Chapter 30
While Molly’s fawning attention on the way back to Atherton was somewhat discomforting, it also provided a welcome distraction from the situation Lucy found herself in.
Captain Dashwood might be at liberty to travel to Torres’s mysterious lair (why she fixed upon the word ‘lair’ she wasn’t sure), but she surely had no such option.
It was one thing to spend the day at Elsworth under the watchful eye of a chaperone, quite another to abscond for an evening to an unknown spot, especially when a certain gentleman was absent at the same time.
The idea that she might dine with a group so outside the borders of society as Torres, Ulcha, Elsa and Hekili should be utterly unthinkable.
She would simply have to refuse the offer of Captain Dashwood and hope she could do so in a manner that would prevent further questions. Further questions were something she’d had quite enough of recently.
‘Did you know beforehand that the race would be so close?’ Molly asked intently.
‘It was a suspicion, knowing the skill of the parties involved.’
‘It was a truly remarkable race. I have never seen the like. However did you manage to find speed from the horses in the final stretch?’
Lucy smiled. That their last-minute victory was the result of the horses was the talk of the Night Races. It was a reasonable assumption. After all, where else could speed come from? Lucy imagined that only Elsa Reinhardt knew any different and she would be most eager to learn their secret.
The question left unanswered, Molly rolled on to the next, and any need for Lucy to keep her secret from the maid was left in the past.
The return to Atherton after the Night Races was often a strange affair.
As the party neared the buildings, the conversation ceased and an easy stealth guided them on.
Due to good preparation, there was to be no repeat of the previous incident where they were locked out, and they entered near the servants’ quarters without issue.
Once inside the threshold of the house, no words were spoken, the formal divide of class silently slipping back into place.
The group branched off in ones and twos until only Lucy remained. Having removed her boots, she walked in her stockings up the stairs. There was still a little moonlight, but she knew the house so well she could have easily navigated it in darkness.
Inside her room she found her nightclothes where she had left them.
Changing and slipping under the covers, the night chill soon left her.
She fell asleep with thoughts of her coach, of her mechanical success and what might be the possibilities in the future.
Possibilities drifted into impossibilities and dreams of curious coaches formed of geometrical paradoxes and impossible lengths.
The only constant in them was that, whatever shape they took, Dashwood was there beside her.
‘I have been giving thought to the discussion we had the other evening,’ Lucy announced to her sister after some period of silence on their morning walk.
‘Regarding?’ Margaret asked.
‘The intentions of Captain Dashwood.’
‘Have you had correspondence or spoken with him since?’
‘There has been no social occasion for us to communicate,’ Lucy replied diplomatically. ‘And I cannot speak to his intentions or indeed, with certainty, to mine. However, there is by extension a matter which arises if such a union were to pass.’
‘And what matter might that be?
‘I am unaware as to the whole nature of what income Captain Dashwood might be in possession of, but as Elsworth is only one of his father’s properties, even if the others are of a lesser standing, he has wealth enough for a comfortable living.’
‘That may be assumed.’
‘If I were to marry into such a comfortable living, it is most likely that any share of our inheritance might be freed up for yourself.’
‘Lucy, it would be up to Father as to how that might unfold.’
‘But not without the input of both his daughters, I should suggest. He is a kind and reasonable man and I think he should see sense in the face of a united front.’
‘It is a kindness for you to offer, Lucy, but to what end? I should be comfortable enough at Atherton knowing of your happiness and my security.’
‘Security perhaps, as you should one day be lady of the house. But happiness? That is a matter of equal concern to me, Meg.’
‘Speak plainly, Lucy. I still do not comprehend your meaning.’
‘If money was not an issue, who would you wish to be your husband?’
Margaret demurred but it was clear the question elicited an answer in her.
‘I felt when we spoke of the matter that the affection you and Oliver St Martin once felt was not altogether extinguished,’ Lucy said carefully.
‘He is a fine gentleman.’ Margaret blushed.
‘I would say that we shared a passion for knowledge and a modest disdain for the shallower of our peers. It is important, I think, for a couple to share dislikes as well as likes. It is curious, really. I dare say many discussions in the district paired us off because of stature alone. But truth be told, I think I should be as fond of the man were he as short as Napoleon.’
‘In actuality, Napoleon is not short, Margaret. It is … I am taking myself off the topic, aren’t I?’
‘Almost.’ Her sister smiled.
‘Oliver is heir to no fortune beyond his saved allowance. And yet, if it was you who had income, it might not be so great an issue.’
‘There would be, for many men, an issue of pride.’
‘For many men, no doubt. But I think Mr St Martin might be trusted to put such aside for a chance at happiness.’
‘It is most kind. But I implore you, Lucy, that you not put my happiness ahead of yours. I should not have you marry out of deference to your sister.’
‘Nor would I wish to place such a weight upon you. I promise you, Margaret, if I am to marry it shall be for my own happiness and ends. But that need not preclude an outcome that is favourable to us both.’
‘That is true.’
‘As I have noted, I am unsure how things may develop. I merely wished for your thoughts and feelings on the matter. I should suggest, for the time, that such possibilities remain between the two of us. It is unfair to bolster our parents’ expectations too early.’
‘Agreed.’
The topic concluded, they entered the town with a new appreciation of the day.
‘Will you come to the dress shop, Lucy? I have alterations to be made to my dress for Charlotte’s wedding.’
‘I understood that the bridal party dresses had been made to size.’
‘It seems the London store made an unfortunate assumption. Alteration is perhaps an understatement of the truth.’
‘You should not want your shoulders undoing a dress at a wedding.’
‘The shoulders are the least of it. It is a dress tailored to my dimensions quite neatly, but for the lack of a foot.’
‘A foot?’
‘It is a dress for a rather large woman of five foot, one inch.’
Lucy only partly managed to suppress a laugh.
‘My attempting to wear it should pass from the indecent to the impossible. So Mrs Calloway is to do her best at patchworking what she can in the hope that Charlotte and her mother never learn the truth.’
Lucy chuckled. ‘I think I will leave you to this work alone.’
Parting from her sister, Lucy briefly browsed the bookshelves of the town store for new publications.
There were a couple of novels and a gazette on the Lake District, but nothing of such interest that it held her attention for more than a glance.
Strolling idly outside, she caught sight of the blacksmith, alone and working on sharpening an axe in his storefront.
Taking the opportunity, she crossed over towards him, standing by a railing, facing away from him, but clearly within earshot.
‘Spring is becoming warmer, Mr Kelly.’
‘Aye, Miss Elliot. To my dread. Summer is too hot a time for my line of work.’
‘I should like to commend you on your work. The coil functioned just as anticipated.’
‘I heard about your race the other night. Put two and two together and figured the difference might have been your secret gadget.’
‘I trust it will remain so?’
‘I’ll not speak a word. But as my father used to say, the only thing harder than steel is keeping a secret.’
‘Diamonds are harder than steel,’ Lucy replied. ‘Thank you, Mr Kelly.’
She was already several feet away before she realised her excessive literalism, and by then it was far too late to do anything other than sigh.
Secrets. Lucy felt she had never held so many.