Enticing Her Unexpected Bridegroom

by Catherine Hemmerling

  Instead she looked at the ground as she stammered, “I-I, uh, think I figured out how, ah, the Potters are communicating.”

  “Excellent!” David exclaimed, as if not affected at all by their clasped hands.

  Sarah hazarded a look at her husband and lost a bit of her shyness in the face of the extremely pleased look he was wearing. Was he teasing her? Did the holding of hands mean something to him or not? Lord, but he was a perplexing man. If he was playing with her emotions, she didn’t like it one bit. Things were so much simpler when she thought he only tolerated her. Since they had had relations, she simply didn’t know where she stood. Was he developing feelings for her or just enjoying having a plaything to tease?

  Sarah tried to ignore David even as she forcibly removed her hand from his. Looking only at Melinda, who had the grace to act as if nothing was happening between them, Sarah told her what she had seen.

  “As you know, I was monitoring the part of the stream where the women collect their water,” she began with a calmness she didn’t feel. “At first, nothing seemed amiss. One of the younger wives came, collected a pot of water, and then departed. A few of the younger children came with miniature kitchenware and played a bit of make-believe. ‘Cooking dinner’ and what not. It was rather sweet. Then suddenly William’s wife appeared with two pottery jars. She shooed the babes off and proceeded to fill one of the pots. The other she just left to the side of the stream, almost as if she couldn’t find a way to carry both vessels back to her house. But it made me wonder…why bring two pots, if you knew you couldn’t carry them both home?”

  “What do you think it means?” Melinda asked breathlessly.

  “I’m not sure, but I think Mrs. Potter may have hidden something in the pot. A note for her husband perhaps?”

  “Pots, Potters,” David mused quietly. “It does make a kind of sense. And who would suspect an abandoned pot near a stream of being anything of importance?”

  Sarah looked over at the man who had the power to hurt her more than anyone, and she wondered again what he was thinking.

  “It’s brilliant, actually!” Melinda declared. “We should go look in the pot now before the men get to it.”

  “It should still be there,” Sarah agreed, “unless the Potter men were watching the stream like we were.”

  David shook his head. “If pottery is the vehicle for their communication, it is innocuous enough that it could remain where it lays until darkness falls. It would be safer for the men to collect the message at night.”

  “Then should we go read the message now or wait until tonight for the men to collect it?”

  “I think we need to confirm Sarah’s hypothesis first. If a note is indeed found in the pot, then it will support the need to stay up all night waiting for the Potter men. If it is not correct, which I highly doubt, then at least we will not have wasted an evening in the relative wilderness.”

  Sarah saw the logic of David’s thought process. She would rather not spend the night in the woods if she didn’t have to.

  “I suppose I should be the one to retrieve the note?” Melinda surmised. “I am well-known in the area, and it would not be strange for me to be seen by the creek.”

  “It would be suspicious for us to be found there, that is certain,” Sarah said.

  David nodded his agreement. “Sarah and I will return to where she was watching the watering hole. We will alert you with a nuthatch call if we see anyone approaching.”

  “Off I go, then,” Melinda announced cheerfully. If she were experiencing any fear whatsoever, it didn’t show in her jaunty wave. She disappeared into the overgrowth almost immediately. Sarah looked at David and quickly glanced away. They were alone once again, and it was all Sarah could do to hold her tongue from asking all the questions she had for the man.

  Instead she turned and backtracked toward her previous hiding spot. She could hear David behind her and, despite her jumbled feelings, she was comforted by the sounds. She really had missed him while she sat alone in the brush of a slight hill rising above the worn opening near the stream. Since leaving on their mission, they had not spent much time apart and Sarah, for one, was becoming extremely accustomed to having David within arm’s length.

  It used to be that his nearness caused her no end of nerves, but now, she found his company reassuring, familiar almost. Still wildly attractive, but hers. Hers in a way she never thought possible. She hoped that when they returned to Mayfair, things wouldn’t revert to the stilted environment they had endured before.

  More than anything, she hoped they would return a couple in love.

  Sighing, Sarah wondered at her thoughts. David had given no real indication of loving her or even falling in love with her. He merely liked her, certainly wanted her, but love? Maybe everyone was right. She was touched in the head.

  “Are you all right?” David asked quietly.

  They had come to a stop at the base of the incline. Sarah looked at David in confusion. To what was he referring? Did he really want to have that conversation now?

  “You looked pained for a moment,” he explained when she continued to stare at him in silence.

  “Oh,” Sarah replied. She supposed she had looked upset when she realized how silly her dreams with this man were. “Yes, I’m fine. Just coming to terms with reality.”

  Now David looked baffled, but Sarah didn’t feel like enlightening him. She didn’t see the point.

  “Just up here.”

  Turning, Sarah crouched as she climbed through the bushes. When she reached the spot she had utilized earlier, she moved over as far as she could within the cover of the low-lying shrubs so that David could join her.

  Silently, she pointed toward the water. She could still see the clay container listing slightly to one side at the edge of the reeds growing in the shallows of the water. It didn’t appear as if it had been moved in any way.

  To her right, she could just make out the path leading away from the stream to the cottagers’ abodes. Within moments, Melinda appeared carrying her own water container. Sarah was sure this was not where the girl would normally go to retrieve water for her aunt, but the vessel was not big, and it was conceivable that anyone seeing her would think it was for personal use. Perhaps a picnic or long walk. Certainly a water pouch would be more convenient, but Sarah was sure it was all that Melinda could find.

  Actually, Sarah found it a clever ruse. Lady Lancaster would find this girl’s resourcefulness admirable. Perhaps, when all was said and done, Sarah would introduce the young lady to the dowager duchess.

  When Melinda reached the edge of the water, it was immediately obvious that she saw the piece of pottery in question. Nonchalantly, she walked up to it and squatted down almost on top of it to fill her own pitcher. With one hand she held her container under the moving water. Blocking her other hand with her skirts, Sarah could only see faint movement as the younger girl explored the inside of the large pot.

  It seemed to take a very long time, and at one point Melinda let go of her water bottle to pick up the pot with both hands and shake it violently. With a huff of clear exasperation, Melinda looked over at the hill where she knew Sarah and David where hiding. She shook her head, which Sarah took as an indication that no note was found.

  Sarah looked at David. Now what?

  Chapter Fourteen

  There is much to learn by studying nature and taking the time to seek out its secrets.

  —The Duke of Lancaster

  David returned Sarah’s look with his own blank stare. He had no idea what to do next. He had thought for sure that a note would be found in the pot. It only made sense that the Potters would use pottery.

  From what Melinda said, the Potters stayed true to their name by making their own clay and brick wares. Pitchers, mugs, plates, urns. And much more. They supplemented their meager earnings by selling their merchandise at the local market. Melinda said they had glazes and techniques passed down for generations. Some were even said to date back to t
he classic Greek.

  So if they weren’t using the pots to hide messages, how were they communicating?

  A rustling coming up behind him startled David, and he moved to protect Sarah. An instinct that was not new to him but had been growing by leaps and bounds the last few days.

  He had been captivated when Sarah had enveloped him in a hug when he had arrived at the clearing, and he found himself overwhelmed with a childlike joy when he had swung her around. And when she made a move to release his hands, he had found he didn’t want to break off all contact with her. Holding onto her one hand was an involuntary action that he could not seem to stop. It was not gentlemanly to insist on keeping her hand captive, certainly not while in the company of others. Even just one other. But he was loath to let go.

  Obviously he was losing his mind, but he had been having such a good time. Until Sarah had snatched her hand away and turned her attention to Melinda. Perhaps she thought his actions were insincere?

  It had hurt his feelings, though, and that bothered him. He had been acting like a man in love, and she had rebuffed him. What was his world coming to? Hadn’t Sarah Jardin been in love with him forever? But that was before she really even knew him. Was reality paling in comparison to her dreams? That would explain what she had said earlier when she had looked so sick.

  The notion of her no longer loving him, wanting him, struck deep and hard. It was all David had been able to do to keep a calm outward appearance. The thought hurt more than he could have imagined.

  “David?” Sarah said anxiously from behind him. “What is it?”

  “Someone is coming.”

  “Yes. It’s Melinda. Didn’t you see her take the pot? She is bringing it to us.”

  “What!” David exclaimed. “What is that fool girl doing?”

  “I imagine she wants our opinion,” Sarah replied. “If we are quick, hopefully she can return it before anyone notices.”

  “Either there is a note in it or not,” David muttered. “What purpose will it serve for us to see it?”

  Sarah moved so that she could look at David curiously.

  “Are you quite all right?”

  “Of course,” he responded, more brusquely than he would have liked.

  Sarah opened her mouth as if to speak, but Melinda’s arrival stopped whatever it was she was going to say. David was grateful. He didn’t have any inclination to explain his bad mood to anyone, much less Sarah. Especially now that he suddenly realized Sarah Jardin may have the power to break his heart.

  “—there must be something we are missing.”

  David only half heard Melinda’s reason for bringing the pot to them, but he pretended that he had heard it all.

  “Perhaps it is not the pottery at all.”

  Melinda looked at David. “I would normally agree with you, but I have never seen the Potters create a container like this one.”

  David took the pot into his hands and looked it over. It was large and serviceable. Completely white, it was void of cracks, dings, or any marks of an inferior glazing. It was also very empty.

  “It looks like a normal pot to me. Somewhat unimaginative, but why overly decorate a utility item?”

  “That’s just it,” Melinda insisted. “I have seen many of the Potters’ creations, even those they use themselves, and I have never seen them make one entirely white. It doesn’t even have their mark on it.”

  “Their mark?”

  “Yes, their maker’s mark. It looks something like this.” Melinda took a small stick and drew a stylized P in the dirt.

  “And they put this mark on everything they make?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why not this one?” David wondered aloud. He picked up the pot again and examined it thoroughly. He could still see nothing. He held it up so that the sun could shine on it fully.

  “Do you see that?” Sarah asked slowly, reaching for the large pitcher.

  “What?” David said, handing it over to her. He certainly wasn’t having any luck.

  “I don’t know, but I swear I saw a slight discoloration when you held it up to the sun,” Sarah said, as she turned the piece over in her hands. “But I don’t see it now.”

  “Maybe just a trick of the light?” Melinda suggested.

  “Maybe,” Sarah replied, “but it reminds me of something Rose once told me.”

  She looked at David and asked, “You know how Rose is always reading those scientific journals and tomes?”

  David rolled his eyes. Yes, he was well aware of Rose’s fondness of that particular area of study. And despite his weariness of hearing her go on and on about the most random, and often boring notions, he was also well aware that her unusual interest had saved his brother-in-law’s life and captured a killer.

  “I am aware,” he replied drolly.

  Sarah flashed him a commiserate smile. “Well, I vaguely recall her telling me about some oxide or another that could change color when exposed to heat. She said she had done some research into it when exploring ways to carry out…crypto—?” She cut off there and seemed to be trying to come up with the word Rose had used.

  “Cryptography!” David burst out. “Of course!”

  “You know it?” Sarah asked, clearly surprised.

  “Well, Simon and I explored many ways to hide messages from each other in school. One of our professors, completely unaware of our intent, gave us the official term for using codes and ciphers to hide clues and notes. Our further research taught us about—ah, what was it called? Thermochromic properties of certain minerals and compounds.”

  “Thermochromic?” Melinda asked.

  “Yes, like Sarah said, some compounds can change color when exposed to heat. Titanium dioxide, for example, will turn yellow when heated.”

  “Yes, titanium dioxide! That was it,” Sarah announced, “the oxide Rose told me about. But could it be used in pottery?”

  “I don’t see why not. Add it to a clear glaze over a white background. You could draw anything you like in the glaze and no one would see it unless they heated the dish or added hot water to it.”

  “Neither of which we can do here,” Melinda said mournfully.

  “Not true!” David said pulling a tinderbox from his provision sack. “I thought our day might go late, so I came prepared.”

  “Oh, David.” Sarah nearly purred. “You are so smart.”

  Smiling giddily, David ducked his head and concentrated on pulling some dry brush together that they could use for a fire. Now was not the time to give in to the lustful feelings coursing through his body. Dammit.

  “Look around for some stones about so big,” he instructed a bit more roughly than he had intended, holding his hands about six inches apart.

  The ladies wasted no time joining the hunt. They really needed to return that pot as soon as possible.

  Within minutes, David had put the found rocks in a circle formation, and in the center he made a pile of dry leaves over which he laid larger brush. Using the flint, steel, and tinderbox, David had a flame going in just a few minutes. Dropping it onto the dry leaves, it was only a matter of moments before they had a small fire burning. Melinda ran down to the stream to gather her now overflowing pot from the creek.

  Upon her return, David poured a cup or two of water into the white pot. It would be dark soon and they needed to figure out the message now.

  Holding the container over the fire, David kept swirling the water around the bottom of the pot until he could see steam rising from the neck. Then he turned the pot this way and that, swishing the now hot water all over the inside of the vessel. On one side, letters began to appear.

  My dearest William and sons,

  There was a couple here today claiming to be friends of Esther and Henry. They said they were here to help, but I did not tell them where you are. Please advise. Should I trust them? I don’t know what to do. I am so afraid. Leave response with the birds.

  All my love…Ada

  Below the note was the ornate P
that was the Potters’ mark.

  “Remarkable,” Melinda breathed as the letters faded with the cooling water. “To think the Potters could be so clever.”

  “Cryptography has been used for centuries. There was even a rumor that some clay tablets from Mesopotamia were encrypted to protect a craftsman’s recipe for pottery glaze. Perhaps that knowledge was passed down through generations to the Potters, and that is where they got the idea,” David mused. “Certainly their foray into hiding clues has advanced well beyond what Simon and I did.”

  “They also are very good at hiding their feelings. I would never have guessed Mrs. Potter was scared. I also am surprised she told William about us. Perhaps our pleas did not go as unheard as we thought?”

  “It appears not,” David agreed as he covered the fire with dirt, extinguishing the flames expertly, and dampening any residual embers.

  “What are we going to do now?”

  “Well, first of all, I think you should return this pot to where you found it, then we need to figure out where the ‘birds’ are.”

  Melinda hopped up immediately and grabbed the container. She dumped the water out over a nearby bush and then ran down to the stream. She placed the vessel carefully on one side just the way they had found it. When she returned to the knoll, David led the way back to where they had agreed to meet the carriage. It was past dusk at this point, but David didn’t think the day would be ending for them anytime soon.

  Sarah opened a satchel that was stowed inside the carriage and passed around chunks of bread and cheese. They ate in silence, presumably thinking about the latest clue they had been given. David was at a loss. Was it a tree? A favorite bird watering hole? It must be something well-known to the Potters. A place where birds always are. But how were they supposed to figure out such a broad reference?

  He voiced his thoughts and was disheartened when Sarah and Melinda agreed that they, too, had no idea where to start.

  “Perhaps we know more than we think,” Sarah finally said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the last clue was found on something made out of pottery, correct? It stands to reason that this clue also has something to do with the products the Potters have made.”