Her Secret Beau: A Touches 0f Austen Novel Bok 3

by Leenie Brown

  “Are you visiting tenants or just taking your ease today?” Mr. Norman asked as he also rose.

  “I have a couple of things that need my attention, but then, I am free.”

  “Good, good. Then you can keep me company for an hour.”

  “I just said I had things that needed attention.”

  “Yes,” the good doctor said, taking out his watch, “but only a couple, which is not more than two. I am certain you will have time to complete all that needs doing if you start an hour later than now. In fact, it will not even be an hour.” He snapped the cover of his watch closed. “I will need to return to my office in half an hour to prepare for my next visit.”

  “Oh, very well, then. You may accompany me on my way.”

  “That sounds like an excellent plan. Where are we off to first?”

  “To see a man about a jacket.”

  “Another jacket? Do you not have enough already?” Mr. Norman hurried after Walter.

  “This one is more generously proportioned.” Several of his jackets were no longer comfortable to wear for anything more than sitting still while having a portrait painted. Not that he had any plans for commissioning portraits of himself – let alone having one done of him in an ill-fitting jacket.

  Mr. Norman chuckled. “Did I not tell you that too many Sally Lunns would do that?”

  Walter shook his head. “It is not the Sally Lunns. I have taken up pugilism.” He made a fist and bent his arm. The fabric over his upper arm strained against the muscles flexing beneath it. “I believe it was you who recommended physical activity once when you were watching me eat a Sally Lunn.” His lips curled into a smirk. “By all rights, I should be sending you the bill for the wardrobe improvements your advice has necessitated.”

  “I did not specifically say you should take up boxing. Dancing and walking would not require new clothing.”

  “I walk enough as it is. I wish for something more if I am to exercise.”

  “Fencing is another option.”

  “It is a great sport. I must agree. However, I have done that for years – even before your recommendation – and before you suggest it, I also ride. Pugilism seemed the one remaining sport of interest that required a great deal of exertion.”

  “Yes, well, I am not paying for your jackets. Your pockets are far deeper than mine,” Mr. Norman said with a laugh.

  “Put it on my account, and at the first sign of gout, I will collect what I am owed in service.”

  Mr. Norman continued laughing. “If I were a surgeon, you’d likely have better luck at collecting the cost of your coats. How many stitches have you had so far?”

  “Counting this one,” he pointed to a small scar above his left eye, “three. I am not fond of having my head knocked about. I spend most of my time hitting things that cannot hit back. Sacks of grain, saplings, and the like.”

  “You hit trees?” Mr. Norman cried. “I am surprised your hands are not in worse shape than they are.”

  “An old rug softens the blow. You do not expect me to put any of the trees in the orchards at risk, now do you?”

  “I suppose I do not, but just the same, it must cause some injury.”

  Walter removed the glove from his right hand. “A bruise or two.” He showed his friend the yellowish-green bruise that a tree had inflicted upon him.

  “It looks as if it is healing well, but I will still caution you about such things. A body can only survive a beating so many times before it begins to take a toll.”

  Walter was just putting his glove back on and about to enter his tailor’s shop when a carriage came to a stop a few feet from where he stood.

  “Your view has followed you,” Mr. Norman whispered as the occupants of the carriage began to disembark.

  “Why can you not wear the pair of gloves you purchased in London?” the mother asked.

  “There is a hole in the right one.”

  “I am sure it can be fixed,” her mother offered.

  “But to wear a damaged pair of gloves to a ball, Mama? What will the gentlemen think of me?”

  “Do you really think Mr. Ramsey will mind?” Grace asked.

  “I will not only be dancing with Mr. Ramsey,” Felicity replied. “I cannot. It would be scandalous to dance every set with the same gentleman.”

  “But is he not the one gentleman whom you wish to have think well of you?” Grace asked as she followed behind her mother and her sister toward the store just two doors down from Walter’s tailor.

  “Oh, indeed!” Felicity cried. “But to gain his favour, I must not lose the favor of everyone else. Who would wish to marry a lady who was thought too poor to have a fine pair of gloves?”

  “Who indeed?” Walter said to Mr. Norman.

  “I am sure I cannot say,” Grace answered her sister in a tone that spoke of her wishing very much to say something other than what she had said.

  “You may wear my old pair. I am certain it will not harm your chances at all.”

  “That’s a pleasant one,” Mr. Norman whispered as he opened the door to the tailor shop. “If only every lady had such a generous sister.”

  “Your tongue is as sharp as your knife,” Walter quipped. Giving one last look toward the shop just two doors down, he caught the eye of Grace, who once again smiled but turned away quickly and looked as if she had seen nothing. It was a very odd thing. Most young women would smile and then duck their heads before peeking at a fellow again – his thought was interrupted as Grace once again turned her eyes towards him and smiled before stepping into the store into which her mother and sister had already disappeared.

  “Did you see that?” he asked Mr. Norman.

  “See what?”

  “The way that young lady keeps secretly smiling at me?”

  Mr. Norman peeked down the street. “I cannot say I noticed.”

  “She did it in the gardens as well.”

  “Then, I would venture to guess you have an admirer.”

  “But why is she so secretive?”

  Mr. Norman shook his head. “I am certain that even I am not capable of understanding the working of the female brain, especially the young female brain. If I were, I might not be looking for a spinster. Do you know that not one of the ladies whose care I have taken on has a companion that is less than forty? It is rather odd.”

  Odd seemed to be the word of the day when it came to ladies. Walter took one more look down the street at where Grace had been. He should not think about her. She was an oddity, the sort of lady which a gentleman of proper standing and great responsibility such as himself should avoid. He really should not think about her, but, unfortunately, his insatiable curiosity had already latched onto the pretty riddle named Grace.

  Chapter 3

  “Beatrice!” Mrs. Love cried when her niece entered the sitting room. “It has been this age since we have seen you.”

  “Yes, nearly a year,” Mr. Love added. “Mr. Clayton,” he added with a bow. “It is a pleasure to see you both.”

  “And it is a pleasure to see you both as well.”

  Grace was not certain that Mr. Clayton was speaking truthfully. He seemed to be holding himself rather stiffly, and Bea seemed to have a firm grip on his arm. Grace could not blame him. Felicity had treated his brother abominably.

  “My sister is still abed,” Grace offered to Bea. “She will be sorry to have missed you, but when one spends a great deal of time dancing into the night, one simply cannot be roused too early in the morning. Or so I hear.”

  Mrs. Love made a small clicking sound that spoke of disapproval nearly as much as the look Grace’s father wore did.

  “Is it not true?” Grace asked in her most startled voice in an attempt to cover the jibe she had made about her current, lack-of-a-season circumstances.

  “Yes, it is true,” her mother said.

  “Oh! I am glad. I thought for a moment I had misspoken,” Grace said with a little laugh. Her mother looked mollified while her father seemed skeptical, but
then, he had always been harder to fool than her mother.

  “Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea or perhaps a glass of port?” Mr. Love asked.

  “No, we cannot stay long,” Beatrice replied as Graeme helped her to take a seat.

  He was so attentive. He had even been so before he married Beatrice. Grace had not been unaware of the care he gave her cousin when she had been at Heathcote last year. The hand on Bea’s elbow accompanied by the whispered “Are you well?” made Grace wish to sigh, but she refrained and merely smiled at the sight. One day, she would have a gentleman who would be so thoughtful and caring.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Shelton are expecting us to return quickly so that we can make plans for today and tomorrow,” Bea continued.

  “Do you not just love Miss Hamilton — I mean Mrs. Shelton?” Grace asked eagerly.

  Bea smiled softly as she often did. There was such a sweet, gentleness about her. Grace had not admired it so very much until now. It was in complete contrast to Felicity.

  “She is lovely,” Bea assured Grace. “I understand you became friends at a house party?”

  Grace nodded eagerly. “We did. Mr. Shelton, Mrs. Shelton, Mrs. Berkley — that is Mr. Shelton’s sister — and myself. I have not made such good friends in some time. I truly have missed them, though Mrs. Shelton writes to me regularly.” Excitement bubbled up inside her. Soon, very soon, she would be reunited with friends – true friends. And then, she would begin her quest to become friends with Bea instead of just being cousins.

  Mr. Clayton chuckled. “Even Shelton seems eager to have you visit. If Mrs. Shelton had been feeling better this morning, they likely would have joined us.” He looked at Mrs. Love. “Yesterday’s travel fatigued her.”

  “I am surprised it has not fatigued Bea as well,” Mrs. Love cried. “She has always been so delicate.”

  “She would not have missed seeing you for the world,” Mr. Clayton replied.

  “Indeed, I would not,” Bea agreed.

  “Are you certain you do not wish for tea?” Mr. Love offered once again.

  “A cup would be welcome,” Bea answered. “If it is not too much trouble that is.”

  “My husband has been wishing for a cup of tea for this past half hour. You do him a great service by accepting his offer. Does she not, my dear?” Mrs. Love said.

  “It is quite a noble service you render me, Bea.” His lips curled into an amused smile. “I am still allowed to call you Bea even though you are a married lady, am I not?”

  Bea laughed. “Of course. Only my last name has changed. You are still my uncle.”

  Grace’s father sobered somewhat. “I had hoped that you would still claim me as such even after all that has passed.” His eyes focused on Mr. Clayton, who nodded.

  “Yes, well,” Mrs. Love said uneasily, “we are hopeful.” She shrugged and sighed.

  “As are we,” Mr. Clayton replied.

  Grace longed to ask about Mr. Everett Clayton, but, knowing how that might upset everyone, she did what was prudent instead of what was wished and held her tongue.

  “Your drive was good? The weather seemed perfect for it, yesterday,” Mr. Love continued the conversation with only a small amount of unease in his voice.

  Grace’s father had been most displeased to hear about how his eldest daughter had treated Mr. Everett Clayton. Grace was certain he felt the folly of Felicity’s actions much more than her mother did, for Mama tended to move on easily from a disappointment with a hopeful optimism about the future while Papa was more prone to ponder and stew.

  “It was most pleasant yesterday,” Mrs. Love agreed. “Felicity, Grace, and I even took a walk in the Gardens before we visited the shops. Dry paths and roads. Almost no clouds in the sky, and you could just feel spring in the air. It was delightful. Simply delightful.”

  “Our drive was just as it should be,” Bea assured her. “We could not have ordered better weather than what we were given.”

  She likely would have said the same if it was raining. Bea rarely complained about anything – not even a cousin who connived to steal the attention of a friend from her. Grace sighed.

  “Is something amiss,” her father asked.

  Grace shook her head. “No, I… I was just thinking about Philomena.” Her cheeks warmed at the lie. She was doing nothing of the sort. She was regretting how she had helped Felicity charm Mr. Everett Clayton, but she could not say that!

  “Who is Philomena?” Mr. Clayton asked.

  “My cat.”

  “Will she be joining us?” he added with a smile.

  He was offering to let her cat accompany her?

  “I had not thought it proper to ask if she could.” Though she had considered asking for some time before deciding it would be too forward to do so.

  “I understand Mrs. Shelton was required to leave her cat at home,” Mr. Clayton continued. “It might be a welcome surprise if your Philomena is not averse to ladies other than yourself doting on her.”

  “That cat will not turn down attention,” Mr. Love said with a laugh before rubbing his hands together in satisfaction as the tea tray arrived. “Much like I will not refuse a tea cake and a cup of tea.”

  For the next several minutes, the conversation revolved around pets, sweets, and the weather. The whole event only took twenty minutes according to the clock in the corner, but to Grace who was eager to be off, it seemed a great deal longer. However, as is almost always the case, time did march forward and soon all Grace’s things had been tied to Mr. Clayton’s carriage, and she and Philomena were seated across from Bea and Mr. Clayton while the vehicle began its journey to the house where Mr. and Mrs. Shelton awaited her arrival.

  Grace held the leash she had affixed to Philomena’s collar in one hand while stroking her with her other hand. She blew out a breath and pulled in a deep, fresh one.

  “I take it you are happy to be away from home.” Mr. Clayton said.

  “I am happy to be away from Felicity,” Grace answered honestly. “I cannot apologize enough for her behaviour. Your poor brother.” She looked down at the cat beside her. “Is he well? I have worried about him.”

  “He will be.”

  “Is he in town?”

  “No.”

  “He is not in Bath, is he?” Grace asked in surprise.

  Mr. Clayton chuckled. “No, he is at home. He will go to town for a time perhaps in a month or so.”

  “That is too bad.”

  “I am not sure I see why it is a bad thing that he is at home and not in Bath. Was there a reason you wished he was here?”

  Grace’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head as mortification spread like a fire across her cheeks. “I had not intended to say that aloud.”

  “Ah, but you have, and so now you must explain it.”

  “Graeme,” Bea said softly, “I do not think it is necessary.”

  “No, no. He is right. I would be tormented with curiosity if I were him,” Grace assured her cousin. There was no way she was going to be the cause of an argument between Bea and Mr. Clayton. “It is disgraceful to admit it.”

  “Then, you do not need to,” Mr. Clayton assured her.

  Grace shook her head. “You have been very gracious in not breaking with my family over how shabbily my sister treated your brother. I shall admit what I was thinking so that you can know where I stand in relation to the whole horrid affair.”

  “I think I can tell as it is,” Mr. Clayton said. “Mr. Shelton has told me about your disapproval of what your sister did.”

  Of course, Mr. Shelton did. Best friends did not keep secrets. Her cheeks warmed even further. “Did he tell you that I found your brother attractive when I first arrived at Heathcote?”

  Mr. Clayton shook his head.

  Hmm. It seemed gentlemen did keep some secrets from their best friends. She would have to remember that. She ran a hand along Philomena’s fur.

  “Well, I did,” she said, “but that is not the disgraceful thing I must admi
t. While I am happy that Mr. Everett Clayton is not going to have to see my sister and be reminded of her duplicity, I almost wish he were here to tell his tale and ruin my sister’s chances in Bath.” She looked from one startled face across from her to the other. “I told you it was disgraceful. It is not at all what a lady should wish for her sister, and yet I do.”

  If it were not for the wheels turning along the road and the clipping and clopping of horse’s hooves, the carriage would have been entirely silent for several minutes.

  “We are hopeful that she will make a match with Mr. Ramsey, for if she does not, I fear I will never get a season.”

  “I do not understand,” Mr. Clayton said.

  “The hope of my sister’s success comes at the cost of my season.”

  “You are not here for the season?” Mr. Clayton asked in surprise.

  Grace shook her head. “Not my own season. I was to be allowed to attend a few soirees, but the focus must be my sister, you see.”

  Across from her, Mr. Clayton smiled broadly.

  “I do not see how that is a happy thing,” she said.

  “He is not happy about your situation,” Bea assured her. “He is happy for Mr. Shelton.”

  Grace’s brow furrowed. She had no idea what her lack of a season had to do with Mr. Shelton.

  “Shelton imagines himself somewhat of a matchmaker,” Mr. Clayton said, “and since you were unsuccessful at the house party, he was hoping for a second chance to prove himself.”

  How wonderful! Grace clapped her hand in delight!

  “I take it you are not distressed by this news?” Bea questioned cautiously.

  “Not at all!” Grace assured her. “I shall welcome the adventure.”

  She settled back against the squabs and sighed. How the state of one’s life could change in an instant from dreary to hopeful! It was remarkable. Would it not make Felicity jealous to see her sister on the arm of some handsome beau? Oh, the thought was nearly too delicious to consider without giggling until…

  She gasped and shrank into herself a little as the thought struck her. Her sister must not know of any possible matches for if she did… well, that was how she had discovered both Mr. Everett Clayton and Mr. Ramsey.