Page 25 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
Papa Harcourt glanced at his pocket watch. “They’re almost half an hour late.”
Clara’s stomach flip-flopped in anticipation. She glanced at her companions—Mama, Papa Harcourt, and her brothers—who seemed so comfortable in their finery.
Mama took her hand. “Everything will be well, daughter.”
“What if I do something wrong?” Clara said.
“How could you do anything wrong, my darling?”
“Miss Peacock says—”
“Mrs. Tuffington is nothing like Miss Peacock,” Mama said. “And you’ve met her before.”
“I can never think of what to say to her,” Clara said. “I’m sure she doesn’t like me.”
“Perhaps that’s because the last time Tuffers came to stay, you pushed him into the river,” Nathaniel said.
“Shewhat?” Clara’s stepfather turned his stern gaze on her.
“It wasyouwho pushed Tuffers into the river, Nate, you dolt,” Cornelius said. “Clarry put a spider in his breeches.”
“I did not!” Clara cried.
“Then whatdidyou do, daughter?”
Clara met her stepfather’s gaze, battling the temptation to lie. But Papa Harcourt, with his quiet patience, had a way of prizing the truth out of her with a single glance.
“I threatened to tie him to a tree,” she said.
“Youwhat?”
“Upside down!” Nathaniel laughed.
“Clara, what have I told you about inappropriate behavior?” Her stepfather frowned. “You ought to have learned by now that young ladies don’t tie boys to trees. Didn’t you promise never to disappoint me?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Clara said.
“Were youcompelledto threaten the boy?” He shook his head with a sigh and resumed his attention on the approaching carriage.
His anger she might have preferred. Or even a beating—her body had weathered many beatings until she’d come to Pittchester. But her mother and stepfather had never raised a hand to her. In fact, they rarely raised their voices. Instead, they expressed their disappointment calmly and clearly, before leaving her to “resolve the matter with her conscience.”
“It wasn’t Clarry’s fault, Papa,” Cornelius said. “Henry called her a—”
“Stop it, Corn!” Clara said.
“What did he call her?” her stepfather asked.
He’d called her a grubby little urchin when he came upon her knee deep in the river. At which point, Nathaniel pushed him in.
“It doesn’t matter,” Clara said.
“It does if it resulted in your threatening the boy.”
“Leave her be, Harcourt,” Mama said. “Clara knows better than to speak out of turn in front of others.”
“It seems that she doesn’t.”
“Now’s not the time to discuss it. Hush!”
