Free Of Moths and Butterflies by V. R. Christensen Page B

are about.”
    Becky was indignant. “But Mr. Hamilton’s fire has yet to be laid, and that in his book room as well.”
    “I’ll tend to them,” Harriet offered. “I don’t mind.”
    “It’ll take you both to finish the rugs before the rain starts, and certainly to carry them back indoors now Mr. Brown and Charlie have gone.”
    It was then that Gina stepped into the hallway, having come from her room looking decidedly fresher of face than when she had been seen, a quarter of an hour ago, returning from the outdoors, flushed and filthy.
    “Never mind, Harriet,” Becky said, her gaze latching onto the young woman, “I think I’ve got it in hand. You go on ahead. I’ll catch you up.”
    Harriet’s gaze quickly shifted between Gina and Mrs. Hartup, but the housekeeper had begun to move off already.
    “Go on. I won’t be five minutes.”
    Harriet obeyed, following Mrs. Hartup toward the servants’ staircase and tossing a regretful look back in the direction of the corridor.
    “Oh, Gina?” Becky said, and saw, as the girl turned, the look of hopeful anticipation on her face.
    “I’m in a bit of a bind,” she said with an ingratiating smile. “Your rugs need seein’ to and the fires need layin’, and I can’t do’em both at once. I’ve just got this one more. Would you mind?” And before Gina could answer, Becky placed the coal scuttle in her hand and the ash pail and brushes at her feet.
    “But I—”
    “Just there,” Becky said, interrupting her and pointing to the door. She turned, then, to follow after Harriet
    *   *   *
    Imogen, uncertain what to do and yet not daring to arouse any further ire from the other staff, resolved herself to the task at hand and to doing it as quickly as possible. She knocked at the door and, hearing no answer, opened it.
    Indeed the room was empty, but a greatcoat and a travelling bag on the bed provided the necessary proof that this room was intended for imminent use. Of all the positions to be placed in! And this on the heels of Sir Edmund’s warning. She had no time to lose, and so set immediately to work.
    Kneeling down before the grate, she took up the brush and pan and began sweeping up as much of the dust and spent coals as she could before arranging the tinder and paper to light. When these had caught fire, she began, very carefully, stacking the new coals. As she might have expected, they flamed, guttered and went out. She tried again, growing more nervous lest she should fail to accomplish her task before the room’s occupant should return. Again, it was the same. Starting over, she replayed the entire process. To no avail. She took a deep breath, released her frustration—or tried to—before preparing to start again. It was then that the door opened.
    She stood, nearly upsetting the scuttle as she did, and drawing attention to herself in the process.
    The gentleman started and stared. “Miss Shaw?”
    “Gina, sir,” she managed and looked away.
    She was completely taken by surprise to see him, of all people. To think that it should be he, the charming and somewhat irreverent gentleman she had met in church nearly two weeks ago! His attentiveness then had endowed her with a strange and unfamiliar comfort. But it had also aroused feelings in her she had hoped to repent of. She had tried not to think of him again. She had not been entirely successful. But to find that this was his room, and that she now stood in it…all she could think was to get away.
    “Excuse me, sir. I think I should not be here,” she said and moved toward the door.
    “Wait!”
    She stopped, but he said nothing more and just stood there, alternately looking at her and then off toward some vague object in another direction.
    “Is there something I can get for you, sir?”
    His eyes met hers then. “No!” And then softening. “No. I don’t… I’m sorry. I cannot quite understand.”
    “There’s nothing to understand, sir.”
    “But when I saw you before you