Free Judas Flowering by Jane Aiken Hodge Page B

for?”
    â€œThe birthday celebrations, let’s hope. I’m sorry, Abigail.” The genuine sympathy in his voice was for more than her temporary trouble. He saw her eyes suddenly aswim with unshed tears and hurried on, “Mercy’s tired. Be an angel and take her to her room. I have no doubt the servants are all at sixes and sevens still.”
    â€œTwelves and fourteens.” Abigail managed a watery smile. “And you’re off to your office, I take it?”
    â€œJust so. I asked Saul Gordon to meet me here. I’ve aworld of business to get through with him. If all goes well, I hope this will be my last visit to Savannah before I leave for the North.”
    â€œI wish you weren’t going, Hart.”
    â€œOh, Abigail, not you too! Ah, Gordon!” He turned with relief as the door in the comer of the room opened to reveal a black-clad, sallow, smiling man.
    â€œMr Purchis!” He advanced, seized Hart’s hand and pumped it up and down. “This is a sight for sad eyes. And—can it be?—Miss Phillips, of whose praises I have heard so much from Madam Purchis. Do, I beg of you, present me.”
    â€œYes, of course.” Hart did not sound best pleased. “Mercy, let me present my right-hand man, Mr. Gordon.”
    â€œMiss Phillips!” His hand was damp. “Mrs Purchis has led me to hope that you would do me the great kindness of calling on my dear, afflicted wife. She pines for company, my poor Rachel, she quite pines for company.”
    â€œI shall be delighted.” Mercy was afraid she did not sound it, but she did not much like this hint of an arrangement behind her back.
    â€œAnd I’ll come too,” said Abigail. “Why did you not tell me Mrs Gordon was lonely, Mr Gordon?”
    â€œAlways so kind, so condescending, Miss Purchis, but I could hardly presume … a member of the family … my poor Rachel would be overwhelmed.”
    â€œBusiness first.” Hart cut him short with a firmness that surprised Mercy. “Visits later. Excuse us, ladies? I’ll be in the study, Abigail, if my mother should want me.”
    â€œHis study?” asked Mercy, as Gordon bowed low to them both and followed Hart through the little door.
    â€œHe uses the old house next door. He had the doorway cut through. Aunt Martha doesn’t much like it, but it suits Hart very well. And nobody seems to mind the mixing of work and ordinary living here in Savannah.”
    â€œWhy should they?” Mercy lapsed into cockney. “Work’s ’ow they live, ain’t it?”
    â€œHeavens!” Abigail glanced quickly out to the porch, where the two sisters were deep in agitated talk. “Don’t let my aunts hear you speak like that or they will think you as bad as the revolutionaries.”
    Mercy laughed. “My accent, love, or what I say?” And then, modulating from cockney to the pure English she normally spoke, “Forgive me! I’m afraid all this luxurybrings out the worst in me. I can’t seem to get over how different things are here from the other side of town where Father and I lived. And the shameful thing is, I still can’t help enjoying the comfort.”
    â€œWhy shouldn’t you?” Abigail led her upstairs to the bedroom floor, where the rooms also looked out onto the screened porch, and left her to rest.
    Francis did not appear until late in the evening, when his mother was just crossly preparing to go to bed. “A million apologies, Mamma.” His face was becomingly flushed as he bent to kiss her hand. “I meant to be here to greet you, but have had business I didn’t much like to detain me.”
    â€œBusiness?” asked Hart.
    â€œYes.” Francis turned to him with an odd, sideways smile. “Even I am capable of some kinds of business, little cousin. I have been doing my utmost to persuade the hotheads at Tondee’s Tavern that the King’s