“Well, let’s get on with it, then.” Looking like he’d rather wrestle a shark, Telford offered a hand to the ladies at large.
It must have been the engines, because as they made their way ashore, it was Lady Emily who did the shouting and rushing forward upon spotting Beth—and to his trained eye, her joy looked genuine, untainted by any devious motives. Not to say she couldn’t be hiding them, but if so, she was quite skilled at it. He watched as the girls embraced, Lady Emily laughing and clutching Beth close.
“Oh, I’ve been so worried!” she exclaimed. “We haven’t heard from you in so long, and when I came for a visit, you were nowhere to be found. I confess my imagination began conjuring up all sorts of nightmares. I made an absolute nuisance of myself until Father agreed to let me come back for a longer stay so I could put some genuine effort into finding you.”
“You must have been desperate, if you threw yourself on the mercy of Lottie Wight. At least if Libby’s stories of her can be trusted.” Beth grinned, looking from Emily to Libby. “You’ve met, correct?”
Hand on her hat to keep the wind from snatching it, Lady Emily turned to smile at Libby too. “On my previous visit here, yes. How do you do, Lady Elizabeth? It’s so lovely to see you again.”
Libby smiled back and murmured a greeting, but given that the newcomer was noticing the size of their party and seemed a bit taken aback by it, Beth had to interject with those introductions.
Oliver paid especially close attention to her reaction to Lord Sheridan, curious as to whether she knew he was the buyer her parents had lined up for Beth’s finds, but she greeted him with the same blank politeness she did the rest of them. No recognition in her gaze for anyone but the two Elizabeths.
“I don’t believe she knows much about what’s going on.” His observation was quiet, meant solely for Libby’s ears. Because he’d ended up at her side again, despite the invisible daggers her brother was throwing at him.
“Good.” Relief saturated Libby’s returning murmur. “I hated the thought that Beth’s friend might be party to whatever underhanded dealings are in play.”
Mabena must have heard their quiet exchange too. She fell in on Oliver’s other side as they all wandered away from the other ferry passengers. “The question, if you ask me, is what she knows that she doesn’t even realize. With a bit of luck, it’s something that will be useful to us.”
“We’ll find out soon.” Though certainly not out here in public. But Beth knew to lead the way to Mrs. Gilligan’s, which would afford them privacy enough for a conversation.
Quick motion in his periphery caught his attention, making his shoulders go tight again. Though only for a moment. A young lady dressed much as Mabena had been when she came home was jostling her way through the crowd, scanning faces rather frantically until she spotted their group and then visibly relaxing. Oliver nudged Mabena. “I think we’re leaving without Lady Emily’s lady’s maid. Would you?”
Mabena chuckled. “Since I’m more suited to the company of maids than ladies, you mean?”
He gave her a helpful shove in the shoulder. “You’re the one who decided to prove him right. And now that you’ve that experience, you ought to at least know how to talk to her without startling her.”
She shoved him right back. “I think you just want a moment alone with Libby.”
“You call this alone?” But it was as alone as they were likely to be in their current crowd—Beth and Lady Emily, heads together and arms linked, were strolling along the road, the two lords a few steps behind. Neither, for once, paying any attention to him and Libby. He offered his arm with a grin. “My lady?”
“Good sir.” She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they fell in a goodly distance behind her brother and not-fiancé. Though her gaze seemed focused more on Beth and Lady Emily. “I think it’s time I give up.”
He quirked a brow at her—not sure what she meant exactly, but hearing no defeat in her tone.
She nodded at the girls. “I’m not like them. And I don’t enjoy trying to be.”
He covered her hand with his. “You don’t need to be. You’re you, which is absolutely perfect.”
Her sigh sounded somehow both happy and resigned. “You’re the only one I’ve ever met who thought so.”
Hence why she needed to stay here, with him. He might have said as much had her brother not remembered to send him a scowl over his shoulder just then, and hang back enough that he probably would have heard.
But it was the truth. Why should she spend the rest of her life struggling to fit into a world that couldn’t appreciate her? London balls, country house parties, drawing room visits—those didn’t make her sparkle, make her come alive. She needed this. God’s world in all its splendor surrounding her and stirring her curiosity. She needed to chart the tides and the paths of the migratory birds and count the flower species with Mr. Menna each year. She needed to serve his neighbors tea on cool Wednesday mornings and listen to Tas-gwyn’s ridiculous stories. That would make her eyes shine, day in and day out.
But how to make her brother see that?
They soon arrived outside Mrs. Gilligan’s shop, which he could hear Lady Emily declare to be “darling.” It was, rather purposefully. All the shops on the islands were so that they might draw in the tourists and the pounds sterling they tossed about without a care.
The flat above it would be far more utilitarian, though Mrs. Gilligan had taken care with it, thinking she’d be welcoming her daughter and a newly born grandbabe while her son-in-law was at sea. But Sam had sustained a minor injury last month, so they’d stayed in their little flat on the mainland, and the babe hadn’t made his or her appearance quite yet.
“Ah, my dear Reverend Mr. Tremayne,” Mrs. Gilligan called out the moment they entered the shop. She did sound a bit like Casek’s imitation of her, which made his lips twitch up. “I’ve got the flat pretty as you please for your friend.”
“So very gracious of you, Mrs. Gilligan.” He stepped away from Libby so that he could greet the middle-aged shopkeeper properly, taking her hand and clasping it between both of his. “Any good news from the mainland yet?”
Mrs. Gilligan’s smile was bright, though her laugh was rueful. “Not yet. Any day now, any day. I’m starting at every breeze, thinking it a lad from the telegraph office knocking on my door.” Her face went sober. “How’s your grandmother?”
“Improving, I think, though not quickly enough for us. We do appreciate any prayers you offer up for her.”
“Morning and night, dearovim. Morning and night.” She brightened again, her gaze scanning the rest of the group and landing unerringly upon Lady Emily. “Well now. Shall I show you the flat?”
The newcomer offered a dainty smile, as fragile looking as porcelain. “That would be delightful. Thank you, madame.”
It was, Oliver saw two minutes later, about what he’d expected. Not large by any means, but fully equipped and decorated with all the ribbons and frills a first-time grandmother with a stockroom full of hat trimmings might be expected to produce. “Charming,” according to Lady Emily, and she sounded as though she meant it.