A Madness in Spring (5 page)

“Madame Florian, didn’t he come down to the kitchens?” Georgie asked the stout woman who had come up with the tray of treats. “I sent him down to you.”

“
Non
– we’ve seen no young gentleman, Mademoiselle,” Madame Florian replied in a thick French accent. Then she went pale and her eyes widened. “I hope the ghost did not abduct him.”

Francesca gasped, but Belinda rolled her eyes. Everyone knew the old stories about the ghost of a monk who haunted the Friar’s House halls, but all the ghost had ever done was keep the less strong-minded from renting the property. He’d never made an appearance.

“Don’t worry, Francesca,” she said, putting aside her little plate of sweets. “I’m certain he just decided to explore a bit and got lost. You know how distractible he is.”

“It is entirely possible I gave him the wrong instructions on how to get down to the kitchens,” Miss Gage mused. “Oh dear, I should hate for him to miss the desserts. I have a feeling his opinion would be invaluable.”

More like he would shove the treats in his mouth five at a time, Belinda thought, but she said nothing.

“We should go after him,” Francesca said, after a nod from Georgie. “I’m sure if we split up we’ll be able to find him in no time.”

“Yes, what a delightful idea, I think – ohhhhhh,” Georgie said as she rose to her feet, and swiftly sat back down again.

“What is it?” Belinda asked, crossing the room in a trice.

“Nothing,” Georgie said, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Just a bit dizzy, is all.”

Mrs. Clotworthy was already at the girl’s side, having moved faster than Belinda had known her to be capable of. She felt Georgie’s face.

“Chilled,” she grumbled, a touch of fear in her voice. “Too chilled.”

“Should we send for the doctor?” Francesca asked, worried. “Or your brother?”

“No!” Georgie said, forcefully. Then, her voice receded to a whisper. “Just, you stay with me. Mrs. Clotworthy too. Belinda, go find Mr. Sturridge. I will be fine momentarily.”

“Are you certain?” Belinda asked. “I’ve read articles about why women are prone to fainting, it might have to do with the constriction of the lungs by –”

“I’m sure,” Georgie said, definitively. “It’s all right. Go.”

With unsure steps, and a glance back at Georgie on the appropriately named fainting couch, Belinda headed down the hall to search for one errant Adam Sturridge.

She wouldn’t put it past Adam to have just taken flight. He couldn’t have found their party-planning of the remotest interest. She’d made sure of it – pulling out all her most boring ideas and itemizations in the hopes it would drive him away.

In fact, if she had any idea where they were, she would have gone to the stables first, to see if he’d taken a horse. But Georgie said he must have gotten lost, so she would be a good friend and check the house before going outside.

Although, it wasn’t like Adam to miss the chance for sweets.

Then again, she mused, rounding a corner and coming into a hallway that curved in a curious fashion, Adam had been acting strange for the past few days.

It wasn’t just that he was always hanging about them – that would have just been annoying. No, it was that when he was with them, he was unusually silent.

Normally, Adam would have forced himself to the center of any conversation. He would have been loud, and jovial, making everyone laugh within minutes and ready to leave off all their responsibilities and go out fishing. But lately he’d been so quiet. Listening to their conversations about planning the party.

And watching.

More than once, she had discovered his eyes on her. He’d looked away immediately, like he had been caught out at something. At first, she thought there was something on her face, but there couldn’t be something on her face two days in a row. She checked. Multiple times.

But he wasn’t always silent. Oh no. Yesterday, he’d taken it upon himself to talk to her.

Voluntarily.

They had just said goodbye to the Gages, having spent the afternoon walking through Hemshawe. The thaw seemed to be holding, and people were eager to be out and about. It was the first opportunity to introduce Georgie and her brother to the various shopkeepers they would need to patronize for the party, so it had been a very eventful outing. Georgie had walked along with John and Francesca so Francesca could make the introductions, while Mr. Gage had taken up Belinda’s arm. Leaving Adam at the rear, a constant itch on the back of her neck.

They had waved goodbye to the Gages as the road forked, Georgie and Bertram going off toward the Friar’s House and everyone else heading to Sturridge Manor.

“Coming back with us, are you?” Adam had said gruffly. She had jumped. She had half forgotten that he was there. (Of course, her other half would never be able to forget his looming presence.)

“I left my notebook and some things, I must retrieve them.”

“They’ll be there tomorrow. And God knows you’ll be there tomorrow.”

She had stiffened her back. “I happen to need them before then. Trying to be rid of me? You could have simply excused yourself from walking out with us and spared yourself my company.”

“Yes, I suppose I could have,” he’d said soft enough that he might have thought no one heard. But Belinda had the hearing of a bat. At least, she did when it came to Adam.

“Further more, you could simply go home to Scotland, and spare yourself my company for as long as you see fit.”

“It’s not Scotland,” he had grumbled. “And I can’t leave yet.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve… I have something that I’m doing.”

“And what is that?” she’d asked.

“Um…” he had stuttered. “Being neighborly to the Gages. With John having to hie off to London every other day, I want to make sure they are well settled. Besides, I need to repair my first ill impression that I gave them.”

“I… I see,” she had said, because really, what else was there to say? It made a strange sort of sense, and showed some manners she had not thought Adam Sturridge capable of.

“And how are you liking our – I mean,
your
– new neighbors?” he had asked, his hands going behind his back.

Well, if he wanted to have a civil conversation, she had decided could play along.

“I like them very much. Miss Gage is an excellent sort.”

“Yes. And her brother?” he’d asked.

“Mr. Gage is very amiable.”

“Do you find him so?” Adam had asked. “I think him a little stand offish. Not at all welcoming.” He’d eyed her closely. So closely that Belinda had almost felt the need to step back, but held her ground.

“Then you and I have had very different experiences of him,” she had replied, not bothering to hide her bewilderment. “I think your sister-in-law is calling me.”

“No she’s n–”

“Francesca!” Belinda had moved ahead, not allowing any more strange conversation from Adam Sturridge, or close looks.

She thought she’d be free of it when they decided to meet at the Friar’s House – at Belinda’s suggestion. Instead, she was now forced to try to find an errant and strange Adam who had somehow got lost and made it so Miss Gage felt faint and Belinda was without cream puffs at tea.

Although, now she herself might be lost.

She had gone in the direction Georgie had indicated. But it didn’t lead to a stairway. So she’d turned left at the curved hallway and then left again, and suddenly she was facing a dead end and had no idea how she had gotten here.

It was the strangest corridor. There was nothing in it. No doors, no windows. At the far end there was only a painting of a number of monks kneeling in prayer hanging on the wall. Although what they were kneeling before was a little suspect.

To Belinda’s memory, the Virgin Mary was not, in general, depicted naked.

And what was that one monk doing with his hands? She leaned in closer, trying to see, when suddenly…

“Ow!”

The picture swung out and smacked her in the nose! How on earth…

“What –” Adam’s head peeked around the back of the painting. “Belinda, what are you doing?”

“Looking for you,” she replied, holding her nose. “And hopefully not bleeding.”

“Let me see,” he said, stepping out from behind the painting.

“No.”

“Come on, now.”

She swatted his hand away. “I’m fine. See?”

She blinked away reactionary tears as she removed her hand from her nose, praying that it looked normal. If it didn’t, Adam said nothing. He merely lowered his hands, and held them behind his back.

“All right,” he said, gruffly. “I take it you’re lost too?”

“No,” she replied automatically. “Or at least I wasn’t. I was trying to find you.”

“Were you now?” He leaned his shoulder against the opening of the passage behind him, practically purring. Although what the man was purring about, Belinda had no idea.

“Yes, rather against my will. Georgie feels your opinion is absolutely necessary for choosing desserts.”

“And you volunteered to find me. How did you know where to look?”

Who said anything about volunteering? she wondered. “I looked for the most ridiculous place a person could be, and I found you behind a painting of monks acting… unmonkly,” she replied flatly.

Adam cocked his head to one side, noticing the painting for the first time. “Oh. Well, then,” he said. “I didn’t really see that before. I found a secret hideaway.”

“Obviously,” she replied.

“Would you like to see it?” he asked.

She had to admit, she was tempted. It wasn’t every day that one happened upon a secret passage or cubbyhole or whatever it was. She peered into the dark behind him…

“Francesca and Georgie are waiting,” she said abruptly. “Besides I can’t imagine anyone I want to be in a secret hideaway with less than you.”

She turned on her heel, and headed back down the hall – if she took two lefts to get here, she need only take two rights and she’ll be back –

“Too frightening?” he called after her. “I never took you for a coward.”

She stopped. “I’m not frightened of secret passageways, Mr. Sturridge. Or of you.”

“Too tempting then?”

He wore the most peculiar grin on his face. One that made an errant blush spread from her chest down to… other places. What was he doing? Had he hit his head or some such thing?

“Too tempting to cause you grievous injury, perhaps,” she replied, tart as a lemon. “I’ve done my duty. I’ve located you, and I’ll tell Georgie that you were very happy in your explorations. Good day, Mr. Sturridge.”

She quickly trotted away to the sound of his chuckling, completely befuddled. It was just so
odd
. He barely bristled when she gave him pointed set downs, had absolutely no interest in desserts, and was looking at her like a hunter looks at a deer.

Perhaps it was a case of spring fever. Yes, that must be it. Everyone had that feeling of restlessness and excitement as the weather began to change. In Adam, it simply manifested as a complete change of attitude and actions from the person she had known for the last fifteen years.

Surely, when he went back to not-Scotland, the fever would break.

These were the thoughts that occupied her brain as she with ease and precision retraced her steps and found her way back from whence she came. She thought she saw a flick of the curtains by the parlor door as she turned into the main hallway, but paid it no mind. In fact, she was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear her friends’ voices carrying out from where they took tea.

“Are you certain? Perhaps some beef broth?” Mrs. Clotworthy was saying. “Your brother would be so aggrieved if you took ill again.”

“I’m
fine
, Mrs. Clotworthy, I promise.” Georgie replied. Then, clearing her throat, “Now, Francesca, what were you saying? About Adam?”

“…Oh! Just that Adam’s been so terribly unhappy lately. And my dear John says he knows why,” Francesca replied, loudly.

Belinda stopped in her tracks. Peered her head around the doorway. Georgie and Francesca were deep in conversation, with Mrs. Clotworthy hovering around Georgie, worrying the fringe of her shawl. None of them took any notice of her.

“But Mr. Sturridge always seems to amiable,” Georgie replied. “What reason could he have to be sad?”

“Oh, Adam hides it very well, behind a smile and a jest, but he’s terribly sad to be leaving.”

“But I thought he loved his estate in Scotland.”

“It’s not Scotland, and he does loves it. My darling John says he’s found a purpose there that he had nowhere else. But it’s what he’ll miss here. Or rather,
who
.”

“Of course he’ll miss his family. You and Lord Sturridge and the baby –”

“Not just us,” Francesca said. Belinda felt herself rooted to the spot.

“You don’t mean…” Georgie gasped. “But I was informed that they always hated each other!”

Immediately, the floor went out from under her. Or her knees did. Either way, she had to clutch the wall for support, and managed to bobble the Chinese vase on a pedestal that had suddenly appeared there. Luckily she caught it before it crashed, lest she be given away.

“It’s all making sense to me now,” Georgie was saying. “Didn’t he decide to stay longer all of a sudden?”

“Yes,” Francesca replied. “He did indeed.”

And he was acting strangely of late. Being in the same room as her. Watching her. Being not only nice to her, but if she wasn’t mistaken…
flirting
with her just now.

Flirting.

From Adam Sturridge.

“I cannot imagine the torment he is in, to be near and yet so far from his heart’s desire.”

“Um… yes, I suppose…” Francesca replied, somewhat doubtful.

“To not be able to declare himself for fear of ridicule! Oh, the agony he must be in!”

“I don’t know if
agony
is the right word –”

“It’s just so tragic. But we should speak of other things, lest our sadness show when they return,” Georgie sighed dramatically. “Come, what do you think of these marzipan treats?”

But Belinda was no longer listening. There was too much to work through.

Adam was acting strange.

Adam was acting strange because he was sad.