Mishaps & Memories: A Novella by Martha Keyes

Author:Martha Keyes [Keyes, Martha]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2023-07-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Judith turned over sleepily in bed, only for her head and arm to hit against the wall. She groaned softly and rubbed the spot on her forehead with a hand.

Thunk thunk. The sound forced a greater awareness onto her.

Who in the world could be knocking on her door in the middle of the night? Her eyes flew open. Perhaps it was Mary and the baby was on its way.

She stood, careful not to let her head hit the steeply sloped ceiling, and slipped on her wrapper before opening the door hurriedly.

Mr. Carlisle stood before her with the sort of smile on his face that, to be quite frank, was unsuitable for such a time of night.

“What is it?” she asked, brushing aside both her irritation and the vain worry she felt over her appearance.

He hesitated a bit. “You said to wake you when the cock crowed, did you not?”

Was it truly morning already? She had spent a great deal of time the night before berating herself for ever having offered up her own bedchamber to Mr. Carlisle. So far, very little about her desire to teach him a lesson had gone according to plan, and she owed at least a portion of that to her own pesky—and oft-regretted—moments of charity toward him. She was finding it difficult not to like Mr. Carlisle—and to like him more than she cared to admit.

When she emerged a few minutes later, dressed for the day, he was leaning against the wall, humming softly, and she knew a bit of anticipation at the prospect of spending the day with him.

“Is it not cold in that closet during the winter months?” he asked quietly as they passed the door to Mary and Charlie’s room.

“Yes,” she said. “That is when you sleep by the fire in the sitting room.” Or, at least, that was what Jane had done.

He looked over at her, his dark eyebrows raised.

She felt an annoying need to defend her sister’s circumstances. “If Mary’s husband manages to be offered the position he is seeking, their lodgings would be much improved.”

“Would you go with them? With us?”

She shook her head. “I am only here to help during my sister’s confinement.”

“But you have visited on other occasions? While I have been employed here?”

She glanced at him warily. It was natural for him to have questions, of course, but she disliked having to answer them—to perjure herself.

“I only ask,” he said, “because very few things have struck a chord in my memory as of yet. But you . . .” He looked at her thoughtfully, searchingly, and her blood flowed warmer. “There is something familiar about you.”

Her heart pattered more quickly, and she knew a certain dismay at the thought that he might recognize her and discover the truth. That would mean the end of things, and while she had been wishing for that precise thing since Mr. Sharp had forbidden her from oversetting Mr. Carlisle, she found that just now, she wasn’t quite ready for it.

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