CHAPTER ELEVEN
Arabella's trip to London proved to be an exercise in futility, for when she arrived at her brother's lodgings two nights after her hasty departure from Rede Village, his kind landlady told her that Peter had shipped out several days before.
"He paid the rent until the end of the month, though, so you're welcome to stay here. Pity to be on your own for Christmas, but there's no help for it now," the plump gray-haired woman said with a pitying smile.
Arabella then went to the offices of Mr. Brown, the solictor in charge of all Peter's affairs, but everything was shut up for the holiday. They would not be back in until the day after Boxing Day.
She sighed. Well, she was in London, had money. She just had no chaperone. It wasn't fair, but there it was. Men were there for protection, companionship. Females were there to make sure she was never on her own. To be a lone female was to face all sort of deprivations, not to mention depravities.
Now that was not fair. The handsome Dr. Sanderson had done nothing wrong. It had been her fault for kissing him. She had invited his attentions. He had done the decent thing, and rejected her.
Belle sat alone in her step-brother's rooms listening to the clock tick, feeling as though she would scream. She couldn't get the handsome man out of her mind.
Her lack of sleep soon allowed her to succumb to a head cold. She stayed in bed for the next couple of days feeling wretchedly sorry for herself, until she realized she really had very little choice in the matter but to get out of bed. The rent would run out shortly and she had few clothes with her. Things were probably in an uproar back in Somerset with her main servants ill or injured. It would be foolhardy to have come all the way up to London without having met Mr. and Mrs. Pinch or whomever her new guardians were to be.
Thus on an inclement morning, the twenty-eighth of the month, she presented herself at Mr. Brown's chambers again. She was told he was still away, and would be until after the New Year.
"Neville? I don't know any case for Neville," the clerk said.
He leafed through all the papers, and asked, "Not under another name, Miss, is it?"
"Sorry. It must be filed under Davison. My step-brother Peter Davison, or my step-father Jonas?"
"Here it is," he said after a time. "Instructions left by Peter Davison regarding his sister Arabella and her guardianship."
She explained her plight with regard to having to vacate her brother's lodgings by the New Year, and her dilemma as to whether she should return home to Somerset and wait, or to at least meet her new guardians and see what was to be done as long as she had come as far as London.
The clerk, a sprightly elderly man, nodded sympathetically. "All right. I shall help. Normally Mr. Brown would want to take you through everything personally, but as time is of the essence, I shall give you the address."
He pulled out pen and paper as the clock struck three. "A fine guardian. Fine one. Heir to the entire Jerome fortune," he commented as he scribbled down the address.
"Thank you so much for your help."
"Not at all, Miss. I shall put you down in the appointment book for the third of January. You can come see Mr. Brown, and the precise terms will be explained to you by him then."
"Very well, I shall. Goodbye, and Happy New Year."
Since it was far too late in the day to be paying calls, and her nose felt as though it had ballooned from her cold, she returned to her brother's chambers to go over her wardrobe.
She would need to make some repairs in order to present herself at her new guardian's home without seeming like some down-at-heel country bumpkin. If he was as impressive as the clerk had indicated, this Mr. Jerome would be worth troubling to dress for.
She just wondered why Peter had never mentioned him, that she could recall…
She presented herself at the townhouse in Berkeley Square the next day at the stroke of noon dressed as well as she could considering she had brought so little with her.
A tall manservant in a dark suit answered the door. "Master will not be back until the New Year, I'm afraid. In any case this is the wrong entrance."
She blushed, disturbed to think she had been mistaken for a servant when she was clad in her best midnight blue merino gown.
"I'm sorry to trouble you. You don't understand. I've been told my by solicitor Mr. Brown that my new guardian lives here. My brother Peter Davison apparently appointed your master as my guardian before he left for India a couple of days ago."
He looked mildly surprised but nodded. "Ah yes, you must be Miss Arabella. I understand now. Please come in. The Master will be back in a few days' time. He's on a trip to Bath to see friends for the Yuletide season."