The Chocolatier's Wife (50 page)

Andrew blinked.
“That
is true.”

“My
brother. You
want
so
badly
to
hate
me
you’ll
believe
anything anyone
says,
without
properly
thinking
it
out.
I
am
sorry.
I
did
not
realize
I was
wronging
you
by
gi
v
ing
you
this.
It
didn’t
occur
to
me
that
you
wouldn’t wish it.”

They’d
certainly
lost
no
time
moving
into
the
house,
once
his
father
told him
the house came with the duties as heir.

“But
you
are
right.
I
did
wrong
both
you
and
Tasmin.
I
shall
make
it
up to both of you,
if possible.”

“It
is.”
Andrew
smiled.
“Come
back.
We
can
move
out
of
this
house easily
enough.
Not
half
settled
in,
we
are.
I
just
want
to
be
a
clerk
again.
My share
was
gene
r
ous
enough,
and
you
can
give
me
whatever
you
think
just,
if you feel guilty. Tasmin
can
have
the life she believed she was getting.”

“And
what
would
Bonny say
to
that?”
He
felt
the
panic
and
rebellion rise again.
“But this is not what I
want with my life.”

He
liked
cooking. He
liked
the
idea
that
with
chocolate
he
could
make a
lot
of
people
happy,
not
just
those
who
could
afford
to
pay
him
to
do their
trade.
He
was
sick
of
the
sea,
even
though
at
first he
had
loved
her beyond
all
things.
Well,
perhaps
not
sick
so
much
as
afraid
of
the
voice that
whispered
to
him.
The
idea
of
asking ...
no,
it
would
be
begging,
even though
he
knew
it
was
what
his
father
wanted
...
to
come
back made
him feel
trapped
in
a
metal
box,
thrown
overboard
into
the
Vining Sea,
no
air and
no
chance to ever be free.

Andrew
looked
disappointed.
“See?
Nothing
anyone
else
wants
concerns you.”

“Why
does
it
have
to
be
either
or?”
William
asked,
trying
to
be
reasonable. “Can
we
not
think
of
another
solution?
It
might
not
make
father
happy,
but we can
surely think
of a
better way for
ourselves?”

His
brother
looked
away,
and
so
William
stood
and
left,
tired
of
the nonsense.
The
maid,
when
he
asked
if
he
could
speak
to
Bonny, said
she was
indisposed,
and
so
he
found
himself
standing
on
the
path,
staring at his
childhood
home.
He
knew
to
make
good
on
his
promise
to
Tasmin he needed
to
visit,
to
talk
to
the
servants,
to
see
her
room,
but
he
didn’t
have the strength to face her again.

Coward
,
he
thought
with
reproach,
but
still
his
steps
turned.
He
needed to visit
Pencote’s.

The
clerk
was
a
mousy
little
brown-haired
woman who
had
the
ability to
look
quite
severe.
So
severe
in
fact,
that
it
took
some
courage
to
ask, again,
“But
you
are
certain
that
no one
from
Pencote’s
delivered
a
package that night?
Or
any
other night,
say,
that week?”

She
frowned
at
him
and
flipped
through
the
logbook
pages.
It
took
her
several
moments,
and
he
realized
when
he
got
a
look
at
the
date
on
one
of
the
pages
that
she
was
being
a
bit
smart with
him,
and
looking
at
a
longer range of time.

“The
last
delivery
to
the
Bishop’s
house
was
three
weeks
ago.
Of
that
I
am
pe
r
fectly certain.”

He nodded. “The authorities must have
been surprised.”

That
stopped her.
“What
do you mean?”

“Didn’t the
authorities
come
by,
asking
you
if
anyone
scheduled
a delivery, if an
y
one was missing a
uniform
coat?”

She blinked,
and
then shook
her head.

William
felt
like
he
was
finally
getting
somewhere.
“Then,
may
I
ask,
is
anyone missing a
uniform
coat?”

She
stepped
away,
looking
nonplussed.
“I’ll
ask
around.
I
didn’t
think
of it,
really. Until
you
said
authorities,
I
didn’t
make
the
connection
between the
date
and
what
happened
to
the
Bishop.
Most
curious.”
She
held
up one
finger,
to
make
him
wait,
and
went
into
the
back.
When
she
returned, her
movements
were
even
more
aw
k
ward. “Five
weeks
ago
a
jacket
went missing from
the laundry.
I
hope that helps.”

“Thank
you.
It
does indeed.” Good.
One more
thing to look
for.

Hi
s
nex
t
sto
p
wa
s
jus
t
a
fe
w
block
s
down
,
t
o
th
e
locatio
n
o
f
Mis
s
Dovlington’
s
Boardin
g
Hous
e
fo
r
Employe
d
Ladies
.
Mos
t
people
,
whe
n
they hear
d
th
e
nam
e
o
f
th
e
place
,
woul
d
win
k
an
d
nudg
e
eac
h
other
,
bu
t
i
n
truth i
t
wa
s
a
n
austere
,
seriou
s
place
.
I
t
wa
s
no
t
th
e
kin
d
o
f
plac
e
h
e
coul
d
easil
y
imagin
e
Ceceli
a
livin
g
in.