Chapter 9
The Lie
“So, your brother will be an earl someday?” Mrs. Barnes asked in Maxwell Manor’s drawing room.
Word had spread quickly that Clara was open to visits.
No surprise really, Clara was a master at distributing social information.
All week, women had been coming in and out for tea.
She had entertained the vicar’s wife, several granddaughters of a knight, and a niece of a prominent fur trader.
Currently, it was Mrs. Barnes and her daughter, Rachel.
Mrs. Barnes appeared to be much like every other English mother: desperate to attach her daughter to one of Clara’s high ranking relations.
Rachel seemed viable as a potential friend though.
“Yes, my father is an earl and my brother shall inherit.” Clara smiled a bit too sweetly. Mrs. Barnes was quite interested in titles, so Clara decided to drop another. “Though, this is Lord Maxwell’s house. He is a baron, you know.”
Mrs. Barnes dipped her head. “Why yes, and your betrothed, correct?”
Clara’s teacup shook in her hands. “Whatever gave you such an idea?!” Was that the gossip that was spreading? Did all of Harleston believe this lie? Mrs. Barnes was the first to mention it.
“I thought it was common knowledge,” the woman said with hesitation.
This was not good. A young, betrothed couple living together without any parents as witnesses?
Why, that was the type of gossip that could ruin reputations for entire families.
“Well, I can assure you, Mrs. Barnes, there is no understanding between Lord Maxwell and I. He is a family friend, that is all. I am not even out in society yet.”
Marry Luke? Ha! Ridiculous.
“I see,” Mrs. Barnes answered, giving her daughter a pointed look that seemed to say, “Looks like Lord Maxwell is also available. Pursue them both.”
Rachel was an attractive girl, similar in age to Clara.
She looked almost elf-like: thin, pale, with red hair and green eyes.
Surely someone in her line was Irish. Small freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, in a way that looked intentional, as if a fairy hand painted her face each morning.
Neither Luke nor John had ever shown an interest in any of Clara’s friends before, but Miss Barnes, at least so far, seemed different.
Perhaps Clara would finally do a bit of matchmaking.
Luke really ought to be looking for a wife, anyway.
He needed an heir, and seeing him around other women would help ease the rumors of their attachment.
“Miss Barnes,” Clara addressed the elf-girl, “I am getting a group of young people together for a picnic tomorrow. Would you care to join us?”
Rachel gratefully accepted the invitation, and the two women departed. Now, Clara just had to convince Luke.
Luke and John had met with the estate manager that morning, so John took his usual ride after the midday meal while Luke remained in the study going over charts and expenditures.
The estate was doing well. In the original calculations, they had predicted several years of recuperation due to the remodel, but somehow the numbers were arranging themselves more favorably than they had anticipated.
He was rereading information about the year's projected apple crop when the new butler opened the study door. “My lord, Lady Clara requests an audience.”
Interesting. What did Clara need to say that could not wait until dinner? “She may enter.” Luke had not seen much of her since her parents left. He and John had been busy with tenant visits, and she had been socializing in ways that did not appeal to him in the slightest.
Clara floated into the room in a cream-colored gown. As always, her hair was perfectly placed and her skin flawless. She looked like an angel painted on the walls of a cathedral. Look away! His brain urged, Look away! But his eyes were glued to her perfection.
“Luuukkke,” she nearly sang his name, tilting her head as she did. “I was wondering …”
It did not matter what she said. He knew he would give it to her. Like an older brother wanting to spoil his younger sister, he insisted. Though he knew deep down he did not believe it. Regardless, his heart yearned to please Clara Merritt, and hearts are tricky to ignore.
Clara ran her finger through one of her loose blonde curls. “Would you like to join me on a picnic tomorrow?”
“What time?” he asked, fumbling through his paperwork, looking for the next day’s agenda.
“Well, I told Miss Barnes one o’clock.”
Luke’s heart dropped into his stomach. Fool, his head ridiculed, as if Clara would be satisfied with only you for company. “I may have a meeting.” But a quick glance at the agenda showed that was not the case. He placed a hand to his head. “How many people have you invited?”
“Just you, John, and Rachel, though, technically, I have not invited John yet.”
He recognized Clara's look, for he had seen her use it many times on her father.
This picnic was important to her, and she was prepared to use her womanly wiles to get it.
While a small part of him yearned to have such attention turned on him, there was no point stalling, he already knew he would give in.
“Yes, Clara, I will join you for a picnic.”
The next morning, Luke accompanied John on his morning ride.
His piece of land was not nearly as large as the Merritts’, but still perfectly suitable for an hour in the saddle.
For most of the outing, they discussed the house, Luke’s tenants, and the economic success of the region.
If there had not been wind blowing across his face, Luke may have forgotten they were not sitting in the study.
“Let’s talk about something else,” he suggested. “It has been a while since we have discussed anything entertaining.”
“You are right,” John agreed, “I cannot remember the last time we were actually fun.” His tone was slightly sarcastic, but the truth rang in his words. They had been quite boring lately.
“I think I have forgotten how to have fun,” Luke mumbled.
John laughed. “Well, then we had better ease into it!” He pulled his gleaming white horse back a pace, so it stood in line with Luke’s black stallion. “If only Heaps were here. That boy was always good for a laugh.” Adam Heaps was an old friend from their first few years of school.
“Heaps,” Luke reminisced, “I have not thought about that boy in years.”
“Do you remember the time he filled Professor Ladley’s inkwell with pig’s blood?” They laughed.
“The smell was unbearable!” Luke exclaimed. “Oh, what about the day he wore all of his clothes backward, and tried to convince us his head had fallen off and he put it back on the wrong way?”
John shook his head. “That boy was not the brightest, but he sure was funny.” They were heading back in the direction of the stables now.
“Perhaps, when I change back into my day clothes, I will put them on backwards,” Luke replied jokingly.
“Do it!” John said excitedly, “Oh, do it for the picnic! I would love to see the look on Clara’s face!”
“She would murder me.”
John shrugged. “Perhaps, but boy would it be funny.”
“You would have me risk my life for a laugh?”
John chuckled. “Why has she set up this picnic anyway?”
It was Clara and a social event, did it really need explaining? Though it was strange the guestlist only included a single member not of the household. “I would imagine she is trying to play matchmaker with one of us,” he pointed at John and himself, “and her new friend.”
The future earl sighed. “Well, no offense, mate, but I hope it is for you. I am so tired of Clara’s friends throwing themselves at me.”
Luke shook his head. “I am not looking to form an attachment anytime soon.”
And why might that be? His head snickered.
“I would not wait too long,” John reminded him, “you need a line of succession.” They had reached the stables and dismounted.
John’s caution was perfectly accurate and exceptionally terrifying. “Women are frightening.”
“They are,” John agreed. “Though you seem to get along just fine with Clara.”
Luke’s heart began beating rather quickly. Had John caught on to his secret? “She still scares me.”
John laughed. “She scares me, too.”
They walked toward the house. A dozen servants scurried on the back lawn, setting up a table, chairs, and flower vases for the picnic.
Clara oversaw their work, directing them with a kind, elegant hand.
She wore a light pink day dress with a white shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and she waved softly when she caught sight of them. Luke smiled as he waved back.
Her brother noticed. “There is not something going on between you and Clara, is there?” John’s voice held suspicion.
Luke felt the back of his neck perspire. Was there something going on with him and Clara? Not really. Did he wish there were? He was not ready to answer that question.
“Well, it would appear she is trying to match me with Miss Barnes.” He gestured to the activity on the lawn. “So I would say no.”
“Good.” John nodded his head. “Good. That would be strange if you had feelings for her.”
Yes, Luke thought, strange indeed.
“Shall we go for a walk in the garden?” Clara asked after the meal had finished.
The picnic had not gone as she expected.
John behaved courteously to Miss Barnes, definitely not showing an interest, but still treating her as a person.
Luke, on the other hand, had not said or done anything the entire outing.
Even when asked direct questions he simply nodded or shrugged.
“John, why don’t you and Miss Barnes head in that direction?
I would like to discuss something with Lord Maxwell.
” John gave Luke a ‘you’re in trouble’ look before offering Miss Barnes his arm.
He was right, for once they were out of earshot, Luke got his reprimand.
“What are you doing?” Clara whispered in frustration.
“Having a picnic,” Luke responded dully, gesturing with his hands to the dinnerware.
They had eaten a wonderful meal of artichoke soup, fennel mackerel, roast chicken, and marzipan dessert.
Luke really does have an amazing cook, she thought, before reminding herself not to allow his distraction.
She pursed her lips, “Luke,” she said in a firm tone, “I want you to become acquainted with Miss Barnes.”
“No, thank you,” he responded much too quickly.
Clara had done her best to keep the drama and gossip from him, but it appeared he would not cooperate in her scheme without explanation. Surely he would comply once he discovered the precarious situation they were operating in. “They think we are engaged.”
“Who?” Luke questioned stupidly.
“All of Harleston! Do you realize how disastrous this is?” She waited for the outrage to show on his face, but his expression remained impossible to read. He must not have understood the implication. “It is scandalous!”
His forehead scrunched in thought. After a moment, Luke simply asked, “You think being engaged to me would be disastrous?”
“Ugh.” Clara moaned in frustration. “Take this seriously!” He was just as bad as John with his inappropriate jokes. “You need to show an interest in Miss Barnes so people do not believe there is an understanding between us.”
“I do not have an interest in Miss Barnes.”
Clara clenched her fists as she replied sassily, “Fine, Luke. Fine. Let them run my reputation through the mud. Let them think I am a big hussy living with my betrothed. I would leave, but then rumor shall spread I ran off to have your illegitimate child. I have only asked you for one thing, Luke. One tiny thing so my name is left unspoiled. I never-”
“Clara,” he clutched her wrist, stopping her rant. “I am sorry. I did not understand.” He gave her a worried look. “I will do whatever you think necessary. Why, I will even spread a rumor that I find you disgusting.”
Her forehead was still scrunched, determined to stay angry with him, but her lips twitched slightly. “That may help,” she grumbled.
“And smelly.” She bit her lip to hold back her smile. “And bossy.”
Finally, Clara laughed, pushing him playfully away. “Now that is just cruel!”
Since hearing the news, she had been downtrodden with fear.
She would ruin her name, and all potential of an advantageous match, if she did not handle the situation with care.
Her whole life hung in the mix! And while she had feared telling him, she found sharing the issue with Luke, and getting his assistance, had helped ease her worries. Together, they could fix this.
Lord Maxwell released her arm. “I will go relieve John of Miss Barnes." He bowed. “Is there anything else you need, Lady Bossy, I mean, Lady Clara?”
Clara smiled as she shook her head. “Don't forget to tell her I disgust you.”
Luke laughed. “I will, though I have a feeling she may not believe me.” And before Clara could ask what he meant, he ran toward the garden.