“Good. This can’t fail. See you on Wednesday,” Bernard said cheerfully before leaving the beach house.
Joshua waited for at least fifteen minutes, listening for the slightest noise. He could make out the movements of a boat being pushed into the sea and, once he was sure it would have disappeared around the headland, he left the building and returned to the house. He was going to enjoy at least half of that bottle of brandy tonight to wipe out the tedious evening he had had to endure. He was glad it was coming to an end; he would never again volunteer to befriend a nob; he would much rather find his gambling money from other sources than have to put up with the drivel spoken by Charles and his ilk.
The beach and surrounding area had been quiet for some time before the blankets and rugs at the rear of the beach hut started to move. Edmund emerged slowly, brushing fibres off his clothing with a grimace; he was convinced his clothing would never look pristine again after this evening.
It had been a huge risk on his part to hide out in the beach house, but he had heard nothing on the previous occasion Joshua and his cronies met. At least now he knew what their plans were and that Clara would be safe from Joshua Shambles in just two nights.
He had longed to jump out of his hiding place and pummel Shambles into the ground but for once he had managed to rein in his temper. There would be time for that when Shambles was secure in some prison cell somewhere; it would achieve nothing but his own satisfaction to make a move now.
Edmund flopped into one of the wooden cushioned chairs, rubbing his hands over his face. He felt out of sorts, but it was nothing to do with lack of sleep. It was more to do with the feeling of not being in control. He had always been fully in charge of his life until these last few days. If he had mistresses, he chose who they were to be and decided when the assignation would end. But this, this was different.
How could an innocent chit of a girl turn his world upside down so much? It was ridiculous. Never before had he been drawn to someone. In the past if a woman, and he had only ever dallied with a certain kind of woman, had started to behave in a way that was not straight forward, he made sure that he never bothered with her again. Now, though, he was banned from Clara’s house, had been rejected by her, and felt as if his world were collapsing in on him; he had no idea what to do to make things better.
He stood up, wanting to kick something hard; while Joshua Shambles was intent on nefarious activities there was no opportunity to do anything, especially putting this whole sorry episode behind him. Not one to be idle he determined that once Wednesday had passed and Henry was finally happy with Joshua in custody, Edmund was returning to London determined to move on with his life, and that consisted of withdrawing from any espionage and forgetting about the dark-haired, blue-eyed Miss Clara Baker.
*
Milly met Clara when she left the breakfast room. She had been up early and was eager to be outside. “Morning, Clara. I hope you slept well.”
“I did,” Clara responded. There was no advantage to being honest with her cousin, by explaining that thoughts of both Joshua and Edmund had kept her awake well into the night.
“Good. I’m abandoning you this morning, my dear. The sun is out, and I want to catch the effect on the waves.”
Clara smiled at her cousin. “Do you never tire of painting the same view?”
“It never is the same view,” Milly responded with a smile. “I shall return sometime this afternoon.”
Clara was joined at breakfast by Miss Beresford, Miss Walsh and Charles. She suppressed a smile when Charles walked into the dining room with a smile on his face; he was never about this early normally and certainly never smiling if he was forced to attend breakfast.
“Miss Baker, your brother has kindly offered to accompany myself and Miss Walsh to Lyme today. Would you like to join us?” Miss Beresford asked pleasantly, smiling up at Charles as he sat next to her.
“Will there be room in the carriage?” Clara asked. She wanted to know if Joshua was going, but was not going to ask such a direct question.
“Yes, I’ll ride alongside, and there will be four ladies in the carriage if you join us, Clara,” Charles said easily.
“In that case I’d be delighted!” There was no sense in her staying in the house almost alone. Mr Beresford tended to sleep most of the time, so she would without doubt come into contact with Joshua, and she wanted to avoid that if at all possible. Milly would spend the day on the beach; she often did, so Clara did not feel as if she were abandoning her cousin.
The group gathered in the hallway after breakfast; Miss Walsh chattered excitedly to her friend. Charles approached Clara, who was fixing her bonnet. “I’ve suggested we don’t stop en route, it will take us two hours at a fair speed.”
“Is your friend not joining us?” Clara asked quietly.
“No. Joshua wouldn’t be interested in fripperies and shopping,” Charles sighed. “He’s been a bit of a grump since we’ve reached home. He wanted to rusticate, but I don’t think he’s enjoying himself at all. He’s been a tad irritating to be honest.”
Clara’s heart lifted at Charles’ words, but she did not let her feelings show. This was the first time Charles had ever criticised his friend, long may it continue. “Perhaps there just aren’t enough entertainments around these parts to keep him occupied. He said himself he’s never been to the seaside before. Sometimes what we wish for is not necessarily enjoyable when we receive it.”
“Maybe not, but every day is precious where Miss Beresford is concerned. Joshua knows that and is being a bit of a beast,” Charles responded indignantly.
“She is a lovely young lady.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
The brother and sister rejoined the group for once both happy with their conversation.
The party made good time to Lyme and Clara was able to enjoy seeing Charles treat Miss Beresford as a precious jewel. The party meandered around the shops before walking along the public promenade known locally as ‘The Walk’. They did not venture onto the Cobb, worrying about being swept away by the sea; Clara thought Charles was being a tad overcautious in this instance but let his comments about it being unsafe go unchallenged. The day was bright but blustery, and all the ladies held fast to their bonnets as they watched a few brave souls using the bathing machines.
Returning to the relative shelter of the streets, the party entered the Three Cups Inn, situated on Broad Street. It was one of two perfectly respectable inns in the town, and Charles managed to secure a private room.
“The town is delightful, albeit a little small,” Miss Beresford exclaimed looking out of the window at the constant hustle and bustle passing up and down Broad Street.
“The land is such that it’s difficult to extend, but I think it helps it to remain charming,” Charles said with authority. He had been acting the guide since they had stepped out of the carriage.
“Would society not be restricted because of that?” Miss Walsh asked. It was a perfectly innocent question, but Clara suspected that she was reminding her friend that she enjoyed a varied social scene.
“I suppose the question is, what area of society do you wish to be part of?” Clara asked pleasantly.
“I don’t understand,” Miss Walsh responded.
“In London, Brighton and even Bath most of us would go unnoticed by the top members of society, we would very much be small fish in a large pond. Here though, society is quite restricted and so, even though someone living here might have a smaller fortune, they are very much at the top of society.”
Clara had said the words without any untoward thoughts towards Miss Walsh; She was looking after her friend just as Clara was looking after her brother. She responded to the smile of understanding that Miss Walsh aimed in her direction.
“You must know everyone,” Miss Beresford said, smiling up at Charles. “It must be pleasant to be a member of society here. I would find it delightful, walking down the street and always seeing someone I knew.”
Charles beam
ed; the main source of entertainment for his future life had been approved of by his love.
The light meal provided by the inn was enjoyed by the party before they set-off to visit some of the shops along Broad Street. Clara managed to separate Charles from Miss Beresford.
“Today has gone well,” she started, linking her arm through her brother’s.
“Yes, better than I expected,” Charles responded with a smile. “Miss Beresford has given me permission to speak to her father.”
“That is excellent news! When do you intend to do it?”
“Tonight. I don’t want to waste any time. I would like to announce the engagement tomorrow; that way, when she returns to London on Thursday, she will be engaged,” Charles said happily.
“Are we to follow the Beresfords?” Clara had not spoken to Charles about their return to London. Until now, she had been afraid of putting Joshua into conflict with her brother, but this was Charles’ future, and it was important.
“I’ve told Joshua that if everything goes to plan, we’ll be returning on Friday. I don’t intend spending too long away from Miss Beresford.”
“I’m glad to hear that. What did Mr Shambles say about our removal?”
“He muttered something about not caring less when I left, which I thought was decidedly unsportsmanlike of him! I don’t know what’s got into him these last few days,” the ever innocent Charles said with feeling.
Clara, for once, did not respond with criticism of Joshua. If he did not mind their return to London on Friday, it could only mean one thing: whatever he needed to do would be completed by Friday. A sense of dread and nervousness developed in Clara’s stomach; she hoped for all their sakes anything that was going to happen would occur on Thursday night when the Beresfords had left for London.
Chapter 15
Henry was bored. He had accompanied the Brandons to an evening of entertainment at Glazebrook House, which was destined to be a tedious night. The young women were too innocent and single to warrant his attention, or what was even worse: his being in the company of three spinsters. The prettiest lady in the group was Miss Baker, but she was definitely off limits; Edmund was smitten with the girl. Henry did not have many rules that he lived by, but he was not about to infringe on another man’s love; the thought of a duel or a fight which was more common in these enlightened days since duels were outlawed.
He sighed; he completely understood why Edmund moaned of boredom every time he was sent into a parlour. Henry was normally more willing to engage in house parties, but even he would rather be on the beach with Edmund; at least there was no inane chatter to put up with there.
After a few moments he roused himself; if he did not do something he would spend the evening glaring at the blaggard Joshua Shambles. He could not afford to reveal himself after so many months of not-so-patient observation.
Henry watched Miss Holland for a few moments. He had noticed her a lot over the last few days; she was quite pretty for her age and had a quietly confident air about her. She did not have the desperate look that some spinsters had and, from her conversation, she was clearly intelligent. He wondered briefly why she had not married some country squire or some such sort but decided that he was not interested enough to ponder too much about her background. Out of the whole party she was the one who interested him the most, possibly because she gave him the impression of being completely self-sufficient, as if she did not need anyone but herself for comfort or entertainment, which Henry had never observed in a female before.
He approached Milly. She was a little separate from the rest of the group as she had expressed an urge to draw some of the flowers gathered during her outing.
Henry sat down, and Milly smiled politely at him while giving him only the briefest of glances. “Are you not persuading everyone to dance tonight, My Lord?”
“No, I think young Baker is content where he is,” Henry said with a nod towards Charles who was sitting next to Miss Beresford, both in quiet conversation.
“I think he is, although I don’t suppose you appreciate such quiet evenings,” Milly said with a slight raise of her eyebrow and just a little twitch of her lips.
Henry smiled; his boredom discovered. “I’m sure they are good for the soul.”
“Just not your soul?”
“I admit, not mine; although you have now forced me into displaying the worst manners in being critical of my host’s entertainments.”
Milly smiled. “Your secret is safe with me, My Lord.”
They were silent for a few moments; a unique experience for Henry; most women bombarded him with chatter, all trying to gain the affection of a single, wealthy Earl, but Milly continued to concentrate on her task.
“You are a dedicated artist,” Henry said, finally breaking the silence between them.
“A stubborn one. My talent is not good enough to allow me to rest on my laurels. I constantly feel the need to improve.”
“Lord Chertsey would disagree. He was fulsome with his praise of your abilities, and I doubt your family would hang portraits in their gallery purely out of familial obligation,” Henry said genuinely. Yes, Edmund had used the excuse to note the layout of the house in case they needed it, but he had genuinely praised Milly’s ability.
Milly smiled, and a tinge of pink touched her cheeks. “You are very kind,” she said quietly.
Henry was intrigued; he was doing his best to be charming but, although she was affected by his flattery, she did not use it as an excuse to gain advantage. He tried to stop the smile developing on his face; Miss Holland was proving an interesting challenge.
“May I look at some of your drawings?” Henry asked pleasantly.
Milly smiled. “You may, with pleasure. My vanity is such that I can never refuse a request to see my scribbles. I filled this booklet today, so you can look at your leisure without me looking over your shoulder, hoping for flattery.” Milly moved the booklet she was working on and revealed an identical one underneath. She handed it to Henry and then resumed her current drawing.
Henry was amused, but with due diligence began at the beginning of the booklet and slowly worked his way through it. He had to admit there was genuine talent within the pages. He recognised places in London and objects she had copied. As the pages progressed the drawings represented the move to Seaton and the beach became the most prominent feature.
He was about to close the booklet when something on the last picture caught his eye. He glanced at the people in the room before concentrating further on the drawing. Everyone was occupied; even Joshua Shambles had entered into conversation with Mr Brandon.
Henry gritted his teeth as he studied the picture. If this had been discovered, or shown off to others tonight, the implications could be deadly. He turned to Milly and paused; she was innocently concentrating on her picture, oblivious to what she had done. For the first time in his life, he felt a little sickened.
He gently placed his hand on Milly’s arm. “Miss Holland, I need to speak to you in private.”
“We are not being disturbed; you can say whatever you wish,” Milly responded with a slight frown at the sudden request.
“No, that will not do. I need to speak to you without observation. It is of importance.” Henry was serious, but trying not to draw attention to them both.
Milly looked up for the first time really looking at Henry. All laughter was gone; he was no longer the teasing flirt she had seen since her introduction to him. She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement of his request.
Milly spoke, a little louder than she had been, but still in a natural, unaffected tone. “Of course, My Lord, please follow me, and I can show you what I mean.” She turned to Clara and caught her eye. “I’m going to show Lord Grinstead the painting by Wilson, Clara.”
Clara smiled at her cousin before turning to Henry. “Be warned, My Lord, my cousin is very passionate in her defence of Mr Wilson’s paintings.”
“He is underappreciated in my view; his paintings
of Italian landscapes are exquisite,” Milly responded with authority.
As they left the drawing room, Henry spoke. “What is it with this Wilson then, Miss Holland?”
Milly smiled. “His talent wasn’t appreciated while he was alive and, although not starving, he was living in quite poor circumstances when he died. My cousin’s father saw a painting being sold many years ago and had the foresight to buy it. I believe it’s one of the best paintings I’ve ever seen; the detail is perfect, and one could almost believe one were looking at a vista in Italy.”
Henry smiled; Clara had been correct; her cousin was passionate about the artist. Usually controlled, Milly had come to life when speaking, her eyes shining with the conviction of her words, her arms moving to emphasise what she was saying. “You have me convinced,” he said and smiled when Milly laughed.
“That was far too easy for me to believe you, My Lord, but here is the painting.”
The picture was not in the long gallery, but in an anteroom off it, showing that it was not considered by the family to be of great import. Henry was struck by the lifelike detail of the picture though and was inclined to agree with Milly.
“I have been to Italy, and it is an excellent picture. I know exactly where this was painted in Florence; it is a beautiful City; but it’s more than that; it’s the feel of the place. This Wilson has captured the atmosphere perfectly.”
“Unsurprisingly, I haven’t travelled so far, but a painting like this makes me long to explore the world,” Milly said with a note of longing in her voice.
Henry did not respond. There were no words to soothe such a desire. A spinster could hardly afford to live alone in most cases, never mind travel across Europe. Ladies in similar situations as Milly had to be satisfied with pictures.
Milly seemed to rouse herself. “I’m happy you appreciate the painting, but we did not come here for this alone, My Lord. What happened to cause such a request as you made?”
Henry immediately became serious. “It was your drawings.”
“Are they so bad?”
My Lord the Spy Page 13
