Chapter Twelve #2
Winsome noted Lord Manderbey’s sigh as he wrote down I. “Could it be inkling?” she asked.
Lord Manderbey nodded. Then something seemed to come upon him.
“Wait a minute,” he said, “if the capitalized letter indicates the first letter of the answer to the clue, do we even need the answer? Do not we simply need to have a look at all the clues, write down the capitalized letter, and then see what we have?”
The duke snorted. “Sir Jonathan did not fully think it through.”
They hurried down the paths, not bothering to solve the clues but simply writing down the capitalized letters they found. They ended where they started and stared down at the slate.
IWEGSN
“This is what we have to work with,” Lord Manderbey said.
Winsome did not know if their strategy was the right one, but even if it were, how were they to divine what the word was?
Lord Manderbey was writing down various combinations, none of which made sense.
Then she had a sudden idea. “Lord Manderbey, have you by chance read The Laird of Castle Carrigan?”
Lord Manderbey’s brows raised and Winsome remembered that he’d likely only read Gloaming at Glenford Cross because she’d mentioned she preferred gothic novels. It was unlikely that he would have made a habit of it.
“What say you, Duke?” the dowager said. “Shall we find our aging bones a bench and leave this to the younger set?”
The duke nodded and they toddled off to look for a seat.
“What are you thinking in regards to the book you mentioned?” Lord Manderbey asked.
“It is probably silly, but in that story, a mysterious note is left in Annabelle’s room.
She’s just arrived as the laird’s ward and she cannot make heads or tails of the word on the paper.
Then one day, as she has it laid on her dressing table, she sees its reflection in the looking glass.
Goodness, I cannot precisely remember what word or phrase she saw, but I do remember that something about the reflection helped her escape terrible danger. ”
Lord Manderbey looked critically at his slate, squinting his eyes as if to see it in a mirror image.
“We passed a ladies’ retiring room on our way out,” Winsome said. “I imagine you’ve never been inside one—”
“I have not,” Lord Manderbey said laughing.
“I can assure you, they are full of looking glasses. Let me take the slate in and have a look. It’s worth a try and I’ll be back in a tick.”
“It’s worth a try I suppose,” Lord Manderbey said, handing over the slate.
Winsome took it and hurried into the house. She must be quick in case anybody else had the same idea. She ran down the corridor to where she’d seen Lady Melby exit the room when they’d passed by.
Flinging open the door, she found it blessedly empty. She was a bit surprised that there was no attendant, but perhaps a single gentleman did not employ such people. She held the slate to the looking glass.
It was the same nonsensical string of letters as was on the slate. She sighed, supposing she would not make a very good heroine of one of the books she liked so much. Or perhaps the trick of unscrambling in a looking glass did not actually work. She did not know, but in this case it did not.
Suddenly, she heard the distinct sound of a sliding bolt. She looked around but she was still very much alone. Where had it come from?
No matter. She must return to the garden and inform Lord Manderbey that her idea had not produced a result.
Winsome pulled on the door. Then she pulled again. It was locked.
*
Lord Landry had been ginning himself up all night to say the words.
The words were in his mind but he could not get them out.
How did other gentlemen do it? How did they ask if a lady would wed them?
And then, if a person could choke out the words, what next?
Would they just stand there, staring until the lady said something?
And what if she said yes? What was expected then?
Should he say thank you? Or worse, what if she said no? Should he say thank you anyway?
How was it possible that there was not a book written about this?
He had escorted Lady Edith round the garden paths, collecting the clues. He could not say they made much progress, the only clue they’d been able to solve was another word for building, which they thought must be edifice.
He must have looked very white over his nervousness, as twice Lady Edith had inquired if he were sick. He’d denied it, though he felt rather sick. It was only getting worse though, as the more he thought, the more questions occurred to him. If she said yes, was he meant to kiss her? On her face?
Finally, as they were puzzling over a clue that read “the beginning of an Idea,” his nerves reached a fever pitch. There was a violent rumbling in his stomach that signaled events to come. He excused himself to visit…well he’d not had to spell out where he was going.
Lady Edith nodded knowingly and speculated that he’d eaten something bad. Not a thing to be ashamed of, as it was a very common thing.
He gratefully grabbed at the excuse and had hurried inside. In truth, his stomach was in a total revolt, as it often did when he was wracked with nerves. He found Sir Jonathan’s billiards room and, mercifully, spotted the closed-off curtain that said a chamber pot was within reach.
Landry had shut the billiards room door behind him, hoping there would be no other visitor looking to relieve himself. He found two chamber pots, both blessedly empty. His stomach was in such an attack that he might just fill them both. He ought not have eaten all those greasy potatoes at dinner!
As his insides disgorged, he heard the faint click coming from the direction of the door.
He prayed nobody was coming and tried to quiet the ungodly noises emanating from his person.
Blessedly, nobody came in. Or perhaps they had and were speedily apprised of the situation.
It did not have the scent of roses, after all.
He would stay where he was until his bowels were entirely empty. He did not dare return to Lady Edith and then experience another attack—he might not get back here in time!
How was he ever going to broach the subject of marriage? How was he ever going to ask when just thinking about it sent him into disaster?
Now he’d left Lady Edith on her own while he was very stupidly attached to a chamber pot for the foreseeable future.
*
Leland had waited and waited for Lady Winsome to return.
She’d been gone for over a half hour. Of course, it was conceivable that she’d encountered some lady friend and they were engaged in an extended conversation in the ladies’ retiring room.
He understood women went in for such things, though neither he nor any of his friends had the least idea of what they talked about in there.
He had not known precisely what to do about it. It seemed as if she was gone for an inordinate amount of time. However, he could not insist that she hurry. What was he supposed to do? Knock on the door?
Now, though, the length of time began to seem downright odd. Could something have happened? Could there be something wrong? Perhaps Lady Winsome had been taken ill.
That might make sense. Perhaps she’d suggested checking the slate in the mirror as a way to delicately excuse herself.
He glanced over at the dowager and the duke seated on a bench in the corner of the garden. They seemed to be entertaining themselves well enough.
He strode over. “Grandmama, Lady Winsome went to the ladies’ retiring room some time ago. I wonder if you might go and see if she requires any assistance.”
“Trying to separate me from my wine, are you?” the dowager asked.
“That would only be an added benefit,” he said drily.
“You see the way he speaks to me?” the dowager said, laughing.
“That’s a young buck for you,” the duke said, equally amused.
“What think you, Duke?” the dowager asked. “Should I go and check on your daughter?”
“Yes, why not? I had not expected any of my other daughters to turn up, but if they have, I can assure you those girls can talk until the sun comes up.”
Leland began to think possibly he was overreacting. It was likely that Lady Winsome had encountered a sister and they’d lost track of time.
Still, it would not hurt to check. He had an uneasy feeling he could not quite pin down.
“Hold my wine,” the dowager ordered, handing him her glass. “I’ll go see what’s holding her up in there.”