Page 5 of The Trials of Alaric
“Trials of some kind are not a bad idea,” Papa had mused, ignoring her sarcasm. “See what they are made of. We’ll do that. But if you have not chosen by the end of the house party, my girl, I will expect you to have an extremely good reason for putting us through this exercise again.”
As she smiled her way around the long gallery, fielding florid compliments and refereeing pointless disagreements, she asked herself,Is Papa correct? Am I being too picky?
But no. Surely it was not too much to ask that she respect the man she would be bound to for the remainder of her life? That she actually liked the man?
Respect and liking would do. She did not demand love. Papa and Mama had fallen in love. They loved one another still—she supposed. But they were so different—had such different lives and interests—that their lives barely intersected. Bea wanted more. She needed more, for she was choosing not just a husband, not just a father for her children, but the man who would be lord of Claddach in all but name.
Sir Henry Dashwood hurried up to ask her when the archery contest would begin, and proceeded to explain to her exactly how the point system would work. The point system she had organized. Sir Henry, he was happy to explain, was not too modest to declare that he was a champion archer.
So far, all the suitors fail to impress.
“I have a small objection to the way the contest is organized, Lady Beatrice. I hope that does not offend?” said Sir Henry.
“Please,” Bea said, trying to modulate her tone and not let him know that internally, at least, she was rolling her eyes, “give me the benefit of your wisdom.”
The man was so dense that her sarcasm prompted a satisfied smile. “I am sure you are doing your best, my lady,” he assured her. But then he frowned. “Lady Beatrice, the ladies should not be permitted to enter today’s contest.”
Oh dear. “It is a friendly contest, Sir Henry. Some of the ladies wish to join in. Some, I know, are excellent archers.”
“Yes,” Sir Henry complained, “but they are ladies!”
And you, sir, are a cork brained twit.
Sir Henry obviously would not do. When the contests began in earnest, Bea was going to have to find a way to make sure he failed, although she was reasonably confident that he would manage failure without her intervention.
As the thought crossed her mind, Mama and Aunt Lewiston came hurrying up.
Uh oh. Mama was doing her best to keep her temper hidden, and to smile at the guests, but Bea could see she was in one of her states. “You will excuse Lady Beatrice, Sir Henry, will you not? I just need her for a moment.”
Aunt Lewiston smirked.
Bea kept her own smile in place and followed the two ladies out of the room and into one of the adjacent parlors.One. Mother has discovered I responded to shipwreck last night. Two. She has found out about Mr. Redhaven. Three. Both.
Aunt Lewiston shut the door. Mama, keeping her voice low, demanded, “Who is this man you have been hiding in the tapestry room? Where does he come from? Who is his family?”
Aunt Lewiston chimed in, “Beatrice Elizabeth Meave Collister, what have you been up to?”
“Mama, the gentleman was a passenger on the ship that was wrecked last night. I told Mr. Kinred we would look after him.” Which was true, even if it did skate over the fact she had been on the beach, and that bringing Mr. Redhaven to the castle was her idea.
“And who is he?” Aunt Lewiston demanded.
“His name is Mr. Alaric Redhaven,” Beatrice replied. “He is the second son of the Earl of Elsmouth. I have no further information, Aunt, except that he speaks like a gentleman, and the sailor who identified him as a passenger said he was one. I daresay he will be able to tell us all about himself now he is conscious. Dr. Bryant says that none of his injuries is life-threatening.”
The sisters exchanged glances. “The Earl of Elsmouth,” Mama repeated, the name clearly taking some of the wind from her sails.
Not so Aunt Lewiston. “Why did you keep this man a secret from your mother?” she demanded. “You take too much on yourself, Beatrice.”
“Not a secret, Aunt. I had not yet told Mama, it is true. She has so much on her mind with the house party. Last night, he arrived just before dinner, and this morning, Mama had all the worry of the rain, and the activities to replace the picnic.”
Mama nodded. “That is true, and the last thing I needed to worry about was some shipwrecked sailor.”
“It was very thoughtless of you, Beatrice,” said Mother’s one-woman Greek chorus.
Beatrice ignored her aunt and answered her Mama. “He is a gentleman, Mama. Not a sailor.”
“I shall be the judge of that,” Mama pronounced. “Come, Dorrie. We shall meet this so-called gentleman and decide for ourselves.”
Aunt Lewiston contented herself with a harrumph of displeasure and said to Mama, “We shall see what this Mr. Redhaven has to say for himself. Even if his name is, in fact, Redhaven, Mary, that is no guarantee he is related to the earl. Why, England must be full of Redhavens who have no more claim on Elsmouth than Skelly!”
