“Charles Churchill wrote it was ‘built aloft in air, that serves for show if not for prayer,’” Kenneth said, his eyes glittering at the chance to show off the knowledge his studies had brought him.
“But, to the point, what clue was left?” Xavier asked.
“Kenneth’s man,” Laura looked at the fellow she named, getting a nod that she spoke true, “left this.” She put out her hand, revealing a playing card cradled in her palm: a knave of clubs.
Haddy showed a piece of pale blue paper and handed it Xavier. “This was folded around the playing card,” he said. “I believe you drew the eight, and therefore are the next to solve a clue?”
Xavier in turn handed the paper to his partner, Summer. She held it near a lantern, and read their clue in her soft, clear voice:
“’If you’ve knowledge to gain,
Then to knowledge should ye go.
Take a Heavenly Walk,
And the truth thy heart will know.’”
She looked up. “Whatever could that mean?”
“It’s decidedly a more puzzling clue than Laura and Haddy received,” Michael said as they all exchanged glances, with the exception of Kenneth, who shifted from one foot to the other as though the motion would keep him from blurting out the solution.
“It matters not tonight,” Xavier said. “It’s late, it’s far too warm. We’re all wearied, I have no doubt. Let us retire—”
“Ho no!” Haddy cried. “You’ve ten minutes, the same as Laura and I had, to solve the riddle. Else, it passes on to the next couple to solve.”
“Ah,” Xavier conceded. “Quite right. In that case, Summer, if you please, a moment of your time?” He put out his arm, which she accepted that he might pull her a little aside.
The others watched as they exchanged whispers, the top of Summer’s fair head coming no higher than Xavier’s shoulder, so that he had to bend at the waist to whisper near her ear.
“Why, how clever you are,” they heard Summer say as she lay her hand once again upon Xavier’s arm, this time to be led back to the group.
“We have a solution, I believe,” Xavier announced.
“And it is?” Kenneth asked eagerly.
“Lady Summer, if you would be so good as to read the clue one last time?”
“‘One last time,’ says he,” Haddy said in a loud aside to Michael. “He’s stalling.”
Summer read:
“‘If you’ve knowledge to gain,
Then to knowledge should ye go.
Take a Heavenly Walk,
And the truth thy heart will know.’”
“It’s clear, of course,” Xavier said.
“Not to me,” Penelope complained, but her words bore no real scold as she sought an explanation from her brother. “What does it mean?”
“Not what, but where. Divinity Walk at Oxford, I should think.”
“Oh. Yes.” It was Genevieve who grasped the logic of it at once, even as she half-turned to see Kenneth’s assenting nod. “Bravo,” she added toward Xavier.
Even in the limited light her brown eyes glowed at him. His stomach dipped, then rose as though to mimic the blood now rushing to his face. How many times had he imagined her eyes shining at him with such appreciation? Too many times, it turned out, to let him hold her gaze. Knowing he probably appeared flustered, he abruptly shifted his glance to Summer. He was trying to silently shift the praise to include her…but she failed him by watching Michael. Abruptly Xavier also riveted his attention to the lady’s fiancée.
“It was not such a difficult clue then,” he murmured in Michael’s direction.
“Not exactly sphinx-like, no,” Michael agreed.
“Ah ah!” Genevieve warned her brother, shaking a finger at him. “None of that, Michael. You’re setting us up to fail miserably in our turn, and thereby be the subject of everyone’s sport.” She turned to Kenneth, and somehow the shift ended the awkward moment, to Xavier’s relief. “That brings to mind, Kenneth, the question of what if a team should guess wrong?” Genevieve asked of him. “Surely you’ll not allow us to go racing about the countryside in the wrong direction because of a mistaken answer?”
“I won’t. But, too, recall we wish to end up at Brockmore in Cumberland, so you may safely assume we’ll be traveling in a primarily northern direction. There would be no harm if we went a wee bit awry, keeping that in mind.” He pointed to the blue paper Summer still held, but looked to Xavier. “But, Warfield, how did you solve it so easily?”
Xavier’s equilibrium more or less restored, this query made for easy enough conversation. “It was the card, a knave. Representing a younger man, one presumes. And we are on the road to Oxford, so then I thought of a schoolboy. A ‘heavenly walk’—and if you look at the paper, the W is capitalized—so it struck me, ‘Divinity Walk.’ Of course.”
“Well, I hope I’m half so clever when it comes to the clue that’s given to Michael and me,” Genevieve stated, and now her glowing eyes were joined by a bright smile up at Xavier.
He hadn’t girded himself well enough, for he was caught yet again by her approbation. He tried to return her smile, but his lips bowed downward of their own accord. His eyebrows drew together, and finally he simply had to turn away, hiding the scarred side of his face, as he ever did when he was shaken or unsure.
Even as he turned away, he was dismayed by his own behavior. He knew it wouldn’t seem at all gracious, or even rational. What a sorry oaf he was to allow any flicker of his own relentless and pointless desires to surface at all, with this woman, this friend. It ought make no difference she’d offered him what seemed a heartfelt compliment, that she praised him and thought him clever. To let any idle, mindless reaction enter the harmony of this small group…it was nothing less than wrong. Hopelessly wrong for the way he wished things to go on.
Belatedly he realized Genevieve was staring up at him, her smile fading, a flicker of misgiving sliding into her dark eyes.
“It’s very warm,” he croaked out an excuse, stepping away from her in an uncomplimentary rush.
* * *
Genevieve stared after Xavier, shocked by his sudden coolness, even call it indignation. She’d seen that tight, pinched look on his face before—always the result of a cruel taunt. But what had she done to merit such a look from him?
She’d have gone after him to seek an answer to her question, but Kenneth stepped forward, coming between her and Xavier. She was rattled enough that she took the opportunity to shrink back, even though she felt worse when she saw that Xavier couldn’t stand still, pacing slowly in a semicircle around his friends, careful to avoid coming near where she stood.
“You must keep the playing card,” Kenneth was explaining to Laura. “It’s your team’s token for guessing correctly about the church. It will become more difficult to collect the tokens as we go along.” He turned to Xavier and Summer. “Can we agree that you’ve not had much of a turn, and therefore deserve another clue to solve? Or, becase each team solved half the clue, perhaps I could have Laura and Haddy tear their card in two to share with you—?”
Laura placed the card within her drawstring reticule, patted it, and shook her head. “No half cards, I say. Let them have another round.” She looked about, finding nodding heads and shrugged shoulders.
“Then we are done here.” Kenneth looked pleased.
“I again say we need our rest, that our minds should be sharp for the morrow,” Xavier spoke, ceasing his restless movement abruptly before Summer. He offered his arm once again to her. He added firmly, not looking in Genevieve’s direction, “I suggest we make our way down to the inn and retire for the evening.”
Something new caught Genevieve’s eye. Perhaps I am just feeling unusually sensitive tonight, she thought to herself with a little frown, for she’d suddenly become aware that Penelope hadn’t taken up Kenneth’s arm, choosing instead to attempt the incline unaided. Even Michael had shown the manners to find his sister to assist Genevieve down the hill. Yet, refused wi
th a firm shake of Penelope’s head, Kenneth didn’t insist his partner take his arm. Instead, his mouth turned down, until his gaze found Genevieve’s; he’d abruptly wiped his face clean of expression and turned away.
“The ladies will retire, you mean,” Penelope teased her brother. “Meanwhile, you gentlemen will find the common room and a cup or two of ale, make no mistake about it.”
“One must be pleasant to the locals, sampling their wares and all,” Xavier replied with something of his usual ease, even if the slant of his lips didn’t carry the smile up to his eyes.
No one else seemed to notice, but Genevieve did. Penelope cutting Kenneth? Usually even-tempered Xavier taking umbrage with me for no reason of which I can think? I don’t believe I’m being overly sensitive. Something is not well.
Not least, Genevieve acknowledged to herself, the fact she was suddenly thinking that Xavier’s pique was strangely…diverting to her. Certainly more so than his usual indifferent courtesy. She slid her eyes his way, and found it stranger yet that merely sneaking a look at him caused a little shiver to run up her spine.
Penelope and Haddy took up sparring over the topic of funding local revenues, leaving Genevieve free to silently follow down the hill on her brother’s arm. Things were awry, were they not? She ought to be concerned… So why did she prefer to concentrate on feeling rather tingly, and agitated, and…and enlivened?
Chapter 3
So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceived with ornament.
—Shakespeare,
The Merchant of Venice
The gentlemen took the corner table in the common room, doffing their well-fitted coats and loosening their cravats now that the ladies were no longer among them. When it was seen they were merry despite the evening’s warmth, and were neither haughty nor tight-fisted, several of the locals turned on their stools to trade comments with the stylish group.
“See ’ere,” one man said, standing and reaching over the waist-high plank table that served as the innkeeper’s bar. He produced a stretch of delicate fabric from the shelf behind, which he carried over before the foursome. “This be some of our lace what we makes ’ereabouts.”
“Very fine,” Xavier deemed it, after examining the stretch he’d taken between his fingers. “You challenge the lacemakers of Holland.” He looked around the table and added, “Ought we buy an ell or two for our sisters, gentlemen?”
This was greeted by a round of nods and cheers from the locals. Haddy haggled the price, which resulted in the gentlemen purchasing the entire bolt, to be divided among the ladies later.
Before long a group was gathered around them, and a game of dice was introduced, a ha’penny a point. Haddy scooped up the dice, inspected them, and declared them acceptable.
An awkward silence fell. Xavier looked to Haddy and lifted one eyebrow in amused censure at the man’s too-obvious faux pas.
“Er…and of course you must allow me to purchase a round for everyone,” Haddy announced as he reached for his coin purse.
This mitigated the implication of cheating and cheered the crowd considerably, and the game began. Once or twice the landlord begged the gentlemen to remember the ladies above stairs, and the group would fall to murmurs for a short while, but then ale and good spirits soon had them shouting again at their good or ill fortune.
Xavier had thought he longed for the numbness that the ale could bring, but as the evening progressed he found the brew and its promise of temporary oblivion held no real appeal. Better to talk and game and laugh, for this was his world, the world of bachelors, of nights away from womenfolk. Let its familiar nature soothe his beasty heart. Then at least tomorrow he would have a clear head, and could think how to avoid those situations that aroused his needy nature.
One fellow—Xavier judged him a farmer—knew no such restraint when it came to drink, laughing frequently between deep draws from his mug. Late into the evening, the clearly drunk man leaned forward on his three-legged stool, surprising Xavier when the man managed to retain his seat. “M’lord,” he slurred, “how comes it yer wears that patch on yer eye?”
Xavier sat up stiffly, and slowly the conversation around him died as all became aware that an offense had been offered. Michael and Kenneth exchanged concerned glances.
“No, sirs, we’ll have none of that,” Haddy interrupted. He just kept from scowling by looking down and sweeping up the dice once more. “Now, as to this wager, I will—”
“No, Moreland,” Xavier said in a cool and quiet voice. “This fellow asked me a question. And not rudely. He shall have his answer.”
Haddy lowered his chin, scowl deepening, but he put the dice aside and sat down as if Xavier had chastised him.
Kenneth and Michael gave each other another glance, uneasiness mixed with curiosity. Xavier had never told them the tale of his eye’s injury, and after a dozen silently frozen glares, they’d ceased asking years ago.
He sat back in his chair now, knitting his hands together over his stomach. The look on his face steady, but not the icy mask the question usually brought forth. After a sizable pause, he began to speak slowly, in a storyteller’s voice. At his tone, Haddy continued to stare down at the table top, but Michael and Kenneth both tilted back their heads in expectation of what was coming.
“My loss took place during a terrible storm at sea, gentlemen.” Xavier slowly began to lean forward. “My father had thought I ought to gain a little knowledge of the world, and the lessons to be had from hard labor.” Several men nodded. “So he sent me on a one-time trip sailing for the Far East. I was tolerated as mate to the ship’s bosun, to learn how to load and unload cargo. I dressed the part, and we were a ragged crew. Not least the captain, who had a wooden leg and, due to a terrible accident with the anchor rope, a hook in place of his right hand.” Xavier held up his own right hand and wiggled his fingers.
Michael’s eyes narrowed and he slid a glance at Haddy, who didn’t deign to return it, but instead only crossed his arms and shifted his eyes from the table top to Xavier where he spoke.
“You should have seen it, men.” Xavier had leaned enough that now his elbow was on his knee, his weight shifted forward as though to be sure he could leap up from his chair at a moment’s notice. “A creature, the like of which I’ve never seen, nor even heard of before. An octopus, they called it, with tentacles twenty feet long, covered in terrible suckers, and a great bulbous head the size of a bull.”
Some began to realize they might be having a rum tale told to them, stirring on their seats with either scowls or grins, but one wide-eyed man called out, “Aye, Oi’ve heard of them, what-yer-say, them occupuses.”
Xavier pointed at him, going on gravely. “Then you’ll have heard it said the giant ones—like this vile monster—can reach right up out of the merciless sea to the deck of a great ship. It can snatch a man down to his watery death, in a moment, as it wraps its mighty tentacles about the man, squeezing the life from him, making him gasp for breath even as its awful jaws come down and tear his head from right off his body.”
“Is that right, Harve? Them occupuses got great, big jaws, do they?” Harve’s neighbor asked anxiously.
Harve looked uncertain, but then he nodded. “Right then, that’s what Oi’ve heard.”
“So an octopus attempted to tear off your head?” Michael, gamely repressing a smile, supplied the question for Xavier, who acknowledged the favor with an inclination of his head.
“Oh no, not I. ‘Twas the captain who had his head torn off. But before, as he was being dragged across the deck, screaming and thrashing as a man would, that’s when his hook raked across my face,” he cried with a gesture to accent the story, then pointed to his patch. “The captain took my eye to the briny depths and left me with this appalling reminder of that poor soul’s final moments.”
At last Haddy responded, with a tiny shake of his head and an even tinier smile.
A silence filled the room for a moment, brok
en only by the ticking of a clock above the room’s empty grate.
“Go on wit’ yer!” a voice suddenly called from the back of the crowd.
Someone tittered, and then there was a general, appreciative laugh.
Xavier smiled broadly. “But ’tis true. Every word.” He tilted his head to one side in a quick bob. “Or, well, some of them could be true.”
“Such as ‘the’ and ‘heard it said’,” Haddy put in.
Harve looked about, realizing the truth a little too far behind his mates. The severely drunken man who’d first asked the question of Xavier turned to Harve and bawled, “You booby!”
“Booby, am I? Yer the drunken sot—”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Xavier spoke. “My tale is told, and the hour is late. May I suggest you assist one another in returning home?” His lips remained upturned, but something steely had crept into the gray of his good eye.
Harve and the drunken man fell still, until someone thumped them both in the back and the group around him laughed anew. Joshed and harried to his feet, Harve belatedly mumbled a sheepish “Right-o, m’lord” to Xavier, and his mates good-naturedly ushered him and themselves out into the night.
* * *
Kenneth took advantage during the commotion to lean toward Michael. He whispered, “How did he lose that eye? I’ve never known.”
Michael spread his hands. “Nor I. For my cheek in asking once, he gave me a punch that gave me a week-long bruise on my arm. I never asked again.”
Kenneth nodded in empathy. “Me, too.” He considered a moment. “Haddy knows, I think.”
“He denied it to me once.” Michael rubbed his chin. “But I didn’t quite believe him. I think he knows at least something about it.”
Kenneth nodded again.
“I tell you this, I think Haddy’s determined to keep Xavier’s secret.” Kenneth’s nod came a third time. “What might it be?” Michael pressed. “Surely nothing that requires such perpetual concealment?”
“Unless his father…?”
Both men strained to imagine Lord Fenworth somehow causing the injury and Xavier forever after hiding his parent’s blame through silence—but in the end they both shook their heads. “Fenworth and Warfield get on. There’s no…,” Michael searched for the word, “no strangeness between them.” He pointed his finger at Kenneth and twisted his hand in a gesture that said he had another point to make. “And accident or no, Fenworth would accept the responsibility. We’d surely have heard the tale by now it he’d caused the injury, don’t you think?”
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