Chapter Eight
Eleanor stooped, pretending an interest in the wildflowers, and verified that she’d spotted footprints. She was no Indian tracker, but two sets of smaller footprints and the longer stride of a larger set were easy to read in the soft earth.
“Deirdre? Mina?” she said as loud as she dared.
She followed the trail into the shade. Unfortunately, once she was into the woods proper, the footprints disappeared. Hearing voices and laughter, she forged ahead. She concentrated on the ground looking for a clue, any clue, to tell her she was on the right track. Suddenly she noticed the deep silence and realized she’d lost all sense of direction. She looked around. One tree appeared pretty much like another to a city girl. Damn. She should have left a trail of breadcrumbs.
She knew she should stay in one place and let the others find her. Fighting off panic, she located a fallen tree, spread out her handkerchief, and sat down. She folded her hands in her lap and waited. And waited. Without a watch she had no idea how long she’d been in the woods or how long she’d been sitting there, although it seemed like a long while.
“This is silly.” She jumped up and paced the length of the log. It might be hours before anyone found her or even missed her and started searching. What sort of animals lived in the woods? Were there bears in England? Wolves?
She shook her head and pushed those thoughts away. She wasn’t in Yellowstone National Park. Or lost in the middle of Africa. She was in Hampshire, for crying out loud. If she walked in a straight line, she was bound to come across a cottage, a farmer tending his fields, or a road.
Picking a direction at random, she started off with firm, determined strides. Making her way through the woods wasn’t like strolling along a sidewalk, and it was impossible to stay on a straight line. She wound up following barely discernible trails and wandered among the bushes, rocks, and trees. She slapped away branches that caught her hair and stumbled when sharp stones bruised her feet. With each step, she hesitated. She called out, hoping someone, anyone, would hear. Hopefully someone who knew the way back.
“Hello? Deirdre? Mina? Hell-ooo?”
She tripped over a fallen branch and lurched forward, suddenly entering a flower-filled clearing. Tiny yellow blossoms carpeted a meadow not much larger than a ballroom. She took several steps forward, removed her bonnet, and tipped her face to the sun’s warmth. A breeze rustled musically through the trees, and thousands of yellow butterflies lifted from their delicate perch to swirl and dance to nature’s tune. Not flowers, butterflies! What a magical place! She expected a unicorn or fairies to appear.
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until a deep voice answered. She didn’t turn around immediately because the low whisper seemed a part of the magic, rather than an intrusion—words sensed as well as heard. Was Oberon, the fairy king, behind her? Or maybe the speaker was a tree elf, protector of the enchanted forest and meadow?
On their way back to the picnic area, Lord Shermont and Major Alanbrooke had chatted casually as if their previous conversation had not taken place.
“That big-boned filly of Huxley’s might not look like much, but she’s a real sweet goer,” Alanbrooke said.
“If he’s serious about taking her on the circuit, bet heavy on that first race. You’ll clean up. After that, you won’t get any odds because she’ll be the favorite.”
“Could Dabir have taken her if he hadn’t spooked?”
Shermont shrugged. “At two miles, probably. At the shorter distance, it would be a toss-up.”
“Have you ever thought of racing him?”
“Not really. The chiseled-in-stone calendar would play hell with my social schedule.”
“I can understand that. Rather like military life does,” Alanbrooke said with a chuckle as they joined Digby and Rockingham.
“Military life,” Rockingham echoed with a snort. “That’s an oxymoron. You have no life when you’re in the military.”
“Come on, mate. It can’t be that bad,” Digby said.
“Bloody hell if it ain’t.” Rockingham pulled a flask from underneath his uniform jacket and offered it around, but got no takers.
“Bit early in the day for me,” Alanbrooke said.
“You wouldn’t say that if you hadn’t slept all night.” Rockingham pulled a long swig before tucking it away. “My rotten luck the general’s aide got the trots.”
“What? You had to nurse him?” Digby asked with a grin.
“Worse. I had to take his place while the general and that damn colonel from the Dragoons discussed that pouch he brought. I was standing at attention all night except when I was acting as his damn personal servant. Fetch drinks, bring food, build the fire, fetch maps, serve coffee, douse the fire.”
Alanbrooke laughed. “That’s well within the range of duties a general’s aide is expected to perform.”
“Not the brigadier. Him I wouldn’t mind serving. It was that snot-nosed colonel. He kept using phrases like ‘based on my experience’ and ‘from my personal observation.’ Bah! His regimentals were so new he probably bought his commission last month. I’d bet my new gaiters Wellington made him a courier to get rid of him.”
“Then he came all the way from Spain?” Teddy asked incredulously. “That’s a long way to travel to deliver a message. Hasn’t the military heard of the mail?”
“Joke all you want,” Rockingham said. “Dispatches from the War Office are serious business.”
“I hope this doesn’t mean you and the others won’t be able to stay for the ball. The ladies would be so disappointed.”
“I wouldn’t want to miss that. We won’t be pulling out before maneuvers are over.” He lowered his voice. “But the colonel said—”
“Captain Rockingham,” Alanbrooke interrupted his subordinate. “I’m sure Lord Digby and Lord Shermont find such tedious military matters quite boring. Shall we talk about—”
“It’s quite all right,” Digby said to Alanbrooke. “I find the nuances of military service fascinating.”
“You would get a firsthand view if you bought a commission,” the major suggested.
“If only I could,” Digby said with a dramatic sigh. “But I have so many responsibilities. Now, if any of you gentlemen would consider marrying my sisters, I’d be free to don a uniform in time to get in on the action.”
Shermont’s estimation of Digby’s character fell even further with his crass comment. Unfortunately, until he’d completed his mission, he couldn’t afford to alienate his host by giving him the set-down he so deserved. He turned his head away and spotted a bit of yellow muslin disappearing into the woods.
“Not I,” Rockingham said. “Unlike the rest of you, I haven’t any family money expectations. I’m holding out for an heiress with at least five thousand pounds per annum.”
“Don’t look at me,” Alanbrooke said. “I’m holding out for a female without an obnoxious brother.”
After a moment of awkward silence, Shermont clapped Alanbrooke on the back and laughed. “Good one.”
Then everyone joined in the laughter, and the tension dissipated.
“I believe this is the point where I make a timely exit,” Shermont said. He bowed to the other gentlemen. “By your leave.”
He headed toward the ruins where Miss Holcum, Miss Maxwell, Miss Hazel, and the two lieutenants had found seats among the large flat rocks and were in animated conversation. The rest of the clearing was deserted except for Mrs. Maxwell dozing in a chair and the servants busy at their tasks.
“Where is everyone?” he asked the group seated on the rocks.
“Oh, here and there,” Beatrix said.
He nodded, even though he was sure she’d only kept track of Digby. None of the five had noticed anyone leaving. He announced he was going for a walk and set off at a leisurely pace. After making sure he wasn’t observed, he ducked into the woods and made his way to where he’d last seen Eleanor.