This could not be happening! Agitated, I paced back and forth in front of the hearth, a-million-and-one thoughts about what Sebastian Cavell wanted with me swimming in my head. I think most men would be irritated if a person they had enjoyed one single night of illicit relations with suddenly turned up on their doorstep. What was he doing here? Was I being taken for a complete fool? Cavell could be robbing my rooms this very minute as I waited for him?
It was then that I doubted my sanity for letting a criminal into my home and was unsure of how to behave in his presence. He had a way about him I could not fathom. All it took was a look, his eyes glittering with a challenge or a smile that promised delicious wicked thing and my innards melted. He knew far too much about me and what I desired. I concluded that Sebastian Cavell was indeed a very dangerous man. One remark about my sinful nature to the wrong person could lead to banishment from my church and a loss of status. No matter how kindly I felt towards him it would be reckless to allow this man any further into my life and my affections. I must be imperturbable. Yes, I decided, I must remember myself—remember the pious, detached… miserable man that I was before I journeyed to Scotland. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed deeply. This was a disaster. What was I to do? A single knock on my study door interrupted my storm of self-doubt.
“Come in”, I roared, my voice sounding rougher than I’d expected. Mrs. Twigg and the maidservant Maud entered and immediately there was an atmosphere. Mrs. Twigg’s mouth was pinched reproachfully and I regretted my sharp tone. She did not appreciate me bellowing at her, and it was not my nature as an employer. Like a kicked dog, I hung my head in shame.
“Apologies”, I said and gestured for her to serve me. Mrs. Twigg held the tea tray and young Maud carried a second tray that contained a plate of freshly baked sweet mince pies. The fruit and spice tarts were decadently sprinkled with confectioners’ sugar.
“They smell wonderful!” I praised, in an attempt to break the atmosphere. Mrs. Twigg smiled and nodded as she passed me.
“I requested tea for two.” I reminded as I noticed, “There is only one cup on the tray”. Flora shot me a look. “We have a house guest, another cup and saucer will be required if you’d be so kind.”
I did not owe an explanation; however, Mrs. Twigg was gifted with that wordless glare that all matriarchs possess. It is a power that is too great for any man to deny, and so words of speedily conjured explanation spilled from my mouth.
“A friend slipped on the slushy path as I was seeing off that blasted beggar.” I babbled. “He—my friend—was quite shaken by the ordeal. I permitted him to clean up here. I just wanted you to be aware so you do not get a fright with a stranger about the house.” I explained, hoping I was keeping my tone steady and businesslike this time, “So, yes, tea for two if you please”. However, Mrs. Twigg looked at me as if I’d said something distinctly outrageous. She appeared… confused and unconvinced.
“A friend you say, sir?”
“Yes?” I replied innocently. Flora had kept my home and cooked for me for nearly ten years and when I thought of the number of times I’d had a ‘friend’ call to the house in all of that time, it could have been counted on both hands.
“From church—” I added sheepishly.
Flora laid the tea tray down on the occasional table and unfolded the sides to make the table double the size.
“Very good, sir.” She commented. I knew we were back on level ground when she brightened and mother-henned—
“I’m so glad a friend has come to call. I do keep telling you, sir, you spend far too much time on your own. T’ain’t right! Upstandin’ gentleman like yourself.”
My relationship with my housekeeper was generally friendly and relaxed. I did not have a wife or sweetheart and so she was the matriarch in my life. I appreciated her very much, but sometimes she tended to sticky-beak and voice opinions where they were not welcome. I did not encourage comments on my private habits and lack of true friendships.
Flora directed the maid. “Put them mince pies down over here Maud love, and go and fetch another cup, saucer, and plate for our guest.” Maud did as instructed and scurried from the room.
“The pies are just out of the oven, so best let them cool for a few more minutes’ sir. Would you like me to pour or shall we wait for your…friend?”
The scent of warm, sweet, spicy mince pies was quite delectable, but I decided “I shall wait.”
“Have a name does he sir? Your friend?”
For a moment I was panic-stricken. I had no idea what name Cavell was using and I did not want to give, what I presumed was his true name to my servants. Luckily, Sebastian entered the study at that very moment. I had not heard the stairs creak as he made his way down, such was his talent as a sneak-thief. Sebastian’s eyes met mine and twinkled with mischief. The smile lit his eyes and the look made me feel winded and a little self-conscious. He was different again, and I was pleased to see that the black-eye he had sported while playing Josiah had been washed away. The beard was also gone and I was privately content to see Sebastian clean-shaven for the very first time. He looked fresh-faced, handsome, and youthful. He took on a light, cut-glass aristocratic accent, and with the exuberance of a pup, he addressed
