“It might,” she agreed. “I didn’t believe anyone else would be foolish enough to walk on it and disturb me while I’m working.”
“Pardon the disturbance.” He gave a slight bow. “I’ll leave you now to the furnace.”
He had just turned to retrace his path over the rickety structure when Berry said, very calmly and matter-of- factly, “I know what my grandfather is asking of you. Oh, he doesn’t know that I know, but he disregards my…call it…intuition. He wants you to watch me, doesn’t he? Keep me out of trouble?”
“Not exactly.”
“What, then? Exactly?” Berry put down her pencil and turned around to give him her full attention.
“He’s asked me to squire you around a bit. Help you get settled.” He was beginning to be annoyed by her sly little smile. “New York may not be London, but there are pitfalls here. Your grandfather simply wishes you not to step into one.”
“I see.” She nodded and angled her head to the side. The sun gleamed on the red curls that fell over her shoulder. “You should know, Mr. Corbett, that you’re being foxed. Before I left England, my father received a letter from Grandda telling him not to worry, for my grandfather was making a vow to find me a husband. You, sir, seem to be the candidate for groom.”
Matthew smiled broadly at the nonsense of that last sentence, but when Berry’s face remained steadfastly serious he felt his smile collapse. “That’s ridiculous!”
“I’m glad we’re of a single mind on the subject.”
“I don’t plan on being married to anyone, anytime soon.”
“And before I marry I plan on making a living from my art.”
An impoverished spinster for life, Matthew thought. “But your teaching is important to you also, isn’t it?”
“It is. I think I have value as a teacher, and I do like children. But art is my true calling.”
More like a yodel at midnight, he thought, but he kept a straight face. “Listen, I assure you I’ll put your grandfather on the straight road about this. He’s been hounding me about moving into the dairyhouse, and now I know why.”
Berry stood up. Her height almost put her eye-to-eye with Matthew. “Don’t be so rash, Mr. Corbett,” she said silkily. “If Grandda puts all his eggs in your basket, he won’t be trying to foist me off on a succession of boring imbeciles whose idea of a plum future is an easy chair and an easy maid. So if you were to play along, it would be to my favor.”
“Really? And what favor would I get out of it? A dirt floor and a dungeon?”
“I’m not saying you would have to…as you put it…squire me around very long. A month, possibly. If that. Just long enough for me to impress my will upon my grandfather.” She blinked and thought better of that last statement. “I mean, impress to my grandfather how important my freedom is. And the fact that I can find my own young man, in my own time.”
“A month?” That word left a sour taste in Matthew’s mouth. “I’d be just as comfortable in the gaol. At least the cells have windows.”
“Think about it, at least. Will you? I’d be in your debt.”
Matthew didn’t wish to give it a moment’s further thought, but here was the point of the pickle: if he did consent to stay in the dairyhouse and at least pretend to serve as Berry’s squire or guardian or whatever the blazing hell Grigsby intended, he could keep that item about Magistrate Powers from turning up in a future Earwig. One month? He could stand it. Maybe.
“I’ll think about it,” he agreed.
“Thank you. Well, I believe I’m done for the morning.” Berry knelt down and began to put away her crayons. “May I walk back with you?” It was obvious now that she was warming to him, as this business of the New York groom had been overcome.
“I’m not going all the way back to Grigsby’s, but you’re welcome to accompany me.” So saying, he cast an uneasy eye along the fifty feet of rotten pier and fervently hoped Berry’s bad luck would not sink them both.
They made it over, though not without Matthew thinking more than once that the next step would take him into the river. Berry gave a laugh when they reached solid ground, as if what was for Matthew an ordeal was for her an adventure. He had the impression that her problem might not be bad luck, but unfortunate choices. Still, she did have a nice laugh.
On their walk back along Queen Street, Berry asked if Matthew had ever been to London and he said regrettably not, but that he hoped to go before long. She then proceeded for the next while to entertain him with descriptions of some of the sights and streets of London that were clearly remembered by the eye of the artist, so richly were they fashioned. He found it interesting that Berry described several book stores she used to visit, and one book seller in particular who sold coffee and chocolate at a counter right in the shop. After her telling of it, Matthew felt he could smell the fresh paper of the books and the wafting aroma of the hot black coffee on a rainy London afternoon.
They were nearly back to Grigsby’s house when, with Berry talking about her life in the Great City and Matthew listening as if walking the cobblestones at her side, there came the sound of horse hooves and jingling traces behind them. A high-pitched bell was rung, and they stepped aside as a double-horse carriage approached. As it slowed, Matthew saw in the seats behind the driver Joplin Pollard and Mrs. Deverick, he jaunty in a beige suit, waistcoat, and tricorn and she again grim in black gown and hat, her face pallid beneath white powder. The leather top of the carriage had been put up to throw shade over the passengers.
“Ah! Corbett!” said the lawyer. “Mrs. Deverick and I were just on our way to the printmaster’s house. We’ve been trying to find you.”
“Oh?”
“We made a stop at Stokely’s house. He told us you’d left with Grigsby after that ghastly mishap yesterday. Not much left of the pottery, is there? And who might this be?”
“This is Miss Beryl…Berry Grigsby. Marmaduke’s granddaughter. Berry, this is Mr. Joplin Pollard and…the widow Deverick.”
“Charmed, my dear.” Pollard touched the rolled rim of his tricorn, and Berry gave a nod in return. The lady in black swept her gaze across Berry’s clothes and then looked at her with narrowed eyes, as one might regard a strangely colored lizard. “May we steal Mr. Corbett away from you for a little discussion?” Pollard didn’t wait for Berry’s response, but clicked open the carriage’s door. “Climb up, Corbett.”
“If you’re going in that direction,” Matthew said, “might you give Miss Grigsby a ride home? It’s just-”
“A private discussion,” Mrs. Deverick interrupted, staring straight ahead.
Matthew felt a bit of heat in his cheeks, but when he looked at Berry she just shrugged and gave him a glimpse of the gap between her front teeth when she smiled. “It’s all right, Matthew. I think I’d rather walk. Will you join us for lunch?”
“I have some errands, but I’ll see you later.”
“Fine. I’m sure Grandda will appreciate that. Good day, sir,” she said to Pollard, and to Mrs. Deverick, “Good day, widow.” Then Berry walked on along the harbor street, carrying her valise and sketchpad, and Pollard said to Matthew, “Come, come! We have some business.”
Thirty
With Matthew seated across from his two carriage companions, his clothes bag on the floor at his feet and the horses clip-clopping south along the harbor, Mrs. Deverick looked pointedly at him and asked, “Have you sworn off shaving, young man?”
“Forgive the stubble. One of my errands today is to Mr. Reynaud.”
“I hear he does a good job,” said Pollard. “Though I wouldn’t let a slave with a razor anywhere near me.”
“Mr. Reynaud is a free man,” Matthew reminded him. “He’s been free for nearly five years, I understand.”
“You’re a braver man than me, then. I’d be afraid he’d choose the moment of my shaving to forget he’s living in civilization and revert back to savagery. So. I-and Mrs. Deverick also, of course-regret to hear of your recent inconvenience. Where are you living?”
