Page 22 of War of the Wedding Wagers
She heard them exchange a few words and then Sir Frederick’s laugh.
Good, perhaps Amelia’s plan was starting to work, now that Sir Frederick was gaining a broader appreciation of Miss Playford.
And though it was foolish to feel a pang, it was only to be expected as a sort of swan song for any hopes she might entertain for a husband and family.
While she might enjoy the family, she knew she had not the temperament to play handmaiden to a demanding husband for the rest of her life. She’d seen too many examples of how easily that could go wrong. Miss Playford was correct when she said she she’d seen few examples of couples happily wed.
An owl hooted in a tree nearby and Amelia looked up to the inky sky, the golden moon bathing the world in a magical light.She heard the voices of her companions but could not see them when she turned a corner, halting her footsteps as she realized they’d gone and were out of earshot.
She really should hurry to catch up.
But rounding a corner, she realized she was at a dead end. Foolishly, she’d taken the wrong path.
It was an easy mistake but one which she must rectify quickly to avoid embarrassment.
However, after picking up her skirts and dashing the length of the path before it reached the corner of the yew hedge, she realized she was even more lost for there was yet another dead end.
“Miss Fairchild!”
She heard both Miss Playford and Sir Frederick calling for her and balled her hands into fists as she forced herself to answer, shame making her hot. She was only glad they couldn’t see her embarrassment for she blushed so very violently when her pride was on a pike.
“I’m here!” she called, hearing their footsteps which sounded on the other side of the hedge. “Right here!” she called in relief for they were very close.
“Can you find your way through to where we are, or would you like to stay still and we’ll find you?”
“I’m sure I can find you with little trouble,” she said, not hiding the exasperation in her voice. Of course she could.
But after some minutes more, there was nothing she could do but admit defeat. Not that she intended to do so in so many words. However, when Sir Frederick said, “I think you should not move, Miss Fairchild. Miss Playford and I will rescue you.”
Rescue me, thought Amelia in disgust. She’d never needed rescuing in her life, and she certainly didn’t need Sir Frederick to think he was playing the gallant knight in shining armor.
Yet, she couldn’t put her words into thoughts, muttering only an ungrateful “all right, I’ll stay right here” before, within a few seconds, the others were rounding the corner and saying gleefully, “Here you are! And what’s more, we’ve found the final clue. Come with us and we’ll show you.”
If they sensed she was vexed, they didn’t show it, and when Amelia reached the statue in the very center of the maze and saw the inscription at the bottom, her annoyance at herself had dissolved and she easily congratulated them as she read:
“Though warned to stay away, you must be brave,
For in the tower, secrets the past did save.
Climb with care, watch your step,
In crumbling stone, the truth is kept.”
Looking up, she asked, “Surely we are not to venture into the tower. It’s unsafe.”
“But I believe I know another way to access it that is not via the crumbling stairs, for assuredly they are unsafe. I believe Lady Pendleton intended for us to have this clue since she knows how familiar I am with the castle.”
“First we have to get out of here,” said Amelia with a sigh. “Clearly, I have not such a nose for direction as both of you and will have to meekly follow as you lead the way.”
Sir Frederick laughed. He went in front and began to traverse the sandy walkways of the maze. “I can see how heartily you dislike playing the maiden meek and mild.”
“Intensely,” muttered Amelia which made both of the others laugh for some reason, and Miss Playford to say ingenuously, “My aunt says it’s necessary sometimes for a lady to pretend she is far weaker and stupider than she is if a man is to pay her the necessary attention.”
“She sounds very anxious for you to make a match this season,” remarked Amelia. “I would certainly take her advice with a very large grain of salt.”
“So, you have never played on a man’s chivalrous instincts, Miss Fairchild?” asked Sir Frederick. “What about your fiancé? He was a very brave man. Surely you were not quite so fierce and independent all those years ago?”
Amelia gasped. How could he speak of Thomas with such lightheartedness? Even her nearest and dearest knew it was a topic that could not be broached without the greatest delicacy.
