Never Doubt I Love (21 page)

She agreed readily and asked him about his home. They were soon in a deep discussion of the merits of country life as opposed to dwelling in Town, and pleased to find themselves in complete agreement.

Glancing out of the window, he exclaimed, “Only look, we've chattered away our time again and here's Ludgate Hill already. There's the cathedral.”

“Ooh!” she squeaked, gripping her hands tightly as she peered out of the window. “How magnificent! 'Tis so much bigger than I'd imagined. But it does not look sixteen hundred years old.”

“Of course it doesn't. It burned down in the Great Fire as did most of the city. They only finished rebuilding about thirty or so years ago. 'Faith, I thought everybody knew that!”

“Well, I did, but there are so very many interesting things in this world to try to remember, are there not? Little bits and pieces get tucked away in my head sometimes, and I cannot always fish them out when I need them. Oh, just
look
at all the people! May we go inside? Are we allowed to climb up to that little house atop the dome?”

Cranford, who was uneasily eyeing the double flight of steps to the West Front, thought, ‘Heaven forfend!' and said that it would be highly improper for a lady to attempt such a climb. “Besides, you couldn't do it!”

“Indeed I could! You should only see me climb our big oak tree! My—”

An elderly lady who chanced to be passing, emitted a horrified gasp, and the stout gentleman on whose arm she leaned, puffed out his cheeks several times and sent a shocked frown at Cranford.

Inwardly bubbling with laughter, he pulled the miscreant's hand through his arm and advised her that he would never be able to show his face in the cathedral again if she did not behave with more restraint.

“Oh, I
am
so sorry,” she whispered penitently. “I will be meek as a lamb, I promise.” Her chastened state lasted for thirty seconds. She began to giggle, leaned closer and hissed, “Did you see his whiskers vibrate? 'Twas like corn in a strong wind!”

Cranford whispered, “Lady Buttershaw could make 'em fly, did she only thunder at the poor old fellow!”

That picture made Zoe giggle so much she had to hide behind her muff and pretend to be sneezing, but when they reached the vestibule and could look down the length of the nave and crossing and choir towards the distant High Altar, she was struck dumb and stood motionless, her lower lip sagging and her wide eyes drinking it all in.

Cranford had only visited the cathedral once before, and was as awed by its magnificence as was Zoe. His murmured suggestion that they move on was ignored, and he had to tug at her hand to gain her attention. “Do come along,” he urged. “People are staring. They think you're one of the statues.”

She smiled at him blindingly, and walking on, murmured, “'Tis even bigger inside than outside!”

He grinned. “Silly chit. That's not possible.”

“Well, it
seems
bigger.” She gave a sudden skip, and looking at the floor, yelped, “Oh, my goodness! Are we stepping on people?”

A small group of passers-by frowned at her.

A verger came up and said sternly that voices should be kept low in the cathedral.

“The lady meant no disrespect,” responded Cranford, irked.

“If your lady has a question—” began the verger, with a quelling glance at Zoe.

“Oh, I am not Mr. Cranford's lady,” she explained earnestly. “We have only just met.”

Cranford moaned under his breath.

A large military gentleman put up his quizzing glass and subjected them to a piercing stare. The sour-looking lady he escorted snorted audibly, “Whatever next!”

Zoe said hurriedly, “But I do have a question, if you please. How was it built? I mean—did it go up one part at a time, so they would have a place for services while the rest was a'building?”

The verger elevated his nose. “Sir Christopher Wren,” he divulged loftily, “had the entire foundation laid at one time.”

“Jolly sensible,” said Cranford. “Some wooden-headed banker was sure to have come along and started penny-pinching, otherwise.”

“Just so, sir.” The verger felt something heavier than a penny being slipped into his palm, whereupon he warmed to this unlikely pair and took them under his wing. “If you will step this way, sir, you will note that the dome is not as high as it appears from the outside … That is because…”

An hour later, as they walked back towards the vestibule, Cranford declared that never in his life had he heard anyone talk so much. “All that stuff about the Romans, and Inigo Jones, and that fellow Dugdale! I thought he never would stop! And you had to egg him on with all your questions!”

“But only think, Mr. Cranford. How marvellous that 'twas all built in only five and thirty years, whereas it took a century and a half to build St. Peter's! And all directed by just one man. What a wonder he must have been! And—oh, wasn't his epitaph the loveliest thing? Especially the ending—'Reader, if you seek a monument, look about you.' Which is perfect truth.” Glowing, and deeply moved, she flung out an arm. “All this—”

There came a startled exclamation. Appalled by the awareness that in her enthusiasm she had struck someone, she turned quickly. “I
do
beg your—” She broke off. “Oh! 'Tis
you!
”

Cranford jerked his head round apprehensively. ‘By Jove!' he thought, and stared admiringly at a darkly bewitching female countenance with a pair of great dusky eyes that seemed to dance with laughter. Her taffeta gown was of vibrant orange, and tiny orange flowers banded her dashing ruffled cap. Her footman was restoring a dull rust velvet cloak that had slipped from one shoulder. Even as he gazed, the shapely red lips parted in a warm smile and a gloved hand was extended to Zoe.

“We meet again,” she said in a husky and faintly accented voice.

“How lovely!” Clasping her hand, Zoe said, “Miss Benevento, may I present Lieutenant Cranford?” Formality deserted her and she said exuberantly, “He is not in uniform now, so I expect I should not use his military title, but I think it rather nice. This is the lady I was telling you about— Oh, but I didn't finish telling you, did I, Mr. Cranford? Well, you see, I was taking Viking for his walk this morning, when somehow—”

Cranford interposed laughingly, “Yes, and I must hear all about it, but I fear we block the way, ma'am.”

Her face fell. “I should
so
like to talk with you, Miss Benevento. Are you leaving also? Perhaps we might walk together for a little way?”

The dark beauty said that she would be delighted to have another chat, but as they reached the portico, she looked about dubiously. “Alas, I fear 'tis coming on to rain, and the wind is chill. I am engaged to meet my old nurse at the Piazza at half past one o'clock. Perhaps another time?”

The prospect of going into the popular coffee house with Zoe Grainger on one arm and this vivacious lady on the other inspired Cranford to at once beg the honour of Miss Benevento's condescending to join them until her friends should arrive. “It wants an hour until half past one,” he pointed out. “Plenty of time for us to enjoy a cup of chocolate together, while you two ladies tell me all about your meeting.”

“Yes, yes,” said Zoe, pressing Miss Benevento's hand. “Do say you will!”

The dark eyes turned dubiously from Zoe's eager face to Cranford's smiling one. It was an engaging smile, and her own dawned. “Very well,” she said. “I expect my footman will think it quite shocking, but I accept. 'Faith, but I could not be more pleased, for I am new come to London and have few friends.”

Not by the flicker of an eyelash had she betrayed any awareness of the peg-leg. She was, thought Cranford, as poised as she was beautiful, and he was quick to endorse Zoe's fervent declaration that Miss Maria Benevento had just found two new friends.

It was agreed that they would meet at the Piazza, and as they set out Zoe described her meeting with their new acquaintance. “She could very easily have been cross,” she admitted, “but was instead so kind and friendly. And did ever you see anyone so beautiful? She would be just right for you.” Before he could catch his breath, her brow wrinkled, and she added with a trace of anxiety, “Or is she too old?”

Amused, despite himself, he said, “What, trying to fob me off already, and our betrothal not yet published?” Zoe laughed, and he went on, “You are outrageous, which I am sure you have been told before, and I have no need of a matchmaker, I thank you! Furthermore, if the lady is past four and twenty I should be very much surprised, and although you likely judge that ancient, I assure you 'tis not. She is likely already betrothed. Indeed, with her looks and charm 'twould be astonishing if she was not.”

Despite Lady Clara Buttershaw's assurances to the contrary, it was raining steadily by the time the two carriages reached the Piazza. The coffee house was crowded, and Cranford was far from displeased to see all eyes turn to them as they walked in, and to note that Gilbert Fowles, whom he loathed, was among those present, and watched him with envy. Since he was well known here, he was able to secure a comfortable table away from draughts, and a waiter hurried to welcome him and take his order.

By the time the steaming chocolate arrived they were chattering like old friends. Cranford marvelled at the fact that Miss Benevento, so vibrantly lovely, was apparently unattached. Her slight and charming accent was explained when she told them that she was of Italian birth, but had lived in Switzerland for some years with an elderly English aunt. She seemed completely unaware of her beauty, and listened attentively to whatever was said. Her interest was so warm and sincere that Cranford suddenly realized he had been talking for some minutes about his brother and sister and their happy childhood at dear old Muse Manor. He was not the man to rave of the stellar qualities of those he loved, and he broke off in no little embarrassment to apologize for boring on at such length.

“This is not the case,” said Miss Benevento. “I miss my own family greatly, and am glad always to learn as much as I may of life in my new country. Besides, London is a great city, but”—she gave a rather wistful shrug—“one can easily be lonely here.”

Cranford found it difficult to believe that she could be left alone for a moment. “We cannot have that,” he declared. “Can we, Miss Grainger?”

“Certainly not,” said Zoe, and asked with sudden shyness, “would you be so kind as to call on me, Miss Benevento? I am sure Lady Julia Yerville would be very pleased.”

“Lady Yerville might,” answered the beauty. “But, alas, Lady Clara Buttershaw she would not be pleased at all. I have met her you see, at—oh, I forget where, but I was properly snubbed, and rather obviously judged to be not good
ton.
No, my dear. I cannot call on you.”

Zoe looked crestfallen, and Cranford said, “If you wish, Miss Grainger, I could take you driving in the park and we could meet Miss Benevento there. Or perhaps you can walk together when you exercise your dogs.”

This suggestion was happily received by both ladies. They were planning their next meeting when a boy brought a note to say that the lady who had hoped to meet Miss Benevento was detained and regretfully would not be able to come today.

Cranford lost no time in persuading their new friend to join them for a light luncheon. It was a merry hour, and farewells were exchanged with the firm understanding they would all meet again very soon.

Zoe had thoroughly enjoyed her day, and thanked Cranford profusely, but he was uneasily aware that he'd kept her out much longer than had been his intention. When he returned her to the door of Yerville Hall, however, Arbour informed them that Lady Buttershaw was from home, and Lady Yerville had left instructions that she was not to be disturbed for the rest of the afternoon. Zoe gave a sigh of relief, and having received her permission to call the following day, Cranford was able to leave without fearing she would be taken to task.

C
HAPTER
IX

Perched on a stool in the laundry room, Zoe watched Gorton press the primrose silk robe
à la Française
she was to wear tonight, and argued, “What is so frightful about my being here?”

Gorton slanted a nervous glance at the door. “It is not fitting for you to be in this part of the house at all, Miss. Ay doubt their la'ships have ever in their lives seen a laundry room.”

“Good,” said Zoe blithely. “Then they're not likely to pop in and catch me! I could not wait to tell you about my day! I had the most wonderful time. I don't mind the rain a bit, and besides, we were in the cathedral most of the morning. It is so
beautiful,
Elsie! I had all I could do not to weep! And Mr. Cranford was prodigious kind to me, even when some people looked fussy because I told him how deedily I can climb trees.”

Gorton wailed, “Oh, Miss! You never did!”

“Of course I did. My brother and I used to— Oh, I see what you mean. Well, I don't know that I'm grown up, of course.” Zoe grew pensive and added, “I cannot but feel sorry for children who never are allowed such fun. Did you climb trees when you were little?”

“Wasn't any. Not down by the river.”

Appalled by the vision of children growing up treeless, Zoe exclaimed, “How dreadful! You poor dear! Do you know, London is grand and wonderful, but there's nothing like the country … But then again,” she said, brightening, “we don't have places like the Piazza in Burford.”

“Took you there did he, Miss? 'Tis a grand place to see and be seen.”

“Oh, it is! And we were seen, I promise you! When we walked in
everybody
turned to look at us!”

“And whay not, Ay should lake to know? You was so pretty as any picture this morning!”