The Village Spinster by Laura Matthews Page B

what is he doing at her house this hour of the night? The sister is sick, no effective chaperone there. That sort of thing could be going on at this very moment.’ But you would not wish me to send you away, for fear of such talk, would you?”
    “No one is saying any such thing,” he retorted. “They know I’m here to visit my sister, and that she is very ill. It’s only natural that I would come to see her.”
    “Perhaps. But your mother didn’t come with you. Nor did your brother. And there are only a sick girl and a maid in the house to give the appearance of propriety. All I’m saying is that it is a matter of perspective. Frankly, I can’t think that anyone is interested enough in my affairs to concern themselves with what is going on in my cottage.”
    He snorted. “You aren’t naive enough to believe that.”
    “You haven’t the slightest idea how naive I am, sir.”
    He regarded her speculatively for a moment. Clarissa saw him take in her cap, her face (no longer in the first bloom of youth), and her figure hidden under an India shawl. And she imagined he would remember that she had not even had on shoes when he visited her the previous morning. Eccentric, yes, but doubtless not the village loose woman. He tapped impatient fingers on the shining table. Before he could speak, there was a knock at the door and soon Meg was ushering William into the small dining parlor.
    “Evening, Miss Driscoll. I thought I might find you here, Kinsford. Good biscuits, aren’t they? Meg is a gem.” He took a third chair with very little prompting and helped himself to the molasses treats. “Meant to be by earlier but a friend from school stopped on his way through. How’s Aria?”
    They explained the situation and Will pursed his lips. “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”
    “I think so,” Clarissa assured him. “She’s sleeping now.”
    The earl rose abruptly and said, “We should leave Miss Driscoll in peace, William. Having Aria is taking up a great deal of her time."
    Obediently, his brother rose, but before he left the house, William managed to whisper to Clarissa, “I have something special for you. I’ll bring it by first thing in the morning.”
    Oh, wonderful, Clarissa thought as she gathered the shawl more closely about her and went in search of her book. Heaven knew what William would consider an auspicious gift under the circumstances. Clarissa could scarcely contain her curiosity.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Clarissa slept restlessly. Her small bedchamber, one of two at the front of the house on the first floor, felt airless and cramped. Climbing out of bed, she slipped her feet into comfortable, worn slippers and drew a woolen wrap about herself. At the window overlooking the street she could see no light in the whole town. Doubtless it was the middle of a moonless night.
    Off to the right lay the fields of one of the more prosperous farms in the neighborhood. To the left lay several houses on the main street which crossed her lane. Nothing stirred. Obviously it was not a sound from without that had wakened her. And the house itself was quiet. Even the small fire in the grate was totally out now. But it wasn’t cold, either, that had awakened her, for the room was not particularly chill.
    Still, she could not contemplate returning to her bed. Something tugged at her, refusing her peace. Aria had been resting quietly when she came upstairs, but that was no guarantee that she remained well. Clarissa hastily lit a candle and moved silently through the hall and down the stairs to the ground floor. The sitting-room door was closed, to keep the warmth of the fire within the room as long as possible.
    She opened the door noiselessly, not wanting to awaken her patient. Her eyes went directly to the sofa and found it empty. Clarissa’s heart lurched in her chest. The candle shook slightly in her hand. It was not a large room, though the largest in the cottage. Even given the inky shadows of the