off with a new charge.’
‘And where are they to be found?’
‘Holles Street.’
Sir Charles changed the conversation and began to talk of the war. They spent a pleasant time in White’s, fighting old battles, and the matter of the Tribbles was forgotten.
Sir Charles finally returned to Brook Street to find that Lord Andrew had left again, leaving a note to say he had gone to dinner and would be back late, but Sir Charles was to summon the chef and order anything he wanted.
Sir Charles thought of the Tribbles again. They seemed an odd couple of friends for the squire to have. But he had promised Mrs Cavendish to learn about this Miss Amy. He had an early dinner and decided to go to Holles Street and find out for himself.
Effy was sitting in the drawing room, sewing, while Delilah inexpertly murdered a piece of Mozart on the piano. Delilah’s playing was not normally so bad. She was puzzling over in her mind various things Lord Andrew had said that afternoon. He would start to ask her why she had been sent to the Tribbles and then hurriedly say it did not matter. Again she had said the Tribbles were old friends of her father.
The butler entered and handed Effy a card. ‘Don’t know him,’ said Effy. ‘Tell him we are not at home.’
‘He says he’s a friend of Mr Wraxall,’ said Harris.
‘Oh, in that case, you’d best send him up,’ sighed Effy. ‘I do wish Amy would stop jauntering about to every unfashionable place in Town.’ She raised her voice. ‘Do stop playing, Miss Wraxall. We have company.’
Delilah swung round on the piano stool. She glanced at the clock. ‘Does one usually receive callers in London at eight in the evening?’
‘No,’ said Effy, ‘but this is some friend of your father’s.’
Delilah’s face lit up. It would be nice to see someone from the village.
‘Sir Charles Digby,’ announced Harris.
‘Oh, lor’,’ said Effy, suddenly remembering the name of the man who had broken Delilah’s heart. Delilah’s face was quite stiff and set.
Sir Charles was staring at her as if he could not believe his eyes.
‘What are you doing here, Miss Wraxall?’ he exclaimed.
Effy coughed gently and Sir Charles swung to face her. ‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘Do I have the honour of meeting Miss Amy Tribble?’
‘No, sir, I am her sister, Miss Effy Tribble. Pray be seated, Sir Charles. Mr Wraxall is an old friend, and my sister and I decided it would be a good idea to give Miss Wraxall some time in London.’
‘You did not tell me you were travelling to Town, Miss Wraxall,’ said Sir Charles.
‘Neither did you,’ pointed out Delilah. ‘So why did you decide to call here?’
‘Mrs Cavendish told me that the Misses Tribble were friends of your father and I thought it only polite to call and pay my respects.’
‘And does my father know of your plans to call?’ asked Delilah.
‘No, I did not have time to speak to him.’
‘He is here, in Town,’ said Delilah, ‘but plans to leave tomorrow. He is at the moment attending a performance at Astley’s Amphitheatre with Miss Amy.’
‘Tell him I am sorry to miss him.’
‘How can you be sorry when you did not expect to see either me or him in the first place?’ pointed out Delilah rudely.
‘If this is an example of your social manners, Miss Wraxall, then I am not surprised your father decided to ask for expert help.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Effy flashed Sir Charles a warning look. So, thought Sir Charles, Delilah
had
been sent away to be schooled. What was up with her? There
must
be something up with her or she would be married.
Effy glanced from one to the other. Delilah looked magnificent with her eyes flashing fire. Sir Charles with his lean, athletic body, tanned face, black eyes and fair hair was quite devastatingly handsome. Effy sighed. What a pair of heart-breakers they were.
‘I was merely pointing out that you are rude, Miss Wraxall.’
‘I fear the war has made you unfit for
‘And where are they to be found?’
‘Holles Street.’
Sir Charles changed the conversation and began to talk of the war. They spent a pleasant time in White’s, fighting old battles, and the matter of the Tribbles was forgotten.
Sir Charles finally returned to Brook Street to find that Lord Andrew had left again, leaving a note to say he had gone to dinner and would be back late, but Sir Charles was to summon the chef and order anything he wanted.
Sir Charles thought of the Tribbles again. They seemed an odd couple of friends for the squire to have. But he had promised Mrs Cavendish to learn about this Miss Amy. He had an early dinner and decided to go to Holles Street and find out for himself.
Effy was sitting in the drawing room, sewing, while Delilah inexpertly murdered a piece of Mozart on the piano. Delilah’s playing was not normally so bad. She was puzzling over in her mind various things Lord Andrew had said that afternoon. He would start to ask her why she had been sent to the Tribbles and then hurriedly say it did not matter. Again she had said the Tribbles were old friends of her father.
The butler entered and handed Effy a card. ‘Don’t know him,’ said Effy. ‘Tell him we are not at home.’
‘He says he’s a friend of Mr Wraxall,’ said Harris.
‘Oh, in that case, you’d best send him up,’ sighed Effy. ‘I do wish Amy would stop jauntering about to every unfashionable place in Town.’ She raised her voice. ‘Do stop playing, Miss Wraxall. We have company.’
Delilah swung round on the piano stool. She glanced at the clock. ‘Does one usually receive callers in London at eight in the evening?’
‘No,’ said Effy, ‘but this is some friend of your father’s.’
Delilah’s face lit up. It would be nice to see someone from the village.
‘Sir Charles Digby,’ announced Harris.
‘Oh, lor’,’ said Effy, suddenly remembering the name of the man who had broken Delilah’s heart. Delilah’s face was quite stiff and set.
Sir Charles was staring at her as if he could not believe his eyes.
‘What are you doing here, Miss Wraxall?’ he exclaimed.
Effy coughed gently and Sir Charles swung to face her. ‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘Do I have the honour of meeting Miss Amy Tribble?’
‘No, sir, I am her sister, Miss Effy Tribble. Pray be seated, Sir Charles. Mr Wraxall is an old friend, and my sister and I decided it would be a good idea to give Miss Wraxall some time in London.’
‘You did not tell me you were travelling to Town, Miss Wraxall,’ said Sir Charles.
‘Neither did you,’ pointed out Delilah. ‘So why did you decide to call here?’
‘Mrs Cavendish told me that the Misses Tribble were friends of your father and I thought it only polite to call and pay my respects.’
‘And does my father know of your plans to call?’ asked Delilah.
‘No, I did not have time to speak to him.’
‘He is here, in Town,’ said Delilah, ‘but plans to leave tomorrow. He is at the moment attending a performance at Astley’s Amphitheatre with Miss Amy.’
‘Tell him I am sorry to miss him.’
‘How can you be sorry when you did not expect to see either me or him in the first place?’ pointed out Delilah rudely.
‘If this is an example of your social manners, Miss Wraxall, then I am not surprised your father decided to ask for expert help.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Effy flashed Sir Charles a warning look. So, thought Sir Charles, Delilah
had
been sent away to be schooled. What was up with her? There
must
be something up with her or she would be married.
Effy glanced from one to the other. Delilah looked magnificent with her eyes flashing fire. Sir Charles with his lean, athletic body, tanned face, black eyes and fair hair was quite devastatingly handsome. Effy sighed. What a pair of heart-breakers they were.
‘I was merely pointing out that you are rude, Miss Wraxall.’
‘I fear the war has made you unfit for
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