Read Online Intermezzo by Eleanor Anne Cox - Free Book Online Page A

went back out into the night.

 
    Six
    Early the next morning Adela quietly left St. James Square to visit the cemetery where Jon and her mother were buried. Unfortunately, one of the few disadvantages of her new position was the relative lack of freedom allowed her to wander about at will. Each time she crossed the threshold she had to run the gauntlet of both Mr. Soames’s austere sniffs and Mrs. Soames’s less austere but equally nagging little humphs. On the occasion of Adela’s first visit to the cemetery, Mrs. Soames had loosed a veritable barrage of criticism at her. That worthy matron had relentlessly belabored Adela for a full hour on the evils of unattended young ladies walking the streets of London. Adela, nevertheless, stood firm and, in the end, had been quite severe with Mrs. Soames, so that, although she was finally allowed to leave the house, it was only with the clear understanding that she was doing so over the strongest possible objections. On all subsequent occasions the sniff and the humph were repeated, but she was spared the lecture.
    The morning after the theater, his lordship returned quite early and inquired routinely after the state of health of the household. Soames, deciding that his lordship should be informed of Miss Trowle’s absence, sniffed ominously and asked if he and his missus might have a word with his lordship. “Certainly, Soames.”
    Whereupon Mrs. Soames was produced out of the nether regions of the house and began her own very lengthy explanation of Miss Trowle’s aberrant behavior.
    After some minutes spent on the general deterioration of society and on the evils of young ladies of quality being raised in ramshackle homes where they were allowed to go about unattended, Waterston asked, “My dear Mrs. Soames, are you attempting to tell me that Miss Trowle is not at home.”
    “No, sir, she is not and it’s not the first time neither that she has gone out alone in the morning.” Waterston continued with studied restraint.
    “Mrs. Soames, I cannot believe that you would, even on a single occasion, allow Miss Trowle to leave this house unattended.”
    “Well, sir, the young lady is extraordinarily stubborn, that she is, and she would not have a footman. Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but while it may look like she is a meek biddable little thing, when that young lady lowers her voice and insists on anything, it is something like your own late mother calling one to account for a dirty apron...”
    Waterston interrupted, “Nevertheless, Mrs. Soames, you should have brought this matter to my attention earlier, I can assure you that I would have seen that Miss Trowle was accompanied by a footman.”
    “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” Mrs. Soames answered, “but I never had no intention of letting her go out alone. I just thought it might be better if the young lady thought she was alone.”
    “John Coachman’s nephew Matt the Mole?” his lordship asked.
    “Yes, sir,” Soames answered.
    Waterston spoke with a shade less restraint, “I have come, slowly, to believe Mathew the Mole is a pearl without a price and I have never regretted retrieving him from Newgate, Soames.”
    “Nor should you, my lord, and I know John Coachman is very grateful. He’s a talent, that boy. You must know that Matt the Mole could follow a minnow clear to America and not be seen at it.”
    “And, if I remember correctly, he is also quite competent with a knife.”
    “Better by far than your average footman,” Mrs. Soames answered. “No one would get near Miss Trowle with Matt the Mole about.”
    “And what has our little spy reported, Mrs. Soames?” His lordship’s voice was crisp.
    “Well, sir, beggin’ your pardon, but I don’t choose to call him a spy no how—he is a footman in disguise so to speak.”
    “Quite, and where does this ‘footman in disguise’ follow Miss Trowle to?”
    “Each time she be going to the cemetery. O’ course, Matt keeps his distance, but he says she