The quiet, comfortable life he had enjoyed for more than twenty years was definitely slipping away, perhaps never to be retrieved.
For there was the other thing too. Tomorrow was the day his nephew was coming to call on him, and Matthew, despite what he had said at the time, did not look forward to it one little bit. He really, really did not want to reopen that chapter of his life. Chapter? It was more like a volume. He had put it all behind him long ago, shut his mind to it, and moved on. He did not want any reminder. He had never gone back and had no intention of ever doing so. Why would he? He was perfectly happy with his life as it was.
Or as it had been until it had started to fray at the edges.
Anyway, he had agreed to this visit. It was foolish of him to be making a mountain out of what would in all probability be no more than a molehill. His nephew would surely stay for the obligatory half hour while they chatted politely over a cup of tea. Then they would shake hands and take their leave of each other. And that would be that.
Or would it?
He sighed as he went into his workroom to look over the design for the crib and make a few adjustments before he settled to work on it. Perhaps his mind could be absorbed by his work.
He was starting to have the slightly panicked feeling, though, that he might feel compelled to move away from here and start over somewhere else.
Run away.
Disappear.
Again.
—
Clarissa showed her invitation to Owen when he came down to breakfast at what was a respectable hour for him. But he intended visiting his grandparents, her parents, today and wanted to make an early start so he could be there in time for luncheon. She was going to go with him even though it would be the third time she had made that long journey in just a few short weeks. She doubted he would have gone without her anyway. He had been sent home to Ravenswood to guard her, after all.
The invitation was addressed to both of them.
“Oh, I say,” he said after reading it. “A reception. In Boscombe? And a soiree too? All in one? I wonder what the grand occasion is.”
“I believe,” Clarissa said, “it is the unveiling of Prudence Wexford’s new dining table. She is immensely proud of it, though Matthew Taylor once incautiously described it to me as a monstrosity—fortunately not in her hearing. He gave the making of the table his full attention, notwithstanding.”
“Hmm,” he said. “So…a reception and soiree in honor of a table? I would not miss it for worlds, Mama. Is Ariel Wexford athome? She was gone most of last winter, visiting some great-aunt or other. Actually, I remember now. It was a pair of great-aunts. She has not married in the meanwhile, has she?”
“No,” Clarissa said. “She is at home and unattached, as far as I know.”
“And I know Cousin Clarence is at home,” he said. “I daresay Uncle Charles and Aunt Marian have been invited to this thing too. It could be a jolly affair. We will go, Mama?” Charles Ware was Caleb’s younger brother. Clarence was his son, near to Owen in age and a close friend.
“Of course,” she said. “Prudence Wexford is my friend. Besides, I must confess to an eagerness to see this table.”
She wondered if Matthew had been invited, though he almost certainly had. She did not doubt they would draw considerable attention merely by being in the same room together. She did not know how to proceed now that Owen was home and the curiosity seekers and gossiping tongues must be waiting avidly for further developments.
She sighed as she went upstairs to get ready for the outing.
They really must talk tomorrow evening, she and Matthew. She did not want to give up their friendship. She had already decided she would not, in fact, just before Owen came home. They had both decided. She had not changed her mind. She was not going to have her behavior or choice of friends dictated to her by concerned neighbors and alarmed relatives. She was not.
But Matthew might have come to a different conclusion. This must all be very upsetting for him. She suspected that Owen had called upon him yesterday after driving her all about the park. She had not asked him where he was going and he had not volunteered the information. But she suspected it, and she wondered what hadbeen said. Had harsh words been exchanged? Ultimatums given? Threats made?
It did not bear thinking of, so of course she had thought of little else through a night of disturbed sleep.
They must talk.
Meanwhile, she went with Owen to visit her parents, and allowed him to persuade her to go in the curricle. Actually, it did not take much persuasion, as she liked the vehicle. It was speedier than the carriage and open to the fresh air. It handled ruts and potholes in the road more smoothly. It made her feel more youthful.
Owen hugged his grandmother and wished her a belated happy birthday. He watched her unwrap his parcel containing a pair of black kid gloves, which she told him were almost too luxurious actually to wear. They all had luncheon, and Owen went off with his grandfather to see the new variety of rose that had just been added to the arbor. Clarissa remained indoors with her mother.
“Owen came home?” Mrs. Greenfield said, her eyebrows raised. “Even before the end of the Season?”
Clarissa sighed. “He was sent by the family, who are worried about me being alone at Ravenswood,” she said. “I am a bit vexed with them. Poor Owen will be bored speechless within a fortnight.”
“Does this have anything to do with Matthew Taylor?” her mother asked.
