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“Shall we begin?” Charles asked. “Mabel, will you count for Mr. Wright? Who shall count for Mac?”
“I would be happy to,” Miss Sophy said, coming to stand behind Mac.
He lined up beside Wright, doing his best to ignore the women and focus on the task at hand. He reared back his arm, shooting Charles a glance.
“When you’re ready, gentlemen…skip!”
Mac threw the stone with a familiar flick of his wrist. It had been years since he’d done this, but the motion was natural as though he’d just done it yesterday. Miss Sophy’s voice counted in his ear, but he could not focus, so wholly did Mabel’s voice claim precedence in his head.
“…four, five. Well done, Mr. Wright.”
“Thank you, Miss Sheffield.”
Mac watched the rings spread along the greenish water. “Congratulations, Mr. MacKenzie,” Miss Sophy said, beaming. “Six!”
Mac turned back for the group, his brows lifting. She spoke as though he had won. Had he?
Wright offered a short bow. “Well done, sir.”
Mac dipped his head. “And you.”
“Shall we return now?” Mrs. Boucher asked, rapidly fanning herself at the back of the group. “That sun is determined to tire me.”
“Just a little longer, Mrs. Boucher?” Miss Pemberton asked. “I should love to see where this path leads.”
“I am certain I can show you where it leads,” the companion responded, gesturing to the other side of the pond.
“But at least on that side we shall have the luxury of shade,” Miss Sophy quipped. “Let us press on.”
Mabel stepped around Charles as he approached to offer his arm to Miss Pemberton, and Mabel spoke quietly to Mrs. Boucher. The concern in Mabel’s eyes spoke to her intentions. Mac stepped toward them, intent on offering the women his escort back to the house when a scream rent the air, and his attention was stolen by the Pemberton sisters ahead on the path.
“It was that wretched raven,” Miss Pemberton screamed, turning around to face them, her arms raised and chest heaving in indignation. A line of white excrement pooled in her hair, running down the side of her face and dripping onto the front of her gown.
Mabel drew in a quick breath and Mrs. Boucher’s hand found her heart.
“He has…” Miss Pemberton said, gasping for air. “Ugh! I must go back to the house now.”
