by Martha Keyes
Edith’s color was considerably heightened.
“How fascinating,” Elias said. “Mrs. Cherriman must like you better than me, for I am more likely to receive a flung arm to the face than—”
“She knows, Elias.” Edith cut him off. “I told her.”
He looked back and forth between the two of them, Miss Perry attempting to suppress her amusement, and Edith’s face still pink and annoyed.
“I was obliged to concoct a story for the edification of Mr. Stratton—thanks to your need to publish about our pretended relationship—and Miss Perry has kindly offered to corroborate the story I told.” She sent a smile at Miss Perry.
“It is no trouble at all,” Miss Perry said. “I assure you. The weather took us all by surprise. You couldn’t have known that you would be obliged to spend the night here.”
Edith rose. “The flooding has receded now, so I think we should be getting on our way as soon as possible.”
Miss Perry set down her cup of coffee. “Yes, I should be on my way as well.”
They left Elias to swallow a quick breakfast before gathering his things to leave.
The few items Elias had used during their time at the inn were packed away again, and he instructed one of the inn servants to convey the portmanteau to the coach. The ride would be unpleasant and muddy, but he looked forward even less to arrival at Shipton House. In their efforts to turn the tables on their friends, they had only managed to make fools of themselves—and likely worse. Elias cringed to think of the inevitable encounter with Mr. Donne. He and Edith would have to come up with a way to placate the man. He would be mad as fire when he discovered everything. And the thought that Edith’s reputation might be in danger made him feel sick to his stomach.
Elias strode down the corridor, his boots thudding loudly as he approached the room Edith and Miss Perry had been occupying. He hoped to borrow a horse from Mr. Drew and ride beside the chaise—whatever he could do to lessen the wrath of Mr. Donne and convince him that they had been meticulous in safeguarding Edith’s reputation.
He would arrive at Shipton House with clothing caked in mud, no doubt, and he acknowledged a feeling of disappointment at the prospect of sacrificing time in the carriage with Edith, but it was a small price to pay if it meant sparing her some of her father’s unpleasantness.
“I cannot think what might have happened to it.” Miss Perry’s distressed voice sounded through the bedroom door, left ajar.
“Might your maid have it?” Edith asked.
“No, for she knows that I care for it myself—I am quite particular about it. Oh, dear!”
“No need to distress yourself just yet. I shall go look in the coffee room. Perhaps the clasp came undone while we ate.” Edith emerged from the room, stopping short when she saw Elias. She pulled the door shut and sighed. “Miss Perry has lost her necklace.”
Elias frowned. “A shame, I’m sure, but I would think such a consideration would be superseded by her desire to be to the funeral in time.”
“Yes, I thought so too, but it is not just any necklace. It was a gift from her brother.”
Elias sighed. “If it is the piece of jewelry I am remembering, it could be anywhere—slipped between a crack in the floorboards, swept up by a servant, stolen by a servant….” He shrugged. “It was a small little thing. We could spend the rest of the day in search of it, I should think. And who knows how long the rain will hold?”
Edith brushed past him, with a saucy look over her shoulder. “Then stop jabbering, and help me find it.”
Mr. Stratton was found to be on his way out, a many-caped greatcoat enveloping him and a cane in hand.
After a quick greeting, Edith brushed past him toward the coffee room, and Elias followed. He couldn’t like the way Mr. Stratton’s eyes pursued them.
Elias inquired with one of the servants about the necklace, explaining that it held great sentimental value for Miss Perry, whom he noticed through the coffee room door, her eyes frantically searching the floor.
He went to her, explaining apologetically that nothing had yet been found.
“Is there something I can be of assistance with, Miss…?” Mr. Stratton stood behind Elias, looking a question at Miss Perry.
“Perry, sir.” She wiped at her eye quickly. “I don’t wish to trouble you, sir. It is only that I seem to have lost the necklace I was wearing yesterday. It is very important to me.”
At Mr. Stratton’s request, she described the appearance of the necklace.
“I’m afraid I haven’t seen it,” he said. “I wish you luck, though, in your search, Miss Perry. Mr. Cherriman.” As he met Elias’s gaze, his brow lifted slightly along with the corner of his mouth, then he tipped his hat and returned to the entryway.
Twenty minutes of searching passed, with two servants joining the quest, but the necklace and pendant were nowhere to be found. Elias’s mount and Edith’s chaise stood in the courtyard, impatient horses pawing at the stones below, their coats glistening with the slow-falling rain.
Elias exchanged an anxious glance with Edith, who nodded.
Gingerly, he approached Miss Perry, who was on hands and knees searching, dashing every now and then at a tear.
“Miss Perry,” he said gently. “I’m afraid none of us has had any success in locating your necklace. I think it would be wisest to set out despite that, for we cannot tell how long the rain will continue so light. We can instruct Mr. Drew and his staff to continue looking for it—I would be happy to pay for the cost of sending it to you should it be found, or even to come retrieve it myself.”
Miss Perry stood, shaking her head, her hold on her emotions quite obviously tenuous. She brushed her hands down her dress. “You are right. I should be on my way, and I am sure that you are both anxious to leave. Thank you for your assistance. You have been so very kind to me.”
Coming up beside Elias, Edith reached a comforting hand to Miss Perry’s arm.
The door to the inn opened, and Mr. Drew appeared, his hair damp from the rain. He looked at the three of them, and an apologetic grimace pulled down at the corners of his mouth.
He lifted his shoulders. “I am sorry to report this, but passage over the bridge is quite impossible. It held up for a number of equipages this morning, but it seems it was weakened by the storm, and it is no longer safe. Part of it gave way.”
Edith shut her eyes and bowed her head, while Miss Perry’s black glove flew to her mouth. Elias put a hand on Edith’s shoulder, hoping to reassure her, though it was becoming less and less clear how everything was to be settled, given the debacle they were in.
“You are very welcome to continue your stay here, of course,” Mr. Drew continued. “I imagine the bridge will be repaired as quickly as possible, if only the weather will cooperate.”
The rain continued to fall outside, though it seemed to be lighter than it had been even an hour ago. The skies were gray, but they lacked the threatening purple and charcoal hues from the day before.
“Is there no other way to Ivybridge than the main road?” Elias asked the innkeeper.
He shook his head. “Beyond slipping through one of the hedges and riding across the countryside, I’m afraid not. I suppose one might take the road all the way back to Hebury Heath, and then take the village roads that wrap around north, but that would be a very long route.” One of the servants was heard calling for the innkeeper, and he excused himself.
“Repairing a bridge in the rain?” Miss Perry said, staring at nothing in particular. “That could take days! I shall surely miss the funeral.”
Elias took her gloved hand, hoping to keep her grounded. “Miss Perry, I promise that you shall attend your brother’s funeral, even if it means I must escort you on horseback myself—just like Mr. Drew mentioned.”
“Would you really?” Hope bloomed in Miss Perry’s face, and he could see Edith’s blinking surprise from the corner of his eye.
He nodded.
Miss Perry glanced at Edith and then back to
him. “It is so very kind, particularly when I have ruined everything for you. You might have been on the road an hour ago if it wasn’t for me and my necklace. And now you are forced to wait here indefinitely.”
She was right, and Elias stole a glance at Edith, wondering how she was feeling with the knowledge that they would be stuck at The Old Dog and Pheasant for even longer.
Edith met his gaze, then applied herself to Miss Perry. “Better safe here than drowned in the river, for who knows but what it might have given way underneath us?”
The thought made Elias’s stomach clench, and his hand gripped Edith’s shoulder harder. When had he even placed it there? He removed it gently, hoping Edith hadn’t noticed. He was quickly losing control of himself, and he foresaw nothing but hurt ahead if he didn’t manage to regain it.
After instructing her maid that her belongings be returned there, Miss Perry made her way back up to her room, and Elias turned to Edith.
“I know, I know,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “It is my fault again. I should never have agreed to help look for that cursed necklace, and all our efforts were for naught, as it is still lost.” She finally looked at him.
He smiled. “I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. In fact, I am getting quite comfortable here. I have a mind to stay indefinitely.”
“It isn’t a bad idea,” Edith said significantly. “Not if it means we never have to face Matthew or Mercy or my father again.” She held his gaze, unspoken apology written in her eyes. “We shall pay dearly for our trick.”
“You shan’t,” he said, taking her hand. “I won’t let you.”
“It is very valiant of you,” she said, pressing his hand gratefully, “but my father’s wrath will be growing with every hour we are absent—and that is without knowing of Mr. Stratton’s presence. If he feels I have jeopardized any of his political plans, he will yell me into my grave.”
“Let him direct his wrath at me, then.” He winked at her. “I can be quite deaf when I choose to be.”
“Deafness is only half the equation, I’m afraid. You shall feel the very ground rumble beneath your feet.”
“Much like when I snore?”
Her mouth trembled, and he knew a sense of victory at having pierced through her gravity. He was growing very attached to her reluctant smile.
“Oh, no. Nothing can rival that.” She turned on her heel and tossed a saucy look over her shoulder.
He watched her with a smile tugging at his lips. She always loved to have the last word—and the truth was, she generally earned it. She surpassed him in wit, little though he liked to admit it. And even had she not, he thought he might let her have the last word if only to see that look she gave him.
It was victory, yes. But even more, it was connection. It was an invitation to try her again, to come back for more. And Elias was more and more certain with each passing hour in Edith Donne’s company that he would keep coming back as long as she let him.
Chapter Eighteen
When Edith realized that Miss Perry had every intention of passing the majority of the day in the bedchamber, she pursed her lips.
“I think not, my dear,” she said, taking the girl’s hand and pulling her up from the bed. In such a place, there was little else for Miss Perry to do but dwell on her misfortunes, and the gray view onto a muddy stable yard from the window could hardly do anything but enhance the gloom.
For Edith’s part, the prospect of her arrival home held more than enough anxiety and unpleasantness. What they all needed was distraction. Something to lighten the mood.
“I think we should get up a game of bullet pudding.” Edith wagged her eyebrows, and Miss Perry looked intrigued but skeptical.
“Would it be unseemly of me to engage in such a thing under the circumstances?” She indicated her blacks.
Edith shrugged. “Was your brother very stiff? Or was he the sort who loved to laugh?”
Miss Perry smiled. “The latter, most assuredly. And he was very fond of the game.”
“Then I think he would be very pleased. We may do it in his honor.”
Miss Perry hesitated a moment longer, then nodded, an irrepressible smile forming on her lips.
Edith clasped her hands together. “Very good! We shall need flour, of course, and a knife, and then something heavy but small.”
Seeming to enter into the spirit of it, Miss Perry nodded. “I shall engage to have it all brought to the coffee room. Or should it be one of the parlors?”
“A parlor, I think, provided one is available. I can’t imagine Mr. Drew would wish for us to make a spectacle of ourselves in front of the other guests.”
Miss Perry nodded. “True. Very well, then. I will instruct the servants on the required items, and you may inform Mr. Abram of our plans.” And with that, she was off.
Edith glanced at Susan, who was busying herself with arranging everything in the bedchamber that had been repacked in their intent to leave earlier. Edith had debated bringing Susan along. Somehow she thought that eloping couples weren’t terribly likely to care much for propriety. But in the end, the thought of her father catching wind of the affair had determined her to take the precaution. She was glad for it, especially given how things had turned out. “Thank you, Susan,” she said with genuine feeling.
“Of course, miss,” the maid said as she straightened to respond to Edith. “Would you like me to set up the game downstairs?”
“Thank you, but no. We shall manage very well, I think.” She frowned. The maid looked exhausted and nervous. Where had she slept, after all? “The inn was quite full last night, as I understand it. Where did you sleep?”
Susan didn’t meet her eyes, busying herself with straightening the bed covers. “In the stables, miss.”
Edith’s eyes widened. “The stables?”
Susan nodded, still not meeting her eyes.
“Were you not freezing, then? And wet besides?”
Susan managed a tired smile. “It is no matter.”
An unexpected lump rose in Edith’s throat as she thought of Susan sleeping in the half-wet straw. “I disagree. And I am terribly sorry that you were made to do that. I can’t imagine you had much sleep.” She glanced at the freshly-made bed and put a hand on it. “Why don’t you lie down for a while? Right here.”
Susan’s eyes widened. “Oh, miss, I couldn’t.”
Edith smiled. “That is an order.”
Susan nodded obediently, and the corner of her mouth trembled slightly. “Thank you, miss. It is very kind of you.”
Edith pulled back the covers and patted them invitingly, then left the room, walking the short way down the corridor and pausing in front of Elias’s room to glance around. It wasn’t entirely proper for her to knock on his door, but it seemed silly to call for a servant to do it when she was already there, and she didn’t want to disturb Susan. Her nerves she chose to ascribe to the unseemliness of what she was about to do rather than to…anything else.
She knocked softly.
“Come in.”
She wavered, putting a hand on the doorknob as flashes of her dream assailed her unsolicited. For the sake of her own judiciousness, she was relieved upon waking to know that it had only been a dream, but there had been an undeniable feeling of disappointment along with it. In her dream, she had felt safe, encompassed in Elias’s arms. Strange how something originating in her own head could have felt so very real. She could even remember how his fingers had been intertwined in hers, his warm breath grazing her neck.
She shook her head and clenched her eyes shut. It was a silly dream. She knocked again more loudly.
Footsteps. “I said, ‘Come i—’” The door opened, and Elias stopped short, blinking. “Oh. Edith.”
She mustered a smile, ignoring the untied cravat that hung around his shoulders, exposing his neck, which had traces of shaving soap. It must have been the inn’s shaving soap, for it had a different scent from the rosewater from the library.
“Miss Perry a
nd I wished to invite you to play a game of bullet pudding.”
He raised his brows. “Miss Perry agreed to this?”
“Of course she agreed! Do you imagine I threatened her with a pistol?”
He shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me overmuch.” His eyes twinkled at her.
He delighted in provoking her. And, truth be told, she liked it as well. She liked a challenge, after all. That was all it was. He kept the boredom at bay.
She glared at him—unconvincingly, she guessed. “I look forward to seeing you make a fool of yourself with a face full of flour.”
“I assure you I shall finish the game with a face as clean as it is now.” He rubbed his jaw.
She raised a brow, unable to suppress a smile. “Clean as it is now?” Edith swiped a finger at a spot of shaving soap on his neck, realizing a moment too late the intimacy of the gesture. She felt him still and noted the arrested look in his eyes, which flitted to her mouth for the briefest moment. That small touch brought back a host of memories from the library—her hand wrapped around his neck, bringing his lips down to hers—and a desire to see if repeating the experience would be as enjoyable as it was the first time.
Stepping back, she put up her finger to display the soap, hoping she looked calmer than she felt inside.
“You missed a few spots.” She turned on her heel, forcing calm, confident steps.
She knew she was being ridiculous, and it was all because of that silly, ill-advised kiss. She had avoided anything approaching such intimacy all these years for good reason: she had been terrified of enjoying it. If she didn’t experience it, she couldn’t know what she was missing.
But now she did know what she was missing, and it aggravated her to no end that she wanted to experience it again and again. And worst of all—and just as she had always suspected—she was no better than her parents. Her desire to kiss Elias was entirely selfish.
She wouldn’t give in to such base motivations. She had always been in command of herself, and she had no intention of yielding now.
