She thought she saw a second lantern ahead, a warm glow lighting her way. Another person who liked walking in the rain? Or had he or she found Harvey as well?
Alden tramped behind her, grumbling and growling as though he was utterly miserable. The silly man hadn’t even brought a lantern to light his way. Did he enjoy stumbling about in the dark?
That he’d come at all trickled warmth through her. He’d worked hard that afternoon to get Harvey free, had sacrificed an entire flask of expensive brandy to the cause. Now, Alden worried so about one dog in the rain that he’d left the considerable comfort of his home to venture into the night.
He’d come alone, without his foppish friends. Not even the kind Mr. Forsythe had accompanied him.
The fact that Alden was behind her, looking out for her, made Clara feel protected and sheltered, even if he was a grump.
A grump with fine eyes and a strength that made her heart beat faster. Something she’d never admit to her next younger sister, Emily, who’d assisted Clara’s escape into the night and promised to unlock the door for her again when she returned.
As Clara drew nearer the pinpoint of light, the barking grew louder. “Harvey?” she called.
More barking, punctuated with yips and squeals. Clara sped her steps, making Alden curse behind her. Really, the man swore quite often.
The light did prove to be a lantern, abandoned but still lit beside the small marker of a woman who had passed away five years ago. Clara glimpsed the date and name before she set her lantern on a stone and crouched down.
Harvey, who’d been lying next to the lamp, lifted himself to his feet, his tail waving faintly.
“Good lad.” Clara opened her arms. “Come here, boy.”
Alden’s heavy footsteps made Harvey come alert, the fearful look filling his eyes once again.
“No.” Clara put her hand up to make Alden stop. “He won’t hurt you, sweetheart,” she said to Harvey. “Come. We’re going to take you out of the rain.”
Alden, bless him, did halt, for once not saying a word. Clara continued to speak to the dog, making her tone both coaxing and quiet.
Finally, Harvey, with an exhausted sigh, took a few limping steps to her. She wrapped her arms around him, holding her breath against the stench of the poor thing. He trembled but allowed the embrace.
Clara quickly buckled the collar she’d brought with her around his neck, then patted and stroked him to calm him once more. She was ruining yet another pair of gloves, but she would put up with her mother’s despair about them. Clara was certain her mother would understand when she knew the reason.
Alden kept his distance, observing the tableau. Clara sensed him ready to leap in if Harvey turned fierce, but the dog was being still and calm, betraying relief that he’d been found.
Clara removed a coiled lead from her pocket, clipped it onto the collar, and slowly rose to her feet.
“Good lad,” she said. She patted him again as Alden came slowly to them.
Instead of trying to bolt, Harvey shook himself, spraying Alden with droplets of mud and water.
“Bloody dog,” Alden rumbled. He wiped ineffectually at his coat. “How did you happen to have the lead and collar?”
Clara shrugged. “We’ve always had dogs at home. There are leads and collars lying about the garden shed. How did you think you’d retrieve him without them?”
Alden didn’t answer. He’d apparently not thought of anything beyond rushing into the night to fruitlessly search. Gallant of him, though not very practical.
“He must have been drawn to the light,” Clara mused. The lantern was plain iron with glass sides and a candle within, the sort anyone might carry if they had to walk somewhere in the dark, or one a servant would use to light a gentleman’s or lady’s way. “Whoever brought it out here left it behind. I wonder why?”
She scanned the darkness, but could see no one beyond the circle of light.
“Perhaps a ghost startled them,” Alden said with a straight face.
“Very amusing. Though itiseerie here, like in the ghost stories my sisters enjoy.”
Trees bent over the line of grave markers, small obelisks, crosses, or plain square stones that told of a life now gone. The rain made everything slick and muddy, marble shining in the lantern light.
Without Alden and Harvey, Clara might have let the atmosphere spook her into hastening home, despite her conviction that the departed didn’t truly linger to haunt the living.
Alden opened the second lantern and snuffed out the candle with his gloved fingers. “Whoever left it might come back for it in the morning,” he explained. “Should save the candle for them, and not let it catch the trees on fire.”
