A Heart's Treasure (20 page)

“Because the next clue has to do with the acquisition of knowledge,” he told her without further prompting. “The diamond represents riches, although these riches are of the mind rather than the purse.”

“And why a queen?” she asked.

Genevieve lifted her eyes from the card, glancing between Penelope and Kenneth, for the woman’s voice had softened.

Kenneth made no reply for a moment, and the two sets of eyes held across the space of the carriage, but then he gave a small but eloquent shrug. “No particular purpose,” he murmured, and quickly turned away.

Genevieve rounded on Penelope, but that woman’s eyes had already settled on her reticule where she was tucking the playing card and did not rise.

“You’ve been given a hint for the next clue,” Summer informed Genevieve. “You already know it has to do with the acquisition of knowledge. You must be sure to tell Michael when next we stop.”

“Yes, I must,” Genevieve murmured, dragging her attention back to Summer. “Of course.” She looked back to Penelope, who was sitting quietly watching out the window, her hands serenely folded, her expression only mildly thoughtful.

“Nellie?” she heard herself ask.

Penelope turned to her, the softness gone now and replaced by the recently more familiar aloofness. “Yes?”

“What…I mean to say, is everything well?”

“Well? Why yes. Although, it is a trifle warm today, is it not?”

“Yes, it is, but I really meant…with Kenneth?”

“Kenneth?” Penelope blinked, expressionless except for a very slight tightening around her mouth.

“Are you two getting on…?” Genevieve finished lamely, faced as she was by that smooth set of features.

“Why, yes,” was Penelope’s simple response as she turned back to the window.

Was I quite mistaken?
Genevieve thought. Had there been no tension in the carriage just a minute ago? Or if there had indeed been some kind of strain between he and she, some wordless exchange occurring, what did such an exchange mean? Was it the natural response to a relationship gone sour…or something else?

The only thing Genevieve knew for sure was that it was
not
indifference.

She only hoped no one would be hurt in the explosion of emotions that seemed to wait just beneath the surface of what was, now quite clearly, practiced cordiality on both their parts.

Chapter 14

It is one thing to show a man that he is in an error,

and another to put him in possession of truth.

—John Locke,

An Essay Concerning Human Understanding

“Drat. Yes, you’re correct, Michael, they’re burning the fields,” Haddy agreed several hours later. He swung down from the coach box, pointing the way with one solid arm. “Both sides of the road. We’ll have to wait until it’s passable, and even then we’ll have to drive easy lest the smell of smoke spook the horses.”

“How long do you think?” Michael asked from atop the first carriage, squinting into the sun to see the thick, dark plumes of smoke on the horizon before them. They’d both guided the horses off to one side of the road. Xavier sat beside him.

Haddy shrugged. “An hour? Maybe two?”

“Surely not so long as that?”

“The fire’s a large one. We daren’t risk a dash along the road, not with two teams to handle. The wind is in the right direction, but better to wait until the fire’s been quite beaten back. The good news is, we can rest the horses for a spell, and then they’ll be good for a few more hours today, perhaps all the way to Lichfield.”

“Hmmm, a two-hour wait? That puts us in Lichfield no sooner than six.” Michael had consented to drive again, but also insisted on driving the ladies’ coach, ahead of the luggage one Haddy had consented to drive.

“If we must wait, we must. If it grows too late, we’ll find some inn on the way,” Kenneth called from his saddle horse.

Michael passed the ribbons to Xavier. “Hold the cattle as I unharness.”

“If we’d known, we could have waited to have our luncheon now, instead of stopping in Coleshill,” Xavier replied as he pulled tight the reins in his hands.

“But it was refreshing to take a hot luncheon, you must allow,” Kenneth answered, dismounted and moving to open the carriage door. “If you’d be so good as to step down, ladies? We’re halted in our forward progress by a field fire.”

“Oh dear, is it dangerous?” Penelope cried.

“Not at all. We simply must wait for the flames to work away from the roads. For now, we rest, or at least as best we can, given that the scent may disturb us some.”

“Anyone for whist?” Haddy called from where he was securing his carriage horses’ leading reins around a sturdy branch. “I purchased some playing cards from our host last evening.” He moved to help with unharnessing the team from Michael’s carriage.

The women demurred with a round of
no, thank yous
.

“No meal, no cards—what else is there to do?” Haddy complained as the right front leader blew air at him. He stroked the soft head and neck. “You’d play cards with me, wouldn’t you? Sure you would, you handsome fellow,” he cooed to the animal.

“So it’s come down to talking to animals, has it?” Michael said with a critical lift of his eyebrows.

“Better than some recent company I’ve had,” Haddy replied without a pause. He turned back to the horse, which had tossed its head. “I know. I smell that nasty fire, too,” he soothed.

“Now, gentlemen, we mustn’t be at daggers drawn,” Laura scolded as she climbed down from the carriage, followed by the other ladies. Today all the women had decided to dress in white gowns, but of course Summer looked the daintiest and fairest of them, Genevieve noted without any real sting in her thoughts. She did wish, though, that her friend would stop appearing to such advantage before Xavier.

“Hardly daggers. More like needles,” Michael said.

 “Not even needles. Pins,” Haddy agreed.

“They do it for sport,” Genevieve explained with a sigh to no one in particular. “Very little sport.”

“Now, there’s a thought. Let us have a bit of sport, as in the age-old pursuit of game. We are but hours from our suppers, so let us add to our host’s—whoever he shall be—bounty. This seems to me an open field, upon which we wouldn’t infringe unnecessarily.”

“Would that not be poaching?”

“My dear Genevieve, not if we are not caught at it.”

“Hadrian Aubrey Dillonsby,” Summer exclaimed. “What would Papa have said to engaging in uninvited hunting?”

“He would say ‘shoot true and make a hasty departure.’”

“Haddy! He’d have said no such thing.”

“Any man who would name his daughter after a flower, and his son and heir after a wall, most certainly would.”

“You were named after the emperor, not the wall.”

“And the dogs are named Joe and Jane. Fine, ordinary English names—for the dogs.” Haddy looked to Xavier, who had looped the reins to one side and jumped down from the coach box. At Haddy’s raised brows, Xavier shook his head.

Haddy pouted, but gave in. “Yes, yes. No hunting. It would be poaching—which of course won’t serve. But there’s a dead tree over,” he pointed, and it took Genevieve a long moment to see the gray, leafless tree in the distance, “and I’ve a mind to take some target practice upon it.”

Haddy and Kenneth led the last of the horses under a tree, attaching their leads with enough length that the animals might graze. That settled, they turned back to the carriages, finding their various long guns and ammunition.

“Who’s with me?” Haddy called as he loaded his weapon.

“I am,” Michael and Xavier replied unnecessarily, their weapons already in their hands.

“Not me, I think, lads. I’ll mind that the horses don’t get spooked, and I’ll stand guardian to the ladies,” Kenneth said.

“You needn’t,” Laura told him. “Now we know Summer is quite prepared to defend us.”

“Summer?” Kenneth had been told how Summer had carried Xavier’s pistol in the night, but his voice sounded incredulous now anyway. “Come, Summer, admit you couldn’t truly fire upon a flea, let alone a man.”

She thought for a long beat, then shook her head. “But I could, Kenneth,” she replied, her eyes serious.

“I shan’t believe it.”

Michael stepped next to Genevieve and said in a stage whisper, “There’s more to Summer than meets the eye.”

Genevieve watched him move away, and wondered if he truly understood or appreciated that fact.

Haddy led the men into the grassy field, again pointing out their unmoving target.

Kenneth indicated the shade of a tree not far removed from the horses, and the ladies sat upon the grass, which was dry so that none of them felt the need to fetch a cloth from the carriage.

“Perhaps we should begin tearing our petticoats to make bandages,” Laura suggested.

“Unkind,” Kenneth scolded, half laughing as he stretched out on his side in the grass opposite Penelope. “They might be struck by a falling branch, but they’re unlikely to shoot one another, my girl.”

“You require no target practice?” his sister asked, untying her bonnet strings and running her fingers through the light brown fringe that had stuck to her forehead in the warmth of the day.

He doffed his own hat and rested it on his hip, and lazily shook his head. “I’ve no desire to traipse in the sun.”

A butterfly floated by, and though she couldn’t see it, Genevieve heard the trickle of some nearby brook, no doubt among the trees. It was a pleasant enough spot, if tainted by the occasional whiff of smoke. But Laura echoed Genevieve’s feelings when that lady sighed, a bored sound.

“What are we to do while we wait?” Laura complained. “Perhaps I should have persuaded Haddy to leave his playing cards after all.”

“Hmm. We’ll probably play tonight,” Kenneth demurred.

Everyone again fell quiet for several minutes, in the manner of people deplete of small talk. Genevieve pondered the idea of a nap to pass the time in the shade.

Of a sudden Kenneth rose to his feet, putting out his hand directly before Penelope, who looked up, startled. “Come,” he said, “why don’t we go for a stroll?”

Penelope glanced around at the other ladies, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“I thought you didn’t care to traipse in the sun—” Laura began.

He interrupted, ignoring her. “Just a little stroll?” he spoke just to Penelope.

“I’ll go—” Laura began to rise.

Kenneth spun to her. “I didn’t ask you. I’m asking Penelope.”

Laura sank back to the ground, mute and offended.

Penelope shook her head, a small, quick shake.

“Penelope,” he said, his voice now dropped low, “surely you can spend a few minutes with me? To talk? Alone.”

Penelope glanced from under her lashes at Genevieve, who suddenly found herself nodding at the woman. Whatever was wrong between the two of them, perhaps Kenneth was right to want to talk it through and perhaps settle it, once and for all. Genevieve nodded at her friend again.

Penelope’s head bowed in surrender. She offered her hand to Kenneth, and was assisted to her feet. He didn’t release her hand, instead pinning it to his sleeve with his own, larger hand.

“We’ll be back within the hour,” he said to no one in particular, and led Penelope away, in the opposite direction the “hunters” had taken.

“Well, I never!” Laura said to his retreating back.

“Don’t refine upon it, Laura,” Genevieve told her.

“Yes, don’t,” Summer spoke. “He didn’t mean to be insulting.” She exchanged knowing glances with Genevieve. “He just needed to speak with Penelope alone for awhile, and there was no subtle way to achieve that.”

“That’s all very well. My dears, I’ve seen what you’ve seen. Clearly they’ve some manner of unfinished business to attend to—but Kenneth really needn’t have spoken in such a manner to me.” She fanned herself in agitation with her bonnet. “And we must also consider that it’s improper to let her be alone with him. And we’ve not just allowed it, but encouraged it,” Laura persisted. “We’re supposed to be chaperoning one another.”

“I hardly think one thing is more improper than the next,” Summer said.

“What do you mean?” Laura’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean, is not running in the High Street just as terrible, if not more so because so many people saw it, than taking a stroll in the country with a longtime friend?”

Genevieve raised a hand to her mouth, as though to stifle a cough, but really to hide her smile.

“Summer Rose Dillonsby, I wasn’t the only one to run through the High Street.”

“No, of course not,” Genevieve soothed. “But is that not just the point? At this time, our usual conventions are meaningless, at least until we reach Brockmore. We can don propriety once more then. In the meanwhile, Kenneth and Penelope will be the better for having talked, I feel sure, and that’s all that matters to us now.”

The ladies fell silent, until Summer proposed they braid some of the taller grasses around them into garlands, a task that busied their fingers if not their minds. Summer coughed a few times, making them all aware of the gusts of acrid air that blew over them when the wind shifted, adding to the discomfort of the overly warm day.

A shot rang out, followed by a second, making the ladies jump. Dozens followed, accompanied by the occasional whoop.

Kenneth and Penelope hadn’t returned by the time the huntsmen reappeared. Michael walked with his long gun laid across one arm, a branch in his other hand, which he used in an exaggerated swain’s strut, showing off his “prize.”

“Had we been after game, we’d have cleared this entire field of prey,” he assured them with a flourish of the piece of wood.

Laura leaned over, bumping shoulders with Summer. “Now you may marry Michael, my dear, as he’s proven although he cannot put meat on the table, he can supply wood with which to cook it.”

“Hmph,” Michael dismissed her opinion with the single sound. “Only look.” He hefted the stout twig, eyeing it. “I’m inclined toward carving this as a walking cane for myself. It’s sturdy and it’s straight. A man can’t have too many canes.”

“My mighty hunter,” Summer said, smiling.