Shady Lady Read Online Free Page B

And now it seemed that Eric was taking up cudgels on his grandmother’s behalf.
    Jo’s first encounter with Eric was when she found him in the
Journal
’s offices at one of the presses. He wasn’t too thrilled when she’d shown him the door. Her second encounter was after she’d spoken to his grandmother about his behavior. Little boys and printing presses were a dangerous combination, she’d told his grandmother. Next day, her front door was splattered with an egg. There was no sign of Eric, but she knew he was the culprit.
    His grandmother had no control over him.
    The blasted rain had started again! Jo now struggled to get her umbrella up. This done, she picked her way around gravestones and made for the church porch. Having spoken to the boy’s grandmother to no effect, she decided to have a word with Mr. Sutherland, the vicar. Maybe he could succeed in checking the boy’s waywardness before it landed him in serious trouble.
             
    She left the church feeling thoroughly chastened. The vicar had told her that Eric’s grandmother, who had a weak heart, had taken a bad turn. A neighbor was looking after Eric in the meantime, since Eric was an orphan and there were no relatives to take him in. On the following morning, Eric would be leaving for a school in Barnet.
    In spite of everything, Jo’s sympathies were stirred, and she ended up offering to help the unfortunate family in any way she could. The vicar thanked her for the kind thought but said that it wasn’t necessary. He had everything in hand.
    When she arrived home, her widowed aunt, Mrs. Daventry, was waiting for her in the morning room. “Come and warm yourself by the fire,” she called out.
    Mrs. Daventry was plump, good-natured, and an agreeable companion. She kept her own house in London, and she had one married son who lived close by in Oxford. From time to time, she would go there for a visit, but not for long since her daughter-in-law did not go out of her way to make her feel welcome. Jo, on the other hand, was always glad to see her aunt.
    While Mrs. Daventry poured the tea, Jo helped herself to a macaroon. She felt a twinge in her back and winced. “Eric Foley again,” she said in answer to her aunt’s questioning look.
    Mrs. Daventry sipped her tea while she listened to Jo’s story. Finally, she said, “I’ve heard about the school Eric is going to. It’s very strict. They say that Mr. Harding, the headmaster, is a fiend for discipline. Poor Eric.”
    Jo said, “I’m sure the vicar would not be sending him there if it was so bad. And there’s nothing wrong with discipline. It’s just what Eric needs.”
    Her aunt nodded. After a moment, she said, “Where is the money coming from to send him to school? It’s not a charity school. Someone must be paying the shot, and I don’t think his grandmother is well off.”
    “The church.” Jo tried to recall what the vicar had told her. “I’m sure that’s what the vicar said. I offered to help, but he said there was nothing I could do now.”
    Mrs. Daventry’s cup rattled in its saucer as she set them on the table. “Nothing you can do!”
    “He said he has everything in hand and that Eric leaves for school tomorrow.”
    “Well, he hasn’t left yet, has he? We still have time to make up a parcel for him, don’t we?”
    “What kind of parcel?”
    “The kind of parcel a boy looks forward to receiving from home when he’s away at school. Treats, Jo. You know what I mean—cake, sweets, sugarplums, jams, jellies. School fare can be pretty monotonous, and I don’t suppose Mr. Harding indulges the boys.”
    “Isn’t that rewarding Eric for bad behavior? That’s what he’ll think. Next time he’ll throw rocks at me, hoping for a bigger and better parcel.”
    “Nonsense! You’re not giving him a hundred pounds. Cake and a few sugarplums—you’re laughing at me!”
    “No. I’m laughing at myself. I don’t even like the boy. And he certainly doesn’t like me.