She wanted to get up off her chair and flee, to run away from him, but he was kneeling in front of her, blocking her in.
'But I thought . . . ' He stopped himself, considering her carefully. At last, apparently angry, he got up and turned away from her. 'Bloody hell!'
'I'm sorry-'
'What? What on earth are you on about? Why do you feel it necessary to keep apologizing? Now look . . .' he reached into a pocket, withdrew an envelope and handed it to her, 'you're to go to Haworth today with Mrs. Pascoe to purchase some suitable clothing. Consider this a gift from my mother. You'll need something to wear to church, and winter, the really inhospitable part, is just around the corner. And do get some proper footwear. I want you to retire those shoes the moment you get yourself a new pair.'
When she got to her feet, something totally unexpected happened. He approached her, put his arm around her slim waist, drew her to him. At once, she gasped in fear, her heart began hammering uncontrollably. She knew that she would be able to sense the sheer size and strength of him even if she were to close her eyes. She thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her.
Instead, his brow furrowed, and he said doubtfully, 'You're trembling like a leaf! What are you so afraid of?'
Then, she fled, tripping over her skirt a couple of times in her haste to be away from him. She almost ran into Mrs. Pascoe as she rounded the corner into the hallway.
'Whoa, Pamela! What's your rush? Unless you're in a hurry to get changed. Well, come along! We haven't got all day.'
'Haworth is where we go to do our shopping,' Mrs. Pascoe said as soon as the two got into her faded blue Volvo. 'We sometimes go to Bradford, but it's a little further out of the way. Besides, I'm not partial to Bradford. You'll like Haworth. That's where the Brontë family was from.'
'Who?'
Mrs. Pascoe gave her a not-quite-mock scandalized look. 'Surely you've heard of the Brontë sisters, Anne, Emily and Charlotte, and their ne'er-do-well brother Branwell? No? Well, if you're going to live in this part of the world, you had better learn! A knowledge of the Brontës is essential if you want to be accepted by certain circles. When we get back, ask Mr. Theo if he will allow you access to the library. But don't tell him what you want to read! He has no patience with what he calls fluff.'