"Clara?" The door opened and Clara, letter still in hand, froze in place as her brother came into the room.
He smiled.
"Ah, there you are. Alice, I see you have come to call again." With a nod, he came towards them both, his eyes going to the letter Clara had in her hand. "Someone has written to you, Clara?"
She nodded. "Yes, indeed they have." She glanced to the maid who had come in with the tea tray in her hands, gesturing for her to set down the tray on the table nearby. "Just here, if you please." Quickly, she folded up the letter and then rose to her feet, ready to serve the tea.
"Clara?" A glimmer of interest came into her brother's eyes. "Who is it that has written to you?"
Clara's throat constricted as she set the letter down next to the tea tray. She had to say the very same to her brother as she had to her mother but what if he took the letter from her? What if he tried to read it? "It is from Lord Headley," she lied, as Alice nodded fervently. "He asks about Alice."
"About Alice?" Lord Tyrone did not sound as if he believed her, his tone one of confusion. Clara, pouring the tea, let her gaze dart to the letter in question. She dared not let her brother see it for fear of what he would do or what he would say but at the very same time, did she not have to keep it safe so she might read the rest of what it contained?
"Since we are cousins, Lord Headley has asked for my advice --- nay, my opinion --- on what might occur should he show a specific interest in Alice," Clara replied, as steadily as she couldbut without meeting her brother's eye. "I was about to discuss the matter with Alice herself before I responded to him."
Lord Tyrone rubbed one hand over his chin. "That seems a little unusual." He took a couple of steps closer to her, his eyes on the letter --- and Clara's heart began to pound furiously. "I do not think it right that a gentleman should be asking you for such advice, Clara. If I might ---"
"Oh!" Having handed Alice her tea cup, Clara had returned to the table and, though it pained her to do so, feigned her own tea cup and saucer slipping from her fingers. The tea poured over the letter, the saucer fell to the carpeted floor and the cup went with it. "Oh, goodness." She pressed her hands to her cheeks, not able to look at her brother for fear that he would see the guilt in her eyes. "What a mishap."
"Here, let me go to ring the bell for you." Alice got up quickly and with a knowing look in Clara's direction, hurried across the room. "It is no great concern, Clara. I am sure that many of us have spilled the tea on some occasion or other."
Lord Tyrone harrumphed. "It is still an expense, Clara," he said, sounding greatly displeased. "You must be more careful."
"I shall be," Clara promised, managing to glance at him before looking back at the now sodden and stained letter. "Forgive me, brother."
The maid came in before Lord Tyrone could answer. He quickly took his leave, stating that he would be back shortly to discuss their plans for this evening, whilst the maid scurried off to fetch all she would need to mop up the tea.
"Is it quite ruined?"
Alice's question hung in the air as Clara reached for the letter, trying her best to unfold it but the paper was already beginning to tear. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her cousin, her heart aching. "If only I had been able to read it before he arrived," she said, hoarsely, as Alice stretched out her handfor the letter. "Then I would know all that Thomas wanted to disclose to me."
Alice did her best to do what Clara could not but the paper continued to tear. Scrutinizing what she could, she tilted her head this way and that as Clara looked on, not even the smallest hope in her heart that anything of clarity could be read there.
"I think you will have to dry it as best you can and then, mayhap, something will be legible," Alice said, her nose wrinkling as she looked at the paper one more time. "I think --- though I cannot be sure --- that there is a word here I can make out." She looked to Clara and then back to the letter. "Jenkins, I think?"
The name pricked at something in Clara's mind --- and then, with a sudden rush that stole her breath, she remembered. The ball. Someone mentioning "the Jennings family" in passing --- and her brother's face draining of colour, his grip on her arm tightening until it hurt. She had written about it in her journal that very night.
And now Thomas had written that same name.
"Jennings," Clara whispered. "Not Jenkins. Jennings."
Alice looked up sharply. "You know it?"
"I heard it at a ball and my brother nearly came apart at the seams." Clara stared at her cousin, her heart hammering. "And now it appears in Thomas's letter, alongside talk of shame. It cannot be coincidence."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the connection settling between them. Clara's mind raced. Thomas had spoken of a lady he had begun to think well of, whose hope had been destroyed by David's actions. A lady who had suffered. And now this name --- Jennings --- the same name that had made David look as though he had seen a ghost.
Were they connected? Was this lady Thomas cared for somehow tied to this name?
Seeing the maid coming back into the room, Clara directed her to take the letter Alice had. "Set this in my bedchamber so that it dries. But do not seek to open it any further otherwise it will rip in two. Then you may come to clear up this mess."
The maid bobbed a curtsy and took the letter from Alice's hand with careful fingers.
"We must find out who the Jennings family is," Clara said, the moment the maid was gone. "Thomas spoke of shame. He spoke of a lady who suffered. And this name --- Jennings --- is written in his letter and it terrified my brother at the ball." She met Alice's eyes. "These things are connected, Alice. I am certain of it."
"Then we have our first real thread to pull," Alice replied, a flash of determination in her expression. "But we must be careful. If your brother reacts so strongly to even hearing the name ---"
"Then whatever lies behind it is something he desperately wishes to keep hidden," Clara finished. She set back her shoulders, her chin lifting and her tears now quite gone. "I must speak with Lord Rutland. Not to ask him to investigate --- he has made his position clear --- but to ask whether the name Jennings means anything to him. His aunt is Lady Prentis. If this Jennings family had any connection to her household, he may well know of it."
