Page 30 of The Trials of Alaric
“I see the problem.” Bea spoke over Beverley’s angry voice. “I can only imagine how upset the judges will be when no contestants are there to present their items for judging. And imagine what Papa will say when both judges and contestants complain about there being two schedules.”
Beverley frowned and shook his head, but before he could speak, “There is only one thing for it. We shall have to explain the problem to the judges and apologize for any inconvenience. There is just no way to reach all the contestants before we have a disastrous mess that will set the entire island laughing at us. Cousin, I know you will be able to present it in the best possible light.”
That was laying it on with a trowel, and from the suspicious look on Beverley’s face, he was not buying it. “I cannot go back on my word to Lady Stowell.”
“The viscountess?” Bea asked. “She asked for the changes?”
Beverley stuck his nose in the air. “We discussed it,” he said coldly. “Her concerns were perfectly valid. Next to my aunt and uncle, she and Lord Stowell are the most important people on the island. Her wishes should be paramount.”
Alaric stiffened his neck to stop himself from turning it to catch Bea’s eye. It was typical of Beverley that he equated rank with importance. The Stowells, as Alaric understood it, didn’t even live here year-round. Their primary estate was somewherein Lancashire, and they only spent a few weeks in Claddach a year.
“I won’t do it,” Beverley declared. “If you want to tell Lady Stowell she has to appear at the beginning of the fête and stay down here on the grounds for over an hour, then you do it.”
He was looking at Alaric, but Bea answered. “Yes, that is an excellent idea. I shall let Lord and Lady Stowell know of the change, and you will talk to all the other judges. Thank you, Beverley.”
Alaric knew better than to crow. “Yes, thank you, Beverley. You’ve been a brick about this.”
Beverley was taken aback at the compliment. “Yes. Well, of course. We are meant to work together on this stupid fête. Well. Is that the list? I’d better get started, then. I shall be blaming you, Redhaven.”
“Feel free,” Alaric answered, relieved they’d brushed through without a major temper tantrum from Beverley disrupting the entire day. Beverley stalked away without another word seemingly unaware that the whole scene had played out in front of an audience of villagers and castle servants, plus most of the other suitors. Those who mattered would know perfectly well where to place any blame.
“Now all we need to do is make sure Lord and Lady Stowell know we’ve gone back to the original timetable, soothe their ruffled feathers, and get them here on time,” Alaric said to Bea.
She gave him a smug grin. “Lady Stowell is going to be here at one in the afternoon. She is taking lunch with Mama and Aunt Lewiston, and Lord Stowell will no doubt be down by the animal pens, probably having begged a pie off one of the peddlers. He is a nice man, Alaric. We won’t have any trouble with him.”
Meaning they would have trouble with Lady Stowell. “I am beginning to think that you and I can conquer anything whenwe work together,” he murmured to her. “Thank you for the direction, by the way. I have my third clue.”
Her eyes lit up. “Splendid. I am so glad.” She frowned and nibbled her upper lip in an uncharacteristic indecision, then apparently made up her mind. “Alaric, I must spend time with the other suitors. Papa made me promise to give you all equal attention. But I do want to hear about the third clue. Could we, perhaps, meet to wait for Lady Stowell? Just outside the inner gatehouse, perhaps?”
So that was it! Alaric’s heart felt lighter to know she had not tired of him or become offended by some word or act. “At half past noon?” he suggested. “In case she is early?”
She smiled and agreed.
*
One hiccup followedanother all morning. Alaric and Luke found themselves solving problems in every corner. Howard, who was managing the parish stalls and those raising money for other charitable purposes, complained that several visiting merchants had taken over more than their allocated space, squeezing into the places set aside for the charities.
Meadowsweet, who was meant to be managing the merchants, instead wilted under their complaints and abuse, and the pair of them came looking for help.
Alaric borrowed a measuring stick from the estate carpenter and he and Luke went and remeasured each disputed space. The encroaching stall holders grumbled, but Luke glared at them, and Alaric joked with them until the stalls were in their correct position.
A farmer bringing his prize rams into the animal pens managed to lose one between his cart and the pens. While he was searching for it, it found itself in a pen with another farmer’sewes and had covered two of them before the two owners chanced upon the activity.
The ram’s owner cried theft and the ewes’ owner wanted compensation for the assault.
“How did he get in the pen?” demanded the ram’s owner. “The blaggard opened the gate, that’s how!”
“He can’t keep track of his own ram, and now he accuses me of letting it into my ewes? Why would I want lambs from that old wreck?” the ewes’ owner enquired, plaintively.
“Old wreck? I’ll have you know that’s the finest ram on Claddach. The old blaggard is too mean to pay my fee, and that’s a fact. Why else would he bring ewes in heat to the fête?”
It took Alaric and Luke a while to calm the pair down and the incident wasn’t done until the ram had been dragged out of the pen and herded to its proper place. Neither Alaric nor Luke felt qualified to handle any repercussions from the stolen mating, so they told the men to put their dispute to one side in front of foreigners from the mainland, and, if they must, bring it up with Claddach’s steward after the fête.
The morning flew by, and Alaric was yearning for a pie, an ale, and a rest when the stable clock struck twelve. He was meeting Bea in half an hour. In fact, if he were to wash and tidy before he met Lady Stowell, he had better hurry.
He arrived still damp but clean to find Bea already waiting for him in the courtyard. She couldn’t make any more sense of the verse than Alaric, but at least they would both be thinking about it. And watching out for a tapestry or a painting with water in it.
“How are preparations going?” Bea asked, so Alaric told her about the ram. She immediately named the two farmers. “Those two are always trying steal a march on one another,” she explained. “They will curse and call names and insist that they are going to see the magistrate, but next week they’ll be at itagain. The advantage goes back and forth, and they entertain the entire island.”
