Free Yvonne Goes to York by M. C. Beaton Page B

His drink – a mixture of beer and gin – began to make him feel slowly better. The taproom was dark compared to the blazing sunshine outside. Smells of cooking were drifting through from the kitchen to mingle with the smell of sweating horses from outside, as carriages came and went. He called for a newspaper and retired with his tankard to a table near the door where an oblong of sunlight shone on the flags. Benjamin sipped his drink and read slowly. He was reluctant to return, to see Hannah’s sad face. He promised himself that he would go as soon as he had finished the paper, which was a London one, only a day old. And having made that promise, he settled down to read every line, ending up with the obituaries. With amazement and relief, he read that Lady Carsey, his old enemy and tormentor, she who had threatened to get revenge on Miss Hannah Pym as well as himself, had died. With more amazement did he note that she had died of a heart attack. He would have expected such a cruel and violent lady to have died a more fitting death. He folded up the newspaper and tucked it into his pocket. He would show it to Miss Pym but would not tell her where he had come by it.
     
    Yvonne found Hannah in her room. The spinster was sitting in a chair by the window, very still, her hands folded on her lap.
     ‘You were very distressed about the gossip,’ said Yvonne. ‘But what is gossip?’
    ‘A dreadful weapon,’ replied Hannah quietly. ‘I had no hope, you see, not at any time, for how could such as Sir George look on me in that light? But while we were friends, I could dream. Now my dreams are gone.’
    ‘Sir George,’ said Yvonne tentatively. ‘Was he not the handsome gentleman with the white hair who gave you the presents before we left London?’
    ‘The same.’
    ‘Miss Pym, he looked at you with such affection. If any gossip maligned a friend of mine, I would not believe a word of it, and it would not alter that friendship.’
    ‘I am an ex-servant.’ Hannah looked weary. ‘And it is a scandal in itself for Sir George to entertain me.’
    ‘But that did not prevent him from doing so, non ? How did he entertain you?’
    Hannah’s odd eyes grew misty as she remembered each precious moment. ‘He took me to Gunter’s, twice, to the opera, and showed me the improvements to the gardens at Thornton Hall.’
    Yvonne’s quick and pragmatic Gallic mind fastened immediately on the most important point. ‘He took you to the opera ?’
    Hannah nodded.
    ‘Then, believe me, madame, he doesn’t give a fig for public opinion. His … er … feelings of friendship must be very strong indeed.’
    ‘Well, I am sore embarrassed.’ Hannah’s square shoulders rose and fell in a gesture of resignation. ‘Bestto forget him. I gave all mementoes of him to a housemaid.’
    Yvonne fell silent, but her mind was working busily. She thought of the marquis and a little colour rose to her cheeks as she remembered that kiss. How violent her own emotion had been! And was she not in the same position as Miss Pym? Such a man as the marquis had been merely dallying with her. But Miss Pym must be helped. She, Yvonne, must fight down her embarrassment , go on as if that kiss had never happened, and ask the marquis to talk to Sir George on his return to London.
    ‘Are you going to stay in your room?’ she asked.
    Hannah shook herself and her eyes flashed green. ‘No, I am not. I have decided that this journey is to be my last adventure. I shall retire to somewhere quiet in the country and no more will I have the opportunity of being entertained by lords and ladies, so I plan to make the most of this. There is the dressing-bell. They keep country hours. Let us put on our finest, Miss Grenier, and amuse ourselves by watching the young ladies in hot pursuit of our marquis!’
     
    They assembled in the drawing-room before dinner, which was to be served at four in the afternoon. There was no sign of Benjamin, and Hannah hoped her mortified