by Abigail Agar
When Henry reported to his father about his conversation with Edward and Penelope during calling hours, Avery was furious.
Not only had Nash come to see Penelope, but he had also left, so Henry wasn’t part of their conversation. Avery admitted concern.
Nash and Penelope became reacquainted last night from the meeting years ago that lasted at most two hours.
They had danced twice and dined together. Then, Nash was at calling hours today.
Edward and Penelope hadn’t answered directly when Henry asked specifically about the relationship. If there were no chance of a budding relationship, someone would have said no, but that didn’t happen.
Avery paced. “Those two must stay apart. It is a threat to my title for them to be a couple.
“You must be where they are. Calling hours and balls. The entire time. Don’t let a minute go by without them knowing their relationship has no future.”
Henry nodded. “He’s the biggest catch on the dance floor, and yet he looks at Penelope as though there’s nothing wrong with her. You’d think he’d go dance with the ladies trying to get him to look at them.”
“That’s your job, son. Make it happen.”
***
I was too hasty, Nash thought. It wasn’t fair to Penelope that Nash up and ran out of the house. But that’s what Henry did to him.
The moment he saw Henry, his blood started rushing through his body, hot and prickly. He could live to be a thousand, and that visceral reaction would never leave him.
The memory of Henry and what he did to Penelope and Rusty was still fresh. Penelope was permanently scarred because of him, and it wasn’t an accident. The dog was fourteen years old; he had him since he was a boy.
***
Nash had been at his estate alone far too long. After his father died, his solicitor recommended he go there and familiarize himself with the books. Make sure the steward was capable. His father had run the place well, and Nash knew what his commitment to running the place would be.
No one was in London in the dead of summer. The streets stank from the sewage thrown out windows. Sewage that ran down the street in a river. The coal made visibility almost naught. Nash always wanted to put his handkerchief over his nose and mouth to protect himself. He would go to the dock for a fresh breeze but for the rotting fish. No one was in London in the dead of summer.
He wrote to his three university friends, Harriman, Darrell, and Wilson. He thought a poker weekend with horseback riding and sleeping late sounded like fun.
They all arrived within hours of each other late Thursday. After drinks, dinner, and gossip, they went into the library where a square table had been moved.
“How do you like it here?” Wilson asked.
Nash shrugged. “It’s all right. I’ve lived here for a long time, but now that I’m a Duke, everyone treats me differently. The ladies in the tavern. Everyone. Get this; I have a neighbour who thought I’d invite him to the game because he’s the son of a Duke.
“It’s crazy.”
Harriman nodded. “Happened to me too. It will take a little while.”
The men played into the night with some heavy drinking, heavy betting, but no heavy winner. They woke to bright sunshine and made their way to the dining room to get rid of their hangovers by eating too much.
Darrell looked at his friends, “I’m still not convinced this is the cure.”
Harriman lifted his head from the business of eating. “Shut up, Darrell. You have been saying that since university. Don’t eat if you don’t want to. Just shut up.”
Darrell mumbled, “Hangover grump.”
The pathetic group took several hours to get in the saddle and head off towards the falls.
Nash shook his head. “What? You can’t even ride now?”
“My brain is jiggling in my head every time the horse moves,” Wilson said.
“Come on, Wilson. The water will do you good. It’s not far.”
Harriman asked, “Is it on your estate?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Harriman continued, “we can swim nude.”
Nash laughed. “That was the plan all along.”
When they got to the falls, Nash’s dog Rusty was the first to jump in. The men could barely hear each other from the noise of the water, but after disrobing, they followed Nash under the falls to the flat ledge with a pool in front of it. They dove into the pool and surfaced, screaming because of the cold, but then Nash and Rusty jumped in again so they all followed.
Wilson jumped up and down with the chill as he dressed, “Well, my hangover is gone. My brains won’t fall out of my head on the way back to the estate.”
Harriman said, “I have a feeling we’re going to be back here tomorrow.”
Nash laughed. “Maybe a little earlier in the day?”
“Maybe,” Darrell said.
The four of them made it back to the house in time for tea. Perfect timing. They were ravenous. Twice, Nash pulled the bell for more food. The second time, the parlour maid asked if they were interested in a meal. They all scoffed, and Nash rolled his eyes.
They all rested and were woken for their evening meal. After feasting, they went into the library. Darrell started calling it ‘the scene of the crime’ as their night started all over again.
Late into the night, Nash’s three friends climbed the stairs as if it were a very difficult thing to do. Nash went outside to get Rusty.
He called the dog several times. Usually, Rusty would come right away, but this time there wasn’t a sound. Nash worried he was hurt.
He got a coat, took a sconce from the wall, holding it high. He checked the stables, the barn and a paddock holding cows.
Nash had long ago sobered up, his worry heightened. He thought he would find Rusty dead of a heart attack; the dog was so old. He couldn’t leave him out here.
He started down the paths in the woods, zigzagging the ones closest to the house, knowing Rusty didn’t stray far into the deeper areas. Then Nash saw Rusty and dropped the sconce. It was a damp evening so the fire didn’t spread, but Nash wouldn’t have noticed if it did.
Tears filled his eyes. He kneeled next to his dog. “Rusty, what happened to you? Who did this to you?”
Nash had to wipe his tears on the side of his coat. His hands shook each time he tried to touch his dead dog. He retracted his hand unable to do it.
Nash looked at the body of his dog in front of him while Rusty’s head was about six feet away. He couldn’t move. Who would do such an awful thing? What human was capable of such a thing?
He walked back to the stables, crying, looking for a shovel, banging into every tool in there.
An old wrinkled faced man came out of the shadows. “How can I help you, Your Grace?”
Nash turned. His face was red, blotchy, his eyes swollen from tears. “Hello, Cobb. I just found Rusty dead, and I’m looking for a shovel.”
He started crying again when he said, ‘Rusty dead.’
Cobb shuffled from foot to foot. “I’m sorry to hear it. We loved that dog of yours. I’ll be right back.”
Cobb returned with two stable boys rubbing the sleep from their eyes. As soon as they saw Nash’s eyes and his face, they stopped rubbing and nodded together, “Your Grace.”
Cobb handed them all a shovel, and Nash led the way to Rusty. When he saw Rusty, Cobb sucked in his breath and stopped walking. One of the boys behind him bumped into Cobb from his sudden stop. They all moved slowly forward, and no one said a word. Where they saw Nash break ground, they came and helped. When the hole was large enough and deep enough, Cobb stepped toward Rusty.
“No,” Nash said sharply. “I’ll do it.”
Cobb nodded and stayed back. Nash began to cry again as he picked up Rusty’s body and placed it in the ground. They were all silent as he took Rusty’s head, placed it next to his body, and picked up his shovel.
Ten minutes later, they all walked silently to the stables. Nash handed his shovel to Cobb and
nodded his thanks. He went to his bedchamber and cried one last time.
By the time Nash came down to eat, the other three were there and had been told. Nash’s eyes were swollen and half shut. His nose was red.
Harriman started, “Nash, I’m so sorry about your dog. He was great.”
Darrell was next, “Everyone loved that dog.”
And Wilson went last. “Do you know who did this? We’ll go hunt him down with you. Just say the word.”
By this time, Nash was sitting with a cup of coffee in front of him. Wilson said, “You think it’s the neighbour guy, don’t you?”
Nash nodded.
Harriman looked at Darrell and Wilson. “Then we’ll get our horses and pay him a visit.”
Nash nodded. “Here’s how you can help. I’m going over there, and I am going to confront that little worm. You can ride with me and sit on your horses outside. If they see you, it might scare them a bit. He’s not going to admit he did it, but I want him to know I know.”
Darrell looked around the room. “We can do that.”
Harriman and Wilson nodded.
Nash got no satisfaction out of his visit to the Stanton estate. Both Avery and that little weasel Henry were there and talked to him about what happened. Avery wanted to know what evidence Nash had to back up his accusation, and Henry taunted him, asking if he interviewed his own staff before running to them.
In the end, the only satisfaction he got from the meeting was that they knew he knew. He and his friends went back to Nash’s estate, and they asked him if he wanted them to leave so he could be alone. However, being alone was the last thing he wanted.
The card game lasted into the night, but they woke in the morning with no hangover. It was a pain free ride around the estate and to the waterfall. After a swim, they ate lunch at the tavern, and Nash was teased about how small his town was.
They all agreed to get together in three months at Harriman’s estate and three months later at Wilson’s estate. Then, after another three months, Darrell’s estate. Once all four estates were visited, they’d find who had the biggest town.
Another night of cards, and Nash’s three friends left after the midday meal.
***
Cecilia stayed in her bedchamber for the rest of the afternoon. She sat in one of her navy brocade chairs, chairs made in India with specifications direct from Avery of the brocade pattern and colours to be used. The chair was close enough to the fireplace to warm her, but it didn’t. She had a cold, empty feeling inside.
Henry was going to ruin it. Just for his personal amusement. He would tell Avery about Nash’s interest in Penelope, and he would demand Avery cut it off.
Sometimes, Cecilia felt so helpless. Her brother was good to her, and he did the right thing by her. Hadn’t he danced with Penelope just last evening, drawing much-needed attention to his niece? Yes, he was well-intentioned, and Cecilia, Penelope, and Edward gratefully benefitted.
But Henry? He was a nightmare come to life. It was all too easy. Nash saw Penelope, knew her from long ago, introduced himself, then they clicked. You would only have to see them on the dance floor or while they sat and talked to see the interest they had in each other.
With every instinct in her body, Cecilia knew Henry would ruin the best thing that would ever happen to Penelope. Then Penelope would be broken hearted and probably settle for anyone willing to overlook her face. What gentleman would want to go into a marriage with a woman whose face carried a prominent scar? Even Edward clicked with Nash. He wouldn’t have to worry every day of his sister’s well-being if she were with Nash. Cecilia shook her head and mumbled, “The poor woman who marries Henry.”
Chapter 7
Nash called at one o’clock, lilacs in hand. The ladies curtsied, he and Edward bowed, and he presented his gift to Penelope.
She pulled the bell, and Waters came in to take the flowers and put them in a vase with water.
“Lord Balfour, I would like to ask you if Lady Penelope and I could go for a walk this lovely afternoon.” He turned to Penelope. “Is your maid available?”
Edward looked at Nash, “If Penelope would like to accompany you, you have my permission if we can find a chaperone for you.”
Penelope spoke, “I know Helen is available to me. I’ll just go upstairs and get her and find my wrap.”
Penelope rushed from the room while Nash turned to Cecilia. “Lady Balfour?”
“It’s perfectly fine with me. How long do you expect to be out of doors?”
“I’ll return her within two hours.”
Cecilia nodded. “That’s fine.”
Penelope came down the stairs with Helen close behind her. She came into the parlour, “I’m ready.”
Nash turned to Edward and Cecilia and bowed,” Lord Balfour, Lady Balfour.”
Being out in the sun walking with Penelope was Nash’s definition of an ideal day. He wanted to get out of that parlour and the invasive presence of Henry. If this worked out, he would do it again.
“Where would you like to go, Lady Penelope?”
“I’m not sure. Do you have suggestions?”
Nash thought. Sometimes there were less travelled areas of Rotten Row. “Could we walk towards Rotten Row? The flowers are in full bloom, and once off the main walkway, it’s not very crowded.”
“Sounds delightful.”
They walked at a slow pace, enjoying the weather, and in no hurry. Penelope told Nash of growing up in Somerset with Edward and Henry. Henry had always been a handful, even as a young boy. Penelope had to avoid him as much as possible. Every once in a while, Henry decided he wanted to be around Penelope. That’s when her days turned into nightmares.
“That bad?” Nash asked, knowing it to be true.
“Yes, that bad. Until this,” Penelope pointed to her scar, “then he left me alone.”
“I wish you could have had a fun childhood. Picking flowers, running through meadows, raiding the kitchen.”
Penelope gave a small smile, “Thank you. I wish so too. But it wasn’t to be.”
Nash hesitated, then spoke. “The first time we met, you were fourteen, and I was twenty. You had just been injured, but you came to the dinner table. That must’ve been difficult for you.”
“Yes, my uncle insisted I dine with you. I don’t know why.”
“I sat across from you and looked into those beautiful brown eyes of yours, and I felt a familiarity. At first, I thought we had met before, but that wasn’t it. It was more like a real connection two people share.
“You hear about twins who finish each other’s sentences or old married couples who will swear they know what each other is thinking. I felt it so strong, but I didn’t know what it was. I still don’t. Am I making any sense to you?”
Penelope tilted her head and looked into Nash’s eyes. “When you walked towards me in that crowded ballroom, the night we met? I felt something then. I was too afraid to even admit the feeling to myself.”
Nash was puzzled, “Why?”
Penelope pointed to her scar but didn’t say anything.
Nash rolled his eyes then took a sharp left onto a quiet path deep inside Rotten Row. He looked around to see if anyone was looking. “Penelope, Helen? Let’s pick some of these. They will look beautiful in your parlour.”
Nash and Helen started picking flowers, but Penelope didn’t move. “And when we walk out of here with flowers in our hands?”
Nash turned to Helen. “Is she always a scaredy-cat?” He winked.
Helen nodded.
Penelope looked up to the sky, then down to the flowers. “Oh, all right. If I get arrested, things will get ugly quickly.”
When they emerged with fists full of lilacs, daisies, Iris, and lavender, all three looked very pleased with themselves.
Penelope began walking at a brisk pace. “Quick. Let’s get back before someone sees us.”
Nash laughed. “So, it’s fine to commit a crime as long as no one sees us?”
Penelope
gave Nash a fake smile, “Very funny. Let’s go.”
When he opened the door for them, Penelope handed the flowers to Waters. “Could you please have someone get a vase and water for these?”
Nash and Penelope went into the parlour. Nash was happy to see there were tea and a few cookies left.
He sat back while Cecilia poured his tea. “Did anyone else join you for tea?”
Edward answered, “Funny you should ask. There was a gentleman here looking for both of you. He thought my mother and I were idiots and lying to him when we said we didn’t know where you went.
