by Georgie Lee
In the distance, from the direction of the house, the warning shot sounded.
‘We only have fifteen more minutes.’
I should have been concentrating on the clue and not Hugh.
She hated to think that their missing this last item might mean the difference between them and Lord Westbook and Lady Fulton winning. She wasn’t sure how they’d done in the game for they’d only passed them once, but they’d both seemed very sure of their progress.
‘Then we must think and fast.’
Clara peered over his forearm at the wrinkled and torn paper, for he was too tall for her to look over his shoulder. It brought her cheek close to his arm and, if this had been six years ago, she could have laid her head on his chest and let him wrap his arm around her shoulder while they struggled to figure out Lady Tillman’s clue. But this wasn’t six years ago and, for all the holding of hands on the way to the orangery, they hadn’t touched since. She had no desire to make this awkward by reaching out to him again.
‘I know what it is.’ Hugh jerked up straight, his face brightening with realisation that made Clara bounce a little on her toes. ‘It’s the illuminated manuscript.’
‘Of course,’ Clara exclaimed. ‘The ink is red and gold and it follows the liturgical year.’
‘Let’s go and make certain.’
She followed him around the side of the house and up the back stairs of the portico, certain that when they reached the library the number ten hanging on the bookstand would confirm that he was right. Victory was only one room in Stonedown away and she couldn’t wait to seize it. From across the different areas of the estate she could see people trickling in together to form small groups and discuss the hunt. Hugh pulled open the French doors leading into a small sitting room off the back of the house. They both sighed with relief and delight at the heat that greeted them and began to remove their gloves and open the buttons of their thick coats as they crossed the room and stepped into the hall leading to the library.
There, on one of the benches lining the long wall, sat Lady Pariston and Lord Wortley. It was an odd but charming pairing that one who didn’t know better might mistake for a grandmother and her grandson, but there was no mistaking the defeat making their shoulders slump.
‘Lady Pariston, Lord Wortley, how did you fair?’ Clara hated to see them looking so dejected.
‘Not well I’m afraid, Lady Kingston.’ Lord Wortley stood and bowed, his manners perfect, but his voice, like his frame, not having reached its full potential. ‘Lady Pariston was unable to walk the grounds.’
‘My hips hate the cold,’ Lady Pariston explained with more unhappy regret than elderly complaint.
‘We’ve been trying to work out the clues without actually visiting them but I’m afraid we haven’t fared well for I don’t know the estate, but I believe Lady Pariston did an excellent job guessing many of the items, even if we couldn’t prove it.’ To his credit, the young man demonstrated no bitterness about being held back from activities by his aged partner who appeared more sorry than he did at having been unable to fully partake in the festivities.
‘I told the young man to go ahead without me and have fun, but he wouldn’t leave me. I think it was very kind of him to sit here and keep an old lady company.’ She patted him tenderly on the arm. ‘Even if it means we don’t have a shot at winning that brandy and I so love a small taste of it now and again. It helps with my rheumatism.’
‘What answers do you have?’ Hugh motioned to see their paper. Being in the house, they’d been able to write down their answers.
Lord Wortley gave it to Hugh and he and Clara studied it.
‘You have done remarkably well,’ Hugh complimented.
They were only missing the last two.
‘I’m sure if I’d had more time, I could have come to the correct answers.’ Lady Pariston sighed. ‘But my memory, like my hips, isn’t what it used to be.’
Instead of giving the paper back to them, Hugh slipped their answers behind his, then offered Lady Pariston his arm. ‘May I escort you into the sitting room?’
His offer brought the smile back to her aged face. ‘Yes, I would like that very much.’
He and Lord Wortley helped her to her feet. With one hand grasping her walking stick tight and the other firmly fixed on Hugh’s arm, she allowed him to lead her into the sitting room.
‘May I, Lady Kingston?’ Lord Wortley offered Clara his slender arm, his chest puffed out in pride at being able to escort her.
‘Yes, you may.’ She took hold of his arm and they followed Hugh and Lady Pariston down the hall, through the main entrance hall and into the sitting room.
While they walked, Lord Wortley commented on the weather, the food at dinner last night and all the other polite topics required by the conventions of conversation.
Clara didn’t hear much of what Lord Wortley said for she was too busy watching Hugh and Lady Pariston. Hugh’s tenderness with the Dowager Countess, his easy way with her and his ability to elicit more than one smile or laugh from her touched Clara. Lady Pariston had appeared so downtrodden in the hallway, but now she looked as if this had been her best scavenger hunt ever. Hugh had no reason to be cordial and kind to her but he was, just as he’d been with Clara. It surprised her and left her wondering. Today, he’d acted like the Hugh she’d known as a girl and nothing like the London rake she’d heard so many stories about. Perhaps this was all for show, but his movements and words seemed so natural that it was hard to believe that he was this good a charlatan. Maybe this was the Hugh that Adam and Anne were able to see and Clara should give him the benefit of the doubt as her brother and sister-in-law did. No, it couldn’t be or he wouldn’t have so many sordid stories attached to his name.
A wave of conversation met them when they entered the front sitting room where the other teams had gathered to exchange stories about the scavenger hunt and how well they had or hadn’t done. A group of gentlemen stood around the writing table where a number of quills and inkstands had been set out so the players could write down their answers before handing their papers to Lord Tillman. Hugh escorted Lady Pariston to the comfiest of the two armchairs flanking the fire and helped her to sit.
‘If you three wish to stay here and warm yourselves, I will turn in the answers,’ Hugh offered and, with a bow, made for the writing desk. He was stopped halfway across the room by Lord Westbook who held up his own sheet, seeming to gloat over his and Lady Fulton’s progress. Hugh said nothing in reply, but bent over the table, took up a quill and wrote out their answers. He then handed both pieces of parchment to Lord Tillman. Hugh did not immediately return to Clara, enticed into conversation by Sir Nathaniel instead.
Disappointment dogged Clara at Hugh remaining across the room, but she tried to shake it off. He’d been in her company for the past two hours. She wasn’t surprised he wanted someone new to talk to, especially a man like Sir Nathaniel who was going to help him with his case. Clara knew very little of the legal matter facing Hugh, having avoided bringing it up during their hunt in an effort to not ruin their good time, but she knew it had something to do with Everburgh and its future ownership. She would have to ask Anne about it for she always seemed to hear everything about everyone, especially where Hugh’s details were concerned. Unlike Lord Westbook, she was far more discreet with her knowledge.
As if hearing Clara thinking about her, Anne appeared at her elbow. Taking hold of Clara’s arm, Anne drew her to the other side of the large marble mantel and away from Lord Wortley and Lady Pariston. Mischief burned in her green eyes as bright as the candles scattered about the room to add additional light on this cloudy day.
‘Did you and Lord Delamare enjoy the scavenger hunt?’ Anne asked, certain she and Adam had stumbled upon something more than a deep conversation about mourning.
‘Yes, we did.’ Clara hoped a direct answer would put an end to this line of quest
ioning. It didn’t.
‘Did you, now?’ Anne prodded.
Clara tilted her head and pinned her with a chastising look. ‘Nothing happened between us and nothing is going to happen between us.’
Anne ignored what should have been a silencing glare. ‘That’s not what it looked like when we saw you.’
‘Whatever you have in mind you can go ahead and dismiss it. We are simply enjoying ourselves and that is all.’
‘Be sure to enjoy yourself a little bit more while we’re here,’ Anne suggested ‘You never know what might happen.’
Anne made off to join Adam, leaving Clara to shake her head at her sister-in-law’s insinuation. It seemed being in the country was more boring for Anne than it was for Clara if she was willing to make up all kinds of fanciful notions about other people, especially Clara. Thankfully, there had been no single male visitors to Winsome of late or who knew what other possible romances Anne might have concocted for Clara.
Once everyone had turned in their answers, Lord and Lady Tillman spent another few moments examining them before Lord Tillman placed one on top of the stack and raised a silencing hand. ‘We have our winners.’
The chattering died out as everyone waited to hear who it was. Clara exchanged a triumphant glance with Hugh, certain they would be among those caught in a tie, if not the outright winners. Unfortunately, Lord Westbook and Lady Fulton appeared just as smug from where they sat on an overstuffed ottoman. Clara hoped she and Hugh had bested them. They deserved a little harmless comeuppance for all their arrogant love of gossip and belittling.
‘In the past, people have accused me and Lady Tillman of writing clues that were too easy,’ Lord Tillman explained, leaving them in suspense a little longer.
A few heads nodded in agreement.
‘Judging by the results this year, I think we’ve greatly improved. In fact, there was only one team that got all the answers correct.’
Speculation swept through the room and Clara exchanged an excited glance with Hugh, knowing they’d found everything. He met her eyes with a humility she couldn’t fathom. Whatever the reason for his look, there was no time to consider it as Lord Tillman announced the winners.
‘The team with all the correct answers is...’ He paused, causing everyone who was sitting to perch on the edge of their seats.
‘Get on with it, man,’ Mr Alton urged and everyone laughed.
‘Lady Pariston and Lord Wortley.’
The surprise on Lord Wortley and Lady Pariston’s faces was equal to that of the enthusiastic clapping that greeted the announcement. Lord Wortley looked back and forth from Hugh to Clara, as amazed and perplexed as she was. He opened his mouth to protest the proclamation, but Hugh crossed the room and clapped the young lord vigorously on the back in congratulation.
‘You and Lady Pariston deserve this honour more than anyone else.’ Hugh’s heavy-handed congratulation made Lord Wortley stumble a bit and stopped him from saying whatever he’d intended to say. ‘I hope you very much enjoy the proceeds of your winnings.’
Lord Tillman stepped forward with the brandy and presented it to Lady Pariston who smiled as brightly as she had when Hugh had escorted her into the sitting room. No more was said about the paper not being theirs as they held up the bottle in triumph together and received the congratulations of the entire room.
Hugh stepped away from them and came over to join Clara.
‘I assume you didn’t accidentally mistake the papers when you set our names to them?’ Clara asked in a low voice, the rousing chatter in the room covering their conversation.
‘No, I didn’t. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought they deserved a little joy and triumph more than we did.’
‘I don’t mind at all.’ It was worth their losing to see the delight making Lady Pariston beam and Lord Wortley stand a foot taller, and to realise that Hugh had given up their victory for no other reason than kindness. It made her wonder again whether she’d judged Hugh too harshly, for in one afternoon he’d made it very hard for her to hold on to her poor opinion of him and to forget that he was a man not to be trusted. Except she wouldn’t trust him, not entirely, until she could figure out who was the real Hugh, the man she’d spent time with today or the London rake.
Chapter Five
Clara stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, turning from side to side to admire the fourth dress she’s tried on in the last fifteen minutes. Last night she’d attempted to not give a great deal of attention to her attire until Anne had commented on it. Tonight, what she wore seemed to take on too much importance. She longed to appear at her best without looking too contrived in her efforts, all the while lamenting the overly simple styles of her dresses.
Only because I wish to show Lady Fulton that I am not a dowdy mouse, she tried to tell herself, but deep down she knew this was a lie. She cared about her attire because she would be beside Hugh again.
She’d greeted him this morning with very low expectations and he’d defied every one of them, leaving her unsure what to think about him, and all of Anne’s teasing didn’t help. Under the spell of the scavenger hunt, he’d been the old Hugh she used to admire, but when she was alone with nothing but her past slights and memories it was hard to hold on to this view of him. Hugh could be tricking everyone about his change, using his friendliness and charming personality to draw them in, or it could be real. Unlike the steady grip of his hand against hers today, she couldn’t be sure. She twisted the ring on her finger as she took in her reflection, wishing her mother were here. She would be able to ferret out the truth about Hugh, for Clara didn’t know what to think, but her mother wasn’t here and Clara must decide for herself. If she were thinking clearly, and not battered by old memories of Alfred, her parents and past times at Stonedown, she might be better able to see the truth, but it was so difficult at present.
She dropped her hands to her sides and stood up straight, getting a hold of herself.
There’s no need to lose your mind or waffle like a chicken with its head cut off.
There was no reason to rush to form any opinion about Hugh or to be crystal clear about anything except that she must be friendly with him. There was nothing more to it. During her and Hugh’s last visit here, the desire to unite their lives had seized them so quickly that she hadn’t stopped to think about consequences or difficulties and it had cost her a great deal. It wasn’t the case this time. Perhaps, during dinner and the rest of the activities, she might better observe him and uncover more of the man worthy of Adam’s friendship, the one she’d caught glimpses of during the scavenger hunt. If so, then she would change her opinion of him. If not, then so be it. There was nothing more to it, certainly not enough for her to fret and worry, except there was.
A small part of her, the one that had taken comfort in his presence last night at the foot of the stairs and again at the sundial, the one that had laughed so easily with him during the hunt, wanted the changes in him to be real. If they were, then maybe the joy she’d experienced with him today could be hers again and she could finally stop worrying about their past and simply enjoy the present.
In the meantime, she must finish dressing for dinner and look the part of the Marchioness of Kingston.
‘What do you think, Mary? This one or the dark blue one?’ Clara asked the maid who stood patiently nearby, waiting for instructions to either do up the buttons or to choose another dress from the dwindling selection of gowns.
‘This one suits you the best, my lady. The gold embroidery on the sleeves makes your necklace sparkle and gives your skin such a nice hue.’
Clara wanted to believe her, but wondered if the maid simply wanted to end this torturous routine and go downstairs to join the servants for supper. Clara would summon Anne for her opinion if she thought it wouldn’t garner more teasing about Clara and Hugh. It was another decision she must make on her own.
/> Taking one last look in the mirror and knowing the dinner gong would soon ring, Clara decided to trust Mary’s opinion. ‘I believe this dress will do, but I wonder about the others. Lady Exton is right, everything I have is so dark.’
It was difficult to impress people like Lady Fulton when one dressed like a wraith.
‘Some of your older dresses are much cheerier in style. Perhaps you would like me to send to Winsome to have a number of them fetched?’ Mary suggested.
Such a ridiculous use of time and effort by the servants would normally have made Clara decline, but the more she thought of the pink, yellow and light green dresses she hadn’t worn since before Alfred’s passing, the ones she’d purchased in London, the more the idea appealed to her. ‘It probably wouldn’t hurt to have them here. After all, I don’t know what other events Lady Tillman has planned and I wouldn’t want to appear too dour or wear the same dress twice.’
That was something only a simple country mouse did.
‘I’ll see to it at once, my lady.’ Mary dipped a curtsy that hid her smile, as if she’d known this would be the answer and didn’t believe for a second Clara’s practical reason for sending for the dresses.
The dinner gong sounded as Mary finished fastening the clasp on Clara’s bracelet and Clara froze. It was time to join the others and Hugh for dinner. Every doubt she’d ever had about stepping away from the wall at balls during her Season rushed back to her, making her want to undress and plead a headache to avoid going down. Except she couldn’t be so cowardly. Whatever awaited her at dinner tonight she must face with the same fortitude as she’d met other difficulties. She threw one last look at herself in the mirror, determined to be again a woman worthy of notice by everyone, especially Hugh.