A Heart's Treasure (9 page)

“We’ve already discovered there is no silverware either, other than Xavier’s penknife,” Penelope added, holding her piece of chicken gingerly as she bit into it. At her words, Kenneth folded and tossed the mentioned penknife, with which he’d uncorked the bottle, back toward Xavier. He caught it neatly.

“But there are, thankfully, napkins,” Xavier said up to Genevieve. He slipped the penknife into a pocket and accepted the bottle she held out to him with both hands, nodding thanks.

“What need for napkins? Haven’t we a river at hand in which to wash?” Michael asked, casting a gnawed clean chicken bone over his shoulder.

Xavier steadied the bottle, finally meeting Genevieve’s gaze again. She’d shaken her head at her brother’s King Henry VIII impression, but Xavier seemed to have ignored Michael. Indeed, there was a curious look in Xavier’s eyes, something rather like defiance.

“Your lips have gone before mine. I kiss you again,” he said as he pressed the bottle to his mouth and took a deep drink.

Genevieve would have turned away, far too aware of the sudden blush rising in her cheeks, but she found herself frozen in place. Because she stared at him, she saw Xavier’s defiance shift. Not two seconds later and he looked as nonplussed as she felt.

It’s only a little tease…

Xavier broke their locked gazes, and gave a quick, shallow smile. Now she thought it was almost as if he were trying to dare her to make more of the moment, the words.

She hid her discomposure as she went to the basket and chose a piece of bread, then settled on a corner of the cloth with a piece of chicken in her other hand.

She very deliberately avoided Xavier’s gaze—not that she thought he sought hers again—and pondered why Xavier was being so…so mercurial.

That comment was flirtation,
she concluded with an interior little huff. She reconsidered, but came to the same thought a second time.
Well then, no point in denying it. But what does it mean?

“This food, this place… These are more than small pleasures,” Laura said with feeling as she looked about the scenic spot. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, her white gown with lavender ribbon knots very fetching against the green grasses amongst which she sat.

But Genevieve was only vaguely distracted by the sight of her friend looking more carefree than she had in quite awhile.
Xavier has always been indifferent toward me,
Genevieve’s internal monologue went on.
I’ve never had so little as an inkling of attraction from him before.
She didn’t add the same regarding herself. In fact, in the peace of their little picnic, she admitted to herself that she’d long admired Xavier. There was his poise in the face of ignorant comments about his injury. The intellect that shone from his undamaged eye. The way he moved, smoothly compensating for his halved vision. She admitted to herself that in the past she’d sneaked more than a few glances his way when no one was looking, especially him.

“And let us not forget to praise the shade,” Summer added, her eyes closing like Laura’s, to relish that of which they spoke.

“To the shade!” Michael cried as the bottle was at last passed to him. He tilted back his head and took a long draw, then passed it on to Haddy.

The thing that distresses me,
Genevieve fretted on,
is how Xavier always—however kindly and gently—turns the ladies away when they approach him. Oh, he gives them a dance, or chats with them for a few minutes, but he never lingers long in their company. He seems determined to dissuade any female company that could lead to companionship…or more.
Genevieve frowned down at her uneaten chicken, quite aware this was not the first time she’d noted his diffidence when it came to any hint of courtship.

When the bottle had gone around and come back to Michael once more, that gentleman upended it, showing that only a drop more resided there. “I don’t suppose there is another bottle in that hamper?” he asked his sister with a patent regret.

Genevieve shook her head and smiled at him, breaking loose of her thoughts of Xavier to realize, despite her pretense otherwise, that she understood why Summer loved her brother. Michael could be light and sweet and amusing when he wanted to, as he did now. It was difficult to remember, sometimes, that he ever made one wish to throttle him for his too-frequent air of callousness that reared its unwieldy head at the most awkward of moments. And yet, when he put himself forward, he was really the most charming of men…

Like Xavier,
her thoughts shifted back. Of course, there were those odd times when she’d seen the man white about the mouth with anger or annoyance, abruptly excusing himself from a gathering. Stung as he was by some errant comment about his appearance, some thoughtless question or barbed remark, but she’d never labeled an exodus of his as a lack of charm. If anything, it was Xavier’s refusal to sting in return that proved his worth. He possessed an innate graciousness which Michael oft seemed to lack.

Even as she thought this, Xavier’s eyes raised to meet hers. She suddenly stilled, the hand brushing back a lock of her own errant hair gone frozen, and the sound of conversation dimmed in her ears. His gray eye sparked, the color of smoke just as he blinked—and then she saw her old friend, simply smiling at her.

Her hand completed the task, settling in her lap gently after she’d cast a quick smile in return. But— There had been something there, some new interchange as with the wine, something she couldn’t quite define. She shivered, unable to stop herself, but tossed her head as if to show she’d noted nothing.

Haddy didn’t allow them to linger over the meal, loudly fretting about the horses left to stand. He furthered his point by announcing they must find new horses as soon as may be for the next stage of the day’s journey, and also be on their way if they were to solve the “Oxford” clue and find lodging for the night. The ladies made faces at one another, but otherwise didn’t refuse the return to the stuffy carriage.

Since her fellow travelers had fallen into silence, leaving Genevieve with too much time in which to further jumble her latest thoughts, she was most grateful for the arrival into the heart of Oxford. Summer pointed out some of the university buildings, reading the names of those that were posted, guessing at others, creating a welcome distraction.

“Our Alma Mater!” one of the men called to another from outside the coach.

“I do say,” Summer said, smiling at Genevieve, “I almost feel as though I’ve been here before, for Michael has described these very scenes, these very streets, to me.”

Genevieve nodded as the door was opened, and they stepped down, exchanging the stifling nature of the carriage only to stand under a hot sun.

Kenneth retrieved the picnic cloth and hung it over his arm. “It’s your clue, Xavier, Summer,” he prompted, lifting his free hand to make a circle in the air, a movement that incorporated the many streets around them. “You said we must find Divinity Walk. So, lead on.”

Their steps were not quick, and no one responded when Xavier explained that Divinity Walk used to be next to an apple orchard. “I think we must look for an orchard, or at least some gathered apple trees.”

It was some time before Xavier came to a halt, hands on hips. “Here, then, are some apple trees I deem to be in the right location,” he said to Kenneth. “But how are we to go on from here?”

“Have a seat, everyone, if you please,” Kenneth replied, removing his hat to reveal his usually light brown hair had darkened and flattened with perspiration. He spread out the cloth, and gave two quick little bows toward Xavier and Summer. “Here then is the second part of your clue, by which to earn your token. Come along and make use of the shade, everyone. I have a tale to tell.”

“And I have a nap to take,” Michael said, lying out full length upon the grass to one side of the cloth, and promptly tilting his hat over his eyes.

Summer moved to settle beside him, her skirts tucked daintily about her slippers, as the others stepped forward to choose their places in the sun-dappled shadows.

“And I have horses to tend,” Haddy said, at once making a dismissive motion at Xavier, who had turned to offer his assistance. “Stay and hear your clue, man,” Haddy said, pulling his coat off against the heat in preparation of working with the animals. Xavier nodded his acquiescence, finding a seat with the others.

“ ’Tis a sad and shocking tale,” Kenneth began. “You see, once there lived a simple maiden, a local brewer’s daughter. She fell in love with a university student, and I’m sad to say the cad left her in a family way, without the good grace to offer her a wedding ring.”

Laura gave her brother a level look, mutely disapproving of the subject matter, but Kenneth went on, ignoring her. “Whenever they met, she begged him to wed her and give her child a name, but he always refused. Weary at last of her piteous entreaties, the reprobate agreed to meet her one night, here at Divinity Walk, in the moonlight. The girl was so happy, thinking that the lad’s heart had been touched at long last, and that a romantic offer was to be made in the moonlit night. She arrived at their destination early. In order to wait in the dark and still remain safe, she decided to climb an apple tree to await her beloved. She found a level branch that stretched out straight, Laid out along its length, she watched for her sweetheart.

“Eventually the fellow arrived, and just as she was about to call out to him, she saw that he, oddly enough, carried a spade over his shoulder. She kept her peace as he walked up to the very tree in which she lay hidden, and proceeded to dig a large, narrow hole.”

Summer made a little noise of distress, and Genevieve looked toward her, just in time to see the girl reach to gather up one of Michael’s hands. Michael didn’t stir, except to roll his eyes indulgently.

“The poor girl was no fool, and knew the student was digging a grave, and that it was intended for her. She waited silently in the tree, for a long time, until the student at length gave up waiting for her to make her appearance. As soon as he was gone, she ran home to her father’s house.

“The next day, the student saw her on the street and greeted her in a loving fashion, indicating he wished to make a new assignation with her. But the girl said:

“‘One moonshiny night, as I sat high,

Waiting for my love to come by,

Bough didn’t bend, but my heart did break,

To see what hole the fox did make,’”
Kenneth said, allowing his voice to rise to a spooky falsetto as he made a few gestures meant to simulate digging.

Laura nodded, apparently commending the girl’s accusation, if not her brother’s story.

Grinning at having caught his audience’s fancy, Kenneth went on. “Hearing that his secret guilt was out, the student drew a knife and plunged it into the poor girl’s heart. Others in the lane tried to restrain the student, but then a battle of confusion began, between the Town and the Gowns, one set accusing the other, so that in the end the gutters ran with blood. You will be content to know that the evil student was killed in the fray, but—alas!—naught could save the poor brewer’s daughter. To this day, they say she is buried in the very grave that her false lover had dug for her.”

“How terrible,” Summer said, lips turned down as she shook her head.

“What piffle,” Michael drawled from beneath his hat with no particular rancor, only a yawn to show his sleepy nature.

Looking toward Xavier, his glance encompassing Summer, Kenneth explained, “I have a poem that may assist you should you care to read it?” At Xavier’s nod, he reached into his coat pocket, extracting one of his folded blue notes. He checked the writing that resided on one side, then handed it to Xavier. Obviously Kenneth had more than one clue in his pocket this day, and was verifying he was handing out the proper one. Xavier leaned forward, stretching out his arm to hand the folded note to Summer.

She released Michael’s hand to receive the paper and unfold it.

“‘A grave, a grave my lover dug for me.

He wanted no love—nor child—did he.

On an apple bough that sad night I saw,

He wished not to be groom or papa,’”
she read in a cadence.

Laura scolded mildly, “Kenneth, what a sordid tale. Not to mention atrocious poetry.”

He drew himself up. “I was attempting to be helpful in my clue, not write great poetry.”

“All the same, I believe I’ve taken your point,” Xavier said decisively, rising to his feet. “Twice you’ve told us the lady was ‘laid along an apple bough.’ I presume that means we must locate an apple tree that has a flattish branch wide enough to support a woman’s weight.”

“Lead on, good fellow,” Kenneth said expansively, unable to resist a small nod of confirmation.

Michael stirred himself enough to pull his watch from his waistcoat pocket, cocking a glance at its surface from under the hat. “Ten minutes,” he warned, settling back.

Summer looked down at Michael, obviously thinking to remain at his side, but then she pulled her eyes away and offered her hand up to Xavier. He was quick to take it, though he didn’t at once assist her to her feet.

“It’s very warm,” he offered her an excuse. “I don’t mind trudging about alone. I shall return the token here once I find it, shall I?”

“No, I must be at my partner’s side.” Summer shook her head, blushing a little that he’d read her so easily.

He pulled her to her feet, hiding the awkward moment with action.

Laura declined the “pleasure,” remaining with Michael in the shade, while the rest of them wove a pattern between the sun-dotted trees, trailing behind the partners. Genevieve actually saw the playing card wedged into the bark of a certain tree before Xavier or Summer spotted it, but she managed to refrain from pointing it out, allowing them to win their token. The tree certainly met the description, for the branch was low enough for a person to grasp on tiptoe, and a bend in the trunk provided a place to put a foot and assist one’s ascent. The hefty branch itself grew out from the trunk in a decidedly horizontal pattern, and was thick enough to support even two grown men’s weight.