What Would Jane Austen Do? (8 page)

   The girls came running like a pair of joyful puppies, only to pull up short upon catching sight of Teddy's disapproving frown. They walked the last twenty feet in sedate propriety.

   "We have been awaiting your arrival to start the game," Mina said with a curtsey.

   The entire group strolled toward the wire rack that held the rest of the mallets and colorful striped croquet balls.

   "As the guest who has come the longest distance, I think Cousin Eleanor should choose her color first," Teddy said. His tone implied that he was used to his suggestions being taken for law.

   "Excellent idea," Deirdre agreed. She turned to Eleanor. "Of course, Teddy always plays blue, like his beautiful eyes."

   "And Deirdre always plays green," Mina said. "I'm yellow."

   Beatrix piped in her claim for white striped ball. And Hazel and Fiona spoke up for brown and orange.

   "Then it's a good thing my favorite color is red," Eleanor said with a smile.

   "And black for me," Shermont said. "I'm glad the one left isn't pink."

   As play began, Eleanor realized the countryfolk took their croquet seriously. She hadn't played since she was a child and concentrated on watching the others so she wouldn't make a fool of herself. Even so, she could tell Shermont's head wasn't in the game.

   Shermont mentally kicked himself for allowing a female to distract him. He'd hoped to learn something incriminating by listening at the estate office window, but Eleanor's arrival had caused him to lose focus. Instead of narrowing his list of suspects or finding out where the foreign agents met to pass on military information to Napoleon's agents, he'd been discussing a play with Eleanor.

   Something about that female made him forget everything else. He rubbed the scar on his forehead.

   Despite the girls surrounding him and clamoring for his attention, he rededicated himself to his mission. He would not let Eleanor distract him again. From the corner of his eye he noted Digby helping Eleanor apply a proper grip to her mallet. Shermont turned away. To maintain his persona of carefree lord, he busied himself with the girls. He was careful not to show particular attention to anyone.

   Beatrix moped at the edge of the circle of friends, and he wasn't surprised at the venomous looks she shot in Eleanor's direction. Digby seemed determined to send everyone else back to the beginning to clear a path for Eleanor to win. Shermont felt more than a bit uncharitable toward the man himself.

   Eleanor was not overly pleased with Teddy's behavior either. When it came her turn to play, Eleanor set herself to take a long shot toward the next wicket in the prescribed pattern, which happened to be guarded by Shermont. Teddy interrupted her, wrapping his arms around her to correct her hand position. His intimacy didn't do anything for her, surprising in view of his good looks and the similarity in coloring to her former fiancé, or maybe because of it. She thanked him for his help, but insisted on making her own shots. The ball traveled the distance, missing the wicket. While the others took their turns, she strolled along the path her ball had taken.

   On his turn Shermont gave his ball a gentle nudge, lining it up to follow hers. He barely missed touching her ball and having a chance to send her back to the beginning.

   "Tough luck," she commiserated.

   "I'm right where I want to be," he said in a low voice.

   His nearness made her a bit nervous. After one rotation of play, her chance came to get away from him. She overswung, missed her shot completely, and caught the wire wicket, pulling it out of the ground. Embarrassed, she made a grab for it. Shermont reached for the wicket at the same time.

   Their hands brushed. That intense sparks of desire could be generated by such a simple action took them both by surprise. A long look passed between them, but the thwack of one heavy ball hitting another caused her to jump back.

   Teddy sauntered up. "Sorry about that, old sod," he said with an insincere mope. "Guess I have to send you away." Unable to hide a triumphant grin any longer, he positioned his ball next to Shermont's, held it in place with his foot, and swung his mallet with precise acrimony. The black striped ball took off like cannon shot and traveled deep into the wooded area bordering the lawn.

   Shermont saluted Teddy and with a rueful expres sion headed into the woods after his ball.

   Eleanor spent the next half hour trying to stay as far from Teddy as she could. Deirdre declared that anyone not on the course must miss a turn rather than hold up the game. Eleanor was just thinking Shermont had been gone an inordinately long time when he came out of the woods, dirty and disheveled, his empty arms stretched wide.

   "I can't find my ball," he called. "I am therefore forced to concede the match." He shrugged his shoulders and looked appropriately heartbroken. "If you will excuse me, I must attend to my torn coat."

   Despite his woebegone expression, Eleanor noticed an incongruent sparkle in his eyes.

   The party fell flat after he left and broke up as soon as Deirdre won the match. As the guests straggled into the house, Eleanor couldn't help but look back at the woods and wonder. Just what, or who, had Shermont encountered in the woods?

AS SHERMONT ENTERED HIS SUITE OF ROOMS, RELIEF warred with excitement. Finally, he'd found a clue.

   "I fear you've ruined your coat, milord," Carl the valet said in the same tone as if he were announcing a beloved pet had passed. But that was how he always sounded.

   "Where is that folio of maps?" Shermont asked as he slipped out of the garment. He walked to the desk and searched through a pile of books and papers.

   Carl extended the coat to arm's length. "I had not realized croquet was so… pugilistic."

   "I chased my ball into the woods," Shermont said absently as he opened drawers and pawed through the contents.

   "Dirt. Mud. I'll never get these grass stains out."

   "I'm sure I brought a detailed map of the local area." Shermont turned to face the shorter man. He crossed his arms. "Have you been straightening my work again?"

   "If I were allowed to keep your papers organized, you would be able to find what you're looking for." Carl held up the ruined coat with two fingers poking through rips in the fabric.

"Thornbushes."

   Carl shook his head and made tutting, clucking noises like an old crone eyeing her broken rocking chair.

   "Forget the damn coat. Help me find that map."

   The valet took one last affectionate look at the coat and then tossed it over his shoulder. He walked to the desk and withdrew the map from a stack of papers.

   "Carl, you're a magician."

   "Yes, milord."

   Shermont sat at the desk and spread out the map. He tried to ignore his valet's fussing about, moving objects that didn't need straightening. Finally, he turned and asked, "Is there something you wanted to say?"

   "Nothing in particular," Carl said with a shrug.

   "Come on. Out with whatever is bothering you."

   "It's that female."

   Shermont didn't need to ask which female he was talking about. Carl's consistent doom and gloom attitude could get a bit annoying at times, but he'd proven perceptive in their activities for the crown.

   "Something about her doesn't ring true." Once started, Carl didn't pull any punches. "I'm concerned your attraction to her will distract you from your mission—"

   "Our mission."

   "And may blind you to the chance she could be involved."

   Despite the fact he'd already learned Eleanor was dangerous to his equilibrium, he denied the possibility. "Nothing I can't handle."

   "You will by necessity be much in her company. There is the ball and a picnic tomorrow."

"You worry too much."

   Carl heaved a sigh. "It is my nature, my job, my curse, and my reason for being."

   "And it has saved our lives a time or two. Just try to keep it to a minimum until there is really something to worry about."

   "Yes, milord."

   "Now, have a look at this." Shermont smoothed out the heavy paper and pointed. "This is where I entered the wood. About here I found a path… but it's not marked on the map."

   "Probably just an animal trail. Deer in those woods, I hear. And wolves, if gossip is to be believed."

   "I found a heel print and other signs of human usage. The trail widened at an ancient oak tree. I followed it to a point just this side of that bald, flat topped hill where the path joined the road to town. I think the French agent is using the tree as a drop point for messages. A courier takes the information to Napoleon and brings back the payment. By necessity, that person would have to move about and cross the Channel without being noticed, probably a sailor or fisherman. Therefore he couldn't frequent the house without causing comment. Using the large bole in the trunk of the tree as a drop point leaves everyone else none the wiser."

   "Or it could be a lover's trysting place."

   Shermont shook his head. "I think we're onto something."

   "I will notify our agent in town to watch the road and pick up anyone leaving the woods."

   "No. The courier is small potatoes. We can pick him up anytime. Our quarry is the man who leaves messages in the tree."

   "Or the woman."

   Which, of course, brought Eleanor to mind. Shermont rubbed the scar on his forehead.

   "Another headache? I'll prepare one of my herbal remedies for you," Carl said.

   Shermont nodded his thanks while he stared at the map. What route would someone from the house take to remain out of sight? Even at night the light coming from the many windows would illuminate large sections of lawn.

   Carl served the tea.

   "Thank you. I want to explore the area after dark. Please arrange for a tray to be brought up for dinner. Make whatever excuse you think appropriate. And let Lord Digby know not to expect me at the card table before midnight."

After the croquet game broke up, the rest of the party drifted into the house talking about the plans for the picnic on the following day. In the grand entrance hall, two maids and a footman waited to take hats, bonnets, parasols, and shawls.

   "Won't you join us in the parlor?" Aunt Patience asked Teddy.

   "As much as I would enjoy being the only thorn among so many lovely roses, estate business tears me away. If you will excuse me?" he asked with a bow.

   Patience nodded, and he left. "Well, my friends.

Shall I have Cook serve us tea now, or would you prefer later?" she asked the other chaperones.

   "I think we will take tea in our room," Mrs. Holcum said for herself and her daughter. "A bit of rest is always called for after exercise."

   "Excellent idea," Mrs. Matthews agreed. "The sun gave me a smidgen of a headache. A lie-down before dressing for dinner would be just the remedy." She turned toward the stairs. "Come along girls."

   Fiona and Hazel followed with no enthusiasm. "Naps are for babies," one muttered, only to be hushed by her mother.

   Aunt Patience and Mrs. Holcum ascended the stairway chatting, and Beatrix trailed meekly behind.

   "This is a perfect time for us to get reacquainted," Mina said, linking her arm through Eleanor's.

   Deirdre took her free arm and they followed the others upstairs. "Yes, we want to hear everything. Tell us all about life in the Colonies. Have you seen any wild Indians?"

   "Well…" Eleanor didn't want to lie more than necessary. "I saw the Atlanta Braves… battle the Cincinnati Reds once." The only pro baseball game she'd ever attended.

   "What about Colonial men?" Mina asked. "Do they all have big bushy beards and wear bearskin clothes?"

   "Don't be silly. Americans dress like everyone else."

   Deirdre opened the door to their suite of rooms. "I had wondered if your wardrobe would be up to snuff, but at least the dress you're wearing is reasonably up to date." She plopped down on the green and gold settee and put her feet on the gold-tasseled hassock. "Waists are moving lower every year."

   "I've never seen a design like that," Mina said, taking the place next to her sister.

   "Do you like it?" Eleanor asked. She twirled in a circle, proud of her handiwork. "I designed it myself. The crisscross bodice and side pleats hide hooks, so I can dress without assistance."

   Both girls stared at her as if she'd spoken in tongues.

   "Why would you want to dress yourself?" Deirdre asked.

   "You made your own clothes?" Mina exclaimed. "Are there no dressmakers in the Colonies?"

   "I'm sure there are. I just enjoy sewing. Don't you?"

   "Well, we embroider handkerchiefs and the like. And we help Aunt Patience with the mending, and she sews Teddy's linens."

   "We make shirts and baby clothes for charity. Every gentlewoman does needlework. Idle hands and all that." Mina tipped her head to the side. "Where do you get patterns?"