by Georgie Lee
‘I see you figured this out, too, Clara,’ Adam called to his sister, striding forward, his wife’s hand in his, the bliss between them and their freedom to revel in it enviable.
‘It wasn’t too difficult. How many other clues have you worked out?’ Clara recovered herself with admiration, but there was no missing that the red colour of her cheeks was from more than the cold.
‘Five, we’re halfway done. How about you two? What have you worked out so far?’
‘Just the one.’ Clara limply motioned to the sundial and the number one affixed to it.
‘Then we’d better stop dawdling over the view and get on with it, shouldn’t we, Lady Kingston?’ Hugh suggested. He wasn’t about to give Adam and Anne any more to talk about by acting like a schoolboy caught skipping lessons.
This snapped Clara out of her shock and the blush disappeared from her cheeks as she faced her brother and sister-in-law. ‘Yes, we must, because we’re determined to win, aren’t we, Lord Delamare?’
‘Indeed we are.’ He threw Anne and Adam a wave, ignoring the shock that decorated their faces at this change in Clara’s attitude towards Hugh as he and Clara set off for the path. ‘Good luck to you both.’
‘And good luck to you,’ Anne sang after them, but Hugh ushered Clara away before she could singe her delicate cheeks with any more blushes.
* * *
Clara hurried down the hill faster than she’d raced up it, needing the quick activity to shake off the unease of Anne and Adam having almost happened upon them in the clearing and the confusion created by her conversation with Hugh. If her brother and sister-in-law had stepped out of the trees sooner or without warning, they would’ve caught Clara and Hugh in a most compromising position, one Clara still couldn’t believe she’d stumbled into. She hadn’t intended to touch Hugh out of comfort or any other emotion, but she’d been unable to help herself. No one deserved to suffer the loss of their cherished spouse. For all the wrong Hugh had done her, she wouldn’t wish that sorrow on her worst enemy and she couldn’t ignore it when it was in front of her either. His pain was so similar to what she’d endured these last two years and she’d wanted to drive it away as Anne and Adam had done so many times for her. It had also surprised her.
Despite the dubious beginning of his union with Lady Hermione, whose family’s shipping wealth had given them more money than hers could ever have hoped to possess, Clara was glad the woman had garnered his love. During the Seasons that Clara had been in London with Alfred, she’d seen more than one arranged marriage falter from the start, leaving each person wishing for the passing of the other in order to free them. That Hugh and Lady Hermione had come to love one another, and that his reasons for marrying her had been guided by duty to his family and not simply greed, altered so much of what she’d come to believe about Hugh. For so long, she’d been unable to see anything except the calculating bargain that Hugh had struck at her expense but, as Adam had once tried to tell her, there had been a great deal more to his decision.
However, for all the comfort they’d offered one another and the relief and calm it had given them, and for all the ways his words had begun to change her opinion of him, a small warning continued to play in the back of her mind. It’d sounded when they’d touched across the stone and it continued to assert itself while she walked beside him. She should be more cautious with her feelings and his and better mind her emotions in his presence, but in the face of his tender questions she’d been helpless to resist being open with him. She hoped he didn’t make her regret it as he had before for there were a number of days left in the house party and, as she’d learned with him last time, his preference for her could change at a moment’s whim. He might have had honourable reasons for leaving her, but in the end he had still chosen someone else over her and she must remember this and the kind of man he’d become since. His motives for doing what he’d done in London didn’t excuse it and the fact that a man with his privileges who could have chosen any distraction had selected the basest ones seemed to say more about him than what he’d told her. She would do well to heed the warning and to not allow her opinion of him to soften so much that she forgot herself again with him. They could be friendly with one another, but not friends and certainly not, as Lady Pariston had suggested last night, more.
At last, Hugh and Clara reached the beginning of the path that led back to the house and the rest of the clues and stopped to catch their breath.
‘Where do we go next?’ Hugh asked, his voice steady as if nothing on the rise had happened, or it hadn’t meant as much or been as confusing to him as it had been to Clara. This was probably closer to the truth than anything else Clara wished to believe.
Clara read the second clue, determined to be as aloof and unruffled by what had happened as Hugh. ‘Holiday sweets are made sweeter and brighter by me, the fruit of this tree, round like a globe and disliking the cold.’
‘Nothing but apples and plums grow in this part of England and they can tolerate the cold,’ Hugh mused, remaining a polite distance away from Clara, seemingly aware of how close they’d come to trouble at the sundial and unwilling to have it happen again. With them at the bottom of the rise near the lake, anyone in search of the first object could happen upon them. After having inadvertently thrown caution to the wind at the sundial, Clara appreciated his caution here, even if all this restraint and the constant shifting of emotions where Hugh was concerned was beginning to wear on her. Being so serious was not what she’d come to Stonedown to do. She did enough of that at home.
Clara read the clue twice more. On the third reading, the answer came to her. ‘Oranges. The clue is oranges.’
Hugh looked sceptical. ‘They don’t grow here in the winter.’
‘They do in the orangery near the stables. Lord Tillman has a fine specimen and it’s always laden with fruit at this time of year. As children, Adam and I loved the treat.’ She couldn’t wait to see it again.
‘Then that must be it.’
‘There’s only one way to know.’
‘I’ll race you to it,’ Hugh challenged with a rogue’s wink that Clara couldn’t help but answer. Despite the cold it was a beautiful day and the sun cutting through the clouds and the naked branches of the trees couldn’t help but infect her soul. It was difficult to remain morose or introspective in the middle of such gorgeous countryside, especially with Hugh teasing her into a race. It’d been a long time since she’d run like a girl in short dresses and she missed the freedom of it.
‘Ready. Set. Go.’ She took off before she was even done speaking, darting out ahead of Hugh like she used to do with Adam whenever they would race as children.
Behind her she could hear the fast fall of Hugh’s feet when he set off after her, his long stride allowing him to quickly pass her before they even reached the turn in the trees where they’d called their truce. He glanced over his shoulder and, seeing her far behind, slowed down until she caught up to him.
She raced past him, forcing him to catch up, but this time he didn’t pass her, but kept pace, the two of them flying down the path, his delight in running matching hers.
Then the glass roof of the orangery and the weathervane on the stables came into view over the tops of the trees. The closer they drew the stronger the earthy scent of horses grew and Clara’s excitement increased. The crush of the gravel beneath her feet and the sharp breeze stinging her cheeks was the way it used to be when she and Adam had run along these paths with her parents. The joy of those carefree days filled her, lightening her steps and her heart. It amazed her that such a marvellous time should be had with Hugh, but it didn’t matter, nor did the past or the future or her opinions, nothing except this did. It was exactly what she’d come to Stonedown to find.
They continued their quick pace until they turned the bend in the path and almost collided with Sir Nathaniel and Mrs Alton. Jerking to a halt, they couldn’t help but laugh thro
ugh their winded apologies for the near miss.
‘I see you two are getting on well,’ Sir Nathaniel observed with a smile as wide as Hugh’s. His round nose was so red from the cold it was almost the same shade as his maroon redingote. ‘With all this hurrying you must have solved many clues.’
‘Not at all. We’re racing to catch up.’ Clara laughed through her hard breath, her joy spreading to Mrs Alton who flashed Clara and Hugh a friendly smile.
‘Then I wish you great success.’ Sir Nathaniel turned to Hugh. ‘Before you go, Lord Delamare, I want you to know I sent a letter to the solicitor I recommended this morning. You should hear from him shortly. I told him that I know you and instructed him to give your matter his full attention. I don’t do that for everyone, only those I like.’
‘Thank you, Sir Nathaniel.’ Hugh sobered, taking the man’s hand and giving it a firm shake. ‘Your support and regard mean a great deal to me.’
‘Now off you go so Mrs Alton and I may venture on to our next destination.’ With a raise of his beaver hat, Sir Nathaniel bid them goodbye and escorted the quiet Mrs Alton away.
‘Come on, we’re losing time.’ Hugh took hold of Clara’s hand and pulled her along the path.
Everything inside Clara told her to let go of him, but she held on tight, too afraid to open her fingers and be sent whirling from the many shocks of today, including the one Sir Nathaniel had lobbed at her. She’d known the man for years. He was well regarded by many, but it often took a great deal for him to regard others well. That he’d looked on Hugh with respect and offered to help him was amazing. At the sundial, she’d assured Hugh that he would find his way back to a more respectful life and it was clear from Sir Nathaniel’s regard that he was already on that road. It called into question once again all Clara’s opinions of him, ones she didn’t wish to think of right now for fear they would mar her enjoyment of the day.
They approached the glass dome of the orangery and the riot of greenery and flowers inside. The vivid colours were a sharp contrast to the grey and brown landscape outside the glass and iron door. Hugh let go of her and pulled it open. Clara flexed her fingers as she stepped inside, the heat and warmth hitting her as hard as the loss of Hugh’s grasp. They shouldn’t have held hands, especially when they’d passed the stables and the stable hands inside attending to the horses that stood snorting and neighing in their stalls. She remembered how fast the maids had informed Lord Westbook of Hugh’s engagement last time. They didn’t need the grooms whispering anything to their aristocratic riders, but the gesture had been so much in the spirit of the game that she didn’t mind. It was the loss of their joy she would mind more if she chided him for being so familiar so she said nothing.
‘This wasn’t here when I last visited.’ Hugh studied the ornate and sweet-smelling flowers lined up in pots on trestle tables along the glass walls.
‘It was, but a hail storm had damaged it that autumn. Lord Tillman worked hard to save the tree, but he lost almost everything else,’ Clara explained as they moved towards the orange tree in the centre. It rose out of a large hole in the stone floor, the slick green leaves dotted here and there with sumptuous round oranges. ‘He’s spent the last six years reviving it. Isn’t it amazing?’
‘It is.’
* * *
Hugh felt a little like the greenery around him and the tree, as though he’d been torn down and ruined and was fighting to rebuild. He’d gained Sir Nathaniel’s regard and hopefully with it an advantage with his case and he was, in this small way, proving to Clara that he wasn’t the cad she believed him to be. He, like the tree with the oranges he reached up to touch, wasn’t beyond saving and apparently others beside Adam were capable of seeing it.
‘There’s the number two.’ Hugh pointed to the paper number tied with a ribbon around the tree’s trunk. ‘What’s our next clue?’
‘I almost hate to leave here.’ Clara sighed. ‘It’s so cold outside.’
‘We’ll lose if we stay and then we’ll have to endure all Lady Fulton’s bragging if she and Lord Westbook win.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Clara didn’t look at the parchment, but continued to take in the tree, tilting her head in thought to one side and making the curls at the back of her head brush her pink cheeks. She found contentment beneath the tree, one he hadn’t witnessed either on the stairs, at dinner, or even at the sundial. He’d only seen it grace her face once before, six years ago when they’d stood beneath another bit of greenery, the flush of their first kiss making her cheeks as ruddy as they were today. He tapped his fingers together, almost able to feel the mistletoe berry he’d plucked from the branch, Clara still in his arms, the taste of her lingering on his lips.
Hugh opened the top button of his black redingote to give him some ease from the heat of the orangery and continued to watch her, captivated by the delicate line of her jaw above the raised collar of her pelisse and the flush of heat that gave colour to her skin. When he’d glanced over his shoulder to see her running so far behind him, smiling like she used to do when they’d ridden together in the sleigh six years ago, he’d wanted to turn and take her in his arms, to sweep her off her feet and spin her in a circle until her laughter silenced all the birds in the forest.
He and their time together had brought that smile to her face and he didn’t want to lose it. Not even when they’d come upon Sir Nathaniel had her exuberance dimmed. She hadn’t looked on Hugh like some pariah, but had smiled and laughed with an infectious ease that had cast a spell over him until he’d been able to forget himself and everything and just be with her. Even now he should be urging them to continue with the scavenger hunt so he could return to the men and Sir Nathaniel and work to secure their help in ending the threat to Everburgh, but he couldn’t tear himself away from Clara and this moment. It would mean losing the ability to regard her unobserved and force him to act as if each time their hands touched or her voice rang out in the clear crisp air that she didn’t enchant him.
He turned away from her to view the tree, resisting this captivation and the desire to be anything more than friendly with her. He’d had good reasons for giving her up six years ago, a commitment to honour and duty that had cost Hermione her life and Hugh a piece of his soul. But he could no more go back and change what had happened between him and Clara than he could bring back Hermione and, until he was certain again of the solidness of those old beliefs and what they meant to him and his life, he could be certain of little else. Besides, after her greeting in the library yesterday, anything more than friendship would be viewed with nothing but distrust, especially with Everburgh still in needs of funds to battle the pending court challenge.
With a great deal of reluctance, he did up the top button of his coat, determined to focus on the hunt. He was required to be her partner, not to pester her by wailing about his miseries or what had happened before. They would have fun and they would win and that’s all they’d have between them. ‘What’s the next clue?’
* * *
The following two hours were a joy for Clara as she and Hugh hurried from one part of Stonedown to another. The clues led them inside the large house and then back out to the garden and many other places of note. They passed numerous other guests during their travels and each couple smiled and waved to the other while teasing them that they were going to win the brandy. The good-natured teasing didn’t hide the surprise that decorated many faces at the sight of Clara and Hugh so easy in one another’s company, especially after their noticeable silence at dinner last night. Clara could almost hear people whispering in amazement about it as they left them, but she didn’t care. Let them say what they liked about her and Hugh. She was enjoying herself in a way she hadn’t done in a very long time and she wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to ruin it.
At last, with the pale sunlight hidden behind the clouds beginning to dim enough to tell them that their time for the search was drawing to a close an
d that the early evening darkness of winter would soon force all but the stoutest of souls back inside, she and Hugh studied the last clue.
‘Pages of sparkling gold and red easy to ignore in its progress through the year but standing ever ready for those who care to notice,’ Clara read again.
Hugh slipped the parchment out from between her gloved fingertips and read it again. ‘What do you think it is?’
‘I can’t say. The other clues seemed so obvious once we really thought about them, but not this one.’
‘You’re to thank for that. Without your knowledge of Stonedown, we never would have deciphered most of the clues.’
‘But you guessed the peacock bench in the garden.’
He glanced up at her from across the paper. ‘Only because that wasn’t one of Lady Tillman’s more difficult clues, but this is.’
He furrowed his brow as he considered the last clue, concentrating on it as if it were a faro table and he was waiting for his ball to land on his number, except of all the stories she’d heard of him in London, gambling had never been one of them. He hadn’t been known for his outrageous bets or nights spent at the tables losing far more than he could afford. His stories had involved fast carriage rides down Rotten Row with questionable company beside him during the fashionable hour and at least one duel that he’d won without doing more damage to his opponent than sending a ball through his fine wool coat. Some said he’d deliberately aimed wide to spare his opponent and that if he hadn’t his lethal aim would have split the man’s skull. Clara shivered from more than the cold, finding it hard to reconcile the London Hugh with the one before her who’d shown so much delight in this simple game and so much tenderness with her at the sundial. Part of her wanted to ask him about the incident, but she held her tongue, unwilling to end the good will between them with questions about his curious past.
