Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed a hand to my forehead to counter the mental jig. Good gracious! I needed Nora. She would listen to every detail, and then with a cool head, point out the most probable scenario.
The seconds continued to tick away, and just when I felt at my wits end, the front door opened. My ears pricked up at the sound of Nora addressing a servant. Tossing the book aside, I ran into the foyer to meet her.
“Where have you been all day?” I asked by way of greeting as the footman took her cloak.
Nora looked at me, her face glowing with joy. “Oh, Selah, I’ve had the most wonderful time.”
Her answer made me laugh despite my own worries. “I’m not surprised. Between the two of us, you were always the better Samaritan.” Not that I didn’t gain a measure of satisfaction from such services, but when it came to those in need, Nora was practically a saint. “In truth, you are the only person I know who would claim raptures after spending the entire day amongst the old and infirm.”
A flash of confusion crossed her face.
“I hope it wasn’t a secret,” I said, somewhat puzzled by the reaction. “Your mother told me you were visiting indigent Quakers with Margaret Fox.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Nora rushed, her smile returning in full force. “So many people in need. You would never believe how hard we worked today. I am utterly exhausted.”
Nora started for the stairway and I fell into step beside her. The scent of hot wax followed us from the numerous candles burning in sconces along the wall. So much light at nighttime was an unknown extravagance in the Colonies. Even more, the faint scent of roses was new tonight and must have cost Cate a pretty penny.
A familiar melody settled in my ear, and for the first time I bristled at the sound of Nora’s sweet voice. “Isn’t that from The Beggar’s Opera?”
The humming cut off at once. “Is it? I swear, I can’t recall.”
“Miss Rose sang it in the second act.” While she visually molested Henry.
“You must be right.”
“Now the run has ended, I guess she’ll be looking for a new part.” If Tom Thumb had any jades, courtesans or flirts in the cast, Justine could saunter over to the Haymarket Theater for the role.
“James said the play has been extended for another week. Something about popular demand.”
I sniffed indignantly. “One time was more than enough for me. The writing was downright lewd and that Peachum character a trollop if ever I saw—”
Nora coughed, as though needing to clear her throat. “Did you and Henry do anything fun today?”
“No, he had to leave London early this morning.”
“That’s too bad. I hope you weren’t too lonely with only my mother for company.”
“Well, it’s hardly been dull around here while you were away. I dare say you’ll never guess who has invited us to dine this Thursday evening.” I paused just long enough to draw breath, and caught another whiff of roses. “Henry’s father, Richard Fitzalan.”
The name dropped like a sodden rag. “That’s nice,” Nora said, neither slowing her pace nor sparing a glance in my direction.
I stopped in mid stride. “Didn’t you hear me?” I sputtered at her back. “Henry’s father has invited us to dine. And that’s not even the worst of it. I’ve so much to tell you, I don’t know where to begin.”
She reached the upper landing, and I scampered the last few steps to catch up. “Selah, do you mind if we talk about this tomorrow? I’m so tired, I can’t see straight.”
My mouth fell open, accompanied by a curt breath of disappointment.
Nora gave me a pleading look. “Please don’t be mad. I promise we’ll talk later.”
In the foyer, her excitement must have overshadowed the exhaustion I now saw so clearly. A twinge of guilt softened my disappointment, and with some effort, I even managed a weak smile. “A good night’s sleep will do us both good. My news can wait until tomorrow.” Assuming I didn’t explode from anxiety in the meantime.
Relief spread across her face. “We’ll talk in the evening then, when I return home.”
“Are you going out with Margaret again? I would love to come along if you don’t mind the extra company.”
Her expression turned to surprise. Or was it panic? When I looked closer, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I...we...” she stuttered, most uncharacteristically for someone who never suffered from a loss words. “The work is very hard. I’m sure you would find it disagreeable.”
The corners of my mouth tugged down. “Hard work has never frightened me, and no doubt, indigent Quakers will be far more entertaining than the lecture your mother has planned for tomorrow afternoon. A gentleman is slated to speak at the Botany Society on the benefits of binomial nomenclature. Apparently, there’s been such an influx of foreign plants brought in from the trading ships that people are having difficulty keeping them straight.”
Nora’s eyes grew round with interest. “Fascinating,” she said, sounding almost sincere, and a little too eager. “You should definitely attend.”