Page 31 of The Trials of Alaric
Alaric laughed. “I wish I’d known that. Luke and I thought we might have a murder on our hands. How Luke will laugh when I tell him. And you, Bea? I suppose you have been as busy as we are, preparing for the guests tonight.”
Lady Claddach, Alaric had noticed, spent most of her time with the ladies her own age, and otherwise in retreat in her room. It was Bea who hurried from housekeeper to cook to butler keeping the castle running. Organization for the dinner and the ball appeared to have largely fallen onto Bea, though she had some help from her aunt—her father’s sister, Lady Joan, not her mother’s sister, who was Beverley’s mother.
“You seem to be doing it all yourself,” he observed.
“Reina and Christina have been a great help,” she assured him naming her two friends from the town. “So have Sarah and Ellie.” She chuckled. “And today we persuaded Dorrie and Lucy, my cousins, that it would be fun to make garlands to hang in the ballroom. The other girls are all there now, either making garlands or arranging flowers. Look, Alaric, I think that is the Stowell carriage arriving.”
Alaric could see it, just coming up the hill from the outer wall.
They had been strolling away from the carriageway along the wall, but they turned back to the gatehouse and hastened their steps so they could go through the arch into the inner courtyard before the carriage arrived.
They were in place before the footman opened the door and put down the steps.
“Good day, Lady Stowell,” Bea greeted the lady. She was a plump, little woman richly dressed in a silk afternoon gown, fussy with flounces. She wore a spencer despite the heat of the day, and her face glowed with the heat, but she had not removedher bonnet, which, Alaric thought, must weigh a ton, given all the decoration that covered it.
“Who is that? Ah, it is Lady Beatrice. Good day, Lady Beatrice. I have come to have lunch with your dear mother. Are you here to take me to her? How sweet of you, dear.”
“Lady Stowell, may I present Alaric Redhaven? He is a guest in the castle and is helping to organize the fête.”
Lady Stowell fixed Alaric with a shrewd eye. “One of the suitors, are you? Who is your father, boy?”
Alaric bowed. “The Earl of Elsmouth, ma’am.”
“The scapegrace who was sent to Brazil because of a fight with his brother. Over a woman, wasn’t it? One hopes you have learned your lesson if you are competing for the hand of our Lady Beatrice. So odd of Lord Claddach. A contest! But I suppose, since you refused to go to let your mother and aunt present you, Lady Beatrice, you need to find a husband somehow.”
Trouble with Lady Stowell, indeed. In one paragraph, she had found fault with him, the earl, and Bea. He wondered what her reaction was going to be when she learned her plans and schedule had been thwarted. Probably much worse than Bea had hinted.
Chapter Thirteen
Bea knew thatViscountess Stowell was rude, but she had forgotten quite how unpleasant the lady could be. Alaric was pressing his lips together so tightly that they were white. “Lady Stowell, Mr. Redhaven and I are hoping you can help us with a problem.” There. A reminder to herself as well as Alaric that they needed Lady Stowell’s compliance.
Alaric took her cue. “Yes, indeed, my lady. May we escort you to Lady Claddach and tell you all about it on the way?” He offered his arm with a courtly bow.
Lady Stowell sniffed. “Your manners are acceptable.” She sounded surprised.
He remained slightly inclined, his elbow crooked, and after a moment the viscountess laid her hand on his arm. “Very well, young man, Lady Beatrice, what are you buttering me up for?”
Alaric put on what Bea assumed was his most ingratiating expression. “We have been speaking to Lord Beverley, my lady. He tells me you are the foremost lady of the island, after the earl’s ladies, and the most prominent and influential of all the ladies who have been good enough to be judges for today’s fête contests.”
“Lord Beverley is too kind,” Lady Stowell said, preening. “Although I am the third highest ranked lady on Claddach, behind Lady Claddach herself and Lady Beatrice. This is true. I suppose others do look up to me.”
Bea, who was on Lady Claddach’s other side as they entered the front door of the castle, said, “It is a matter of the schedule, Lady Stowell. Lord Beverley made some changes, no doubt very well thought out, but unfortunately…” She spread her hands in a gesture of hopelessness. “His ideas came too late. The contest schedule was posted a month ago, and to change it at this late stage is impossible.”
Alaric spoke quickly before Lady Stowell could speak whatever indignant reply her expression presaged. “My lady, we have close to a thousand contest entries, and the entire contest area has been organized around the published schedule. I know you will understand how difficult it would be—how impossible—to find every contestant and tell them the schedule has been changed. And then, imagine the chaos, when some are working to one schedule and some to another.”
Another annoyed sniff. “I suppose you are telling me I will have to judge on the original schedule,” Lady Stowell grumbled.
If Alaric had directed that pleading smile at Bea, she would have given him anything. “My dear Lady Stowell, I knew you would understand. I realize how annoying this must be for you, and I admire the grace with which you are prepared to put your own feelings aside for the good of the fête. And, of course, of the orphanage and the church roof, the two causes that will benefit from the contest fees.”
He looked around Lady Stowell and caught Bea’s eye. “Isn’t that wonderful, Lady Beatrice? You were certain Lady Stowell would set an example of leadership to the other lady judges, and you were right. With Lady Stowell prepared to make the best of the situation, who else could possibly complain? Thank you, my lady. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you,” Bea repeated. “It is going to make all the difference, I am certain. Lord Beverley is speaking to the otherjudges, and he will be thrilled to be able to tell them that you understand how important it is to accept the original schedule.”
Lady Stowell looked rather dazed, and well she might. Alaric had simply assumed she would comply and left her to choose between being the gracious lady he assured her she was and showing herself to be self-centered and petty. “Well. Yes. They are such good causes, after all.”
They had arrived at the drawing room door.
Alaric bowed again, and Bea curtseyed. “Thank you again,” they chorused. Lady Stowell inclined her head, but one last thought made it all the way out of her mouth before Alaric could head it off. “This means I will have to wait between contests. I shall not wait with servants and farm workers, Lady Beatrice. You cannot ask it of me.”
