Mally : Signet Regency Romance (9781101568057) Read Free Page B

fondly. “Perhaps. Who can say? Now then, you get some sleep. Good night, Miss Mall.”
    â€œGood night.”
    The last curtain shut out the light completely, and Mally lay in the darkness. Outside the seagulls had gone and the dog had ceased its noise, and the only sound was the slow rattle and clatter of wheels upon the cobbles as a tradesman’s cart passed the house.

Chapter 3
    It was the sun managing to pierce its way through a crack in the curtains which woke her at last the next morning. The clock of St. Blaise’s was just striking and she lay there counting the chimes. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Eleven o’clock!
    â€œLucy?”
    â€œI’m here, just warming your wrap. It’s a grand morning, cold, but sunny and fine.”
    â€œAnd Mother will no doubt have been up for hours!”
    â€œNo. She has only just unlocked herself from her cell and gone downstairs. She told me that she had journeyed here in two days from Llanglyn and that she put her exceedingly long sleep down to that.”
    Mally smiled. “Not to mention the hidden bottle of something or other she carries around in that huge reticule! Purely medicinal, of course.”
    â€œMiss Mall, perhaps I should warn you.”
    Mally paused on the edge of the bed. “What?”
    â€œWell, I don’t think Mrs. Berrisford has come here just because of what happened to Mrs. Harmon. I think she’s very worried about something else.”
    â€œWhy do you think that?”
    â€œMy room is above the Green Room, and I couldn’t help— Well, I couldn’t help hearing her last night. She was crying, Miss Mall, and I don’t think worrying about Mrs. Harmon’s death would cause that. Do you?”
    â€œMaybe not.” Mally slipped her arms into the warmed wrap. “I’ll go down directly then. Just brush my hair and tie it back. That’s it.”
    â€œWhat clothes should I set out for you afterwards?”
    â€œThe blue and white dimity, I think. Yes, Sir Christopher is taking me for a drive in Hyde Park this afternoon and the blue and white will look well. Could you have them prepare a hot bath for me in about an hour’s time? Good and hot, scented with something flowery and at the very least up to my chin! That will set me up for the rest of the day, and I fancy that after my breakfast with Mother I shall need setting up again.”
    ***
    The fresh bowls of chrysanthemums on the polished table were bright rust and gold in the sunlight streaming through the dining-room window, and their wistful, clean scent filled the air as Mally entered the room. She glanced at them immediately and then at the plump little figure in apple green silk by the windows.
    Mrs. Berrisford’s hands twisted and twisted the lace handkerchief she held and she stared out at the mass of Michaelmas daisies lining the sun-drenched wall of the garden. Some late roses bobbed here and there, but the Michaelmas daisies were in tumbling confusion everywhere this autumn, a blaze of purple and pink against the mellow brick.
    Digby drew back Mally’s chair and she met his glance, nodding at him. “Leave us, I think, Digby, and thank you.”
    He bowed and Mrs. Berrisford turned at last as the doors closed behind him. “Ah, Marigold.”
    Mally smiled, but mentally gritted her teeth, for her name was the one thing in the whole world she hated. “How good it is to see you, Mother.” She crossed the remaining space and hugged her mother’s dumpy figure.
    â€œI must ask you, Marigold, for I cannot contain myself a moment longer. Have you seen Maria?”
    â€œMaria?
No.”
    â€œOh, dear, I hoped and hoped— I wrote those letters, praying that by some phrase you would hint you had seen her.” Her eyes filled with tears and she shook from head to toe.
    So that was behind the letters
— “Come and sit down, Mother,” said Mally gently, leading the quivering woman