Читать книгу The Trouble With Emma - Katie Oliver - Страница 16
ОглавлениеWeston’s Bakery was busy when Emma arrived. There was a queue of customers at the till and another waiting to be served. Boz and his Saturday assistant, Viv, were run off their feet just to keep up.
Nonetheless, “Good mornin’, Emma!” Boz called out as she came inside the shop. “Just can’t stay away, can you?”
“It seems I cannot.” She answered his grin with a smile and felt her earlier irritation smooth itself out and recede, like a tide. How could anyone remain grumpy in the face of such unrelenting good will?
He handed over two boxes of doughnuts to his customer. “There you are, Mrs Winkleman. I hope you and Mr W enjoy every delicious morsel. Now, if you’ll step over to the till, Viv’ll ring you up.” Boz turned back to Emma. “Changed your mind about the job, then?”
With a murmured apology to the nearest customer in the queue, Emma made her way to the glass display case in front of Boz and leaned forward. “Yes, I have.” She kept her voice low. “I’d like the job. But I prefer to keep it between the two of us for the moment, if you don’t mind.”
He took his tongs and lifted out two sticky buns for the next customer. “Whatever you want, Miss Emma.” He winked. “Our little secret. Although it won’t be a secret come Tuesday, when you turn up at seven to start your first day.”
Her eyes widened. “Seven o’clock?” she murmured, dismayed. “But…that’s awfully early, isn’t it?”
“Need to train you, don’t I?” He placed the sticky buns in a box, scrawled ‘SB-2’ in black marker on the lid, and handed it over to his customer. “We open at nine, so that’ll give us plenty of time to go over everything. I’ll show you how to work the till and give you a little tour.”
“All right.” She turned to go. “Oh…and before I forget, daddy asked me to thank you for the cream horns. He all but fell on the box when I brought them home.”
“Glad he liked ’em. They sell out fast; I don’t usually have any on hand very long. So – I’ll see you at seven on Tuesday morning, then?”
Emma nodded. “I’ll be here.” She hesitated. “Thank you, Boz.”
“Oh, bosh.” He waved her off. “It’s you who’s doing me the favour. But I warn you – you’ll be busy. Behind this handsome exterior lurks a dedicated man of business. A titan of tarts, a prince of patisserie –”
“And the chief of chinwags,” Viv cut in. “Kindly stop flappin’ your gob and fetch us more fairy cakes, Boz,” Viv said. “We’re nearly out. And don’t listen to a word he says, love,” she added as she glanced over at Emma. “It’s ninety percent bollocks.”
As Emma made her way to the door, it flew open with a jangle of the bell, and she found herself face to face with Mrs Cusack.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” the woman said, startled. She eyed the girl’s empty hands. “What brings you here?”
Emma thought quickly. “I came to thank Boz for the cream horns he sent my father.”
Mrs Cusack nodded. “They do go down a treat, don’t they?” She turned to a slender young woman standing behind her. “Miss Bennet, I’d like to introduce my niece, Miss Isabella Fairfax. She’s visiting for the summer.” She beamed. “Isabella, this is Emma Bennet, our former vicar’s eldest daughter. He has three,” she added. “Elizabeth just got married and Emma and Charlotte are…still at home.”
Isabella extended a hand. “How nice to meet you, Miss Bennet.”
“Emma, please. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I hope you enjoy your stay at Litchfield.”
Curious, Emma studied Miss Fairfax. She was of average height and quite attractive, with clear grey eyes and a trim figure; but her smile was warm and pleasant.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Isabella said. “I look forward to getting to know you and your sisters.”
“Well, Lizzy’s on her honeymoon at present,” Emma explained, “and Charlotte’s away at school during the week. But I’m here, and as your aunt so rightfully observed,” she added, with a telling glance at Mrs Cusack, “still at home and on the shelf.”
“Oh, not for long, I’m sure!” the older woman exclaimed, flustered. “You’re a lovely girl, Emma, indeed you are, and too clever by half for most of the men hereabouts.” She paused and eyed her niece with obvious pride. “Isabella is a hat designer, you know, and quite talented. She’s attending Central Saint Martin’s and doing very well there.”
“How very impressive of you!” Emma eyed the girl with renewed interest…and just a smidgen of jealousy. “You must tell me more about it.”
“Of course. Although there’s nothing much to tell just yet.”
“I’m sure there will be, given time. Do you know anyone else here in Litchfield, Miss Fairfax?”
A guarded expression flickered – very briefly – across the girl’s face. “Me? No, not a soul. And please, call me Isabella.”
Emma turned back to Mrs Cusack. “Why don’t you both come to Lizzy’s welcome home party next Sunday? We’re having it at Litchfield Manor from twelve until two. I can introduce Isabella to all of our neighbours. I know my sister and Mr Darcy would love to see you, Mrs Cusack, and I’m sure they’ll be as anxious to welcome your niece to Litchfield as I am.”
Which wasn’t entirely true on either count, Emma knew. She doubted if Elizabeth or Hugh would much care who showed up at their party on Sunday.
Because, having just finished a romantic honeymoon on a yacht off the coast of Cornwall, she was quite sure they’d have eyes only for each other.
“We’d be delighted to come,” Mrs Cusack said, and turned, beaming, to her niece. “Wouldn’t we, dear?”
Isabella nodded. “Indeed we would. Thank you, Miss Bennet.”
“Emma, please,” she insisted, and smiled. “We’ve no need of formalities here.”
“Very well – Emma.” Miss Fairfax smiled. “I look forward to meeting your family.”
After saying her goodbyes, Emma turned back to the door as Mrs Cusack led Miss Fairfax inside the bakery to begin the serious business of choosing a pastry for herself and her niece.
***
Once back out on the pavement, Emma was as relieved to escape Mrs Cusack’s nosiness as she was to quit the steamy interior of the bakery. Although, she noted as she made her way down Mulberry Street, it wasn’t much cooler outdoors than in. She felt a trickle of perspiration slide down the back of her neck.
She hoped the bake sale today took place inside the church, and not in the shade of the oak trees as it had last year. If there was one thing Emma couldn’t abide, it was sitting out of doors, fending off midges –
“Miss Bennet!”
Hearing the imperious tones of Lady Georgina de Byrne behind her, Emma turned around. Hugh Darcy’s godmother moved purposefully towards her, her iron-grey head held erect. She wore a dress of rose-printed silk and had a wide-brimmed straw hat arranged on her head.
“Hello, Lady de Byrne.” Emma extended her hand. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since Lizzy’s wedding.”
“I’m well, and I trust you and your father and sister are, also.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but continued, “I’ve just had word from Hugh. He and Elizabeth are returning from Cornwall on Thursday.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t wait to see them, and hear all about their trip. We miss Lizzy terribly.”
“Hugh says they’re having a lovely time. They even managed to tear themselves away from the Rosings once or twice to do a bit of sightseeing.”
“I envy them.” It slipped out before Emma could stop herself. “They’ve managed to find what so few people ever do – real, lasting love.”
“Well, one hope it lasts, at any event,” Lady Georgina observed. She cast Emma a quizzical glance. “Do you and your father require any help preparing for the party on Sunday? You’re welcome to hold it at Rosings, you know.”
The unspoken understanding being, of course, that Lady de Byrne would also shoulder the associated costs.
“That’s very kind,” Emma said, her words firm, “but you’ve done more than enough already, hosting the wedding reception, and loaning out your husband’s yacht for the honeymoon. That meant so much to Lizzy.”
“We spent our honeymoon on the Rosings, Alfie and I. It was perfect. Idyllic. I only hope that Elizabeth and Hugh are one tenth as happy as we were.” She reached out to pat Emma’s hand. “And I have a very great certainty that they will be.”
Their walking had brought them to the end of March Street, thronged now with Saturday shoppers and tourists seeking a late breakfast or an early lunch. Emma glanced up to see Crossley Hall looming on the hill above them.
“I understand the Hall has been sold,” Lady de Byrne observed as she followed Emma’s gaze. “I’m curious to learn who the new owners are.”
“Owner,” Emma corrected her. “I know only that he’s male, and unmarried.”
The woman’s eyebrow rose. “Indeed! Male, unmarried, and obviously quite wealthy, to afford to buy that old pile and fix it up… Perhaps,” she added thoughtfully, “I should host a party to welcome him to Litchfield. It’s always good to know one’s neighbours, do you not agree?”
Emma did not reply. She watched as a workman in coveralls appeared at the end of the drive leading up to the Hall and unlocked the gates, pushing them wide. A white work van idling on the street pulled forward and drove through the gates, lost to view in the thicket of trees and hedges. The faint sounds of hammering and the whine of electric saws drifted down to her ears.
“I do believe they’ve started work already,” she told Hugh’s godmother. “What a job that’ll be! I should think it will take months before anyone can move in.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Lady Georgina sniffed. “Money can expedite a great many things. Mark my words – our new neighbour on the hill, whoever he may be, will move in to Crossley Hall before you know it.”
