Chapter 5
A Cruel Trick
-the following summer-
“The boys are home!” Lady Merritt yelled from the Rosecrest foyer as she pulled first John and then Luke into a warm embrace. “How was university?”
“Same as usual,” John said with a shrug before removing his hat and gloves.
The countess rolled her eyes at her son’s rather useless reply. “And Luke, how is the estate coming along?”
“It is going well.” He and John had stopped on their way back from school to check on its progress. “The old one is gone, and they are working on the foundation for the new one.”
“Right on schedule then.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Clara, come and greet your brother!”
A rather annoyed Clara appeared at the top of the grand staircase. Her dark-headed friend, Amanda Fletcher, stood beside her with a look that was far too giddy.
“Hello, John,” his sister grumbled, her irritation impressively thick.
Lady Merritt gasped. “Clara Anne Merritt, you better come down here and try that again!” The countess’s words flicked off her tongue much like fire would from a medieval dragon. Clara groaned before angrily flipping her violet skirt and descending the staircase.
“What has gotten into her?” John whispered to his mother. His voice was merry, as if he found his sister’s frustration rather entertaining.
His mother simply sighed in reply.
Clara finally entered the foyer, and Luke had a hard time pulling his eyes away.
While he and John had been absent, Clara had finished the transition from child to woman.
She was tall and slender, with just a slight, feminine curve.
Her blonde hair was meticulously styled in a fashionable bun, with pale lavender flowers adorning its edge.
Her pouty lips were full and pink, and her blue eyes shone like sapphires on her no-longer-freckled face.
She is beautiful, he thought, instantly feeling guilty. That is my best friend's little sister.
Amanda had followed her grumpy companion, and they both halted at the bottom of the staircase. “Hello, John!” Now, Clara's voice sounded sarcastically sweet, and she sneered forcefully, pursing her lips under her perfectly slender nose. “How are you my dear, sweet brother?
“Much better now that I am reunited with my beloved sister!” John joined the sarcasm. “Come here, and give your favorite brother a kiss!” He gave her a satisfied smirk.
But Clara would not let him win so easily.
She left her friend's side, taking the last few steps to John. They stood a foot apart; Clara glaring, John grinning. And then, she took the final step, pulled his head down, and planted a small peck on his cheek. John’s shock was evident, and Clara grinned triumphantly.
Well, she did, until John said, “And a kiss for Luke, too.”
Everyone in the room reacted. First, Mother yelled, “John Fredrick Merritt!” and began scolding her son to a harsh, but well-deserving, degree.
Clara jumped back, her mouth gaping as her cheeks filled with a bright pink blush.
She threw her eyes to the floor and refused to look up. Amanda giggled obnoxiously.
Luke was more surprised by his body’s reaction to John’s words than he was by the words themselves.
For his stomach flipped and fell and twisted all at once.
His heart raced. His fists clenched. The back of his neck perspired.
Worst of all, his brain played a cruel trick on him, for it imagined, in great detail, what a kiss from Clara Merritt might be like, and it refused to let him think of anything else.
“It is not fair!” Clara yelled at Lord Merritt from her seat in the study. “I am just as mature as Amanda!”
“Usually, I would say you are more mature than Amanda,” Papa replied, rubbing his temples, for his daughter was certainly not acting mature at the moment.
“Then why won’t you let me out into society?
” she asked, grumpily plopping her decorative teacup down on the mahogany desk.
Clara’s friend had happily announced she would be coming out next Season.
Of course, Clara did not want to miss out on any sort of social event.
Knowing Amanda would be open to a world she was not yet permitted was devastating.
“I have no desire to marry you off that quickly.”
“Because you do not think I am ready? I assure you, I am! You saw what I did at Luke’s-”
“Clara,” Papa interrupted gently. She released an angry sigh before folding her arms, waiting for him to continue. “Mr. Fletcher is a retired military man with seven daughters.”
The girl rolled her eyes. She was well-acquainted with Amanda’s family situation.
“You are the only daughter of an earl.” Father spoke slowly and rationally, allowing Clara to come up with her own conclusion, but she was far too emotionally invested to see logic.
Papa sighed. “The Fletchers are struggling. They must match some of their daughters now so they will have fewer mouths to feed. No person should marry that young, but sometimes, for those less fortunate, it is necessary. With seven girls in the family, the sooner they start, the better chance they will have to see them all wed.”
Oh. His words fell heavy on Clara’s heart.
She had viewed Amanda’s early entry into Society as a great privilege, but truly, it was quite the opposite.
Circumstances necessitated her early marriage.
Amanda would not be enjoying social events or entertaining multiple suitors.
She was being auctioned off to the first buyer. She did not have a choice.
Lord Merritt could see his words were having an effect. “Plus, ClaraBear, Amanda will be coming out to Faversham Society. It is much different in London. Your mother and I believe you should wait until your age of majority to-”
“Twenty-one!” Clara’s fury was back at full force. “Absolutely not! Why, all of my friends shall be married by then!” She stood abruptly. “Twenty-one?” She could not believe it. “Are you mad!? You don’t even want me to marry, do you? You hope to keep me stuck here forever!”
“Clara,” Papa said comfortingly.
“Are you saying I cannot attend a ball until I am twenty-one! I will be the oldest woman there!” She was hysterical at this point.
“Actually, it is not that uncommon-” But Clara wouldn’t listen.
“I am going to be a spinster. I am going to die an old maid!” She sobbed, tears streaming down both cheeks.
Lord Merritt put a hand on her shoulder, “ClaraBear.”
“Don’t call me that!” she screamed, pushing his hand away. "Don't talk to me. I hate you! I hate you!” She stormed from the room, running straight into John and Luke who stood a few paces out the door.
“Are you all right?” John asked with concern. She simply pushed past him, racing through the corridor to her bedchamber, because, for the first time, Clara Merritt just wanted to be alone.
Lord Merritt and John always started the day on horseback.
Both men loved being in the saddle. Luke did not mind it, but definitely did not believe it needful on a daily basis, and after making the long ride from Oxford to Harleston to Faversham, he did not want to get anywhere near a horse for at least a fortnight.
So the next morning when John and his father headed for the stables, Luke selected a book from the library and entered the flower garden.
The men always stopped there after a ride because Lord Merritt insisted on hand-picking a blossom for his countess.
It seemed a good, quiet place to wait for their return.
It was early summer, so the Merritts did not have a ridiculous number of guests yet, but still more people than Luke cared to mingle with when he did not have to.
He found a small bench placed deep within the garden, and cracked open his leather book.
The birds were singing their morning song.
The sun was slowly marching higher into the clear blue sky.
A small brook bubbled away in the distance, and Luke felt the tranquility of Rosecrest wash over him.
He was thoroughly convinced no other place on earth was quite as peaceful or welcoming.
About thirty minutes into his serenity, the sound of footsteps against the gravel-lined path interrupted his reading.
Oh please, just be John, he wished, but he knew not enough time had lapsed for that to be the case.
While Luke’s instinct was to hide in the nearest bush, the foliage looked a bit too sparse to cover him completely, and getting caught in an uncomfortable moment of chitchat was far better than being discovered trying to escape it.
“Why, you are early,” came a high pitched voice. “I thought we were meeting at-” Amanda Fletcher rounded the corner. “Lord Maxwell!” she yelled in surprise. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes darted quickly around the small alcove.
Luke simply held up his book.
“Oh, I-” She did not finish her sentence, because around the other corner came an eager looking stableboy. Amanda’s face lit up. “You didn’t see anything.” She giggled, gripping the boy by the arm, and pulling him in the opposite direction.
I really wish I hadn’t, Luke silently replied as he pulled his book out once more. Unfortunately, it was not long until he heard footsteps again. He eyed the bushes, maybe there were more leaves than he originally thought.
“Luke,” this time it was Clara standing in front of him. “Have you seen Amanda?”
Should have tried hiding. “I … uhhh.” He did not know how to respond.
Clara didn’t seem to notice as she walked over and sat down on his bench.
Luke quickly slid to the opposite end giving her as much space as possible.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
She was just as lovely as she had been the day before, maybe even more so with the sun hitting her golden hair.
They had become quite friendly working on his estate last summer, but since his arrival, he had only seen her twice, and both times were uncomfortable. So far, this conversation also seemed to be leaning in that direction.
Clara kept on talking. “Amanda thought she was entering society, but apparently her father has already found a husband for her. Mr. Rowley. He is a banker down in town.” She shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“He is at least fifteen years older than her, and Amanda is furious. I am afraid she is going to do something stupid.”
“Ummm …” She was probably doing something stupid right now, in the very same garden. Luke wasn’t exactly sure how to explain what he had seen.
But Clara had grown distracted. She glanced down at the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”
“Oh,” he flipped it over so she could see the cover, “it is a book about medieval knights.”
“Interesting.” She took it from him. “Do you know a lot about knights?” It was a small bench, and her face was far closer than it ought to be.
“I enjoy learning about them.” It was a bit of an understatement.
Luke had scoured the Oxford library for any and all information he could find.
He found it a fascinating subject because legend and fact mingled so greatly.
It was impossible to tell if what he read was truth or fantasy, and he found that thrilling in a way he could not possibly explain.
She handed the book back. “We must get you a suit of armour for Maxwell Manor! There may be a few in our storage,” she said pointing to the house. “I am sure Mother would be happy to be rid of them. We already have plenty.”
He smiled broadly. “I would like that.”
“Great!” Clara stood. “Well, meet me in the attic tomorrow morning, and we can go searching for some.”
Luke nodded. He wasn’t one to use more words than necessary.
It appeared Lady Clara was leaving, but then she stopped. “Oh, wait.” She turned back around. “You never answered. Have you seen Miss Fletcher?”
Luke gulped. “She and a stable boy went that way.” He nervously pointed down the path.
Clara groaned. “I knew she was going to do something stupid,” she mumbled as she rushed away.