The Lady Next Door by Laura Matthews Read Free Book Online Page B

needs return to his office,” Marianne suggested, rising. “You have been exceedingly thoughtful to come, but I must not hold you back from your business.”
    Forced to take the hint, Mr. Oldham stood, pulled out his watch and remarked the time. Distracted by how late it was, he murmured, “I’ll never be there on time, and you may be sure there won’t be a chair to be had!”
    “How vexing,” Marianne sympathized. “It was perhaps imprudent of you to let your generosity so overcome your responsibilities. I pray you won’t do so on another occasion."
    When she had seen him out, her eyes met Harry’s and they shared a mischievous grin. “I should think he would more likely make someone take to their bed than rise from it,” he laughed.
    “Especially Aunt Effie,” she agreed. “Would you excuse me for a moment while I check on her? I won’t be a minute.”
    Marianne did not bother to go into the hall, but through the door which led directly into her aunt’s bedchamber, which had originally been the breakfast room of the house. Curious, Harry followed her to the door and watched as she bent over the pale old lady, brushed back the damp hair from her forehead, and rubbed her temples with lavender water. The patient did not awaken but her hands moved restlessly about the coverlet, her breathing labored. Marianne placed a kiss on her forehead and whispered words of comfort before straightening to see her visitor at the doorway.
    “Should I go?” he asked softly.
    “No, I can’t do anything more just now.” She joined him at the doorway, looked back unhappily for just a moment, and drew the door behind her. “I suppose you came because of all the notes I sent this morning.”
    “Woods thought perhaps you needed some assistance. Do you?” he asked bluntly..
    “My aunt is dangerously ill and needs her rest. Last night . . .”
    “Oh, Lord. It’s entirely my fault, Miss Findlay. I had some friends home with me and we drank too much. Got to pitching coins at the candles.” He groaned. “And I thought ruining the wallpaper was the worst of it.”
    “Aunt Effie’s room must be directly opposite where you were. I could perhaps move her into my room, but . . .”
    “Please don’t! I promise it won’t happen again.” He drew a distracted hand through his hair, causing the powder to cloud about his head.
    “You have every right to do just as you please in your own home, but I would count it a great favor if, while she is sick . . ."
    “Not another word! If I had known . . . Well, I know now, and you may be sure your aunt won’t be disturbed by me again. And I’ll tell Press—my brother. Not that he would cause any disturbance even if he didn’t know, you understand. He’s not given to unruly pastimes. I won’t keep you. May I come tomorrow to enquire how your aunt goes on? Is there anything I can have sent over?” His eye was caught by the sadly depleted basket of fruit, and he silently determined to rectify his rude assault on it, whether or not the sick lady was able to partake of it.
    “I have imposed quite enough on your good nature,” Marianne protested. “Thank you for being so obliging.”
    If she had meant to dismiss him, or to give him the opportunity to dissociate himself from her and her household, Harry was oblivious to the intimation. He had, for whatever reason—her offering him the fruit, or sharing his view of Mr. Oldham, or his sympathizing in her aunt’s illness—taken a liking to her, which was not unusual for Harry. “My pleasure, Miss Findlay. Until tomorrow, then. I hope your aunt will rest easier.”
    With a cheery wave he was gone, leaving Marianne to marvel at his ready compliance with her wishes. But then, she should hardly wonder at that. Save the Dowager Lady Latteridge, every member of the family whom she had met was possessed of the most amiable temperament and the most obliging of manners. Lady Susan had not been the author of her downfall; even at the time