Beatrice (2 page)

As far
as he was aware he had never done anything that should worry her in
any way, or make her feel threatened by him. Now, as a result of
her disconcerting behaviour, he was left with no alternative but
attend the blasted church each Sunday just to be able to sit
opposite her, and stare at her like some love-sick fool while he
waited for that perfect opportunity to engage her in
conversation.

If only
he could just break down some of those barriers of hers, he knew
that they would get on well. He had no idea how he knew, he just
did. If only the good Lord would take pity on him and give him the
opportunity to change her opinion of him, he knew that he could
have the kind of future he wanted, with Beatrice.

Somehow
though, from the way she was studiously trying to avoid his gaze,
he didn’t think that the good Lord was listening.

Eventually, the service was over. He watched in consternation
as Beatrice and Maud hurriedly left their pew and swept down the
aisle without a backward look, and sighed at another opportunity
lost. Ben wondered if she would glance back into the church, just
once, before she left and was more than a little disappointed when
she didn’t. What was a man supposed to do in such restricted
circumstances? How was he supposed to engage her in conversation
when she was the last to arrive and the first to leave?

It is time to go back to the drawing board and think of
something else
, he muttered to himself
with a sigh, and left his pew to follow the congregation out of the
church.

“I will
see you later, my dear,” Maud whispered to Beatrice once they were
outside.

“See you
later,” Beatrice replied. Rather than stop to talk to the vicar,
Beatrice merely nodded vaguely in his direction and dipped her head
as she hurried past. She saw him open his mouth to speak but didn’t
wait around to hear what he had to say. The man was hardly the most
affable vicar at the best of times, and the last time she had been
foolhardy enough to converse with him, she had received a lecture
on judgement and tardiness that had made her hurry home just that
little bit quicker.

Ben
watched her turn out of the graveyard and hurry down the lane as
though the hounds from Hell nipped at her heels.

If you hurry after her, you may just able to catch up with
her and engage her in conversation while you walk her
home
, Ben thought with a sigh. It was a
thought, but it might just work.

With
that in mind, and no other opportunities on the horizon, he
lengthened his stride and made his way down the path after her.
Unfortunately, he had taken no more than a few steps before he was
forced to stop by a rather shrill voice that shattered the
silence.

“Mr
Addison? Hello? Mr Addison? Might I have a word with
you?”

Ben
winced at the high-pitched, autocratic demand from a woman behind
him and sighed in disgust. He threw a regretful look at Beatrice’s
rapidly retreating back and reluctantly turned around. Given that
nearly everyone in the churchyard was looking at him, he was forced
to wait for Mrs Underwick to lumber along the path toward him.
Unfortunately, manners dictated that he shouldn’t be rude to the
woman; however there was nothing to say that he had to be sociable
to one of Tipton Hollow’s most notoriously spiteful gossips
either.

“Mrs
Underwick,” he sighed, with no hint of enthusiasm. “How might I
assist you today?”

“Thank
heavens you heard me,” Mrs Underwick gasped. She threw him a
grateful look as she drew her heavy frame to a stop before
him.

To his
consternation, she placed a rather sweaty hand on his forearm and
leaned heavily against him while she gasped for breath. A dark
scowl settled over his features at the woman’s unwelcome
familiarity but, however much he wanted to, he daren’t jerk his
hand away and force her to stand on her own two feet. From the look
of the beads of sweat already dotted along her brow, and the ruddy
colour of her cheeks, she looked as though she would just keel
right over. The last thing he wanted was to have to pick her large
backside off the church path and wait for her to recover, much less
carry her ample girth home.

He cast
a worried look at the churchyard gate and shifted from one foot to
the other while he waited.

“What do
you want, Mrs Underwick?” Ben growled when the woman made no
attempt to speak for several long minutes, and merely stood opening
and closing her mouth like a stranded fish.

“I just
wanted to have quick word with you,” Mrs Underwick murmured a bit
quieter than before. She glanced around them so furtively that Ben
felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He just knew
that he wasn’t going to like what the woman had to say but, without
just storming rudely off and ignoring her, he had to listen. “I
just wanted to forewarn you about the new Tipton Hollow Circle,”
she gasped.

“The
Psychic Circle no longer exists, Mrs Underwick. It was disbanded
after the clairvoyants were arrested. Do you not know that
already?” he drawled mockingly, knowing that she was probably one
of the main gossips who had spread the news.

“Of
course I do,” she snapped officiously. When she saw Ben’s brows
lift querulously, she softened her gaze and glanced cautiously
around them again. “I have it on good authority that the same group
of people who were involved with the psychics have started a new
Circle, and are getting involved in things that don’t concern them.
I just wanted to warn you that if they do approach you for
donations, don’t trust their endeavours. They are a very shady
bunch of people, if you ask me.”

“I
didn’t ask you, Mrs Underwick,” Ben growled. He dropped his hand
but Mrs Underwick’s gnarled fingers refused to release their hold
on his now crumpled jacket. He glared down at her hand and shifted,
but she refused to take the hint.

“They
are into philanthropy now, I hear. There are persons who shall not
be named,” she glanced around as though the said ‘persons who shall
not be named’ were about to pop out from behind the gravestones,
“who have since discovered that they are involving themselves in
people’s lives, and it isn’t welcome. They are making a lot of
people very angry. I just wanted to warn you in case you are asked
to donate to their cause. They don’t operate on behalf of Tipton
Hollow and I, for one, shall not donate anything to the things they
get themselves involved with.” She glanced around them and slapped
her mouth closed several more times before she leaned forward with
yet more of her juicy gossip. “You know what happened the last time
this group got themselves involved in anything, don’t you? Two –”
she shoved two fingers up, practically under his nose, “- two
deaths. Poor Mr Montague and Miss Haversham had no idea what they
were getting themselves into. Of course that lot,” she nodded in
Beatrice’s direction, “came away scot free. It’s a scandal, I tell
you. I would strongly advise you not to get involved in their
shenanigans.”

Ben felt
his temper boil at the audacity of the woman before him. To think
that she had the temerity to attempt to besmirch Beatrice’s name,
especially when she wasn’t here to defend herself, appalled
him.

“As I
understand it, nobody from the Psychic Circle could be held
accountable for the deaths of Mr Montague or Miss Haversham,
because nobody in Tipton Hollow knew that they were living with a
killer in their midst,” he bit out. “The police didn’t find anyone
other the killer responsible. It is unwise for anyone to insinuate
that any surviving member of the Psychic Circle, who is not already
in jail, should be implicated in what went on purely because they
were there at the time. It is outrageous, and highly insulting for
anyone to be foolish enough to suggest such a thing.”

He gave
her his darkest scowl and dropped his gaze to her hand, which still
crumpled the material of his jacket. He quite carefully and
deliberately prised each finger off, one by one; then dropped her
hand. When he lifted his gaze, he saw shock and outrage on her face
rather than apology, and it enraged him even more.

“I would
strongly recommend that you confine your comments to more
appropriate matters in the future, madam, because I do not consider
us to be on a firm enough acquaintance for you to give me advice on
what I should, or should not, get myself involved with. If the
ladies from the Psychic Circle have taken it upon themselves to
form a different circle which helps others, then good, I say. I
applaud their endeavours, and have nothing but the upmost contempt
for people who wish to besmirch any worthwhile activity they wish
to conduct. Good day to you,” he snapped.

Before
she could open her mouth to speak, he quite pointedly turned around
and marched out of the graveyard. His fists clenched with the need
to punch something, or turn back and give the old bag another piece
of his mind.

It was
only the thought that there might still be enough time to catch up
with Beatrice that made him lengthen his stride and head out of the
graveyard.

Beatrice
drew in a deep breath and tipped her head back to allow the
sunshine to bathe her face. The warmth outside was heaven in
contrast to the almost frigid interior of the old stone church, and
almost echoed her personal feelings about going there each week.
She knew that at some point she would have to make a decision as to
whether she wanted to continue to go to church each Sunday but,
right now, she didn’t want anything to dampen her enjoyment of such
a wonderful summer’s day.

Right
now, she needed to savour the best of the afternoon and enjoy the
birdsong, while she tried to block out all thoughts of just how
handsome Benedict Addison had looked this morning.

To her
consternation, somewhere off in the distance, the low rumble of
carriage wheels suddenly interrupted the silence. At first she
didn’t pay it any attention to it but, when the noise grew steadily
louder, she was forced to open her eyes and consider it more
closely.

She
immediately made her way over to the grass verge which ran
alongside the country lane but, to her utter horror, her boot had
barely touched the grass when a huge black carriage flew past at
breakneck speed. It was so close to her that she felt the rumble of
the wheels mere inches from her toes.

She
stepped onto the grass to avoid falling beneath the wheels but, at
the last minute, realised that a deep ditch ran beneath the thick
hedgerow. In a desperate attempt not to fall into either the hedge
or the ditch, she flailed her arms wildly and staggered sideways.
Unfortunately, she stepped into a hole that was hidden in the grass
and twisted her ankle.

“You
idiot!” Beatrice cried after the carriage as it disappeared rapidly
down the lane. She watched it turn out of sight, and cursed the
selfishness of the driver. He must have seen her; why hadn’t he
stopped to see if she was alright?

“Oh,
no,” she muttered as she tried to put her weight onto her ankle
only for pain to immediately shoot up her shin. She stared down in
horror. Her ankle throbbed mercilessly and, while she hadn’t felt
anything pop or crack, she knew that it had been injured. She
swallowed and tried to think what she should do.

Hardly
anybody used this lane, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would
pass by soon and be able to offer assistance. Maud would use the
lane to get home but, unfortunately, could be several hours
yet.

Beatrice
sighed. If she wanted to get home at all, she had to do so under
her own steam no matter how much it hurt.

“Can
this day get much worse?” She gasped tearfully as she began to
hobble toward home.

To her
utter disbelief, she soon realised that her day could indeed get
considerably worse as the first drops of rain began to fall around
her.

She
glared up at the dark clouds that seemed to grow increasingly
darker with each passing minute. “Thank you,” she snapped at the
sky.

The
tentative step she took sent white-hot shafts of pain up her leg,
and she knew that her journey home had just become incredibly
difficult. Her instinctive wince was accompanied by a cry of pain,
which escaped her in spite of the teeth that bit into her bottom
lip.

She
hobbled once or twice more, and managed to get off the verge and
onto the more solid lane, but it didn’t help the soreness of her
ankle which wasn’t able to bear much of her weight at
all.

To add
insult to injury, the sky chose that moment to gather as many rain
clouds as it could and hold them over her. Within seconds, the
heavens opened and she found herself in a sudden deluge that was
relentless. A low rumble of warning rattled somewhere off in the
distance, and assured her that she would be extremely foolhardy if
she lingered outside any longer than she absolutely had
to.

She knew
that there was only one thing worse than being caught out in a
rainstorm miles from home with a foot injury, and it was being
caught out in a thunderstorm miles from home with a foot injury.
With a disgusted sigh, she swiped rainwater out of her eyes and
began to stumble, stagger and hop her way home.

Ben
struggled to contain his fury as he trotted along the road toward
Beatrice’s house. How dare that old harridan, Mrs Underwick, have
the utter gall to accost him in the churchyard in the first place,
let alone attempt to ‘advise’ him on what he should and should not
get involved with? He was tempted to donate to new Circle just to
spite the old gossip.