by Rosie Wynter
Soon enough, a servant did arrive with tea and informed the group that dinner would be ready within the hour. Claire offered to wake Grace from her rest and was joined by her aunt. Aunt Lynch seemed keen to accompany her and offered her services almost immediately. Claire knew this meant the woman had something to say to her, which she did not wish to say in front of the others.
As they stepped into the corridor, Claire threaded a hand through her hair. She waited for the inevitable comment that was coming. She suspected it would have more than a little to do with the earl.
“I knew the country would make a new woman out of you,” the dowager duchess said. “I don’t know if there is something in the London air, but you and your sisters are easier to manage in the country.”
Claire shrugged her shoulders in response to her aunt’s words. It was obvious the woman had more to say, and she was going to hold her tongue until her aunt had said her piece.
“I must say, I am impressed with the polite and attentive manners you have shown Lord Dalton. I take it his assistance at the carriage has earned him a certain place in your thoughts? He did come dashing to your aid like one of those heroes in the novels you read.”
“Hardly,” Claire spoke at last. “The man is kind and attentive. Beyond this, he is a gentleman of good character. So, why shouldn’t I treat him with a certain level of respect?” Claire’s words began to fly faster from her mouth now. “Please do not think that because I looked to his welfare, that it means I am enamoured with him.”
“Well, you do have a tendency to view all single men as suitors to be either encouraged or kept at arm’s length. As you have not gone out of your way to be mean or dismissive to the earl, I had to wonder...”
Claire took a sharp breath and wrapped her arms around herself, even though it was not cold. Did everyone view her as such a terror? Did others honestly think she made a conscious effort to push men away from her? Granted, she may have done so to a handful of men, who were too blind to recognise her disinterest… still, she would have hoped that her sister and her aunt would have considered these instances on their own merit. Hearing her aunt speak in such a way, however, made Claire wonder.
She would prove to her sister, aunt, and all others that she was quite capable of being courteous to other men. She felt sure she had no feelings for the earl. Even if she had felt a slight fluster as he had entered the drawing room before, it was nothing. Still, she could prove herself capable of forming an honest friendship with the gentleman, if only for her aunt and sister.
Chapter 3
Days at Holdenwood Manor were sedate and relaxed. Claire, always drawn to books, found it ideal for indulging in her favourite hobby. The manor, for all its exterior faults, proved a useful place in which to read. Its strength lay in the staggering number of rooms Claire found, to hide away in. There were guest quarters, games rooms, sewing rooms, music rooms, parlours, and more. Many rooms were wholly empty, and Claire thought these the most desirable places of all to read. She thought such bare and unadorned rooms carried a kind of sad beauty. They reminded her of the empty pages of a book, waiting for the ink to decorate their canvas. Better yet, she knew the servants and her aunt would not think to look for her in such places. So, Claire spent the majority of her days tucked out of sight from the others. Similar to a furtive mammal that made its nest in burrows, she only came out of hiding for food and drink.
When questioned about where she hid away each day, and why, Claire would only say that she was preparing. With a slight smirk on her lips, she declared she was readying herself to be a good aunt. One of the things she’d need to know when her sister’s baby came, was all the best spots for hide and seek. This earned a chuckle and a shake of the head from the others in the house, and Claire was able to carry on as she pleased. As long as she was not tardy for dinner, no one bothered to check on her. This almost came as a surprise to her. Yet, when she thought about it, she understood. Aunt Lynch was exhausted from putting out the social fires Claire had lit in London, and mostly wanted to rest. Grace, meanwhile, had concerns beyond Claire and could not spend much of her day keeping an eye on her. Catherine Blackmore, sweet though she was, was always Grace’s friend first. She spent a good deal of time at Grace’s side each day, watching out for her friend with a charming loyalty. Cromford, of course, had his work to see to each day. So, this left only the Earl of Dalton for Claire to worry about. And Lord Dalton... he was a curious one.
Despite Claire’s best efforts, she could not decide what she made of him. He was not like the other men she had met before. Neither could he be mistaken for the men she read about in her novels and whom she one day dreamed of marrying. Lord Dalton seemed to exist within his own unique classification of man. Claire had dedicated a fair few hours to trying to define this new breed of male – but had failed utterly.
Was Lord Dalton attentive or indifferent? Did he force himself to be polite or did he struggle against some inner reserve? These were questions Claire had sought to answer since her very first day at Holdenwood Manor. Although she believed she had put some effort into her study, she was no closer to understanding the man.
There were many confusing aspects to him. To begin with, there was the unique manner of his interaction with her. The first time the earl had shocked her with his conduct was when he had caught her reading in the garden. He had interrupted her at a particularly intriguing part of the plot. His arrival had been agonising and the last thing she wanted at that moment.
“Good morning, Miss Curtis. A most lovely day to be outside.”
Claire had flinched at the sound of Lord Dalton’s voice. Her lips pursed as she tore her gaze from her book. When she faced him, she wore a steely expression, and she pulled back a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her ears.
“A good day to you, Lord Dalton. It is a fine day indeed. The cool breeze and warm sun tempted me out of the house to do some reading here in the shade.” As if to make the point, Claire held her book out, letting him see it.
The man rubbed the back of his neck and gave a polite bow. “Should I take it I have interrupted you at a critical moment in the story?”
Claire’s brow knotted, “You addressed me at a critical moment...” She answered with a note of caution. “The heroine is about to make an important discovery that will forever shape her view of the world. That is, of course, unless the author is playing me for a fool and there is more to the plot than meets the eye.”
“I see. In that case, I shall leave you to find out the author’s true intentions. I hope you enjoy the book and the rest of your day.”
With that, Lord Dalton had left. As conversations went, it was an unremarkable trade of words. Still, something in the earl’s manner had surprised her. He had seemed eager to talk when he had approached her. He had interrupted her while reading, but he had impressed her by understanding his transgression and leaving her to her book.
So, what was it then? What was it about his leave-taking that had irked her so? Had he been too casual? Yes, that must be it. When he had walked away from her, he did not seem even a little bit disappointed. Finally! She had met a man who behaved exactly as he ought, and yet Claire was dissatisfied. So dissatisfied, in fact, that she could not concentrate on her book.
That evening, Claire shared her thoughts with her sister. Grace listened to the whole story with an amused grin on her face and laughed when Claire finished at last.
“My word Claire, you are the most hopeless case. You make such grand complaints about such trivial matters. I do not know how poor Lord Dalton, or indeed any man, will ever meet your approval.”
“This has nothing to do with my expectations. Lord Dalton and I are not courting, and I have given no indication that I would welcome such a thing.”
“Oh no?” Grace continued to smirk, her grin beginning to annoy her younger sister. “You claim you wish for Lord Dalton to leave you to your book, and yet become distracted and forlorn when he does. I believe you actually wanted him
to put up some fight when he was with you. You wanted to know that he was thinking of you and that he felt some sorrow when he was denied your company.”
“I would not put it in those terms. I cannot abide the idea that he approached me because he had nothing better to do. Was I to be some convenient way for him to pass his day?”
“My dear, you already know very well that Lord Dalton does not act in that manner. He spends every day working on the new wing of Holdenwood Manor and is usually loath to be distracted from it. If he took the time to come over and talk to you, I guarantee it is because he has taken an interest in you.”
“Well then, you would think he would make more of an effort to talk to me then.”
“And this is why you are so exasperating, dear sister,” Grace interjected. “You complain that he left you to your reading. But, if he had pushed matters, you would now be complaining that he is pig-headed and didn’t respect your desire to read. No matter how he acted in the garden, he was destined to displease you.”
“Well, I am not sure I even believe that he has any real interest in me,” Claire asserted. “As said, I saw no hint of disappointment or regret on his features when he parted with me.”
“Well, that is your fault.” Grace pulled herself up from her chair, her brow knitted as though cross. “Have you done anything to earn his regard? You have been pleasant enough at the dinner table, I grant you. Yet, you have done nothing else to earn his notice or affection. At present, you are little more than a stranger to him. He does not know you nearly well enough to yearn after you at all hours of the day. No matter what your novels may have put into your head, real gentlemen do not bet their hearts on love at first sight. I am quite confident in my guess that Lord Dalton has taken a fancy to you. But, he is not an arrogant man, nor a possessive one. If he observes you have no regard for him, then he will not look to pursue you.”
“Maybe the correct thing to do would be to work harder at earning a lady’s attention?”
“Why? What have you done to make it worth his while to impress you?” Grace’s shoulders sagged, and she heaved a sigh. “I love you very much as a sister, Claire. Still, I must tell you that I would not wish any of my friends or Cromford’s to fall in love with you. You spend so much of your time in selfish pursuits. You dream of a perfect man who will ride off the pages of a storybook and whisk you away to your happy ever after. Yet, for all this, you do nothing to earn the attention of such a man, if he exists. One day, I fear, the very man you dream of will come calling. When he does, I ask myself if he’ll even notice you. You spend a lot of time expecting men to treat you a certain way, and to look at you with a certain longing – but what have you ever done to inspire such interest?”
Claire’s head tilted downwards. The air in the room felt close and stuffy, and Claire was aware of Grace watching her. Her sister was waiting for a response. Worse, she continued to hold Claire to ransom, not seeming to wish to let the matter drop. No matter how long Claire stared at her feet, Grace continued to wait for her to acknowledge her words.
“What do you want me to say, sister?” Claire asked at last. She threw out her arms and then turned about, facing the window. “I am not as fortunate as you in having the perfect manners for all occasions. Do you know why I prefer the heroes in my novels to the men I meet in my day-to-day life? The heroes in my books are more predictable. It is easy to know what the hero thinks and feels.”
“Well, that is refreshingly honest,” Grace said, standing. She walked to the window and put an arm on Claire’s shoulder. “I do not wish to be cruel or to hurt you. I only want you to realise how contradictory you can sometimes be.”
“Am I so insufferable?”
“Well, you have all your usual reservations. However, if you are annoyed that he chose to leave you without a fight, I would say you care at least a little.”
Claire sighed. “What do you suggest I do then?”
“Nothing revolutionary, I am afraid. My only suggestion is that you look to spend a little time with him. Just take the next opportunity that presents itself. Give him a chance to discover your true self, and who knows what good may come.”
“You are more impossible than Aunt Lynch,” Claire complained, her voice cracking.
“Of course I am,” Grace said. “I had to put up with listening to your fanciful notions of love for years while growing up. I still remember when you were seven and you made me play King Arthur for you, so you could be Guinevere.”
“I do not remember that,” Clair said with a frown.
“I would say that is a mercy for you.”
Chapter 4
As the second week at Holdenwood Manor began, Claire was determined to start again with the Earl of Dalton. The man had continued to evade her through the past days. This never appeared to be a purposeful snub. The fact was, he had his attention dedicated to his work, and Claire had come to appreciate how overwhelming his job was. She had taken the time to look at the work that was being undertaken on the western front of the property. After her second talking to from Grace, she felt she owed it to herself to see what the earl was in the process of creating.
Claire had been sure to visit the work in progress when she was certain the earl was not around. She still felt embarrassed after her handling of their last meeting and did not wish to see him again yet, at least, not without company present. Indeed, she felt this was the trouble with their last meeting, which had gone nowhere. Claire had been reading alone. If Grace or Catherine had been there with her, they would undoubtedly have helped her.
By the looks of things, the new wing of the property was in its foundation phase. Deep trenches had been dug into the earth, filled with brick and stone. They created an outline over the ground that let Claire know the shape and length of the new wing. Aside from the general outline though, she could not tell at all how the extension would look when finished. What she did appreciate, was the scale of the project. She looked at the multi-storied house and at the long plot of tilled earth around her. She had never seen such undertakings made in her hometown of Bradford-On-Avon.
As she followed the line of a new brick wall, Claire ran her hands over the stone. She wished she could see Lord Dalton’s vision for things. Perhaps that was how she might engage with him when next they spoke together. If he allowed it, she would love to see the plans he had drawn up for the wing. She felt that understanding his vision would be the key to understanding him. Grace had been right when she said the man flustered her. But, Claire could not believe she would fall for a handsome face and polite manners alone. There had to be something in his soul that called to her. She had to respond to something of the artist in him. She could tell nothing from the bare earth about her.
Turning to walk back to the house, Claire froze as she noticed two figures coming toward her. The first was Catherine Blackmore. With her was the one man Claire had not wished to see at that moment. Lord Dalton was walking with brisk steps, and they were both looking straight to Claire. Her cheeks flushed crimson to be discovered perusing the earl’s work. It was hardly a crime, but she felt as if she had been caught rifling through his room.
“Miss Curtis,” the earl called out. “What are you doing out here at this hour? It is near sunset.”
Claire bit her bottom lip and tried to think of some excuse.
“Trust me, my Lord, it is not uncommon for Claire to go wandering at all hours of the day. She has many times spoken of her great love of walking across the country at all hours.”
Claire did not know if she felt grateful to Catherine at that moment or not. On the one hand, her words had given her the opening she needed in order to explain her being on the site of the earl’s work. Despite this, it also painted her as some sort of wild urchin. She had grown out of the habit of wandering around the fields, barefoot, in the last year.
“I can see the appeal. At sunset, the world takes on an altogether different beauty,” the earl said, “Sometimes, when working on new properties, I like t
o spend an entire day wandering the grounds. It can be quite interesting seeing how a home changes in different lights.”
“Yes, I suppose I can see how that is,” Claire agreed. She looked at the grey, drear stone of the main house, and ran a hand over her neck. “I am curious as to what time of day you think suits this house.”
“Dawn.” He answered without hesitation. “When the sun rises over the eastern hills, there is a moment where the house is thrown into sharp relief. The building becomes a dark, brooding silhouette – a perfect black square. It is not what some might call a beautiful sight. Still, it is striking to see the contrast. The soft rolling contours of the hills and the fierce right angles of the estate: it is dramatic.”
Claire frowned, not sure she understood what captivated Lord Dalton so. Ugly was ugly, and she could not imagine the scene that the earl painted for them, holding any kind of appeal.
“We have come up from the house to see if you wished to play cards. Your aunt is looking to play with us... and I believe your sister worried for you being out past sunset on your own.”
“Well, as much as I love the cool evening breeze, I would not wish to worry my aunt. She has enough concerns without having to contend with me as well.”
“If your interests do not extend to cards, we might have the opportunity to speak together,” the earl said. “Circumstances have given us precious little opportunity to do so, until now.”
Claire felt her stomach tighten. Her eyes widened, and she had to work to keep the fluster from her face. This... This was exactly what her sister had begged her to take note of. Here was the earl, for the second time, making an effort to secure her company, even though it was somewhat formal and not like the men in the novels she liked to read.
As Claire entered into the drawing room, she noted the slight smirk on Grace’s face. Aunt Lynch wore a similar look of amusement, although the older woman was a little more skilled at disguising it. Claire resolved to ignore the glances she was being given. She would not apologise for being out wandering the grounds, and she would not be made to feel embarrassed for arriving in company with Lord Dalton. There was nothing at all untoward about it. Catherine had been with them, after all. There was absolutely no reason for her two relatives to be wearing such amused faces as she entered into the room.