Page 51 of The Austen Escape
“Sonia—she’s the maid—explained that the other night. Costumed parties dominate the summer months, the high season. But there are only two costumed stays offered in the fall, the last week in September and this two-week stretch to Halloween. Then the Stanleys, the owners, keep the house for themselves all through the holidays. And...” I took a breath; it rattled on the exhale. “The house doesn’t fill in the fall. It’s kind of the time for the staff to wrap up all the details of the busy summer before the Stanleys come. That’s why the Lottes—they’re the family from Geneva—chose this week. They didn’t want Clara, their eight-year-old, to feel uncomfortable. She already speaks three or four languages, and she adores Isabel. The other couple, the Muellers, chose it because I guess it’s a little cheaper now than in the high season. They’re from Salzburg. They’re about eighty, and don’t mention the Von Trapps. Well... Do. Herman likes to talk about them.”
I risked a peek. My head reached right above Nathan’s shoulders. It would probably tuck beneath his chin. I dropped my eyes—our hands were at the same level.
He glanced over. I glanced away.
We rounded the last bend to find an empty stable. The door to the dark-green building was shut, and the silence held a hard, empty quality. I peeked inside. Three horses. No humans.
“I didn’t tell her you were coming... I’m sorry.”
“Mary, I didn’t come to—”
“Good morning, Miss Davies.”
I spun as Duncan came from around the corner dressed in khakis, work boots, and a plaid shirt. He carried small needle-nose clippers.
“Duncan.” I practically shouted his name. “Good to see you... Has our resident Emma gone riding?”
“She and Grant left about an hour ago. He took a picnic, so I expect they’ll be gone awhile.” Duncan’s face split into a slow smile. “She didn’t balk about no chaperone today, and he looked very pleased to—”
“Duncan, this is Isabel’s boyfriend from the States. Nathan Hillam. Nathan, this is Duncan. He’s interning here this summer while getting his veterinarian degree.”
Duncan blanched. “I—”
“All good.” Nathan cut him off. He narrowed his eyes my direction, then pumped Duncan’s hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Duncan. Those look like they’re for fishing?” He gestured to the clippers.
“I was tying flies. Do you want to see—”
Nathan had already passed him.
Duncan followed Nathan. I followed Duncan. We rounded the stables and found a door on the other side. I stepped through.
Fishing rods lined the walls, and small bins of feathery flies lined the counter. There was a desk covered in brightly colored foam sheets, fluff, and more feathers. It looked like a kindergarten craft table. Rubber pants hung from hooks, boots stacked in rows beneath them.
“This is amazing. My grandfather tied all his own flies.” Nathan pointed to the table. “Can we fish?” He directed his question to me.
Duncan answered. “Let me get you set up. You won’t need waders; you can stay on the bank. There’s a spot just downstream that has a good caddisfly hatch this time of the morning.”
I leaned against the wall and watched while the two of them chatted like old friends and grabbed everything a fisherman needed. Nathan acted like a kid on Christmas Eve—all excitementand questions. Christmas Eve as most people think of it, that is—the holiday as it should be.
Nathan sent me a warm smile. It felt as if he’d read my thoughts and liked their direction. Then he turned back to Duncan like a puppy yapping at Duncan’s heels. What kind of fish?... What’s running?... Any rainbow?... What’s hatching?... Dry fly?... Wet?... What do you tie?... Do you tie all your own flies?...
Once Duncan had everything sorted, Nathan stopped in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mary. Is there something you or we need to do? I didn’t even think about Isabel.”
“Don’t you want to find her?”
“She’s happy with Grant, right?” His gaze swept Duncan into the conversation too.
The younger man’s face clouded in confusion. “She looked very happy this morning. She seemed pleased to see Grant and she loved the idea of a picnic. Not that anything would be amiss. Grant would never be—”
Nathan stepped to him and clapped a hand on his back. “I’m not worried about any of that. If she is safe and happy, I am too.” His last sentence he directed to me. It felt like smoke—substantive enough to carry a message, but able to drift up and away before I caught it.
He wagged a finger at my dress. “It’s not as if she can go too far.”
“You’re right,” I conceded with a smile.
He and Duncan headed out the door. As Duncan strode ahead, Nathan paused to wait for me. He reached out and tugged my hand to hurry me along. And rather than let it go once we’d caught up, he twisted his fingers through mine and hung on.
I tried not to hold too tight. Then not too loose. Then chided myself for thinking about it at all. I then tried to enjoy the feel of my hand in his and the morning. All I really felt was confusion.
