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After he departed for his chamber, Mrs. Watts turned to her. Clara held a finger over her lips, and the housekeeper nodded and left.
Molly appeared, looking past her with worried eyes at the footman unloading her brother’s carriage in the porte cochere.
“Impeccable timing, Molly! I’ll need my walking shoes and parasol.”
By the time Clara was ready, David returned, changed, hair damp, and not a speck of dust from his travels remaining.
They left Anterleigh Hall through the terrace doors, and Clara wasn’t surprised when David trailed his fingers over a rose bloom for only a moment before quickening his pace.
The path to their right led toward the lake and surrounding grassland. They took the path on the left, toward the stream lined with trees.
She glanced back at the hall and recognized the outlines of Mrs. Watts and Molly, who watched from the open terrace doorway. Mrs. Watts rubbed Molly’s arm.
Clara returned her attention to David, who was staring almost hungrily around the property. “What happened at the South Wales Colliery?”
He looked at her with surprise. “Have you not followed in the newspapers?”
“No, I…I’ve been rather quiet here.”
David stopped, visibly searching for words as he stared out at the trees. “All told, forty-eight men and boys killed. Over two hundred rescued—by the grace of God and the bravery of the colliers.”
She closed her eyes and squeezed his arm. After some time, they resumed walking. “Do they know what caused the accident?”
David imparted some basic details about the outcome of the enquiry, clearly limiting them to avoid graphic revelations; while she heard the information about an explosion and fire, most of all, she recognized the horror and worry in his voice.
“Two terrible accidents in short order,” she lamented. “The warehouse fire, and now this. Only these were your workers, and you witnessed the ordeal.”
He stopped again, looking around them. “If only for a moment, may the images of these birds and trees replace some what I’ve seen in the last month.” He shuddered, his body thinner than usual, then resumed his steps.
“The death toll is a tragedy, yet I’m grateful so many were rescued. Two hundred! How were so many saved?”
“We invested in safety equipment a few years ago. This is why Irons is my manager—he and I see eye-to-eye on such matters. Not even the mine overseers wanted that equipment. Irons and I had to insist.”
“I heard the guilt in your voice earlier, David. I hope you knowsomecomfort from knowing your insistence on that equipment saved lives.”
“Not enough lives.”
“You’ll meet with Reverend Thomas while you’re here, won’t you? Attend services?”
Clara felt mildly guilty for the questions given that she herself hadn’t done so during this visit, even though she liked and respected the clergyman in Bramfield. He wasn’t much older than her, and if she’d felt up to it, she would have likely trusted his discretion, even if David, as the earl, was the church’s patron.
“Surely, I will. Have the reverend and his wife called?”
Clara’s steps faltered. David stopped, looking down at her with concern.
“No, David. In truth, I wasn’t much for receiving callers these past weeks. I haven’t gone into Bramfield at all, either.”
He frowned. “What has ailed you, Clara?”
“I’ll tell you,” she said distractedly, seeing that they’d stopped where the path forked. Taking a deep breath, she drew David down the smaller path that led toward the stream.
He stopped within a few feet. “Not today, Clara. Not there.”
She turned to him curiously. “Why not there?”
David opened his mouth to explain, but no words came out. The sunlight glinted off the bruise-like smudges of exhaustion under his eyes.
She stared questioningly into his eyes; they were the same light green color of the sea glass she and David hunted for with their parents when they ventured to Yorkshire beaches.
