Oh, Archie. It had been so wonderful to talk to him, to reallytalkto him, last night. Perhaps it had been their perch on the roof, in the dark, that had allowed such a rapid resumption of their old intimacy. It had reminded her of being in a tree with him, which was a category of place they used to spend a fair amount of time. Regardless, it had felt like having her old friend back, and once back, she realized how terribly she had missed him. She’d missed him all day, in fact, in an oddly visceral way. She wanted to talk to him some more. To know that he was in residence—indeed, that he was in residence in the bedchamber next to hers—triggered a strange yearning for his company.
She wanted to tell him about the extraordinary conversation she’d had with Olive. She wanted to tell him that if the origin of his parents’ marriage was not what he’d thought, neither was the origin of hers.
“What do you think of Lord Featherfinch?” Olive asked suddenly.
Clementine blinked, taking a moment to adjust to the question.
“He’s soterriblyhandsome.” Olive flounced back on her bed and sighed melodramatically. It appeared the old Olive was back, the theatrical girl who could develop sentimental feelings in the blink of an eye.
“He certainly is . . . darkly imposing.”
“Isn’t he, though? And his apparel is absolutelyexquisite. Who knew there were so many ways to style black? And his hair.” She sighed. “I daresay his hair is prettier than yours, Clemmie.” She sat up as suddenly and urgently as she’d fallen back. “Perhaps this has all happened for a reason. Perhaps I ought to set my cap forhim.”
* * *
Archie had yet another perfectly typical, perfectly enjoyable day with the boys. Somehow, though, it did not have the usual restorative effect. In fact, he found himself growing increasingly tired and irritable as the day unfolded. By dinner, he was actively yawning, shaking achy legs he couldn’t keep still under the table, and he had to bring his beads to the table with him.
His mind kept snagging on the fact that they were nearly halfway through their trip. Only eight days left to . . .
To what?
What exactly was he wanting that he wasn’t getting?
He was tired. His mind had reached that point it sometimes did where it was incapable of settling. Better to call it a day and start fresh tomorrow. So he begged off uncharacteristically early, not long after dinner.
Which was fine, but that didn’t explain why, if he was so exhausted, he didn’t go back to his room but rather slipped into the empty one next to Clementine’s and stuck his head out the window.
Ah. There she was. She had a lantern with her this time, and she was bathed in its warm glow.
“Hello!” she exclaimed, and the undisguised delight in her tone jolted him awake. As he stuffed himself through the window to join her, he wondered if he hadeverbeen this awake. It was in such contrast to his previous mood that it was almost whiplash inducing.
“Hello,” he echoed, eyeing her. She was wearing the same plain blue day dress as yesterday. Its skirt was voluminous enough that she was able to sit with her legs crossed, and they were wrapped and tangled in the fabric in such a way, and backlit by the lantern in such a way, that he could see the vague outline of them. Her hair tumbled down her back, almost to her waist. He had never seen her hair like this. As a girl, when they’d been on the loose near Mollybrook, she’d always had it braided. Typically, a great deal of it would come loose from its moorings, but this, this waterfall of untamed hair, was another thing entirely. And of course when Clementine came of age, she’d begun wearing her hair up. Well, she wore it up in company, and sometimes she wore a bonnet over—
“I didn’t realize until last night that you were in the bedchamber next to mine,” she said, interrupting his mental treatise on her hair.
“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “Nor did I, until I happened to look out the window and see you last night.”
That was a lie. The gentlemen’s quarters were in an entirely different wing of the house, on a corridor that extended out at a right angle from the main one, where Clementine and her sister were housed. He himself had suggested the separation when Mrs. MacPuddle had been musing over where to put everyone, repeating his desire for the ladies and the gentlemen to holiday separately. Last night, when he’d opened his window to let in the fresh evening air, without which he could never sleep, a flash of movement on the roof of the perpendicular wing had caught his eye.
That movement had turned out to be Clementine, and without thinking it through, he’d set out to find her. He’d poked into quite a few rooms in order to find one that provided a means of egress that would allow him to join her on the roof. It was as if she’d been a magnet and he an iron bauble, mindlessly submitting to her pull.
“And here I thought that if I found you out here tonight, I might find Olive, too,” he said. “What became of your quest to show her the stars?”
“I did some research today, and I brought this.” She reached behind her and produced a map. “I thought I might find a better constellation than the Seven Sisters.”
“And have you?”
“Yes, but the problem is the stories behind them. I only have this chart. I went through the library in search of a book that recounts the stories of the constellations, but I didn’t turn anything up. In fact, the library here seems to be comprised entirely of Gothic fiction and Jacobite history. While I admit to being fond of the former, it isn’t any help when it comes to my current task.”
They did used to spend a lot of time reading novels in trees. Well, Clementine did. He spent a lot of time watching Clementine read novels in trees. He smiled at the memory. “A deficient library. Alas.”
“Oh, it matters not in the slightest. I’m having a perfectly lovely time.”
“It is rather wonderful here, isn’t it, despite the rocky start.”
“I’m . . . still so very sorry about that.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I was referring to the initial lack of food. The aforementioned deficient library. The ravens Effie tells me are roosting in the guardhouse turret, and the clan of squirrels that has moved into the old castle keep. The, ah, interesting topiary.”
