by Martha Keyes
Elias was the first to notice her approach. “Ah. So, the recluse deigned to grace us with her presence, did she?”
Edith flashed him a mocking smile. “I try to reserve unpleasant interactions until after I have breakfasted.”
Matthew set his hat firmly atop his head. “Oh, enough already. If you two intend to bicker the entirety of the expedition, please at least walk behind the rest of us a few yards. Come, Vi. Let us go see some ruins.” He tugged Viola with him, and Mercy shot Edith a laughing glance before taking her husband’s arm.
Edith looked at Elias, who grinned at her with his arm out in invitation. Her lips pinched together, and she took it. “Let us not ruin this for the others, shall we?”
“I’m afraid the object of the expedition is already ruined.” He kept his gaze forward, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He was obviously quite pleased with his pun.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Edith said, pulling her arm free of his. “If my choice is between listening to your awful jokes and returning to the house, there really is no choice at all.” She turned back toward Shipton, but Elias grabbed her arm, drawing her back toward him. A dash of sandalwood enveloped her briefly. He might make terrible jokes, but at least he smelled decent.
“Very well,” he said, tucking her arm back into his. “No more puns. But I could hardly let that opportunity pass by when you set it up so beautifully, could I?”
“If you insist on making a fool of yourself, I certainly shan’t be the one to prevent you,” she said cheerfully. “I doubt I could, in truth. Some forces are simply unstoppable—too strong to be resisted.” She stole a glance at him and couldn’t suppress a satisfied smile when he threw his head back and laughed. Though she would never admit it, she was glad he hadn’t let her return to the house.
He cocked a brow at her. “You are hardly the first woman to tell me I’m irresistible.”
She let out a shout of laughter that was hardly feminine. “If that is what you gathered from my words, then it is no wonder you conduct yourself with so much confidence. If Midas’s touch turns everything to gold, it seems your sense of hearing turns everything to a compliment. Perhaps you should consider employing a translator to help you understand what women mean when they insult you.”
“Are you offering yourself for the position?” he asked.
“I think I might be overqualified.”
“So certain?” he said, his mouth pulled up in its characteristic, self-assured half-smile. “If I were to unleash the full power of my charm upon you, Edith Donne, you would be helpless against it. Yes, even you.”
“I wait with bated breath,” she said dryly, slowing as they approached the others, who had come to a stop. Before them, a blanket of yellow wildflowers carpeted the area surrounding what remained of an old priory. Vines crept around the ruins, hiding some of the areas where stone had broken away from the original structure.
Solomon looked back at Edith and Elias, his expression turning to one of surprise. He nudged Mercy. “You were right. They haven’t killed each other. Bravo, you two.” He gave a small clap.
“Killed each other?” Elias said. “Surely not. In fact, Edith was just telling me how very irresistible she finds me.” He looked down at her with his teasing grin.
“Behold me enraptured.” Edith tugged her arm away from him and used her hand to stifle a feigned yawn, then made her way toward the priory.
Elias’s top boots shuffled through the long grass that had grown up around the rear of the priory. Two broken stones lay on the ground, and he turned one over with his foot. “This place is more ruined each time I come.” He shaded his eyes as he looked up at one particularly jagged wall. “I remember the first time we came here, this wall was nearly intact.”
Matthew picked up one of the stones, turning it over in his hand. “Yes, well, fifteen years of desperate villagers filching stone takes its toll on a place. Not to mention the time you scaled the wall. I seem to remember two or three stones coming loose then, too.”
Elias smiled, picturing his boyish form trying to find footholds. “But I did make it to the top.”
Matthew scoffed through his nose. “Just before toppling onto me and spraining my wrist. Do you remember that, Mercy?”
Mercy turned to face them, and her husband followed suit.
Having her attention, Matthew repeated the question. “When Elias sprained my wrist while you were visiting that summer?”
“Come now,” Elias protested. “You can’t place all the blame on me! You were the one foolish enough to stand directly below me. Besides, I saw a snake, and the surprise caused me to lose my footing. I can hardly be blamed.”
“A snake?” Viola curled her arms inward and looked down at the ground below, as Solomon drew back a bit, eyes searching the tall grass.
Edith stepped toward Viola, setting a reassuring hand on her arm. “A likely excuse from Elias. And indeed, even if there were any snakes here, they would have long since been frightened away by all of us traipsing around.”
“She is right, Vi.” Mercy pulled at her husband’s arm, bringing them closer to the group. “I remember that day, though, Matthew—you with a sprained wrist and Elias with a twisted ankle, if my memory serves. And the both of you crying miserably, blaming each other.”
Both Elias and Matthew opened their mouths to protest.
“I don’t remember that,” Elias said.
“Surely not crying miserably,” Matthew objected.
“Your memory does serve,” Edith said, stepping into the grass and tugging the hem of her dress free from a weed. “Mercy and I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for either of you, though, seeing as only that morning, you had snuck ink into our tea.”
Elias exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Matthew, then schooled his expression into one of innocence. “I haven’t any idea what you’re referring to.”
“The ink smudges on your fingers begged to differ,” Edith replied saucily. “I hope they took as long to fade as the ink stains on our lips.”
Solomon folded his arms with a small smile and leaned against the ruined wall, where Matthew reclined on a shoulder, fingers toying absently with a blade of grass. “Was that when all this” —Solomon gestured between Edith and Elias— “began?”
“Oh, no,” Edith said, crossing her arms with a challenging smile at Elias. “That was when he put a frog in my bath.”
“Baseless accusations,” Elias said, though he couldn’t keep from grinning. He could still recall the sound of her girlish scream reverberating down the corridor. “Besides, the trick was more than repaid when I slipped my feet into my boots the next morning.”
Solomon’s mouth pulled into a curious half-smile. “What, then?”
“Slugs,” Elias said.
Solomon looked to Edith in surprise, and she shrugged, shielding her eyes as she glanced up at the sky. “I have always tried to give as good as I get. I have checked my bathwater ever since, and you still check your boots, don’t you?”
Elias’s toes wiggled, and he gave a reluctant nod. He couldn’t deny that he did indeed check his boots, despite the fact that his valet also checked them. He suppressed a shudder as he remembered how it had felt the last time he hadn’t.
It had been some time since they’d played those sorts of tricks—in the beginning it had been Mercy and Edith pitted against Matthew and Elias, but Edith and Elias had always been the driving force behind the rivalry, and as they had grown and matured, such pranks had slowly given way to verbal battles.
Elias looked down at his boots, hidden in the tall grass, and frowned. A long piece of rope sat a few inches from the toe of his black boot, winding through the amber and green blades, well hidden by its dull color. He glanced through the paneless window of the priory wall to where the rectory stood, fresh laundry hanging from a similar rope in the garden. No doubt the rope had come from whoever inhabited the home.
The conversation had turned, and Elias kneeled with the pretense of b
rushing some dirt from his boot, covertly taking the end of the rope and standing with his hands clasped at his back so that the rest of it trailed behind him.
He composed his face in an expression of polite interest and then, when the time seemed most propitious, yelled out, “Snake!” and jumped away from the group, making the rope rustle the grass.
Chaos erupted: two screams—indistinguishable in pitch—from Solomon and Viola, yelps and a dancing of feet from the others, while Elias teased the rope and feigned terror.
Two insistent hands wrapped around his arm, and Edith pressed her hunched form into him. Matthew and Solomon were huddled together against the wall, their wide eyes trained on the ground, while Mercy and Viola had both run to the shorter, wildflower-speckled grass.
Elias raised the rope in the air, giving in to his laughter, and wiping at his eyes.
Edith immediately stepped away from him. “I might have known.”
He wagged his brows at her. “Irresistibly drawn to me, were you? You might have taken refuge in any number of places, but you chose me.”
His words elicited a disgusted snort from her. “It speaks volumes that your irresistibility depends upon your ability to terrorize your victims.” She looked to Matthew and Solomon with a raised brow. “Though I do find it very interesting that Mercy and Viola were left to fend for themselves while the two of you flew to each other for protection. Did you not promise to comfort Mercy and forsake all others, Solomon?”
Solomon acknowledged the hit with a humorous glare, though his chest was still heaving from the fright. Mercy rustled through the grass to take his arm. “Solomon hates snakes more than almost anything.”
“Are there no snakes in Jamaica?” Viola asked, still stepping cautiously through the grass, as though she still didn’t believe that it had all been a prank.
“None that are venomous,” Solomon said, taking in a deep breath. “One of the island’s many attractions.”
Elias held up the end of the rope, smiling. “Neither was this snake venomous.”
“No.” Edith was gathering up the rest of the rope in her arms. She tossed the bundle toward him, and Elias scrambled to catch it. “Merely a nuisance.”
Matthew glanced at Edith and Elias up ahead. Rather than trailing behind the group, they had taken the lead on the return to Shipton House, and their pace matched the quick-moving debate they were engaged in, putting them far out of earshot, while the remaining four walked abreast.
“Not much has changed in the past fifteen years, then, has it?” Solomon said.
Matthew laughed. “No. Though it has been some time since Elias subjected us to one of his larks, and even then, he always involved me in them.” His eyes narrowed, and his mouth pulled into a smile. “I have a mind to take revenge.”
“You can count on my full support,” Solomon replied. “It would be refreshing to see the tables turned upon someone like him for a change.”
Matthew glanced at him thoughtfully. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can come up with something satisfying.”
“Why not the four of us, then?” Mercy said. “We were all subjected to his prank, after all. It seems only fair that we should have a hand in the retribution—in serving him some humble pie.”
Matthew chuckled, kicking at a tuft of grass. “It is not as easy as it sounds. I have tried to serve entire humble pies to Elias on any number of occasions and have yet to hit upon just the thing. He’s dashed difficult to outsmart or catch unawares.”
“We must come up with something entirely original, then,” Viola said prosaically. “A prank unlike any you have employed before. The element of surprise is essential.”
Matthew nodded. “A fake love letter, perhaps?” He snapped his fingers. “From Miss Jenkins! For he cannot abide the wiles and lures she sets out for him.”
Mercy shook her head, frowning. “I cannot like Miss Jenkins, either, but I should hate it if word were to reach her of the prank. It might well put Elias in a difficult position, for she is certain to capitalize on it in whatever way she can.”
“A woman, then, whom we can trust not to do so,” Solomon said. “A prank we can sustain just long enough to throw him off balance.”
A particularly heated part of Elias and Edith’s debate brought their muffled, intermixed voices sailing back to the group, and Matthew jumped out ahead of the others, putting his hands out to stop them.
A smile grew on his lips as he considered the possibilities. “Edith,” he said.
“What?” Mercy frowned.
Matthew shrugged. “Why not use Edith? What could throw Eli off balance more than discovering Edith was in love with him?”
Solomon shook his head. “He would never believe it. Really, only a fool would.”
“People can be brought to believe anything with enough reason,” Viola said. “Only think of Malvolio in Twelfth Night. He is quick to believe that Olivia loves him when he receives a falsified letter from her.” She tapped a finger to her lips. “What if Edith was made to believe that Elias was in love with her, as well?”
Her words were met with silence as Matthew and the others digested the suggestion.
“The pranksters become the pranked,” Matthew said slowly. He pointed a finger at her. “I think you are onto something, Vi. It would throw the both of them off kilter if we can manage it right.” He slapped his leg. “Ah, what fun! What better way to play a trick on them than to convince them of something so entirely contrary to what they believe? The perfect way to take down their pride a notch or two! What say you, Mercy? Can it be done?”
She looked unconvinced. “It seems…cruel.”
“Come, my dear,” Solomon said in a rallying tone. “Do you truly think either of them would be hurt by such a thing?”
Mercy’s mouth twisted to the side. “I suppose not. In fact, I would be surprised if she even believed it.”
“Which is why we must plan things,” Matthew said.
“They will not begrudge us a bit of fun,” Solomon said. “And it will be but temporary—only long enough to see how they react. Neither of them is too rigid to enjoy a well-played trick, surely.”
Matthew watched as Mercy regarded her husband with indecision.
“Edith will think it the best of jokes,” Matthew said encouragingly, “as will Eli. I assure you.”
Mercy glanced at Matthew, lips twisting to the side. She sighed, and her mouth broke into a reluctant smile. “Very well. What exactly shall we do?”
Chapter Three
Elias’s eyelids fluttered, and he winced with discomfort as he shifted on the chaise longue in the library. He hadn’t come there with the intention of falling asleep, but the book he had been reading lay on the floor, open but upside down, and his boots dangled over the edge of the chaise. It was the quiet corner of the library—quite obviously made to feel secluded, tucked as it was in the back rim of the room and hidden by a large screen. The faintest hint of vanilla hovered in the corner, reminding him of something familiar he couldn’t put his finger on.
He made to reach for the book on the floor but stopped short at the sound of voices.
“Mercy herself told me, you know. You mustn’t tell anyone else, though, for she would wring my neck if she knew I’d said anything.” It was Solomon, and he likely was unaware of Elias’s presence in the room. It would be best to make some sort of sound to alert Solomon and whoever he was talking to to Elias’s presence.
“So it must be true, then.” There was awe in Matthew’s voice as he responded. “One thinks one knows one’s own sister!”
Solomon chuckled. “Yes, well, I’m afraid there’s no doubting the truth of it—she’s in love with him. Quite enamored, from what Mercy said.”
Curiosity made Elias’s skin prickle, but now was the time to act. He swung one leg over the side of the chaise, bringing the other behind it. It stopped mid-air.
“Heaven only knows why!” Matthew said. “Eli’s my closest friend—more like a brother, really—
but he’s the deuce of a fellow to Edith. And she is even worse to him! I can’t begin to understand it.” He let out a strange noise. “In love with him? I say, it’s enough to strike one dumb.”
Elias sat cemented to the chaise longue, his breathing slow, body leaning forward, leg suspended just above the floor.
“You know her better than I, of course,” said Solomon, “but Mercy says she is nothing if not prideful—”
“An understatement if I ever heard one!”
“—not to mention she despairs of his returning her regard, so she has vowed never to say a word or give him any indication of the true state of her feelings.”
Elias’s eyes grew large, his heart thrumming against his ribs.
Matthew blew out a breath. “Women are strange creatures, are they not? Certainly beyond my ability to comprehend. Ah, here’s the book. And don’t bother returning it—if I never have to set eyes on it again, I’ll be the happiest of fellows.”
“Very good,” Solomon said. “I shall gladly take it off your hands. You’ve spared me the trouble of locating a copy for myself.”
The footsteps of the two men drew farther from Elias, followed by the opening and the soft thudding of the door closing.
Only the crescendoing ache in his thigh, suspended in the air, brought Elias to his senses. He lowered it slowly, eyes wide, heart beating like a chorus of drums.
What—what had just...? He blinked rapidly and rubbed at his eyes, wondering if perhaps he was still sleeping, experiencing some sort of strange dream. But the library looked very much like it had before he’d dropped off to sleep.
He slapped his cheek, wincing.
Nothing.
What in heaven’s name was he to do with what he had just heard? Matthew had said it was enough to strike one dumb—and that is precisely how Elias felt. Speechless.
Edith Donne in love with him? She despised him! Took pleasure in tearing him down! And yet….
