Page 42 of The Proposition
“ ’Tis nothing like that,” Clemency assured her with alaugh. “Honora simply wanted me to deliver a message to an old friend here in town, a woman. In truth I know almost nothing about their friendship.”
“Oh, how dull,” Tansy muttered. She kicked at some stray pebbles on their way to the bench, following a faded, winding dirt path through a gap in the hedge and stone. “Here I had hoped to find that I was right, and your sister found a new beau.”
“Time will prove me right, I fear,” Clemency said with a chuckle. “Though I wish it were not so. I do hope she finds love again; it would be heartless to do otherwise. I simply worry that she is still in mourning.”
They went to sit together on the bench, and Clemency silently congratulated her brother on choosing a peaceful place for his engagement. The willow bending over them provided gentle, sweet shade, and its feathery boughs dripping down felt like something out of a child’s fairy tale.
Tansy patted her arm as they listened to the children laughing merrily, tumbling over one another in the grass.
“Honora still has her beauty. We shall be on the sharp lookout for any potential suitors at Almack’s, yes? There will be plenty of eligible gentlemen there, and some older, and not opposed to the love of a widow.” Tansy said it smiling, though it made a shallow cut. It did not feel right to discuss her sister like something used and discarded, only to be tolerated by certain gentlemen of certain ages. “What about that man that came to Round Orchard just before we left? Mr. Ferrand? Surely your mother had all sorts of schemes in that direction.”
Clemency scratched nervously at her own throat. “I do not think Honora and Mr. Ferrand would be well-suited to one another.”
“And why not?” Tansy shrugged. “Everyone says he is handsome, refined, of good manners, and past the draw of youthful frivolity. I shall suggest it to Lady Veitch, she must know him. Perhaps she can find some way to arrange a meeting….”
“Do not do that.” Clemency heard her voice raise before she could stop it.
Tansy simply stared, her lips puckered in a bemused smirk, awaiting explanation of her sister-in-law’s outburst.
“Only I have met him, and he is quite stoic and strange and serious. He has…an intensity about him that many would find uncomfortable.”
“But Nora is shy and soft-spoken; a stoic, serious man sounds perfectly agreeable for a woman of her inclinations.”
“I disagree!”
“Do you dislike the man?” asked Tansy, twisting to face Clemency, her amusement dissolving into irritation. “Lord, but you are argumentative today. Oh! There is William, and in such a hurry too.”
Tansy stood, watching as her husband crossed the road toward them, clutching his hat to his head as he ran. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face when he arrived, huffing and puffing, giving them a quick bow before shoving a note into Tansy’s gloved hands.
“You are to come at once, sweetheart. Lady Veitch needs you. Something is amiss with one of her daughters, that was all her valet would tell me.”
“Lady Veitch! Needing me? Oh, well of course, then.” She offered Clemency a frown, and Clemency stared up at her, squinting against the sunlight winking over the girl’s shoulder. “Will you absolutely hate me if I run off to attend her?”
“No,” Clemency replied, thinking of the letter in her dress. “You must go. I am sure it is of the utmost importance. But please, I beseech you, do not discuss with her Nora’s private affairs. You know how shy my sister is, and it is not our place to meddle in her grieving.”
Tansy brightened and nodded, taking William’s arm as they scurried away. “You are right, Clemency. As you say, time will prove one of us wrong!”
“Sister,” William said by way of apology, and then they were off.
Clemency followed them back to the house, lingering on a bench in the foyer, waiting until Tansy and William had collected themselves and gone out again before tugging the letter free of her bodice.
Clemency waited until they had almost vanished before tugging the letter free of her bodice. With eyes darting about and trembling hands, she gently unsealed the wax, trying not to damage it lest it needed to be fixed again. She unfolded the page and smoothed it across her knee through her skirts, head bowed low to read.
Turner, my love,the letter began.I know you are in town, why will you not come to me?
Breath catching in her throat, Clemency quickly refolded the letter and shoved it back into her dress. Mr. Ferrand had to see this, and right away. She sprang up from the bench and hurled herself out the door just in time to watch William and Tansy race down the road in the carriage she needed.
It appeared delivering dear Honora’s letter would have to wait. Again.
14
“Well?” Clemency asked, insistent. “What do you make of it?”
Audric held the letter up to the window, turning it slightly translucent as he read it over again. As usual, Miss Fry had turned up at his house with no warning and turned an otherwise subdued afternoon into a dramatic frenzy. She blew into the house like a gale, startling Ralston, who brought her red-faced and out of breath to Audric’s office. There they now stood, her with her hands bundled before her in distress while he considered their next move with care.
“How did you come here?” he asked, distracted suddenly by the very real possibility that her arrival had been noticed.
“My brother took the Bagshots’ carriage; I had to hire a hackney,” said Miss Fry, brows knit with confusion.
