Lady Lightfingers (22 page)

‘Then you mustn't marry him.' Celia's arms went round her aunt and she held her tight. She hesitated; loath to spend the money Charles Curtis had given her. If she didn't repay the actual money the price she'd have to pay to cover the debt would be too high.

She remembered the one or two pieces of jewellery she still had, the butterfly brooch and the silver locket. It wasn't as if she'd ever be able to return them to the original owners, and she was too ashamed to wear them now she realized that most people were kind and decent. Best she got rid of them so they were no longer on her conscience. ‘I've got a couple of pieces of jewellery I can sell. It will tide us over until I'm paid for my first story.'

Harriet gazed at her, her eyes red from weeping, but hopeful. ‘And there's some jewellery that belonged to my mother that could be sold.'

Harriet raced around the house, finding other articles they no longer needed . . . bits and pieces of solid silver, a christening cup or two, a tea service, so heavy with silver that it was almost impossible to lift.

‘We can't carry all that. We'll sell the jewellery to a pawnbroker by itself. It should cover the repairs to the house with some left over. Just make a list of the silver you don't want.'

‘I'll polish everything so it sparkles.'

‘There's no need to. Nobody will want to buy a christening cup with an inscription on it, so a silversmith will buy it for the silver and melt it down. We will take one mug as an example of quality, and can get an estimate of what it's worth from a silversmith. If they're interested they'll say so. And we don't want to appear desperate.'

‘We
are
desperate.'

Harriet had no real notion of what desperation was, so Celia argued, ‘No we're not . . . I still have some money left and the garden has some winter vegetables, and we have chickens that lay eggs. We also have a roof over our heads, and I can go and clean people's houses for money, or . . . or we could take in paying guests.'

Harriet sniffed. ‘Oh, dear, that would be too undignified, and everyone would know that we were practically destitute.' Her eyes rounded in horror. ‘How will we afford a goose for Christmas?'

Hooting with laughter, for that was the least of their worries, Celia gave her aunt an extra squeeze. ‘If the worst comes to the worst I'll wring the neck of one of those fancy ducks on the pond. And if I can work out how to fire that rifle in the rack, I can go to the woods and shoot a pigeon or two out of the sky. There are trout in the pond, as well.'

Gasping, her aunt said, ‘They belong to the squire.'

‘What does he need so many fish for? He won't miss an occasional one. Besides, we won't be the only villagers who poach them. Mr Hardy had a couple of lively ones wriggling in his sack when I saw him the other day, though he tried to keep them still. We'll show Arthur Avery that he can't force you into marriage.'

‘I think he's been cheating me, Celia. He's never given me any accounting, even though I've asked and asked. I don't know what to do.'

‘Ask James Kent to help you. We'll go into Poole tomorrow. While you ask for his advice I'll haggle with a pawnbroker for the best price for our goods.'

‘What if Mr Kent charges a fee for his advice?'

‘He won't, I promise. Just flutter your eyelashes at him and look helpless. He won't be able to resist you, and he'll swoon, and fall over with his legs in the air.'

‘I wouldn't dare do that,' and Harriet looked so shocked that Celia giggled.

Harriet was halfway through her interview with James when there came a knock at the door and Charles Curtis came in. He stood within the still quality he possessed; his eyes going speculatively from one to another before he smiled. ‘How nice to see you again, Miss Price. I'm sorry to disturb you, James; I had no idea you were entertaining. I just wanted to tell you that I'm off to the bank, so will be out of the office for a short time.'

‘Harriet . . . Miss Price . . . is here for my advice, Chas.'

‘I see; then I won't take up your time any further. My pardon, Miss Price.' He hesitated for a mere second before saying, ‘Did you travel to Poole by yourself, Miss Price?'

‘Celia accompanied me.'

‘Ah . . . yes, Celia . . . I had almost forgotten her.'

James rolled his eyes.

‘I imagine she's shopping then.'

‘No . . . she had some business to conduct. She's looking for a pawn . . . a silversmith. Oh dear!' She brought her hand to her mouth. ‘I meant . . . yes, I imagine she is shopping with Christmas so near.' She shrugged and gazed at James, unaware of the appeal in her eyes, or the melting effect it had on him.

‘With your permission I'd like to entrust my partner with your problem a little later, Harriet,' he said. ‘I guarantee that he is discreet and trustworthy, and he can be quite the terrier when called upon.'

When his partner raised an elegant eyebrow, chuckled and stated, ‘I'd rather be compared to a greyhound,' Harriet nodded.

‘The description does suit you much better, Mr Curtis. Greyhounds are so hungry-looking though. You should eat more.'

Now it was James' turn to raise an eyebrow. ‘Before you tuck into a rabbit or two, Chas, perhaps you'd chase Celia down and bring her back here.'

‘It will be my pleasure,' he said, and his smile told them that he meant it.

Harriet's hand flew to her mouth and she gave a nervous laugh. ‘That was awful of me. I'm so sorry.'

James patted her hand. ‘Nonsense, Harriet. It was totally apt.'

After Charles had gone, James said, ‘You do realize that I cannot charge Mr Avery with the misuse of your funds without proof, don't you? However, if you employ my company to handle what remains of them, I can insist on a proper audit. Do you have copies of your mother's will; also your father's if that's possible, since you have given me to understand there were some trust funds, and Celia might have been entitled to anything that was due to her mother. And I must ask you to sign a request form, giving me permission to access your accounts.'

‘That will be the less painful option than becoming Arthur Avery's wife.' She opened her bag and removed a wad of paper. ‘Here are copies of the wills. Mr Avery has the originals.' Her eyes met his and she grinned, mainly because his were filled with amusement. ‘Now, I must ask you how much this will cost, James.'

‘A penny,' he said.

She laughed. ‘Celia said you wouldn't charge me for your advice, and I must flutter my eyelashes at you if you do. She said you'd probably swoon and fall over with your legs kicking in the air.'

‘Celia has a fine sense of melodrama, I'm afraid. Are you too sensible to flirt with me, Harriet, my dear? I'll waive the penny fee if you do.'

She fluttered them, laughing. ‘There, will that do?'

‘Will you marry me?' he said, and her eyes widened and she couldn't prevent a blush from creeping into her cheeks.

‘But we've only just met.'

‘Does that matter? This might sound conceited, but I do think I'd be an improvement on Arthur Avery.'

Head to one side she regarded him with the beginnings of a smile. ‘No, James, I suppose it doesn't matter, and yes, you'd definitely be an improvement on Mr Avery.'

‘Then?'

‘You're acting on impulse, so I'll overlook your odd behaviour. You must take time to consider this course of action. If your sentiments remain constant and you are in the same mind in the future, then you may ask me again.'

‘My cautious little mouse; I fell in love with you the moment I set eyes on you. You must all come and spend Christmas and Boxing Day with us. I'll propose marriage to you with proper decorum, and you can give me your answer then.'

‘Thank goodness,' she cried out. ‘Celia is making plans to steal a duck from the pond and strangle it to cook for Christmas dinner.'

‘I surrender my freedom to you, and all you can think of is food?' James burst out laughing. ‘Surely your finances haven't reached the stage where you're obliged to hunt down your Christmas dinner.'

‘According to Mr Avery, I'm very much afraid they have,' she said soberly. ‘Celia is such a practical girl, and says we'll manage.'

How they would manage he could only imagine . . . would Lady Lightfingers be forced to fall back on her specialized skills? ‘She's certainly inventive . . . a duck from the pond? Good grief!' Leaning across his desk he took her face between his palms and tenderly kissed her.

It was Harriet's first kiss, and was special because the man who'd given it to her had declared that he loved her. Harriet forgot Celia and her Christmas duck when joy swept through her.

Charles ran Celia to earth just after she'd exited the pawnbroker's shop. There had been no questions asked. She'd done her best, but she'd been unable to push the broker up in price.

She gazed at the money in her hand with some dismay, hoping she could do better with the christening mug and the silversmith – if she could find one.

‘Ah . . . the lovely and talented Miss Laws, there you are,' somebody said against her ear, and she jumped backwards. A shilling fell from her hand and rolled towards the road. The toe of Charles' soft leather boot came down on it. Picking it up he flipped it, spinning through the air, exactly like the time when he'd given her the one guinea reward, followed by offering her the one hundred pounds. Exactly like the last time, she plucked the coin safely from the air. Habit made her swiftly slide the coin with one smooth motion into the pocket inside her skirt.

‘You have a good eye and quick reflexes.'

‘Thank you, Mr Curtis.'

‘You can call me Charles if you wish, and I shall call you Celia from now on, if you'd permit.'

She
would
wish, and she
would
permit, but her aunt might think it too familiar on such a short acquaintance. He'd kissed her on a shorter one, she reflected, and when a tease of a grin flirted around his mouth, she wished he'd kiss her again.

Her gaze moved to the satchel he was carrying. ‘If you have business to conduct, please don't allow me to detain you.'

‘I've already conducted it. What about you, Celia?'

She was pleased he hadn't sought to embarrass her by saying he saw her emerge from the pawnbroker. Did it matter that they were not well off? Did she mind if he knew that? She gazed at the wrapped mug in her hand. It didn't, because she'd been poor since she could remember. ‘I was looking for a silversmith to discover what this object might be worth.'

‘May I see it?'

Unwrapping the item he gazed at the inscription and gazed from under his dark brows, an enquiry in his eyes. ‘Jane Price?'

‘Harriet's deceased sister. You see, a chimney fell down in the storm and damaged the roof, and her lawyer said . . . well, I shouldn't disclose Harriet's business, but she needed advice, so I suggested she consult with James. We couldn't afford the repairs just at the moment. Harriet didn't know how to go about selling things to a pawnbroker, and I thought a silversmith might be better, if I could find one.' Her eyes widened. ‘I didn't steal the mug . . . Is that what you think?'

He nodded, trying not to laugh and thinking to himself, so this was what Harriet Price was all about, cosily closeted with James. ‘I don't recall thinking that you'd stolen it?'

Her grin had a shamefaced feel to it because she'd misjudged him. ‘You gave me a sort of legal-looking frown that suggested it was a possibility.'

He frowned at her. ‘Like this?'

‘No, it was more like this.' She lowered her chin, screwed up her face and looked up at him.

He chuckled. ‘That's how my horse looks when he's got the gripe. Actually, I was thinking how lovely a young woman you are. Stop glowering at once, else I shall change my mind.' He held out his arm to her. ‘Shall we walk?'

He was an elegant man in a suit of dark grey with seamed cuffs. Under it was a light-grey brocade waistcoat displaying twinkling ruby-coloured buttons.

Tucking her hand into the warm crook of his elbow, she said, ‘I must find a silversmith, else we won't be able to pay for the roof repairs. Do you know of one?'

‘Not in Poole, or on the quay, which is not an entirely safe place for a young woman to be unaccompanied.'

‘I've been in worse places.' Indeed, she found the quay to be an interesting place with the ships swaying in the harbour, the cockle and eel sellers and people with carts coming and going.

‘The place is full of thieves. It's a wonder you haven't had your pocket picked, or been abducted and taken on board one of the ships.'

She slanted him a glance, wondering if his mention of picking pockets meant he'd remembered who she was, and had a barb attached. But no, the expression on his face told her he was oblivious to any connection. ‘That is a hideous suggestion. For what reason would anyone take me on board a ship?'

The next moment she could have bitten her tongue off, for he gave an entirely wicked grin. She blushed.

Gently he changed the subject. ‘If you'd like to leave the mug with me, I'll be going to London to visit for the New Year and I'll see what I can do. I could advance you a sum to cover the repairs if you like.'

Her heart squeezed at the thought of owing him more money, when she had the one hundred pounds he'd given her safely tucked away. They'd have to be desperate before she gave in to spending any of it though, for then she'd have to repay it in kind, something that was now a more attractive proposition than she liked to admit. The more she saw of Charles, the more she liked him and wanted him to think well of her.