Page 4 of A Convenient Fiction

“Why do you continue to play with the boy?” one of the club dealers had asked in a private moment. “You must know he’ll never make good what he owes.”

“He’ll pay,” Alex had vowed. “One way or another.”

It was that very payment which had brought Alex to Surrey.

“Is that old portmanteau all you’ve brought?” George asked. “Haven’t you a trunk? Or a valise?”

Alex followed him into the vicarage. It was a humble dwelling but a clean one, with a freshly swept slate floor and wooden furnishings polished to a high shine. The scent of beeswax and lemon oil lingered in the air. “I left them at the station.”

“You don’t intend to stay?”

“If you can arrange it so. Otherwise…”

“I have arranged it,” George said. “I sent a note round to Edgington Park this morning. Miss Talbot responded an hour ago. You can meet her this afternoon, providing she can procure a chaperone.”

“A chaperone?” Alex met George’s eyes with a flash of irritation. “You never mentioned your visits with Miss Talbot being chaperoned.”

“They haven’t been. But Henrietta and I practically grew up together. You, on the other hand, are a stranger. An unknown quantity, or so her father says. If she’s to go walking with us this afternoon, she must have a chaperone.”

“And who is this chaperone to be? A tale-bearing housemaid? A bulldog of an old maiden aunt? What else haven’t you told me?”

George backed up a step. “I didn’t lie, Archer. I swear to you. Miss Talbot has no female relations. No one who will interfere with your plans. She’s only summoning Miss Hayes. A local woman of no account. She lives not three miles from here, at the edge of Talbot’s Wood. Miss Talbot often relies on her for companionship.”

Alex went still. He was at once assailed by memories of the woman he’d encountered at Talbot’s Pond. The feel of her as he’d pulled her scantily clad body from the water. The look of her as she’d sat so demurely on the bank—like a mermaid combing out her hair. His brows lowered. “This local woman… She wouldn’t happen to be a raven-haired water nymph, would she?”

“What?” George gave a bark of genuine laughter. “Miss Hayes? Hardly. She’s a spinster. A regular dogsbody. She won’t do anything to cut up your peace, mark my words.” He motioned to the stairs. “Come. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Griffiths, has prepared a room for you.”

Alex grudgingly followed after him. The stairs creaked under his wet boots. “Where’s your father?”

“At the church, drafting his Sunday sermon. He’ll be back for supper. You can meet him then—unless we’re invited to dine at Edgington Park.” George led Alex down a short hall to a snug guest room, complete with a vase of daisies on the washstand. “Mrs. Griffiths looks after us. Has done for ages. If you require anything, just give a tug on the bell pull.”

“I need hot water to wash with.”

“Ah yes. Stupid of me. I’ll have her send some up. Is there anything else?”

“That depends. How soon are we to leave?”

“As soon as Miss Hayes can be summoned. It shouldn’t be long. It’s not as if the woman has a busy social calendar.”

Aunt Charlotte entered Laura’s bedroom, an open letter clasped in her hand. Her normally cheerful face was set into lines of grim resignation. “George Wright has come home.”

Laura sat at her dressing table, her head cocked as she dried her freshly washed hair with a piece of rough toweling. At the sound of Aunt Charlotte’s voice, she froze. “What?”

“He arrived yesterday morning on the train from London.” Aunt Charlotte paced to the window and back again. Her black taffeta skirts rustled along the worn Aubusson carpet that covered the equally worn floorboards.

Laura’s black-and-white tomcat, Magpie, watched Aunt Charlotte’s progress from his place on the bed, his tail thumping idly against the counterpane.

“He plans to stay the month,” Aunt Charlotte said. “Perhaps even longer.”

Laura’s heartbeat quickened in spite of herself. “Who says so?”

“Miss Talbot.” Aunt Charlotte waved the letter. “She’s sent you a note.”

The damp towel fell from Laura’s fingers. She didn’t regard it. “You opened it?”

“I should think I did. Henrietta Talbot has no right to summon you. You’re not her lady-in-waiting, whatever she might believe.”

Laura held out her hand for the letter.