“’Tis this odd-looking paper I found. I cannot make out the writing. However, there looks to be a picture of the stable.” He came nearer and handed the paper to the Earl.
“It appears to be a drawing of my stable yard.”
“Where did you find this?” Harlow demanded.
“M’lord, I found it right here…” Barney led the three of them to the entrance of the stable. “…near where the lantern fell.”
Max walked to the building, appearing to scrutinize a spot at the entry. “Lord Avalon; Harlow?” He pointed to a faint chalk mark, almost hidden by the large trunk of the sessile oak that stood at the entrance. “It could mean nothing. Have you seen this before, Barney?”
“No, m’lord, never. It looks to be an X. I ’ave no cause to make me mark on the stable wall. I ain’t never seen that afore.”
Fresh concern washed over Harlow. “If you are still amenable to it, Lord Avalon, we accept your offer to stay here while we are in town.” He could hear the strain in his voice. “Max, I believe we should ride to town and retrieve our belongings.”
Chapter 15
Lilian waited patiently in the parlour, trying to read her book, while Cooper slept in his basket alongside her. She spent half of the time reading and half of the time watching the door, hoping Lord Harlow would walk in at any minute for a visit. Had anyone asked what she read, she could not have related a word. Her mind had been elsewhere. Not a soul had come through the door for the hour she had been there.
Mother was lying down in her room with a headache, upset over the episode this morning. Despite being quizzed by Lydia, she had refused to enlighten them as to the obvious history between herself and Lady Poinz. Lydia and Lord Yarstone had departed to take a walk about the property, chaperoned by Clara. It would most likely be a short excursion as Clara did not care for exercise and made that clear in her complaints whenever taxed. Lilian bit her lower lip to keep from smiling, envisioning Lydia’s frustration with their maid.
That left Mary to sit with Lilian in the parlour, in the event Lord Harlow did call in to pay court. The young girl made no noise and was sitting darning linens from the basket that Clara had handed her before she departed.
Lilian sighed audibly.
“Yes, m’lady?” Mary set down her darning and looked up. “Would there be anything ye need?”
“No, Mary. I apologize. I sighed because I am not a very patient person.”
In answer, the young maid bobbed her head and continued her darning.
My sister is probably walking with Lord Yarstone among the apple trees. I should love to go there with John, she thought dreamily. Except, of course, I cannot move from this dreadful wheel-chair. There are no paths I can traverse with this awkward, cumbersome machine. ’Tis neither accommodating nor romantic. A sardonic laugh escaped her. Frustrated, she placed her book in her lap and wheeled closer to the window. A smallish man wearing a black hat stood in the shadow of the trees, staring toward her home. Alarmed, she wheeled backwards several feet.
“Mary, come here, please.”
“Yes, m’lady.” The young woman placed her basket down and moved to stand next to Lilian.
“Peer out of the front window and tell me if you see a man dressed in black, standing at the edge of the lake,” she instructed.
The maid leaned into the window space, searching. “No, m’lady. There be no one there.”
“No? You do not see him? Truly?” Her words were more a sign of exasperation than questions. Lilian wheeled her chair closer and looked again. Mary was right. The man was gone. “Thank you, Mary.” She swallowed. “Perhaps the afternoon sun was playing tricks on me.” She stared in the direction she had seen the figure and saw no one. How had she imagined that? She was not wont to see things that did not exist. Maybe she should do as Mama suggested and read fewer Gothic novels.
Not convinced, Lilian redoubled her efforts, squinting to spot anything that looked like the stranger she would have sworn was there moments ago. She could see only part of the lake and the beginnings of the orchards. Most likely, her sister and Lord Yarstone were further from the house, so no one could spy on them. Lydia knew, as Lilian did herself, that there was a good chance Clara would nod off after outside exertion. She had been known to do so on occasion, especially after walking.
Grandmama had created a lovely reflection area amid the apple trees. On sunny days, the sun could strike the pond at just the right angle, making it sparkle. Two white, iron benches, framed by a small circle of lilac bushes, gave ample seating room. The bushes were often fragrant after the apple blooms had become fruit. Lilian and her sister would frequently sit there, with their horses tied up behind them, to read and watch the swans on the lake. More times than she could count, her governess had taken them there with their easels and paints.
Lydia and Lord Yarstone are probably there. Lilian was happy for her sister and hated the silly jealousy which stabbed at her heart. Lydia, more than anyone, believed she would walk again. Lilian did not even believe that. She had resigned herself to spinsterhood and a wheel-chair—until John. Now she wanted more. She wanted him.
Her father entered the room, and she looked away from the window.
“Lilian, I am afraid Lord Harlow had to leave suddenly.”
Lilian felt her face crumple in disappointment, and she twisted her hands in the folds of her skirt.
“Be of good cheer, daughter. Lord Harlow has accepted my invitation to stay here.” The Earl sat on the settee next to her chair and gave her hand an affectionate
