“I think you’d better marry Harry. Harry will be much easier to manage.”
Claire gritted her teeth. “Harry has his mother.”
Brat looked up toward the windows of Trevelyan’s rooms. “Harry and his mother combined aren’t like he is.”
Claire didn’t have anything else to say, and they walked together to the main part of the house.
Chapter Seventeen
Claire behaved herself for two whole weeks. She told herself she’d been making a fool of herself with Captain Baker and that she had to start taking her life as the future duchess more seriously. For two weeks she attended every meal. She dressed for breakfast in a lovely, conservative dress and at the table she spoke to no one, just as she was supposed to do. At ten she dressed in her riding habit and went out for a sedate ride, accompanied by a silent groom. She returned from her ride, changed into a dress for luncheon, sat through the long meal and listened to the men and women talk of dogs and horses. After luncheon she read a book that had been personally approved by the duchess, or she tried her best to take up needlepoint, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the canvas. At four she put on a tea gown and went down to tea with Harry’s ancient relatives. She attempted to have a conversation with them but they mostly just looked at her. After tea the ladies went to their rooms to rest. Claire stopped herself from crying, “Rest from what? For what?” Obediently, she lay on the bed in her room, closed her eyes, and tried to be still. After the rest, she began the long process of dressing for dinner. She didn’t wear any of her low-cut, shocking, fashionable dresses, but only the most conservative, unshocking dresses. After a three-and-a-half-hour dinner, she went back to her room to retire for the evening.
By the end of the second week she was sure she was going to go mad. She had visions of herself running about the house screaming and pulling her hair out. She began to understand why the other inhabitants of the house were so eccentric. It was one evening when she was watching the two old ladies slip silverware up their sleeves that Claire wondered what it would feel like to be a thief. She picked up her salad fork and put the handle to her sleeve.
Just as the utensil was disappearing up her sleeve, she felt eyes on her and looked up to see the butler staring at her. Claire gave a start and put the fork back on the table.
The next morning she confronted Harry. “I have to have something to do.”
“You may do whatever you like,” he said, as he pulled on his riding gloves.
“May I go with you?” For the last several days she had seen Harry only at meals, but she hadn’t spoken to him. Every day he had been out hunting with her father and some other young men who had come from London for a visit.
Harry gave a quick frown, then tried to smile. He didn’t believe in women on hunts. They tended to be restless. “Of course you may. But you’ll have to abide by the rules of the hunt.”
Claire agreed. She would have agreed to anything in order to get away from the dull routine of that house. She promised herself and Harry that she’d be quiet and not cause him any distraction while he was hunting.
But the minute she was on the horse and riding beside Harry, it seemed that weeks’ worth of words flooded from her. She was so eager to talk to someone. “Harry,” she said under her breath so the others wouldn’t hear, “I’ve been dying to know how your mother took the news of Leatrice’s marriage. I haven’t heard so much as a whisper about it.” She looked away so he wouldn’t see the way her mouth tightened. She’d heard whispers enough in the last few days, but when she’d approached, the whispers had ceased. Twice she had been tempted to do what Brat did and hide behind doors and eavesdrop.
Harry looked surprised. “Mother wished her daughter all the happiness in the world. She said had she known Lee wanted to be married she would have arranged an elaborate ceremony for her. As it is, with the way Lee disgraced herself, Mother doesn’t feel she should reward Lee’s misconduct with a settlement.”
Again, Claire had to turn away. The duchess had certainly gotten herself out of that one. Claire wondered if Leatrice and her new husband had enough to live on.
“You don’t know who the man was who performed the ceremony, do you?” Harry asked.
“Why do you want to know?” Claire tried to keep her voice light.
“Mother asked. I think she’s had someone doing some searching.” Harry smiled. “I don’t think Mother is too happy with the man. I think Mother believes she could have dissuaded Lee if that man hadn’t come along and performed the service.”
Claire gave Harry a weak smile and turned away. She knew that everything she had felt about the duchess that first day was correct. The horrid old woman wanted Leatrice for her servant and she didn’t mean to release her.
Claire’s next thought was concern for Trevelyan. What would the duchess do if she found out that Trevelyan had performed the ceremony? Claire had had only that one meeting with the woman, but she didn’t think the duchess was the type to forgive easily. What would she do if she found out one of her husband’s relatives was hiding in the west tower and had helped to take away what the duchess considered to be hers?
In the next moment, Claire’s head came up. What would the duchess do if she found out Claire had been involved in taking Leatrice away?
“Claire?” Harry said. “Are you all right? You look pale. Perhaps you should return to the house.”
“No, I’m f
ine, really,” she murmured and smiled at Harry. Above all, she didn’t want to return to that house and its boredom.
Eight hours later, she was thinking of the quiet peacefulness of the house with longing. Harry had led her to something called a butt, a little three-sided, roofed shelter, and told her to sit still and not talk. There was nowhere to sit and nothing to sit on, so she’d had to sit on the damp ground. Harry and a man who did nothing but load his shotguns had stood at the other end of the butt and had shot at birds all day long.
Ten minutes after they had arrived it had begun to rain, not a deluge but a steady drizzle that seeped through the roof and sides of the butt and soon had Claire soaked.
Harry asked her if she wanted to return to the house. Claire told him no, that she was having a lovely time and what did a little rain matter? She knew that if she were a coward this first time and gave up, Harry would never again allow her to go with him.
At one they had a cold lunch and Harry kept on shooting. He was wearing tweeds and she could see that he too was soaked, but he didn’t seem to mind or even notice. Claire remembered what the duchess had told her about Harry’s delicate constitution, but he didn’t look delicate now.
Claire sat in the corner, the ground under and around her growing wetter by the minute, and pulled her knees up to hug them. All around her shotguns were going off. She wondered if one day spent in a leaky shelter could leave her permanently deaf.