Yvonne Goes to York

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Authors: M. C. Beaton
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would feel obliged to make an honest woman of you, so ter speak.’
    Hannah clutched her head in despair.
    ‘You meddling fool! Now I can never see him again. What have you done to me, you jackanapes?’ A wave of grief and loss for her ruined dream swept over her and she sank down into a chair and dabbed at her now streaming tears with a handkerchief.
    ‘I meant it only for the best,’ said Benjamin in anguish. ‘You won’t want me now. I’ll take myself off.’
    Hannah scrubbed at her eyes and then shook her head. Benjamin was like a member of her family, almost like a son. She could not tell him to go.
    ‘I feel it is a judgement on me, Benjamin,’ said Hannah wearily. ‘I have been getting above myself. All these adventures with lords and ladies and getting on familiar terms have quite gone to my silly head. Sir George would never marry me or even think of me in any terms warmer than friendship. It is probably as well this has happened. Give me some time alone to recover. But do not ever try to meddle in my affairs again. Do I make myself clear?’
    ‘Yes, mum,’ said Benjamin, anxious to get away from her before he too broke down and cried.
    When he had gone, Hannah opened her trunk and took out a flat box. In it lay the spoon she had taken from Gunter’s, the famous confectioners, to commemorate the times they had taken tea there. Beside it lay the glove he had kissed.
    They would need to be thrown away. Her heartwould mend the quicker if she kept nothing to remind her of Sir George. Into the box she placed – as if placing a small corpse in a coffin – the bottle of scent he had given her. This was followed by the scarf, the delicate little fan, and the guide-book.
    She swallowed convulsively and then rang the bell. A trim housemaid answered it and Hannah handed her the box. ‘In here,’ she said in a choked voice, ‘are some items I no longer need. You are welcome to them.’
    The housemaid bobbed a curtsy and took the box. Out in the passage she met Benjamin, who was hovering about. ‘What’s that?’ asked Benjamin sharply. He bit his tongue hard to repel another bout of sobbing and repeated, ‘What’s that?’
    The housemaid hugged the box to her bosom. ‘Your mistress done give it me.’
    ‘Let me see.’
    Reluctantly she opened the box. Benjamin looked sadly down at the contents. ‘Buy it from you.’
    ‘Them’s mine!’ The maid tossed her head and set the streamers on her cap bobbing.
    Benjamin fished in his pocket and extracted two sovereigns and tossed them up and down. ‘Gold,’ he said.
    Sunlight shining through a long window in the passage glittered on the coins.
    Her eyes gleamed. ‘Very well,’ she said breathlessly. Benjamin handed over the coins and seized the box and ran off with it to stow it in his luggage. Somehow, he must think of a plan to repair the damage he had done.
    That afternoon, the marquis sat at a desk in his room. He had given the excuse that he had letters to write, in order to escape from Letty and Clarrie. He knew they were waiting below for him in the drawing-room. Letty had promised to play the harp.
    And then, looking down from the window, he saw Yvonne crossing the grass, a light breeze fluttering the thin skirts of her gown. She had heard the angry voices from Hannah’s room and had decided to go for a walk.
    He left his room and darted quietly down the stairs and looked for a moment out across the empty lawn in front of him before he remembered that the window of his room overlooked the lawn at the back of the house. He quickly made his way there, fearing every moment to hear the patter of feet as Letty and Clarrie ran after him. As he reached the back of the great mansion it was to see Yvonne opening a tall ornamental iron gate which led to a walled garden.
    When he entered the garden himself, he saw her standing by a sundial in the centre and went to join her. The garden was a mixture of flowers and herbs. The air was warm and heavily scented.

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