head of his cock. “Mrs. Pengilly’s deaf. Howl all you like.” He let go of her waist and held his hands still for fear he would hurt her.
She shaped his length, the heel of her hand firm and her fingertips trailing after, and John thought, Why not? What are the odds of someone walking in in the next half-minute? “I’ll spend,” he warned her through gritted teeth, “and it would be highly imprudent to take the time for me to return the favor.”
“I know,” she murmured. “Someone could walk in. Do you want me to stop?”
If someone came in, they’d see his hair flopping about, his chest heaving. He lay flat on the kitchen floor, helpless against a pretty girl like any middle-aged fool. Sukey squeezed his ballocks clumsily between her fingers through his breeches. This is the least dignified moment of my life. He shut his eyes. He didn’t want her to stop.
“Think of it as paying something down,” she said. “In three weeks, you’ll have it all.”
This was payment? A promise that she wouldn’t back out, or surety so that he wouldn’t?
She nipped his earlobe as she dragged her nails up his cock, and he could barely find the breath to protest. He was soaking in pleasure like a raisin in brandy, every atom suffused. “I would keep my word for a handshake,” he got out.
Her smile curved against his ear. “I know you would.” She kissed his cheek and gave his groin an affectionate pat. “But where’s the fun in that?” She rubbed her fingers over the tip of his cock.
He gave up and gave in, spilling into his smallclothes.
Sukey had never felt such a delightful sense of victory. Proper Mr. Toogood, with his iron self-control, wanted her to touch him so badly that here he was at the height of pleasure from only a few scrapes of her fingernails. He’d thought it his duty to say no and hadn’t brought himself to do it.
So this was what it looked like when a man came. She arranged herself more comfortably atop him, propping her elbows to either side of his head, feeling better than she had all day. His hands, which had hovered inside his coat, settled gently on her hips.
She felt better, she realized, than she had in years. When had she grown so fond of his face? His high, frowning forehead was smooth for once. He no doubt thought his graying stubble slovenly, but Sukey liked it. A shame beards were out of style. She dropped a kiss on the end of his nose.
His eyes opened, startled. He looked even more startled when she grinned at him, but his mouth curved grudgingly. He lifted her easily off him and sat up, giving her a casually sensual kiss that reminded Sukey all at once that she wasn’t his first. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to find something to say to a woman after bedding her. Or not bedding her, as the case might be. He stood. “I’ll get my coat and walk you home.”
Once Sukey was left alone in the dim kitchen, doubts crowded in. But none of them were about Mr. Toogood, though surely they’d ought to be. No, she was suddenly eaten up with fear that the snooty vicarage servants would turn up their noses at her, and think her some draggletail that had ensnared poor Mr. Toogood with her wiles.
She smiled in spite of herself. Maybe she had. She polished her nails on his coat, and realized she’d left her gloves in the pocket of Mrs. Humphrey’s coat. She’d have to ask for them when she went for her wages, and Mrs. Humphrey would give her such a look. She squared her shoulders. You don’t work for her anymore. Her looks can’t hurt you.
Mr. Toogood was so neat when he came downstairs. He’d been neat when he went up, his hair too short to really get out of place. I would keep my word for a handshake, he’d said even though his voice had gone deep enough to frighten a bullfrog. She’d somehow imagined he would shed his proper air with his clothes, but she was starting to think he could be starchy and buttoned-up without a stitch on him to starch or button. Happy and laughing, he’d still manage it somehow.
She was starting to find starchy and buttoned-up a handsome thing for a man to be.
Hand on the doorknob, he hesitated. “If you’re sure about this, I’ll call for you at nine o’clock tomorrow to go and see Mr. Summers.”
“Let’s shake hands on it.” Sukey smiled at the hitch in his breath, tilting up her chin as if she were the kind of girl who was too rich to answer her own door. “I ought to be at home to callers at nine.”
“You honor me,” he said formally.
She thought he might only half mean it as a joke, and that got her through the silent walk to her mother’s lodgings, and the silent climb to her mother’s door.
“It’s me, Mum. Open up.” Sukey was glad Mr. Toogood couldn’t see her nervesome face in the dark stair.
The door opened into more darkness. The room was heated, if you could say it was heated, by only a blank brick chimney. But the tallow candle in her hand lit up Mrs. Grimes. She was swathed in half-a-dozen shapeless layers of old man’s coat and bedjacket and flannel petticoats, a knitted nightcap over her hair, hands shoved into gloves with the fingertips cut off. For a moment Sukey was just glad to see her mother, who was comfortable and familiar and didn’t give a straw what anyone thought.
Mrs. Grimes frowned. “Sukey? It been’t Friday yet. Is something wrong, child?”
Sukey’s stomach turned over. She inched closer to Mr. Toogood. “Mrs. Humphrey sacked me, Mum.”
Her mother sighed. “Oh, Susan Grimes. What did you do this time?”
“She didn’t do anything, madam,” Mr. Toogood said, taking Sukey completely by surprise. Mrs. Grimes too. Eyebrows flying up, she put her gloved hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels, waiting for a good explanation.
Mr. Toogood squeezed Sukey’s hand where it rested on his arm. She felt strange and warm. Since her father left, there’d never been anyone to take her side with her mum.
“Mrs. Humphrey is an extremely unreasonable woman, and your daughter is far safer out of her employ than in. Did you know Mrs. Humphrey sent her out to climb apple trees during the thunderstorm last week?”
Mrs. Grimes’s eyes widened. “No, I didn’t,” she said grimly. “Sukey, is that true?”
Sukey nodded. How many things had she neglected to mention to her mother about life at the boarding house, dimly ashamed, afraid to hear what her mother would say? She hadn’t wanted to be told to leave, and she hadn’t wanted to be told to stay. It was what it was, it kept a roof over her head, and there was no sense in being one of those dreadful complaining folk who never had a good thing to say. Better to be glad for what you did have, and hold on to it.
Her mother pulled her towards the candle. “Well, you don’t look as if you came to any harm.”
Sukey immediately felt foolish. “I didn’t.”
“She nearly broke her neck,” Mr. Toogood put in.
“I was clumsy,” Sukey said hastily, sure her mother was thinking it—but why was she so sure? “And I got the sack for stealing.”
She could feel Mr. Toogood’s puzzlement. She didn’t care.
“I see,” her mother said slowly. “Stealing what?”
“Two raisins from the pudding she was making for dinner, madam,” Mr. Toogood said.
Her mother’s face said she’d give her opinion later. Sukey wished she’d just say it and get it over with. “And who might you be? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“This is John Toogood, Mum. He used to be Mr. Nicholas Dymond’s man.” She could see the sarcastic question on her mother’s face: Was he sacked too?
Please don’t say it, she begged silently.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Mrs. Grimes held out her hand, looking entertained when Mr. Toogood bowed over it.
“I’ve just asked your daughter to marry me,” he said, “and she has made me very happy by agreeing. I hope you will give us your blessing.” Sukey couldn’t decide if she wished he’d leave so she could talk to her mother, or wished he’d take her home with him so she wouldn’t have to.
Mrs. Grimes’s jaw dropped. “Sukey?”
“It’s true.” Regretfully, Sukey faced the fact that he couldn’t take her home. “John, darling, you said you’d come and fetch me at nine o’clock?”
He hesitated, but he said, “Of course, Miss Grimes,” kissed her lightly on the cheek, bowed to her mother, and vanished, leaving only a lingering odor of good manners.
“I can stay here until the wedding, can’t I, Mum? It’s only two and a half weeks.”
Her mother walked back into her room, leaving the door open for Sukey to follow. “Come and get under the covers where it’s warm. Good Lord, Sukey, the wedding? You never mentioned that man to me before in your life.”
“I didn’t think anything would come of it.”
Her mouth turned up. “Ah, I see. And how long have you not thought anything would come of it?”
Sukey crawled under the blankets and huddled closer to her mother. “A fortnight,” she admitted. Lied, rather. It wouldn’t be a fortnight for a few days yet.
“An eternity, then.” Mrs. Grimes held the candle up to inspect her face. “What do you even know of him?”
“He used to be Mr. Dymond’s man. Mrs. Dymond told me her husband thinks ever so highly of him.” Mostly she’d told Sukey he was a stickler, and that he’d got the stain out of her dress when her brother-in-law was sick on it. But a Dymond’s word in Lively St. Lemeston was good as gold to a lot of folk.
Even Mrs. Grimes didn’t turn up her nose at it, though she sighed gustily. “You’ll do as you like, of course.”
“So can I stay?”
“You can stay as long as you like if you help me with my washing. I’ll take on extra work and you can have a bit of the money for your bride things. But where will you live when you’re married?”
“Mr. Toogood thinks we can get work at the vicarage. He spoke with Reverend Summers this week, and we’ll go and see him together in the morning.” Sukey shrank from admitting she’d be an upper housemaid if all went to plan. If it didn’t come off, her mother would think she’d been building castles in the air, and anyway, she might point out that Sukey had never had such a fine job before, and could she really do it?
“That’s a nice coat.” Her mother examined the inside of the cuff for wear. “Large for you, though. Who did you buy it from?”
“It’s Mr. Toogood’s. Mrs. Humphrey wouldn’t let me take mine.”
“Ah yes, she gave you the sack. Lucky you had a husband all lined up, eh?”
Sukey felt tears pricking her eyes. “Are you very angry?”
Her mother looked at her in surprise and then laughed. “It’s for your husband to take a switch to you now, girl. Here, take off your cap and I’ll braid your hair for bed.”
He wouldn’t, Sukey thought. He wouldn’t hurt me. But she wondered. She’d only just met him, after all, and she’d never seen him angry. He was large enough to easily hurt her if he’d a mind to.
“Your father should be here to see you married.” Mrs. Grimes pulled out her hairpins.
Sukey didn’t know how to answer. They almost never spoke of her father. “Oh, pooh. It isn’t as if we’re fine folk who’ll take up the vicar’s time with flipper-de-flapper and waste money on cake for all our friends. I don’t suppose you’re planning to come yourself, even.”
Her mother tugged her comb through a snarl, none too gently. But Sukey never had the patience to be gentle either. She had plenty of hair, no one would notice if she lost a few strands. “What of that? To think a daughter of mine would go to her husband in just her shift! Would you like my sea-chest? You always loved that chest.”
“I couldn’t.” The old chest, on whose inside lid some sailor had painted a white-sailed ship on the waves, was the only note of whimsy her mother allowed in the room.
“Don’t be silly, of course you could. Or you might take the mirror. It’s only cracked at the very bottom. I’ve no need for such a large one, I only really use it to double the light of the candle. I won’t have Mr. Toogood looking down on us, thinking he’s done you some great favor by marrying you. Not when he’ll have the keeping of me when I’m old.”
“Mum, when you married Dad, did you think it might be a mistake?”
Sukey was afraid she’d let slip too much, but her mother didn’t seem to think it a strange question. Maybe it was one she’d asked herself before. Chuckling, she combed the left side of Sukey’s head into three parts, twisting each firmly between her fingers. It felt nice.
“Not for a moment. I thought the sun shone out of your father’s arse.” Her fingers slowed. “It’s such a weight off my mind to see you married. Life isn’t easy for a woman alone.” She finished off the braids quickly. “Here, I have a present for you. Miss Makepeace gave it me last week.”
She went to the trunk and took out a worn green ribbon. With a snip of her scissors she cut it in half, and tied up Sukey’s braids with it. “I was never half as pretty as you, I’m sure,” she said proudly.
Tears pricked Sukey’s eyes. But was she making a dreadful mistake? No. Mum never doubted, and you do. That means you’re deciding with your brain and not your cunny. She curled up under the covers in Mr. Toogood’s coat and realized that it smelled like him.
It was hard to believe you weren’t thinking with your cunny when you were tugging a man’s lapel over your nose and mouth, breathing in deep and remembering him shuddering on the floor beneath you.
* * *
“Ah, little Sukey Grimes,” Mr. Summers said. “Coming up in the world, I see.”
John tried to unclench his jaw. He was wound tight as a spool of thread with nerves, for fear Sukey would say something ill-judged and lose them both the position.
“Yes, sir.” She bobbed a curtsey. “I hope to be worthy of it, sir, if you’ll give me the chance.”
He blinked, surprised. But why? She’d never have managed years with Mrs. Humphrey if she couldn’t curb her tongue.
“And how did you and Mr. Toogood meet?”
She’d been stealing a hairpin when they met. John hoped she wouldn’t mention that.
“Well, sir, you know I worked for Mrs. Sparks that was, Mrs. Dymond now, and he worked for Mr. Dymond.”
“It’s a pity they mightn’t have employed you in their own establishment,” the vicar said with only a hint of sarcasm.
Sukey dimpled. “It would have been awfully convenient at that, sir.”
Mr. Summers smiled at her. It had been a strange oversight on John’s part to imagine that Sukey could not charm others besides himself. “Indeed. Tell me, what is your impression of your future husband’s character?”
John kept his face carefully blank as Sukey threw him a laughing glance. “Look at him, he’s afraid I’ll say he’s a stick-in-the-mud.”
“I think any man of forty marrying a bright young thing like yourself would be afraid of that.”
John wished, not for the first time, that employers felt obligated to be as tactful and carefully distant as servants did.
“Oh, he’s spry enough,” Sukey said. John could see her debating whether to wink. He cleared his throat, and she smiled at him instead. “I think he’s the kindest man I’ve ever met, sir,” she said firmly. “And the most generous.” John’s face heated.
“I don’t imagine your experience of men has been large,” Mr. Summers pointed out. “You have worked solely in female households, have you not? Too pretty for housewives to let you near their husbands, eh?”
Sukey shifted uncomfortably, and John realized it was probably the truth. “I’d not say that, sir. I have worked only for women, but it been’t—isn’t as easy to avoid men in this world as you may imagine.”
Mr. Summers nodded. “So you think Mr. Toogood morally fit to supervise four women and train a young footman up in the way he should go?”
“I suppose I haven’t known him so long as all that, but I do, yes. I think him morally fit for anything, sir.”
The way she said it was only three-quarters a compliment. John smothered a laugh.
“I see. Have you letters of reference?”
For the first time, she faltered. “No, sir. I…” She looked at John.
“I think it is best to be direct,” John said. “Miss Grimes lost her position at Mrs. Humphrey’s yesterday. But I have no doubt Mrs. Pengilly and Mrs. Dymond would give her an excellent character if applied to.”
“Mrs. Humphrey, yes,” the vicar said. “And why did you lose your position?”
John nodded at her encouragingly.
“I was cooking the pudding for supper, sir, and ate two raisins. It was wrong of me, I know.”
Mr. Summers gave that startling, delighted cackle of his. “Two raisins, I see. This is a terrible sin. But I am bound to remark that Mrs. Humphrey, while a very worthy woman, brings irresistibly to mind the passage, ‘and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing’. Well, my dear, I do not keep the raisins under lock and key in my kitchen, so I hope you will not snack me out of house and home.”
The worst was past, but to John’s surprise, Sukey stiffened. “I’m grateful to you, sir, for saying it. But you know her family ate shorn-bugs for dinner when she was a girl.”
“Very true.” To John’s relief, Mr. Summers did not look offended, thought he didn’t look much chastened either. “There but for the grace of God go I. Now, Mr. Toogood, what do you think of your bride-to-be’s character?”
“I think you have just witnessed it, sir. She is the kindest and most generous young woman I ever met.”
Sukey flushed and clutched her hands together.
“She has not served in a gentleman’s home before and has much to learn,” John continued, “but I think if you will be patient, and have charity, the bread you cast upon the waters will be returned to you. Her care with Mrs. Pengilly is quite touching.”
The vicar stood. “Well, the house has been rather quiet these last few years. Perhaps you will do something about that, eh, Miss Grimes?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “You must tell me if you think I’m chattering, sir.”
“I shall not hesitate. Well, if Mrs. Dymond and Mrs. Pengilly do not contradict you, the positions are yours. Naturally I cannot have a courting pair living together under my roof, but there is no reason you, Miss Grimes, cannot start at once. If I read the banns Sunday and you are married—let me see—Monday the fourteenth of December, Mr. Toogood may take up his position then. Here, I will introduce you to the rest of the staff.”
A girl appeared in the doorway in answer to the bell, out of breath. She was the round-faced blonde John remembered.
“Where is Thea? Never mind. Fetch her and everyone else to meet the new members of the staff.” When the girl had ducked out again, Mr. Summers said, “You’ll meet the gardener later. He’s really an undergardener at Wheatcroft and comes once a week.”
The blonde girl was soon back with Larry and the younger brunette. Mrs. Khaleel came in a moment later, a young gentleman on her heels. He was slender and very tall, dark haired, with bright blue eyes and an air of amused curiosity about him.
“I was just prevailing on your cook to warm up some mulligatawny for my dinner, sir,” he said in a light, cultivated drawl, “and thought I’d meet the new servants.”
“Of course, Mr. Bearparke. May I present John Toogood and his intended, Susan Grimes, the new butler and upper housemaid. I am sure you recognize my curate, my dear,” he said to Sukey. “As his lodgings have recently fallen through and this house is far too big for one man, he will be taking up residence here very shortly.”
John’s eyes flew to the women in surprise. Mrs. Khaleel’s mouth was a tight line. The vicar, no doubt, saw no contradiction in insisting on a married butler while allowing his bachelor curate the run of the place. John would have to keep an eye on the fellow. He cursed inwardly, hoping he wouldn’t find himself at odds with his master’s trusted associate so very early in his tenure at the vicarage.
“Once Twelfth Day is behind us,” the curate confirmed with an infectious grin. “Christmastide is too busy for a man of the cloth to trouble himself with personal errands.”
“Mr. Toogood, Miss Grimes,” Mr. Summers went on, “this is Mrs. Khaleel, my cook; Margaret, my under-housemaid; Dorothea, my laundry maid; and Lawrence, my footman.” Margaret, the blonde, gave John a hard look and stepped closer to Dorothea.
“It is very nice to meet all of you,” John said. “Might I inquire your ages, Margaret, Dorothea?”
“I’m sixteen and she’s thirteen, sir,” Margaret answered for both of them. “You can call us Molly and Thea.” Thea regarded him a little sleepily, smothering a yawn. He hoped very, very intently that the previous butler had not really hurt them.
“I’m eighteen,” Larry offered helpfully.
“We look forward to working with you.” John met each of their eyes in turn—except Thea, who was looking at her toes.
“Now you may show your betrothed to the door, Miss Grimes. I warn you, Mr. Toogood, my servants are not allowed to entertain visitors in my home, nor to gallivant about the countryside when they ought to be sleeping or working. You will have to content yourselves with meeting Saturday afternoons, when all of you take your half-holiday while I prepare for the Lord’s Day in peace. Unless you do not subscribe to the country superstition that a man must not hear his own banns called, in which case you may see her Sunday mornings as well.”
Sukey shook her head at him, eyes imploring, and John could almost hear her say, It’ll be church bells for your funeral next if you do. “I am afraid I do subscribe to it, sir. But I look forward to returning to church services after the wedding.”
Sukey sighed in relief, slight shoulders easing, and John wished he were not a servant and were not obliged to stand still and straight as an automaton instead of kissing her.
He felt disposed to linger in the chilly kitchen-yard, but Sukey still lacked an overcoat. “If I may see you Saturday, I will buy you a new pelisse,” he said, and then was embarrassed by this small attempt at bribery.
“Bribing me with gifts, it’s as if we’re already married. I could use a good set of stays too.” There was a forced note in Sukey’s teasing, and he realized that while he returned to his quiet lodgings, he was leaving her in a new home alone.
“You’ll do splendidly. And I would be glad to buy you stays. New ones sewn to your measurements, if you like.” It would be the most intimate gift he’d ever given anyone.
For a second, he could see her talking herself round, and then she gave him a twinkling smile almost as bright as her usual. “Look at you throwing money about! Mrs. Humphrey was right about you. Tell my mum I won’t be coming home and not to take that extra work, will you? I’ll see you Saturday.”
He didn’t want to go. “If that curate bothers you at all, you must get word to me at once. Mrs. Khaleel did not like the idea of him living here.”
She nodded. “I hope you know what you’ve got us into.”
So did he.