Clara nodded. "I thank you. When was this?"
"Less than an hour ago, my lady." The butler lifted his eyebrows gently. "Is there anything further?"
With a shake of her head, Clara dismissed him and despite the fact the tea tray was now sitting on the table between herself and Alice, rose to her feet. "Well?"
Alice grinned at her, apparently delighting in this scheme far more than Clara was. "I am ready."
Clara could not even raise a smile. Making her way from the room, she walked directly down the hall towards her brother's study. Alice stayed behind her, their steps soft on the carpet.
"I will wait here." Alice gestured to a small alcove in the hallway, giving her a wide vantage point. "If I seat myself here, then I will be able to intercept anyone coming towards the study --- though I cannot imagine who would interrupt you."
"My mother is still in the house," Clara reminded her. "Resting, yes, but that does not mean she might not come through the house."
"But what need would she have to come to the study?" Alice reassured her. "Go, now. I pray you find what you need."
Clara walked to the study door and reached for the handle --- but her fingers slipped, her palms too damp to grip. She tried again and the door opened, revealing an empty study. Hearing nothing but the beat of her own heart, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Leaning back against it, she surveyed the study. It was darker than she remembered, for she did not often have cause to come in to this space. The study desk was a rich, dark mahogany, pulling all of the light in towards itself. She let her gaze drift from one side of the room to the other, taking in the towering bookshelves laden with leather-bound books, recalling her father would sometimes be found reading such a volume in the parlor. The armchair, upholstered in deep red velvet did not look as if it had much use and, with her gaze returning to the study desk, Clara commenced her search there.
My brother is certainly untidy. Her nose wrinkled as she took in the scattered papers, the inkstand and two small books resting on the polished surface. Feeling as if she were committing a great sin, Clara reached out and, unwillingly, lifted the first paper from the others.
A bill. Nothing more.
Setting it aside, she began to sort through the papers in turn, hoping that her brother would not remember the order they had been in. There was nothing of interest for her, however. There were notes, vowels, bills and the occasional letter to the Marquess but none of them spoke of Thomas nor gave her any indication as to where her younger brother might be.
Pressing one hand against her forehead, Clara let out a slow breath as she fought against her nervousness. There was nothing obvious here but then again, would he really have left something like that out in a clear place? Pressing her lips together, Clara reached to pull open one of the drawers, wincing at the way the wood whined. Still believing that someone might walk in and discover her, Clara leafed through the papers stacked there --- only to freeze.
Thomas.
His name was written on the top of the letter. Her throat grew tight as she slowly pulled it out, recognizing Tyrone's handwriting. She sat down in the chair beside the desk and began to read, every other thought forgotten.
'I need not repeat to you my reasons for keeping you in Devon. If you decide to return, then, as I have stated, there will be severe consequences, all of which you are fully aware of. I care not for your complaints, I only ---'
The letter stopped abruptly and Clara frowned down at it, as if somehow it might reveal more should she glare at it with a certain amount of displeasure. Why did it end there? Had her brother thought to write more, only to be pulled away from it by some other concern?
Devon. Her brow furrowed. Were they acquainted with anyone in Devon? Was there some relative that might reside there, someone with whom her brother might now reside?
Her eyebrows shot upwards, a gasp escaping from her throat. Had not Tyrone mentioned their spinster aunt upon occasion? A spinster aunt that Clara was sure lived in Devon?
A knock at the door made her yelp in surprise, the letter fluttering from her fingers.
"Clara?" Alice's voice hissed through the door. "Your brother's carriage has just arrived."
In a panic, Clara picked up the letter and, hurriedly, set it back into the drawer. Placing some other papers on top, she closed it hastily and, with fear urging her on, rushed to the door. Opening it carefully, she peeked outside, only to see Alice beckoning her from a few steps away. With as much care as she could despite the terror ripping at her frame, Clara stepped out but closed the door slowly, hoping it would not make a single sound.
"There have been no letters? None?"
Hearing her brother's voice echo up towards her, Clara picked up her skirts and hastened to the other end of the hallway, pushing open the door to the parlor and stepping inside with Alice at her heels.
"You are safe," Alice breathed, as Clara sank down into a chair, her lungs burning. "I do not think you were seen, not by anyone."
Clara closed her eyes and nodded, trying to steady herself. "That is good."
"And?"
Opening her eyes, Clara looked into Alice's expectant face.
"Did you find anything?"
A soft smile brushed the edges of Clara's lips. "I did. It is not anything particularly substantial but I did discover a half finished letter written to my brother."
