Page 40 of Walk on the Wildsyde

Mrs Scott laughed at this sally, but turned to Mr Anderson once more, apparently determined to have an answer.

“I’m sure Miss Halliday will do as her father bids her,” he said, neatly avoiding the question. “Does the reverend have such plans for you?” he asked her.

“No, sir. My father has made no plans,” Clara replied, wishing she could say otherwise. It must be nice for Miss Fleming to know she had options. Likely these men gathered here were the most eligible in Wick, for she knew Mary had made it her mission to find Clara a husband. The thought was rather unsettling. Mr Fraser, Harold Barker, Malcolm Stewart, and Hamilton Anderson. One of them might one day call her wife. The thought made colour rush to her face once more.

“Lord, but she’s such an innocent child. Look at that blush,” Mrs Scott murmured in an undertone to Mary as she gazed at Clara.

There was something in her eyes that made Clara feel horribly gauche.

“Mrs Macready told me you have been unwell,” Mr Anderson said quickly, diverting attention and directing the conversation elsewhere.

Clara looked at him gratefully, knowing he was well aware of her illness.

“Only a cold, sir, but I thank you for your concern. I am quite recovered, I assure you.”

“I had it too,” Miss Fleming cut in, sliding her arm through Clara’s. “It was quite dreadful. I thought I would die of it, and indeed the doctor was most concerned, for I have a delicate constitution, you see. He fretted that my lungs would be damaged, and the cough was so fatiguing I feared I should fall asleep and never wake again,” she added with a sigh. “As it was, I’ve missed weeks of the season, which is so unfair I could weep.”

Clara noted both Mr Anderson and Mr Fraser looking at Miss Fleming with undisguised amusement, and quickly cut in.

“Indeed, you were most poorly, far more than I,” Clara said soothingly. “My constitution is more akin to that of an ox, so I was never in any danger.”

“Ye would have been in less if ye had nae been waiting on Miss Fleming when ye knew she was ailing,” Mr Andersons said sharply, making Clara start, for there was a distinct note of censure behind the words. She saw the moment when he realised too late what he’d said, but quickly recovered himself. “So Mrs Macready tells me.”

“You call on Mrs Macready with surprising regularity,” Malcolm Stewart remarked casually. “Is she a relation of yours?”

“Nae directly, but she is cousin to Mrs Baillie, who was like a second mother to me when I was a bairn at Wildsyde,” Mr Anderson replied, holding Mr Stewart’s gaze.

“Ah, I see,” Mr Stewart said, a thin smile at his lips. “That must be why you were so often at the vicarage. I wondered if perhaps you had found God.”

“God kens where I am well enough without me looking for him,” Mr Anderson replied sharply. “And I look in on Mrs Macready as a favour to a woman who is dear to me.”

“Indeed, and it shows what a kind heart you have, Mr Anderson,” Miss Fleming said with approval. “And I do not know what business it is of yours, Mr Stewart,” she added, glaring at the man.

“Oh, none at all,” Mr Stewart replied easily, his eyes glinting with malice. “Only one makes connections and sometimes wonders at them.”

Clara stared at him in mute horror, desperately aware that he was trying to make trouble for Mr Anderson, and apparently not caring in the least that he might ruin Clara if anyone picked up on his implications. Happily, Miss Fleming seemed oblivious, and Mr Fraser and Mr Barker were regarding Mr Stewart with expressions that were carefully blank, though their contempt was obvious.

Only Mrs Scott was silent, studying Mr Hamilton with a thoughtful gaze. Mr Hamilton regarded her steadily as he asked, “Is it true you are leaving for London, Mrs Scott?”

“Miss Fleming’s father was kind enough to invite me to accompany her when she goes,” Mrs Scott replied, taking a sip of her champagne. “I had not quite decided if I ought, but now I think I shall accept his kind offer.”

“You will?” Miss Fleming said with a crow of pleasure. “How lovely! What a merry party we shall be! Oh, if only you could come too, Clara. Poor you being left behind when we go to have such an exciting time.”

“I shall be quite content, I’m afraid I am not at all used to grand parties and society and would only embarrass myself,” Clara said with a reassuring smile, hoping to avoid some scheme where Miss Fleming tried to invite her too. Her father would never allow it and would likely offend Mr Fleming with the force of his refusal.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Miss Fleming replied, and with such candour, Clara struggled to hide her amusement, especially when she saw the glint in Mr Anderson’s eyes. His lips quirked as their gazes met and Clara forced herself to look away.

“Don’t pretend you do not know how to comport yourself as a lady, Miss Halliday, when we can all see such a delightful creature before our eyes,” Mr Barker said with a smile. “I for one am relieved you are not to leave us poor gentlemen to sink into despondency with all our beauties lured away by the delights of town. You must keep our spirits up, you know, but there is no doubt that you would set that great city on its ear.”

“And that, my dears, is why I shall leave,” Mrs Scott said with a short laugh. “A widow grows terribly tired of her own company, but with such competition here, I see I would be quite overlooked, and I would do better to seek companionship in a larger pool.”

“But I’m coming with you,” Miss Fleming said with alarming naivety.

“So you are, my dear, forgive me,” Mrs Scott said kindly. “Ah, and there is the dinner gong. Mr Anderson, would you be a dear and escort an elderly widow lady to her seat, please?”

Mr Anderson agreed, and Mr Barker was quick to offer his arm to Clara, and so the party filed into the dining room, with Mr Fraser escorting Miss Fleming, and Malcolm Stewart following alone.