St. Raven (CR 10) by Beverley Jo

Author:Beverley, Jo [Beverley, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: England, Historical, Fiction, Romance, Great Britain, Historical Fiction, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780451208071
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2003-02-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Sally closed the door and popped the umbrella back in the elephant-foot container. “Nasty weather, miss. What a shame you had to travel in it.”

“Dismal. Is my mother with my father?”

“Yes, miss.”

Since they had only the one maid now, Cressida carried her own valise and hatbox up to her room, trying not to imagine the handle still warm from St. Raven’s hand. In her room, she paused to take off her gloves, bonnet, and curl-trimmed cap, then went to visit her parents.

She found her father asleep and her mother knitting. Louisa Mandeville had always claimed that knitting was soothing. Since her husband’s attack, she must have knitted enough shawls and mufflers for half the poor in London.

She looked up, gray eyes weary, but they brightened. “Cressida, dear! I didn’t expect you back for days. Did I?” she trailed off uncertainly.

Her poor mother had always been so quick, so certain, but this whole debacle had shaken her.

“I was supposed to be away for the week. Chicken pox,” she explained, kissing her mother’s cheek. “Fortunately a neighbor was returning to London and offered to convey me home. How is Father?”

“Much the same. The doctors say there’s nothing wrong with him, but if there’s nothing wrong with him yet, there soon will be from lying in bed so long.”

She looked at the still figure in the bed, and Cressida looked, too, seeking any sign of change.

Mouth slack, her father snorted with each breath. In sleep he looked fairly normal. It was between sleep he was so strange, staring at nothing and acting as if deaf and dumb. Her mother was right about the effect of this state. His thick head of grizzled hair remained the same, but his sun-browned skin wasn’t wearing well, and she knew it was a struggle to get any kind of food into him.

Her mother sighed. “I have told him and told him that I forgive him for losing all the money. I don’t know what else I can do.”

Cressida was sure it was the loss of the jewels that had shocked him into this state. Would their return be the key to recovery? When would she hear? Tris would hardly be at his London house yet, never mind tidied up and at Miranda Coop’s.

Her mother’s shoulders straightened, and she rose to lead the way out of the room and close the door. “There are times when I could slap your father,” she said, sounding more like her old self. “To throw away a fortune on the folly of gaming! . . .” Hand over mouth, she stopped and inhaled.

She lowered her hand. “I have been thinking while you were away, Cressida. It is time to make plans. Our lease on this house will soon expire, and there’s no money to renew it. I have sold most of my jewelry to pay the doctor’s bills and to buy food and pay Sally. We can live cheaper in Matlock, but we need money to get there. I’m not even sure if your father can travel.

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