Special Note to Readers: Thanks to the good offices of the writer ChocolateIsMyDrug, I recently found out that this site removed ALL the asterisks I had used as line breaks in my stories. As a result, many of the scene changes in my stories are not showing up. So bear with me while I go through the work of the past months and years to clean up and insert the necessary breaks. The whole project has fairly reduced me to tears, as I meant to spend this time revising and posting new material, rather than redoing most of my previous chapters, or explaining to readers what happened.

The following was inspired by characters in the 2007 BBC miniseries Cranford, which was based on Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford, Mr. Harrison's Confessions, and My Lady Ludlow. My story, however, has no connection whatsoever to the BBC's 2009 sequel.

Chapter 13: Private Interviews

The voices were audible even before Mr. Carter entered the shop.

"I fear I do not understand, Mrs. Jamieson. This commission was made some time ago, and the work has been completed. The expenses have been incurred, and –"

"Oh, my dear Miss Galindo, surely that is of no consequence. You have a good deal of custom and certainly cannot be concerned that my needs have changed, and I no longer require the items in question."

As he unobtrusively pushed open the door, Mr. Carter saw the Honorable Mrs. Jamieson, dog in her arms, standing before Miss Galindo. Miss Galindo, her face a study in hurt, confusion, and barely concealed anger, was attempting to remain composed while Mrs. Jamieson, for her part, kept to an impassive, fixed, and chilly smile.

As luck would have it, that ill-tempered dog began bark and squirm at the presence of a stranger. Miss Galindo glanced towards the door, saw who it was, and a deep flush spread over her face.

"Now stop that – oh, Mr. Carter!" Mrs. Jamieson had at last registered Mr. Carter's appearance, and bowed as graciously as she could while holding an armful of agitated dog. "Dear Mr. Carter! How do you do?"

His hat. He had forgotten to remove his hat. That done, he bowed and smiled awkwardly at the two ladies. "Very well, Mrs. Jamieson. Good afternoon to you, Miss Galindo," he added with a nod and a smile to that lady.

It was Mrs. Jamieson who returned the smile, though warmly this time. "Mr. Carter, this is perhaps the last place on Earth I would have expected your presence, but I imagine you have some commission from Lady Ludlow."

"Lady Ludlow? Yes, yes, of course."

"I expected as much," replied Mrs. Jamieson, again smiling back at him. Still a very fine-looking man, for all that he has endured. Heavens, he must stand full six feet tall. It was unpardonably rude, but her gaze wandered to Mr. Carter's legs. Now which one was it Dr. Harrison took off?

"Well, then, Mr. Carter, my business is concluded here, and so I must not keep you from your errand." Turning to Miss Galindo, she said, "Do not worry, my dear. I am certain one of my neighbors will express an interest and relieve you of the burden of these things. Good day to you." Turning back to Mr. Carter, she added, "Good day, Mr. Carter."

He drew open the shop door and let her pass, then shut it behind her. For a moment he hated Mrs. Jamieson, hated all she represented. He even hated the dog. That she could come in here and subject Miss Galindo to such humiliation --

"Well, Mr. Carter," said a soft voice behind him.

He turned about, a little awkwardly. "Well, Miss Galindo," he said, with what he hoped was a gentle smile. There was no friendly response from her, however, not so much as the faintest effort, and indeed the expression in her eyes seemed to have hardened at his presence.

"Miss Galindo, surely you can guess why I am here today. I had rather hoped to conduct this interview at Hanbury, but your reply to my letter left me no choice."

"Indeed, Mr. Carter, you had the choice to allow the written word to suffice," she said with a meaningful look and a lift of the eyebrows.

Was she all at once slightly more receptive, or was that just his wish? Regardless of which it was, he must see this through.

"Well, then, Miss Galindo, might we sit down and confer in private? I have much to discuss with you, particularly concerning her ladyship's –"

"Oh, Mr. Carter, there is no business we have before us that cannot be conducted right here in this room."

"But we might be interrupted." He did not care to have this discussion while the ladies of Cranford looked on, registering every minute detail.

"Very well." She went to the door and locked it. "Now, what might I do for you, Mr. Carter?"

It was painful to hear such a cold, businesslike question, and from Miss Galindo of all people. She had such a warm, lovely voice, he had noticed during their hours together that spring, and now she --

"Mr. Carter?"

"Well, then, Miss Galindo. Yes. We shall do this as you wish. Firstly, I must discuss with you what took place with Beckett --"

"Mr. Carter, I think that is no longer any concern of yours." Her tone had softened slightly. "Anthony is now employed by Mr. Goddard, and I no longer need instruct him."

"But it was very wrong of Beckett to approach you, to chance subjecting you to the scrutiny of the entire community by arranging meetings with you that were private but could not possibly remain secret. Why did he not come to me? He had to have known I would have helped him somehow, that I would have – "

"But Anthony made his appeal to me, as curious as that seems," said Miss Galindo. "Indeed, I asked him whether he might not instead wish to be trained up as your clerk. Do you know what he said? That he wanted to be his own master and to choose his own teacher as well. Whatever respect he has for you – and he does esteem you, Mr. Carter; you need not worry on that account -- he came to me first."

A new, thoroughly unsettling thought entered his mind. "Miss Galindo, I sincerely hope that Beckett did not – well, that he was not overly familiar--"

"Oh, Mr. Carter, do not make us all ridiculous! Of course there was nothing improper in Anthony's behavior." Gone was the soft tone, and a passionate anger informed her every word. "And I do not know by what right you ask such questions. My reputation is of no concern to you." An uncomfortable blush had spread across Mr. Carter's face, but whether she noticed or not, she continued, "One would think you spent your time in Johnson's Universal Stores studying the local gossip, though I know you do not have the leisure to do so."

"Please, Miss Galindo. I am very sorry I posed such an indelicate question."

"Your opinion of me must be very low indeed if you felt the need to ask it."

"It was not a judgment of yourself, but rather an acknowledgment of the nature of males."

"Indeed. I did not understand you admitted to fallibility in the male."

"I do admit it, Miss Galindo. And there is something more."

"And what is that, Mr. Carter?"

"Fairly or unfairly, the association with Beckett subjects you, as I said before, to gossip and speculation from one end of the village to the other. Surely you cannot have forgotten that."

Calmly and evenly, she replied, "Oh, no, I warned him of that possibility. You will understand, therefore, why we met at the shop and only during daylight hours."

"And what does that avail you if people begin to make unkind comments about you anyway, and shun you?"

"I had not thought, Mr. Carter, that you were concerned with how kindly or unkindly I am treated." She began clearing away the goods she had placed before Mrs. Jamieson.

She was refusing to so much as look at him, and it was beginning to seem that nothing he said could soften her anger.

He tried again. "Miss Galindo, pause a minute. Let us sit down together and discuss this."

"I think, Mr. Carter, that you do not have the right to demand I do so. And you must excuse me; I have a good deal of work this afternoon."

That put an end to his patience. Whether she was wronged or no, he would have it out with her.

"Miss Galindo, I applaud your industry, but I must also note that you have quite turned your back on your work at Hanbury Court, and that without informing me."

As if explaining for the hundredth time, she said wearily, "Mr. Carter, Lady Ludlow has received my notice. I had thought that she would explain what had transpired."

"Oh, her ladyship was most careful, most thorough, most detailed in her explanation." A tremendous understatement, that. "And yet I do not understand why you did not approach me with your concerns. Surely we could have reached an amicable solution."

Miss Galindo, who had again turned away from him and was tidying up, paused once more. "'Amicable,' Mr. Carter, is not an expression I would have applied to our arrangement," she said softly, again without looking back at him.

She continued, more briskly, "But I misspoke just then, Mr. Carter; it was never 'our' arrangement by any means. It was Lady Ludlow's resolve to thwart your plans for Harry that installed me in your office, and I am sorry for that – sorry for what it meant for Harry, sorry for the unhappiness it caused you, and sorry most of all that I permitted myself to be made a pawn in this particular gambit."

Now he saw the angle he must pursue. "Miss Galindo, I know the regard you have for my lady, and I understand that you acted out of a desire to please her. And as for Harry, please set your mind at rest. Indeed you've never shown the boy anything other than kindness."

"I am fond of Harry," she said softly.

"And he of you," said Mr. Carter, with an unaffected smile.

"But then, Mr. Carter," she continued, "we must agree that if I was able to secure Harry's good opinion, I did not and could not secure yours, and that indeed was where the arrangement ran aground." And she turned away and again began tidying the work table.

"I agree to no such thing, Miss Galindo! What is this?" He took a step towards her and she turned around, at last looking directly into his eyes.

"You needed no help, and so you told me. You did not seek to have me installed in your office, and so you told me."

"Miss Galindo, that was before –"

"And now, when everything is changing all about us, with Lady Ludlow's fortunes so altered and poor Harry treated as a pawn – though to a greater degree than I was, certainly – I see where it is you place your trust and confidence."

"And where is that, Miss Galindo?"

She again turned her eyes to his. "Chiefly in yourself, Mr. Carter. But do not be troubled; if I should stumble upon any one of your secrets, I will keep it safe, as surely as you have demanded scrutiny of my own and indeed pursued them right to my doorstep. I confess I know not by what strange sense of duty you compound my humiliation by appearing here to reproach me for –"

"I am not here to reproach you for anything, Miss Galindo! I am here to make it right, to bid you to come back, to resume your place at Hanbury.

"And as for my supposed lack of trust in you, how can you possibly believe in that? Must I remind you again what you did for me in what I thought were my last moments?" And he thought of how she had stood there beside him in Dr. Harrison's office, how she had taken his hand when he was struggling so, how she had gently stroked that hand. He had been convinced he was about to die, and surely she had felt that as well, that those were the last moments they'd ever share on this Earth –

She had turned her back on him, and he realized with shock that she was weeping, helplessly and wholly weeping. He had said too much. God knew what was in her mind, and he had said too much –

"Miss Galindo –"

He broke off helplessly, then tried again. "Miss Galindo, if there was not trust between us in those moments, then I do not know how trust is defined. And there is no one –"

He could not speak himself now; his voice was breaking. And still she stood there, her head bent, her head turned from him, and her shoulders trembling, and there was nothing he could do.

But if she had faced him, turned her eyes upon him, it might have been more than he could bear. In their former relationship, when she had been teasing or arguing, she had always met his gaze boldly, frankly. But her tears – he was unprepared for her tears, which seemed to summon up some vague memory. Had she wept before him once before? Surely not, surely not — not given her boldness, her pertness. Surely he knew her well enough to –

She was now dabbing at her eyes, endeavoring to compose herself. "I am sorry, Mr. Carter," she said, apropos of nothing.

"Miss Galindo, it is I who should beg pardon. I am grieved that you should suffer so, and I would note that my lady is equally grieved."

"Thank you, Mr. Carter." After a little pause, she added, "Though I will of course write to my lady, I would be obliged if you would convey to her my regret for abandoning you all so peremptorily."

"Then you will come back, Miss Galindo?"

"If my lady wishes."

"I – Miss Galindo, it is not my lady who is making the request. She was most insistent that I must take the decision myself –"

To his dismay this seemed to renew her tears, at least momentarily, and he struggled with what course to take next. Quietly he said, "Will you come back, then?"

"Yes, if you wish."

"I do." As gently as he could manage, he added, "I think this means that we have at last come to agreement. And if so, will you at least shake my hand?" He let her come to him; he did not want to impose himself on her, as she was still struggling with her tears and evidently too embarrassed to look up into his eyes. She said not a word but stepped nearer and reached out her hand, and he took it with both of his hands, enclosing it with both of his hands, hoping she'd draw at least some comfort from that, from the warmth of his touch.

"Mr. Carter! Mr. Carter!"

Mrs. Forrester had spotted him and was proceeding across the street, fairly dragging a reluctant Miss Pole by the arm.

"Dear Mr. Carter! How do you do?" Mrs. Forrester cried. Such a brave man! The two ladies, like frilled corks, bobbed up and down with curtsying to him.

"Good afternoon, ladies." He was too distracted to smile at them, plagued as he was by the thought that he ought to turn around and walk back into Miss Galindo's shop and persuade her to close it for the afternoon. Now he had been intercepted, and moreover several ladies were already opening her door and going inside. Good God, Miss Galindo was going to receive clients, and in such a state!

"We have not seen you of late, Mr. Carter! I suppose you have come to town on some commission from Lady Ludlow, and had reason to confer with Miss Galindo," continued Mrs. Forrester, with a knowing glance towards the milliner's door.

"I did have the pleasure of speaking to Miss Galindo just now," said he, mentally reproaching himself for that automatic if polite fib. Still, he must see this through, and immediately. "You are aware, of course, that she is the daughter of intimate friends of Lady Ludlow, and of course my lady has always remained concerned for her welfare."

"Oh, indeed, Mr. Carter, I think we all know the regard Lady Ludlow has for Miss Galindo, and indeed share in it," said Miss Pole, avoiding his eye.

"I am not convinced of that, Miss Pole," he said, with a grave look. "Kindness does not always hold sway when ladies converse among themselves – not that I claim moral superiority for my own sex, mind you, but I think you know what I say is true."

Mrs. Forrester blushed at this and gave an embarrassed titter. "Oh, I am sure you are correct, Mr. Carter. People can be terribly wicked!"

"And when we are, why, we must then repent and make amends, Mrs. Forrester! I am sure you understand my meaning. Good day to you, ladies."

It was strange, Mrs. Morgan thought, that she had managed to bid so decided a farewell to austerity in the last few months. She had come to Cranford alone and in widow's weeds, and within a twelvemonth her fortunes had turned so decidedly as to leave her almost giddy. Oh, there had been that embarrassing business with young Dr. Harrison, but all had ended well, for that dear boy and for herself. He had wed Miss Hutton and she – she had accepted the proposal of Dr. Morgan.

It all had left her quite breathless, this quick succession of courtship and marriage. She had loved Andrew Rose with all her heart, but his had been a reserved affection, rooted more in their friendship and many years of work side by side. But with Dr. Morgan she very nearly felt like a girl again. It was refreshing to find a man who was so unaffected, so artless in his attentions.

And to tell truth, she even felt rather spoiled to the bargain. He always said there was money enough in the household budget to allow his bride to put off her sober garb once and for all, and so she had taken him at his word.

Today, for instance, she was keen to see Miss Galindo about acquiring another bonnet before winter arrived. With a head full of ideas she turned up on the milliner's doorstep, feeling such optimism that it felt as though it were springtime and not late autumn.

She found Miss Galindo alone in her shop. "Good afternoon, Miss Galindo!" said Mrs. Morgan gaily. "I do hope you have gathered all your artistic inspiration this day, for I shall need it –"

She fell silent when she saw Miss Galindo's eyes. For all that the lady was trying to produce a smile for her client, it was clear she'd been weeping, recently and at length.

"Miss Galindo, are you ill?" said Mrs. Morgan tenderly. And at that kind inquiry Miss Galindo could not speak but put a hand up to her mouth as the tears commenced again.

"Oh, my dear," murmured Mrs. Morgan. She led Miss Galindo to a chair, then turned and locked the door of the shop.

Through her tears, Miss Galindo implored, "Please don't, Mrs. Morgan. I have much to do this afternoon. I expect –"

"All of that may wait, my dear. Now tell me what I can get you, how I can help."

In that instant there came a persistent tapping at the door. Miss Galindo made an effort to compose herself and said briskly, "I shall have to get that, Mrs. Morgan. Thank you for your kindness, but –"

This would not do. Miss Galindo could not simultaneously fight off her tears and the onslaught of clients. At once, Mrs. Morgan formed a plan.

"My dear, you are in no state to receive anyone." She opened the door and said to the startled ladies without, "Good afternoon, ladies. I am sorry to report Miss Galindo is unwell, but I will be taking her to Dr. Morgan for a tonic directly. She will be pleased to assist you once she has recovered." She shut the door, decisively and firmly, and said, "Get your coat and bonnet, my dear. I am taking you home with me."

When they arrived at the Morgan household, Mrs. Morgan turned to her maid of all work. "Agnes, make us a pot of tea, and set out some of that cake. And after that Miss Galindo and I are to be left to confer in private. We are not to be interrupted."

"But what if Dr. Morgan comes home?"

"Even Dr. Morgan must wait. Don't worry, Agnes. He'll understand. Now go and put the kettle on."

Before Mr. Carter had arrived at Miss Galindo's shop, he had been so confident of his approach. He would confront her about her absence, she would shamefacedly agree that she ought not to have left Hanbury without speaking to him, and then he would persuade her to return, and peace would be restored.

Things had unfolded so differently from there. Her vulnerability had fairly broken his heart – and he had been the one who deserved reproach, for having implicitly stripped away her defenses while remaining so guarded himself. Well, there would be an end to that. If the gossips of Cranford needed to make amends, and Anthony Beckett too, why, then so did he. And if Miss Galindo required protection, or an advocate, Lady Ludlow would no longer be her only ally. Of that he was resolved.

There was something else, too – this business of detecting or suspecting interest in Miss Galindo from unexpected sources – Captain Brown, for one, and Anthony Beckett, for another. If he was honest with himself, he had no incontrovertible proof that either man was pursuing her, not that he would have blamed them for doing so. Both of them were good fellows, sound and whole and healthy, though not perhaps ready to provide for a wife.

No, if he was frank with himself, he'd have had to say it was his own imagination that was being drawn once again in directions he'd thought it had abandoned. While in the shop he had stood there as Miss Galindo wept, and then he'd had a sudden image of what it would be like to draw her to his breast, to have her head nestled up against his throat, as though she had been formed to stand there, to lean against him. He'd thought of her face resting against his waistcoat while he put protective arms about her shoulders and stroked that smooth hair with his hands and let her release those pent-up tears while he murmured words of comfort to her – but what could he have said, what could he possibly have said to her --

And of course he had not yielded to any one of those impulses. Her pride and, it must be confessed, her anger would not have allowed it, and of course if someone had peeked into the window or even entered the shop as they stood thus, well, yet another story about Miss Galindo would be abroad in the streets of Cranford before teatime. Damn him, he was a good deal worse than Beckett, who had at least come to her seeking only counsel and instruction. But still, Beckett must surely have noticed her eyes, her bewitching smile, how she --

Fallibility in the male. Oh, Miss Galindo had no idea, no idea at all how close she had come to proving its existence.

"Good afternoon to you, Mr. Goddard."

"Why, Mr. Carter, what a pleasure to see you! You are doing well?"

"Oh, tolerably, Mr. Goddard. And I trust your business prospers, and all is well with you and your household?"

"Oh, right as rain, Mr. Carter, right as rain. Now what might I do for you?"

"I would beg leave, Mr. Goddard, to have a word with your assistant, Mr. Beckett, as I have a message to convey to him."

"Oh, indeed, Mr. Carter. I'll have him here directly."

Nothing in their former association had prepared Anthony Beckett for the cold fear he felt upon seeing the expression on Mr. Carter's face. He'd always imagined the man would make a formidable enemy but never believed he would ever have to consider such a prospect himself. Now, seeing the look in Carter's eyes, and guessing the reason he'd come, Anthony fully expected to be the object of profanity such as had not been heard in England since his brother Joe had left on the boat for New York.

My dear Miss

I trust this finds you in good health and that you have had no trouble since last we met.

Mr. Carter has taught me my duty and says I imposed on the kindness of a lady and I must beg your pardon. Miss I am sorry. I never meant any harm and I think you as good a lady as ever I met. I know Mr. Carter thinks so too. He was very angry with me and he told me as much but still spoke like a gentleman for that is what he is.

Mr. Goddard is very kind and thinks well of me not that I deserve it with all I did to bring sorrow on you. I am for making something of myself and want you to be proud of all you did to help me. Someday I will make it right for you. I know I will.

I remain your servant Miss

A. Beckett

To be continued...