Chapter Eighteen
Lord Chester had found a spot to observe the archery contest. Like a veritable Robin Hood, he was up in an old oak, his drab overcoat helping to blend him into the scenery and the leaves of the tree doing the rest.
He watched Lady Dudmore’s guests, led by their hostess and the queen, stream out of the lady’s house and proceed to the green. She made some sort of speech, of which Lord Chester only heard part. He gathered that she would start off the contestants in some manner.
She walked out of the circle of rather glum-looking gentleman. Then much louder, she shouted, “One, two, three, shoot.”
What Lord Chester watched next could only be described as an unmitigated disaster. Most of the gentlemen had hesitated, which it seemed Lord Harrelston had counted on. They were probably all wondering who they should shoot at without causing offense.
Harrelston had not had such qualms. He fired all six of his arrows in rapid succession, all of them at Monroe.
If that was not bad enough, Monroe did not get a single arrow off against Harrelston. And then if that was not bad enough, all the other gentlemen began firing at Monroe.
Typical. Harrelston had made his move and the rest of them, veritable sheep, had followed his lead.
The end result was Monroe looking positively clownish, covering his head and covered in soot. Lady Beatrix would end mightily impressed with Harrelston’s performance and not at all impressed with Monroe.
Not a propitious development.
The queen was led to the center of the circle and declared Harrelston the winner, which would come as no surprise to anybody.
Lord Chester leaned back against the oak’s trunk. What was to be done about this? He fully intended to sink Harrelston’s boat, but that was not until tomorrow. Something must be done sooner than that.
After the crowd had gone back into the house, Lord Chester scrambled down from the tree and went to the wood where he and Monroe exchanged notes. He would leave him direction on what to do tonight to attempt to regain some of his dignity.
He skirted round the edges of the green and made his way into the wood. Picking up the flat stone, he found a communication from Monroe.
Chester—
I had a fortunate chance meeting with Lady Beatrix this morning and showed her the superiority of my boat. I pointed out the mast and instructed her as to port and starboard. I believe I may comfortably say she was impressed with my nautical knowledge.
I’m off to locate the lady now, as Lady Dudmore’s sideboards will be out. (The shrimp paste sandwiches are always very good.)
After that, I will set off for the green to destroy Harrelston in a barrage of arrows.
Monroe
Lord Chester crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Things had not exactly gone as his friend had predicted. Not only had Harrelston not gone down in a “barrage” of arrows, but Monroe had not managed to get even one off and had ended covered in soot.
He walked further into the wood and found his writing desk of sorts, pulling his writing things out of his satchel.
Monroe—
Clearly, the archery contest did not go as planned, as the “barrage” seemed to be all coming your way. See what you can do at billiards. If you have an opportune moment to hit him with your cue stick, do it. I imagine you will be in the mood to hit him after what I just witnessed.
On the morrow, the gentlemen are free and the ladies go to the village.
If Harrelston leaves the house, slip into his room and take something, then leave it in Lady Beatrix’s room.
If someone sees you enter the wrong room, just say you were turned around and got confused.
Leaving one of his possessions in her room will make the lady believe that he has been snooping in her room.
She ought to be mortally offended over it.
At this point, I have a feeling that mortally offended will be the only thing that might turn her from Harrelston to you. Meet me here at ten o’clock on the morrow and watch where Harrelston goes. With any luck, he’ll take a horse out or go off on a long walk.
Chester
He dusted it with sand, packed up his writing supplies, and went back to the inn to consider what else could be done to Lord Harrelston.
After dark, he would return to sabotage Harrelston’s boat.
He had found a bradawl in one of Lady Dudmore’s sheds and borrowed it for the purpose.
He would make some excuse at the inn for needing flour.
Then all he needed was water from the lake for the paste.
This trip had not been auspicious so far, but it would give him great satisfaction to observe Harrelston going down with the ship.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Corbyn’s plan for the archery had come off even better than he’d expected it to. He had guessed there would be some initial hesitation, but he had not thought there would be as much as there had been. It had been plenty of time to batter Monroe with his arrows.
Lady Beatrix had walked with him back to the house for tea and she’d been very complimentary. As she did not spare one moment of concern for Lord Monroe’s ruined clothes or banged up pride, Corbyn took that as a very good sign.
The signs were good all around. This lady was meant for him and he hoped she felt the same. He thought she did.
They’d had a rather merry tea and for once, Lord Monroe was not hanging about. Monroe had been covered with soot after the other archers had decided to take Corbyn’s lead. The fellow must have been hit with a dozen arrows and had gone to his room so his valet might attempt to sort him out.
The countess had been with her daughter, but had been called away by Lady Dudmore. Corbyn said, “I do not suppose Miss Sprite would approve of what you witnessed this afternoon.”
“Indeed, she would not.” Lady Beatrix hesitated for a moment. Then she said, “There is something else Miss Sprite would be against. I have taken a gothic novel from Lady Dudmore’s library.”
Corbyn laughed. “The governess is against novels?”
“She is against most books and prefers Fordyce’s sermons. She likes to say that anything I need to know, Mr. Fordyce has already written down.”
“In all due respect to Mr. Fordyce, I believe he has a lot to say about limited subject matter. The world is bigger than that and there cannot be any real harm in a novel.”
For some reason, Lady Beatrix looked very stricken. “Well, I imagine some novels might cause harm.”
He guessed she referred to her absurd claim that she’d read Fanny Hill. He briefly wondered if he ought to admit he’d heard the rumor, but he imagined she would find it upsetting.
“I think the worst you can expect from your gothic novel is a few sleepless nights.”
“That is what my friend Lynette Watson says. She says it is wonderful to frighten oneself in such a manner. I am keen to try it.”
“Very much out of sight of Miss Sprite,” he said, laughing.
“I’m not going to tell her,” Lady Beatrix said, “it would only upset her, I think. Though I will tell Caroline all about it.”
“Ah, your sister that I met on Bond Street.”
Lady Beatrix nodded. “She thinks you are very jolly.”
“Does she?” he said, pleased to have a proponent in the house.
Just then, Lady Dudmore interrupted their conversation, and everybody else’s conversation in the drawing room.
“Change of plan, everybody. The queen wishes to have a dinner to become more acquainted with the ladies. Therefore, the ladies will take over the dining room. The gentleman will have sideboards set up in the library and will have to shift as best they can. Then we will all come together for one-armed billiards.”
Corbyn suppressed a sigh, as it would be rude to express any disapproval over a hostess’s plans. Though, he did disapprove. He’d been counting on escorting Lady Beatrix into dinner. Now, he would be stuck with the other gentlemen.
At least he was cheered to note that Lady Beatrix seemed a bit let down too.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Beatrix had fairly floated up the stairs to rest in the hours before dinner.
What a day! It felt as if Lord Harrelston was by her side for most of the day, but for the interlude at archery which he handily won.
He’d been so masterful and then after accepting the queen’s congratulations, had come right to her side to go back into the house.
The only disappointment was that they would not dine together this evening. The queen had decided she wished for a ladies-only dinner. Gracious, the gentlemen were really being pushed around at this house party. They were to make do in the library.
Still, she would see Lord Harrelston at billiards. One-armed billiards, as she understood it.
Lydia was in her room, straightening out some of her clothes. As there were several hours to pass before going back downstairs again, she said, “Did you see the book, Lydia?”
Lydia looked about.
“It’s under my pillow.”
“How would I see it, then? I did not make up your bed, the housemaids did.”
Beatrix hurried over and fetched The Castle of Otranto. “It’s gothic.”
Lydia laughed. “I do not think Miss Sprite would approve of that.”
“Perhaps not, but my mother did not forbid it.”
“Did she see it?”
“She did not ask to see it,” Beatrix said.
Beatrix and Lydia hopped on the bed together and she began to read aloud to the maid.