Chapter 8
The First Glimpse
-the following summer-
“Well, that is the last of it,” Lady Merritt announced as she took a sweeping gaze across the new Maxwell Manor drawing room.
“I believe everything is ready for the boys’ arrival.
” Construction on Luke’s new home had finished about a month before he and John completed their final day of Oxford, and the Merritts had been busy readying it for his lordship’s return.
Her mother was able to travel with them this time, so Clara was only acting as a supportive role.
This disappointed her greatly. She had started the project, and she wished she had been the one to see it through to the end.
“I am beginning to question the drape color. Clara, what do you think?” Mother stood at the far end of the drawing room, her back pressed up against the wall as she took in her surroundings.
It was not nearly as spacious as Rosecrest’s sitting room, but was at least four times larger than the Maxwell’s previous living area had been.
The double door entrance stood perfectly centered in the room, and as such, Lady Merritt had decided to flood the room in symmetry.
In the center was the fireplace. On both of its sides, sat a small blue sofa flanked by two dark, wooden chairs.
Behind those were round card tables, and on one end of the room, was the wall the countess currently pushed against. The other end held the windows framed by the drapes in question.
“I probably would have used the same fabric as the sofas,” Clara answered. The drapes were a golden color, perfectly presentable, but nothing special.
“Yes,” Lady Merritt dipped her head, “that would have been better.” But there was no time to change it now.
Luke and John would be arriving any moment.
“I have one thing to check upstairs,” Mother mentioned as she fluffed a pillow on the sofa.
“Go stand in the foyer and do not let Luke see anything until I return.” Clara dutifully obeyed.
The main entryway was a perfect square with a round table in its center, and doors leading to rooms in every direction. The doors directly in front were the ones to the ballroom, and that is where Clara had insisted Luke’s suits of armour be placed.
The knob on the front door twisted. “Keep your eyes closed,” Clara heard John chasten.
“We all want to see your reaction.” He carefully led a closed-eyed-Luke through the mahogany doorway.
Spotting Clara, her brother greeted, “Clara! Perfect. Come here and make sure Luke does not peek. I must find Papa.” Usually, they would have sent a servant to fetch him, but Mother had all the servants lined up in the ballroom for a formal greeting of their master.
John departed, and Clara stepped in a bit closer. “Feel this,” she said excitedly, placing a hand on each of Luke’s cheeks.
Luke reached a gloved hand up and placed it atop of one of Clara’s. “What am I feeling?” he asked.
“My hands!” she bubbled enthusiastically. “I am standing in Maxwell Manor, and my hands are not cold!”
Luke chuckled as they both placed their hands back down at their sides. They stood in companionable silence for a few seconds, and then Luke whispered, “So, is it everything we hoped for?” His voice was light, but the vulnerability in his question was unmistakable.
“Take a peek,” she whispered. “I won’t tell.”
Luke shook his head. “Somehow, your mother would still find out.” There was definitely some truth behind the words.
“You would not see much in this room anyway,” Clara teased, “just a hippopotamus in the corner. Papa doing a headstand in the center, oh, and the butler to your right milking a cow.”
“A cow? Now that I must see!” Luke joked in return. Quickly, he opened his eyes, whizzing them around the room before snapping them shut once more.
“Well?” Clara looked intently at Luke, eager to hear his thoughts.
Oh, how she had missed her friend. Since last summer, many of her friendships had changed.
The Faversham girls her age were getting married and starting families, and her nobility friends all flocked to London.
While there always seemed to be someone to socialize with, the relationships were substanceless and a bit lonely.
But now Luke and John were back, her two oldest and dearest friends, home for good, and that made Clara very happy.
Luke smiled, widely. “You forgot to mention we had an audience.”
Fear bubbled into Clara as she spun in a quick circle, but she didn’t see anyone. “No we do not!” She swatted him playfully.
With his eyes still closed, Luke reached out his hands, gripped her by the shoulders and gently twisted her around. “Leopold and Joan,” he whispered near her ear.
The fact that he had remembered the suits of armours’ silly names warmed her heart, but he had not answered her question. “Oh, all right. But Luke,” she turned to face him, her tone serious, “what do you think?”
He took a large breath as Clara watched him.
Luke wore an auburn suit that did not quite pair with his curly chestnut hair.
He was a large man, a whole head taller than she, with shoulders nearly twice as wide.
Last summer, she would have said he had a ‘boyish’ face, but that had changed, and she found herself tracing his jawline with her eyes.
Finally, Luke smiled. “Clara,” he whispered, “it feels like home.”
The estate was perfect. It was everything Luke could have dreamed of. He had more bedrooms than he ever cared to fill, a nursery, a library, a study, two dining rooms, and a fencing room. But best of all, he had a home full of warmth, light, and friendly faces.
He knew his first glimpse of his new home would forever be engraved in his mind.
The beauty, friendliness, sophistication, brightness …
Are you sure you are thinking of the foyer?
His brain mocked. Or perhaps, are you remembering the person who stood in front of you? Luke tried to ignore the comment.
With the help of his brand new valet, he dressed for dinner quicker than usual.
After a quick peek at his golden pocket watch, he discovered he had a good fifteen minutes before he needed to head downstairs.
So Luke decided to explore the one room in the house he had not toured with the Merritts: the baroness’s suite.
He was not sure why the room had been passed over. Perhaps to keep his future wife’s privacy? Regardless, he had not seen it and as master of the house, he really thought he should.
Luke opened the small wooden door in his own bedchamber. One step into the room he stopped. “Clara.”
No, the woman was not there, but her presence oozed from every inch of the chamber.
The room was light and airy. The walls were painted the same pale blue as her eyes, and all of the fabrics were white, lacey, and soft.
The lightly stained wood ran under plush rugs.
And in a small frame on the mantel stood a miniature portrait of Joan of Arc.
“You are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Luke announced over dinner that night, “though I know you must have duties at home.”
They ate in the smaller, family dining hall placed against the back of the house, directly above the kitchens.
There was a beautiful view of the back garden through its four square windows, and mirrors on the opposite wall helped pull in even more sunlight.
The table was a rich cherrywood, though the ivory linens covered it.
The room could hold no more than twelve diners, so while the small party of five did not take up every place setting, the table did not look entirely empty either.
“Matt and I will be leaving tomorrow,” Lady Merritt said regrettably.
“I would be happy to stay and keep you company!” John answered. “Perhaps until we leave for London?” Papa nodded his approval.
Clara continued to eat her beef and potatoes. I wonder what is in this sauce? She thought as she savored another bite. It tastes heavenly. Why, I dare say Luke’s cook is better than ours.
“Clara?” Mother interrupted her mind-wandering.
She looked up from her plate to find every set of eyes on her. She had no context as to why that might be. “Yes, Mother?”
“Are you staying here with Luke and John or going home with us?” There was a twinkle in her eye, almost a laugh. It was mischievous, as if she were plotting something.
“You are welcome to invite a friend to stay as well,” Luke suggested. It was a generous offer, and one Clara found appealing.
“I do not think that wise,” Mother cut in.
“Why not?” Clara asked suspiciously.
“Well, Luke is a single gentleman,” Lady Merritt explained, “the only reason you can be here is because you have John acting as chaperone. But if you were to throw in another young lady, now there are two,” she gestured to both Luke and John, “single gentlemen and no chaperones.”
“I see,” Luke acknowledged.
Certainly, they could have invited more chaperones, but Clara knew Lord Maxwell would not enjoy hosting a large group.
She had to choose. Did she return to Rosecrest and her many acquaintances, or stay with Luke and John and have only the company of her two oldest friends?
Of course, there were many things they would be doing without her.
Luke was a baron after all, and John would assist him in his duties.
“You could make friends here,” her brother wisely reminded her. As long as her friends did not have to live at Maxwell Manor, it was perfectly acceptable to have women in the house, especially if they attended teas or dinners with their mothers. Luke would not even have to meet them.
Clara knew it was her decision to make, still, she looked to her father, asking him with her eyes what he thought she should do.
Papa dipped his head and smiled. He had the same shimmer in his eye as his wife. What are they up to? Clara wondered. She had never considered her parents the scheming type.
But the idea of making new friends was appealing.
Surely, there were some delightful women in Harleston.
A brand new set of people could make Maxwell Manor thoroughly enjoyable, and if not, she would simply leave when she tired of Luke and John.
Plus, her brain reminded her, you would get to eat more of the cook’s amazing dinners.
“I shall stay,” she announced. Though the conspiring look her parents shared made her wonder if she had made the right decision.
Once they had all retired to the drawing room, Lord Merritt held everyone’s attention. “Before we go,” he announced, “I have a gift for each of the graduates.” He smiled at Luke and John. “John, your gift is in the stables.” The son’s face filled with excitement. “His name is Nimbus.”
“Thank you!” John remarked gleefully.
The countess waved him away with her hand, “Go ahead, John. We shall be here when you get back.” Her son raced from the room.
“Now Luke …” Lord Merritt addressed the baron.
“A gift is not necessary.”
“Nonsense!” Lady Merritt replied. “You deserve to be celebrated just as much as John!” But Luke was growing increasingly more uncomfortable. They had already helped him with his education, the reconstruction of his home, and running his barony. He would forever be indebted to the Merritts.
“I know horses are not your passion,” the earl continued, “so, I have a different type of gift for you.” He gestured to the butler, who slowly pulled an envelope from behind his back.
“I could have told you myself, but it seems more like a gift this way.” The butler passed the envelope to Luke.
Inside was a piece of Rosecrest stationery that included these words:
I, Lord John Matthew Merritt, Eighth Earl of Faversham, Kent, do hereby take full financial responsibility for all expenses Lord Luke Farris Maxwell, Fifth Baron of Harleston, Norfolk, may accrue on a luxurious trip to Spain.
With Lord Maxwell’s permission, I shall see to it that his tenants and estate are maintained in his absence.
I make this vow of my own free will and choice.
Lord J. Matthew Merritt
Notarized: Mr. Rogers T. Bunker
“There is no expiration date,” Lord Merritt insisted, “take the trip whenever you please.”
“You are sending him on a trip?” Clara asked from her place on the blue sofa.
“To Spain,” Luke whispered, the awe prevalent in his voice.
Lady Merritt responded, “Of course, dear. We want you to be able to see your mother.” It was much too generous, but greatly appreciated. Luke thanked them both several times.
“Papa,” Clara questioned, “do I get to go to Spain as well?” Luke tried not to notice how beautiful she looked with the setting sun shining in through the room’s many windows.
The earl and countess glanced at Clara and then Luke before her father responded. “We shall see, ClaraBear. We shall see.”