Page 31 of Walk on the Wildsyde

Clara stared straight ahead, wondering what on earth Miss Fleming meant by that. Had she been looking at Mr Anderson? How had she been looking? Not that it mattered; he hadn’t the slightest interest in Clara, nor she in him. Miss Fleming was welcome to him, she decided, and walked on, determined not to encourage the conversation any further.

Miss Fleming’s house was next and, as Mr Fraser was her close neighbour, she could not refuse him the pleasure of escorting her the final stretch as they parted company with the others. Miss Fleming’s face was a picture of discontent, however, and Clara fretted over it until Mr Fraser caught her gaze. He grinned and winked at her, such a look of mischief in his eyes that she realised he was well aware of Miss Fleming’s opinion of him and clearly did not give a snap of his fingers for it.

Relieved, Clara carried on with the Stewarts until they came to their front door. Stopping, she turned to them, for they clearly expected to escort her the rest of the way.

“I can walk home by myself, please don’t trouble yourself. I know you are desperate to check on your little boy and the vicarage is just a step around the corner.”

Angus Stewart hesitated, but Mary had already opened the front door. She gave a delighted exclamation as their nurse appeared with their baby son in her arms. Angus clearly wished to make a fuss over his son, too, and so Clara reassured him once more.

“It’s barely a five-minute walk and in broad daylight. Thank you for a most enjoyable day, but I am quite content to walk the last little way by myself.”

“If you are sure, then,” he said, smiling. “And may I say what a delightful companion you’ve been, Miss Halliday. Mary is a little preoccupied now, I’m afraid, but I know she has so enjoyed meeting you.”

“And I her. I beg you will remind her to call on me at the vicarage whenever she pleases, for I promise, I shall be a frequent visitor now I have seen how adorable your little boy is.”

“He is a handsome fellow, isn’t he?” Angus said proudly. “Well, good day then, Miss Halliday. We shall see you at church tomorrow.”

Clara waved at them and carried on her way. She turned the corner, taking the street that led to the vicarage and then stopped in her tracks as she saw Malcolm Stewart ahead of her. What on earth was he doing? He must have taken a different route to get ahead of them.

“Surprise!” he called out cheerfully. “I felt sure you’d walk the last bit by yourself. Angus and Mary are so daft over that boy of theirs they can’t bear to be parted from him for five minutes at a time.”

“That’s very perceptive of you, but I do not understand why you felt the need to do so. I have bid you a good afternoon already and I’m almost home. It was quite unnecessary.”

“But I’m not yet ready to be dismissed. My brother is a pain in the neck, treating me like a child just because he’s older than me. You have no such excuse, though, my innocent dove. Why do you insist on being so cruel to me?” he asked her, and whilst there was amusement behind the words, there was a hint of something Clara did not like. Not to mention the way he called her my innocent dove made her feel slightly ill.

“Cruel? Whatever do you mean?”

“I’m only teasing, lass,” he said with a laugh. “Come now, take my arm and I’ll see you home.”

“I thank you for your solicitude, sir,” Clara said carefully, for she was not at all certain it was solicitude at work. “But I am quite capable of walking home alone.”

“Capable, yes, but it’s not the done thing, you know, and you can’t leave me standing in the street and walk off. Everyone will think we’ve had a lovers’ tiff.”

“Indeed, they will not,” Clara said crossly.

“They will, though. Do you not think everyone expects the vicar’s daughter and the schoolteacher to make a match?”

Clara bridled at the comment, determined now that the man would not walk her home. “I do not, unless someone were foolish enough to put such thoughts into their head.”

“Is it foolish, Clara?” he asked, gentling his voice, his eyes soft behind his spectacles. There was that sweet boyish smile, his demeanour one of rueful amusement.

Clara hesitated, wondering if she had misjudged him. Was she being churlish by refusing to allow him to walk her home? She had liked him at first, and he had arranged this outing for her pleasure. Yet there was something about him that made her nerves leap. Her hesitation seemed justified when he took her arm, dragging her down narrow passage between two houses.

“Stop being so missish,” he said crossly. “Neither of us is a fool, and it’s clear we’re meant for each other, so I see no reason to take an age about admitting it. There’s no one else in this God forsaken town that’s your equal, Miss Halliday and your father is not about to let you have a season, that much is obvious. So, let’s stop the games and pretending and get to the nitty gritty.”

“The nitty—” Clara gasped, reeling from the sudden change in demeanour. There was a cold, calculating look in the eyes that had appeared so soft only moments before, and she realised that not only had Mr Anderson been right to warn her, but she had not paid heed to her own instincts.

“I’m the best chance you have to get a husband,” he said coldly, “And whilst I’d prefer someone a bit warmer in my bed than a vicar’s daughter, I reckon we can get along well enough once we understand each other.”

Clara stared at him, so shocked it took her a moment to react. “I think I understand perfectly well,” she said, wishing she did not sound so breathless.

“We’ll see,” he replied with a smirk, and put his hand to her waist. Clara stamped on his foot, ignoring the obscene oath he uttered as he let her go. She exited the passage, walking quickly away, very aware of Mr Stewart following close behind.

“Not so fast, Clara,” he muttered under his breath, as Clara quickened her pace.

“Good day to you, Miss Halliday.”

Clara looked across the street, feeling a wash of relief at the sight of Mr Anderson. Her previous irritation with him for flirting with her—and every other girl in Wick—vanished, and she greeted him like an old friend.