She went upstairs with the ledger pressed to her heart, though the receipts were in her hand.
The next week brought rain.It fell steadily over Ashcombe Wells, silvering the pavements, darkening the portico stones, and testing every repair Mr. Meer had ordered to the roof. Buckets stood in the service passage. Workmen climbed ladders. Plasterers examined the ballroom ceiling. Carpenters shored the gallery. And tradesmen came and went with the purposeful air of men who enjoyed being part of a drama.Phoebe was everywhere: she negotiated with suppliers, wrote to absent patrons, soothed Lady Enderby, organized a lecture on Roman antiquities, and persuaded the town baker to provide seed cake for half his usual charge in exchange for a notice printed in the program.Mr. Meer began calling her "the General" when he thought she was out of hearing. She pretended not to hear because she liked it too much.Their alliance became the talk of Ashcombe Wells. Mrs. Bell said they were saving the town. Captain Fane said architects always fell in love with impossible structures. Lady Enderby said Miss Hartwell must take care, for a woman who proved too capable frightened timid gentlemen. Phoebe replied that timid gentlemen were not her responsibility.But gossip, once stirred, does not always remain kind.On a wet afternoon, Phoebe entered the library to deliver notices and heard her name spoken near the shelves."She is forever with him," said Miss Aurelia Voss, the alderman's niece, in a voice meant to carry just far enough."One must admire such dedication," another young lady murmured."Perhaps the Assembly Rooms are not the only thing under repair."There was a smothered laugh.Phoebe paused. She had endured condescension often enough; she had even endured pity. But there was a particular cruelty in women suggesting that useful work must be improper if done beside a man.She turned the corner. Miss Voss colored, but lifted her chin."Good afternoon," Phoebe said. "I have brought the notices for Saturday's lecture. You may wish to attend. The subject is Roman engineering. It may broaden the imagination beyond scandal."Miss Voss stared. Phoebe placed the notices on the table and left before her composure failed.Outside, rain swept across the square. She stood beneath the library awning, breathing carefully."Miss Hartwell."Mr. Meer approached with his hat in hand, rain on his shoulders. One glance at her face altered his own. "What has happened?""Nothing of consequence.""I dislike that phrase. It usually means something of consequence has happened to someone expected not to mind."She almost smiled, but the attempt failed. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Tell me."They Were Supposed to Be Arguing Over Plaster and Ledgers — They Ended Up Falling in Love
They Were Supposed to Be Arguing Over Plaster and Ledgers — They Ended Up Falling in Love
Chapter 11
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