Chapter 3 #2
Checking around to make certain they were alone, Clara had a seat alongside her and took Catherine’s hands.
“I believe that man is a liar,” she said.
When the girl moved to speak, Clara shook her head, cutting her off.
“Don’t talk over me,” she warned. “Though acceptably polite, and quite handsome, Mr. Ashby is woefully out of his depth. When I spoke with him yesterday afternoon, he told me he didn’t have many clothes, nor any servants, nor a carriage at his disposal. ”
Catherine shrugged, unimpressed. “Surely, he had a reason for that.”
“Indeed, he did! Complete hogwash, too,” Clara said, annoyed. “Philip claimed he was robbed by highwaymen, and that they stole most of his belongings.”
“But what if it’s true?”
“And what if it’s not?” Clara countered. “Could you live with yourself, were we to welcome some stranger into this family?”
“W-well—”
“He’s like an awkward fawn,” she continued. “Any time we speak, he gets all shy and tongue-tied. That is not the man Charlotte described in her letters.”
Catherine bit her lip, perplexed. “You are right about that,” she allowed. “Lottie said her Philip is blond, tall, and has a commanding way about him. There’s hardly anything commanding about this Mr. Ashby…”
“Nor is he witty and dry,” Clara agreed.
“I understand that we all have different personalities with certain people—little masks, if you will—but I cannot imagine this Philip being anything but reticent in the company of others. Why, he is far too quick to take orders. Father may appreciate it, but Charlotte would not. She’s always been a fan of the brash and domineering sorts.
” Clara shrugged. “Not to mention, this whole shipbuilding nonsense. Why would Lottie have never breathed a word of it?”
With a hand lifting to her throat, Catherine whimpered. “Oh, goodness, I wish you wouldn’t spin such stories… You’ve always been the imaginative one in this family, and this is by far your worst tale yet!”
“I pray you’re right about that,” Clara said. “But truly, can I be blamed for having concern for my family? For our dear sister?”
“But what do you intend to do?” Catherine pressed. “Even if he is an imposter, you can’t just accuse him without proof!”
“Leave it to me,” Clara said. “Last night, I first became suspicious of him during supper, so my invitation to walk was but a ruse. I intend to get to know him, to earn his trust, and perhaps he will put our minds at ease.”
“I don’t like this,” Catherine said, wringing her hands. “What if he figures out that we know?”
“We don’t know anything,” Clara reminded her. “Despite my suspicions, I don’t actually believe him a nefarious sort. When I spoke to Philip last night, he was far more interested in my reading material than the family itself.”
Catherine’s brow furrowed. “Reading material? When on earth did you speak to him about books?”
“After bed last night,” Clara said, dismissive.
“Don’t look at me like that! I don’t need a chaperone to read.
” Rolling her eyes, she continued, “Neither of us could sleep, so he joined me in the library. It was a rather uneventful affair, truth be told, and I gave him some half-hearted apology for how I’d treated him. ”
Catherine snorted. “If he actually knew you, he’d recognize that all your apologies are faulty.”
“Slander! I actually am a little sorry…” Shrugging, Clara offered a sheepish smile.
“Even if he is putting on an act, he’s by far the most interesting distraction we’ve had in months.
Father’s law friends are all so boring, and the British soldiers aren’t much better. Their vanity is a huge nuisance.”
Catherine’s mouth grew pinched. “You are working on my nerves, and I do not appreciate it. Firstly, you imply that Philip Ashby is not Philip Ashby, and now you are speaking as if he is at the very height of your social calendar!”
“I am not!” Clara exclaimed, defensive. “I’m merely saying he is not a huge nuisance…which, coincidentally, is what I named that one soldier’s pego.”
“Clara Boyd!”
Giggling, the redhead hid her grin behind a hand, her eyes flashing with mischief. “What?” she asked, grinning more broadly. “Am I not to have a bit of fun? I already said I don’t believe him a danger!”
Sighing, Catherine irritably turned and closed her music book, all desire to play having fled with her sister’s perversions. “I suppose we should head in for breakfast. What are we to do once we encounter Mr. Ashby?”
“Nothing,” Clara said as if it were obvious. “He is our guest, so we are to act naturally. If he thinks something is amiss, he’ll become all taciturn…or rather, more so than he is already.”
Twisting her hands, Catherine rose from the bench. “Tell me honestly. Do you believe him a man of ill repute?”
Following after, Clara stood and took the girl’s shoulders, her eyes shining with fondness before she kissed her brow. “Of course not,” she soothed. “It’s as you said; I have an overactive imagination. I just wish to exercise caution, is all.”
Catherine’s brow creased. “Should we tell Father? Or Mother?”
“No.” Shaking her head, Clara brushed back a lock of her sister’s hair. “There is no need to worry them. I should’ve spared you the same courtesy, but I want you on guard, should he try and deceive you.”
“He won’t,” Catherine promised. “I intend to keep to myself.”
“Good. That’s a marvelous idea,” Clara agreed. “You leave all the talking to me.” She took her sister’s hands. “Now come! We have ourselves a breakfast to host.”
When Benjamin took his place at the dining room table, he was somehow more agitated by the Boyds’ customs than the night prior. The rules of dining etiquette, though simple enough, rankled him since they were clearly done more for show than necessity.
After thanking William for helping him get seated, Benjamin grudgingly watched the servant place small portions of food onto his plate.
Even breakfast was superfluous: eggs, bread, fruit, nuts, and various jellies were laid out before them, and guilt lanced through his heart when he once more thought of his fellow soldiers.
While Clara prattled on about some party, and Catherine spared him several cautious, furtive glances, Benjamin sighed and picked at his eggs—and yes, this time with an actual fork.
“Where are your parents?” he asked them.
Clara pursed her mouth, not appreciating the interruption.
“Father rarely breakfasts with us,” she said, feigning nonchalance.
“He prefers to eat early, and then rushes off to meet with his clients. And Mother…” She sighed, checking the hands on their tall case clock.
“If I’m not mistaken, she should be barreling in here any moment.
She’ll probably be a bit lushey, but that’s nothing unusual. ”
“Clara!” Catherine hissed, appalled.
Clara shrugged. “What? He is to be family. He might as well know what he’s getting himself into.” Turning to Benjamin, she flashed an impish smile. “How did you sleep, Philip?”
“Terribly, truth be told…though I appreciate you lending me that book.” Benjamin speared a bit of egg onto his fork, then shoveled it into his mouth.
He didn’t bloody well care about trivialities, and now that he knew Jedediah was no longer in the house, he pondered his best course of action.
It’d be foolish to search Boyd’s home office without familiarizing himself with the layout, so a potential visit into town seemed wisest. Or rather, he wished to meet Boyd’s clientele, should they also be linked to the Tory cause.
Suddenly, a shrill, unpleasant groan rose above the clink of silverware, piercing through Benjamin’s thoughts and making him cringe. In the entryway, a comely blonde woman stood holding her head between her hands, her brow furrowed and her pretty mouth pursing as she groaned yet again.
Lushey, indeed, he thought.
Despite her cry for attention, it was already evident by her well-coiffed updo and gold-threaded green muslin that she was fully prepared for receiving guests.
“What’s all the racket?” Deborah Boyd moaned, still rubbing her temples. “I can scarcely hear myself think!”
“Neither can we,” Clara muttered. Falsely perking up, she added, “It’s so good of you to come down, Mother. You’ve missed the event of the season. Charlotte’s fiancé has come calling!”
Squinting at the trio, Deborah looked between each face with difficulty before she exhaled, dropping her hands at her sides.
“I did hear of your arrival, Mr. Ashby,” she said.
“Do forgive my absence! I’ve been plagued by a dreadful, dreadful ailment, and didn’t feel well enough to come downstairs and make introductions. ”
Rising from his seat, Benjamin offered a courteous bow. “I wouldn’t dream of making you come down for me,” he assured her. “Your presence now more than makes up for your absence.”
“Oh…” Deborah tittered, a pretty pink blossoming across her cheeks.
Clara made a gagging face, but the woman ignored her daughter and strode across the room, her grin genuine as she took Benjamin’s hand.
“A pleasure, Mr. Ashby. Once you wed Charlotte, I trust our home will be filled with handsome, strapping young boys such as yourself.”
Clara snorted. “Why? Do you intend to form a harem?”
Curling her upper lip, Deborah shot her daughter a warning glare. “I meant grandchildren, you vile doxy!”
Catherine paled at their mother’s chastisement, and Clara laid a hand on her sister’s wrist, sensing her distress.
Deborah looked back at Benjamin. “I must say, I hadn’t realized our Lottie’s beau was so handsome,” she purred. “In her letters, she didn’t go into much detail. It must have been to keep you all to herself!”
Benjamin forced a weak laugh. “Yes, undoubtedly.”
“Your humbleness is something to strive for, Mr. Ashby,” Clara muttered, rolling her eyes. “You are a true beacon of modesty!”
“Ignore her,” Deborah snapped. “Clara is a lonely, wretched girl who only wishes to douse the happiness of others.”