Storing Up Trouble, стр. 18

Norman nodded. “A logical decision.”

“I’m nothing if not logical,” Aunt Gladys returned before frowning. “But speaking of logic, is there any logic in continuing to hold on to my niece? Surely both of you have determined that I don’t present a threat to Beatrix, unless . . .” She smiled. “Could it be that the two of you have formed an attraction to each other, and you’re using this most unusual situation as a way to enjoy unexpected closeness?”

Beatrix found herself back on her feet a split second later, the rapidity of her return to the ground causing her to lose her balance and stumble into Norman, who steadied her and winced.

“Sorry about that.”

“As you should be. Was there a reason you just dropped me like a hot potato?”

“Of course there was. I’ve often been the victim of many an aunt, sister, mother, grandmother, or random stranger who’ve set their sights on me as a potential suitor for one young lady or another. A bachelor gentleman is evidently difficult to ignore for women with matchmaking on their minds, even though I’ve been able to steer relatively clear of that because of my work. I don’t have time for romantic nonsense.” He shot a glance to Aunt Gladys. “Thought it best to nip any thoughts of matchmaking your aunt may be harboring in the bud before they got out of hand.”

Aunt Gladys laughed. “My dear boy, while I’m sure you would make Beatrix an admirable suitor, even with your reputation of being an eccentric, I’ve got plans for her that don’t include gentlemen . . . yet. But do know that I’ve now taken your reluctance about matters of courtship into account, and with that settled, what say we repair to the parlor for some refreshments? We were just about to enjoy some lemonade before we partake in some dancing.”

“See if he’ll agree to a few turns around the parlor with us,” a voice called out from behind Aunt Gladys. “It would be awfully nice to have a strapping young man to dance with for a change—not that we mind dancing with Edgar or Hubert, but Edgar tends to get winded after a while and Hubert is missing a leg.”

Beatrix directed her attention past Aunt Gladys and found they’d been joined by at least ten women, all of whom had faces smeared with red and all of whom were wearing unusual ensembles of clothing, quite as if they’d rummaged through old trunks and thrown on anything that wouldn’t be missed if it was ruined.

The woman who’d just invited Norman to join them in a dance waggled her fingers Norman’s way.

Aunt Gladys blew out a breath. “Honestly, Mamie, how many times must we go over this? It’s not appropriate for you to blurt out observations about strapping young men.” She turned to Beatrix. “Mamie’s only recently come to us from a dance hall off of Twenty-second Street. She spent almost three years there playing the piano, but now she’s given up that life and is determined to improve her circumstances.”

“How’s she determined to do that?” Norman asked. His obvious determination to avoid addressing the flirtatious batting of the lashes from Mamie made Beatrix’s lips curve.

“By improving her knowledge of proper etiquette and behavior, which will hopefully then see her achieving some success with obtaining employment with a reputable orchestra. Truly, her skill with the piano is something that cannot be denied.”

Norman glanced to Mamie and then quickly back to Aunt Gladys after Mamie blew him a kiss. “Have you been meeting with much success?”

“She’s still a work in progress.” Aunt Gladys sent Mamie a fond smile before she nodded to Norman. “Do say you’ll join us for some refreshments.”

“And dancing,” Mamie called over her shoulder before she followed the rest of the women out of the room.

Norman shuddered before he shook his head. “Regrettably, I must decline, Miss Huttleston. I’ve been away from home for a few weeks and have matters that I need to attend to this evening.” He tilted his head. “I am curious, though, about what was said regarding a man named Hubert. Does he really dance with only one leg, and how does a person go about that?”

Aunt Gladys leaned to the right and gestured someone forward. The sound of uneven clomping rang out, and then a man appeared through the dimness of the hall, walking over to Norman with a distinct limp. Bending over, he rolled up his pants, revealing a peg leg that had been painted a bright yellow.

“Hubert Barrett, sir,” Hubert said while Norman bent over to get a closer look at the man’s leg. “As you can see, I do have a leg of sorts, one that allows me to enjoy a few turns around a room. Mind you, I’m not capable of doing a full polka because that vigorous dance leaves the stub right below my knee throbbing something fierce.”

Norman dropped to a knee and peered at the wooden apparatus attached to Hubert’s knee. “Did the physician who fit you with this wooden leg take his time measuring you? It seems to me as if the cup that goes over your knee and keeps the leg attached is not fitting properly.”

“They don’t make them individual-like. I was simply shown a room where they had a few legs, picked one out, and the good doctor showed me how to pull it on and keep it on with suspenders attached to my belt.”

“Seems a bit antiquated,” Norman said as he straightened. A loud clock began clanging as it marked the time, which set the cats to scattering, one of which slunk across the floor to snatch the dead mouse Phantom had left behind, disappearing with it down a hallway.

“And here’s where it’s time for me to take my leave,” Norman said firmly, turning from where he’d been watching the cats to nod at Beatrix. “You’re sure you’ll be all right if I leave you here?”

“I’ll be