Chapter Fourteen

The lake water was cold enough to take his breath away. Even with as many layers as he could respectably remove and leave in the boat, Arthur felt the drag of the water in the fabric, pulling him back and holding him down.

He came up for breath, assessing the situation as quickly as he could. That was something the war had taught him – act fast, seconds cost lives. Trust your gut, learn to pick out all the details in a glance.

He was almost at the place Miranda had last surfaced. Drawing in a lungful of air, Arthur dived again. The water was murky and greenish, but the sunlight arced down deep enough for him to see her, a floating, pale spectre, drifting in the depths, her skirts billowing out around her.

Arthur dived deep, deeper and deeper until his lungs were bursting. He grabbed her limp hand, hauling her up. He kicked, bearing them both up towards the light.

They broke the surface, and relief flooded him when he heard Miranda gasp for breath. They weren't friends anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he certainly didn't want her to die.

No time for conversation, of course. He struck out for shore, towing Miranda along with him. He could hear the murmurs and chatter of people on shore and was vaguely aware of them running back along to the pier to greet him on shore. He could feel Miranda breathing, limply allowing him to tow her along.

It was a huge relief to feel the lakebed under his feet. Arthur was already tiring, his muscles twinging, and his sodden clothes threatening to pull him down. A pair of gentlemen came splashing through the now waist-deep water, supporting Miranda and him ashore.

They were surrounded almost immediately. Miranda was limp and floppy, unconscious or simply weak, he wasn't sure. Arthur collapsed onto the sand, drawing in deep breaths.

"Arthur!" Lucy's face loomed into view. "Get up, Arthur. We must get you home at once, and into clean, dry clothes. You must be freezing."

"I am," he responded, teeth chattering on cue. "Is Miranda well?"

"Hard to say," Lucy said, offering her arm to help him get up. "I think she's fainted. It was ridiculous, going out by herself in the boat. What was she thinking? Surely there was some gentleman who could have taken her."

Arthur pulled himself into a sitting position, boots squelching. He could see the boats flocking back to the pier, their occupants scrambling out and hurrying towards them, keen not to miss a thing.

His mother was over by Miranda, of course, holding her limp white hand and patting it.

"A doctor has been called for," she was saying. "She will be in shock, the poor darling. She must go to our house, I think. It's the closest, and we have plenty of spare rooms. Her family must be informed, of course."

Miranda's long eyelashes fluttered, and she glanced around at her audience.

"How did it happen?" somebody said, and Arthur spotted Lord Thornhill appeared, crouching beside her. "How did it happen?" he repeated. "Was there something wrong with your boat, Miss Sinclair? Did you hit something? It's important that we know, so that this doesn't happen to anyone else."

Miranda blinked harder, a shadow crossing her face.

"I… I cannot remember," she said tearfully. "Oh, I feel so ill. I'm sure I'm going to faint again."

"Leave her be, Daniel!" Mrs. Thornhill said, tugging on her nephew's sleeve. "Now is not the time to harangue her with questions."

People were patting Arthur's shoulder, giving him admiring, approving glances.

"Well done," they murmured, and "Quite heroic, lad. She'd have drowned if it weren't for you."

He gave up trying to reply to them all, and only smiled weakly in response. It was clear that he'd gone up in the estimation of the locals.

"Come on, Arthur," Lucy repeated. "You're shivering fit to burst. Time to go home, you poor wretch."

Arthur allowed himself to be bullied onto his feet and away from the crowd, not without many more murmured compliments and resounding back-slaps. They hadn't brought a carriage, since it really was just a short walk from their home to the lake, so he was obliged to lean heavily on Lucy's arm.

"You were very brave," Lucy said, in a low voice. "The lake can be treacherous, and you dived in without a second thought. And to save Miranda Sinclair, no less."

He had to chuckle at that. "Why, what should I have done? Let her drown?"

Twisting around, Arthur got a last look at the crowd, circled around the still-swooning Miranda, who managed to look beautiful even with pond-weed in her hair.

At the back of the crowd, he saw Felicity Thornhill, having quietly moored her boat and climbed ashore, standing by herself. He lifted a weak hand to wave at her, but in an instant, Lord Vincent was at her side, and she didn't see him. He let his arm drop.

***

Once he was bathed, dried, and buttoned up into clean and dry clothes, Arthur descended from his room, feeling much better. It had been pleasant to rise above it all, enjoying a little peace and quiet. As he descended, he could hear the murmur of conversation coming from the parlour, where no doubt plenty of picnic-goers had accepted an invitation to return to Lanwood House and continue the gossip.

He"d intended to slip quietly into the room, but naturally that wasn't to be. Lord Vincent, sprawled in an armchair in the corner, noticed him immediately.

"Aha, here's the man of the hour!" he drawled lazily, lifting up his hands in greeting. "Our heroic Lord Lanwood!"

To Arthur's mortification, a round of applause broke out, and he was obliged to stand there and smile weakly. There was no sign of Felicity, he noticed, and his heart sank, just a little.

A group of matrons and older ladies surrounded Beatrice, who bounced up as soon as she saw her son, darting over to him.

"How are you, Arthur?" she asked anxiously. "I was so worried about you. We had no idea anything was happening until we heard the shouts, and you can imagine what I felt, looking over and seeing you in the water. You were very heroic, you know."

He smiled tightly. "I did nothing that anyone else would not have done. Really, Mother, I'd rather not talk about it."

It was clear that Beatrice had something else to say. She shifted from foot to foot, glancing nervously around.

"Step out into the hall," she said quietly. "Just for a moment."

He obeyed, of course, although he felt as though he already knew what she was going to say.

"Miranda is resting in one of the spare rooms," Beatrice said, as soon as the parlour door was closed. "I told her to stay until she's feeling better."

Arthur had been expecting it, but his heart sank anyway. "Oh, Mother. Why?"

"Why? Why? Because she almost drowned, and she's faint and ill, and it would be cruel to make her travel home. Apparently, her mother became ill as soon as she found out and was so grateful that we offered her a place to stay. It's just until she recovers, Arthur."

"Which will be never, I imagine."

"Don't be so harsh. The Thornhills agreed that it was the only right thing to do. I'm sure it won't be more than a few days, to let her recover."

Arthur bit his lip. Once the invitation had been extended, it couldn't be retracted. Besides, with the show Miranda had put on earlier, on the beach, it would look terrible if they didn't invite her to stay.

He glanced down and found his mother looking worriedly up at him, twisting her hands together.

"I am sorry if I did wrong, Arthur. I should have thought about how it would make you feel. Oh, I am so, so sorry. All of this is my fault. I'll tell her at once…"

"No, it's alright, Mother," he said softly, bending down to give her a peck on the cheek. "You're always so kind, kind to a fault. And there are much worse faults to have in the world. Of course Miss Sinclair must stay here until she recovers."

Beatrice smiled, some of the colour returning to her cheeks.

"I'm glad you're happy enough with it. I'm sure she'll be no trouble."

"I'm sure. Now, go on back in there and entertain your guests. I'm going to read quietly in the library for a while."

Beatrice nodded happily. A burst of chatter spilled out into the hallway, warm and loud, and then closed the door again and Arthur was left in the dark and quiet again, shut out, as always.

Arthur had barely had time to settle himself in a seat and choose a book before the door creaked open.

"Am I interrupting?" Lord Thornhill asked, peering in. "I hoped to talk to you, Lord Lanwood."

"Of course not, do come in. And since it's just the two of us, I suppose we can dispense with formalities."

Lord Thornhill smiled. "I do hate formality. Call me Daniel, please."

"And call me Arthur. Have you recovered from the excitement today, then?"

Daniel threw himself down in the opposite chair and snorted.

"Excitement? All I did was spectate. You were the hero."

"I do wish people would stop calling me that. I just happened to reach Miss Sinclair first. Do you know how she is, by the way?"

Daniel didn't respond for a long moment.

"It depends on who is around," he said, voice low. "I… I don't mean to sound uncharitable, but Miss Sinclair's spirits rise and fall depending on her audience. She was half dead on the beach but revived enough to skip upstairs and throw herself on the bed here, if the maids are to be believed."

Arthur flinched. That did sound very much like Miranda. But then, hadn't Beatrice sworn that she'd changed?

Oh, come on. Did you really believe that?

"Let me get to the purpose of this," Daniel continued, matter-of-factly. "I don't mean to burden you with this, but you are Lord Lanwood, and this is your house. I daresay my uncle should discuss this with you, but I know he won't. I feel responsible for my cousin, Felicity, and it's come to my attention that Miss Sinclair has… has taken rather a dislike to her. She's been talking about Felicity to others, and we all saw how keen she was to overshadow Felicity's performance at the musical evening. My cousin isn't the sort to complain. Her mother, my esteemed aunt, seems to think that a little rivalry is healthy, but I don't agree."

"Neither do I," Arthur muttered. "I am sorry. Miranda – that is, Miss Sinclair – was never one to cultivate female friendships. She's in Society to look for a match, and I doubt she'll let anyone or anything get between her and her goals. Miranda is a determined woman, there is nothing she would not do to get what she wants."

Daniel eyed him narrowly. "I agree, and you should be careful, sir. I'll say that much."

Arthur flinched. "I can take care of myself."

"Of course, of course," Daniel said, hands lifted in appeasement. "There's something else, too. I wouldn't repeat it, as it sounds quite accusatory, but here it is. I went back to the pier and inspected the boats thoroughly, as well as the location where Miss Sinclair's boat overturned. Having been given some time to think, she is now saying that her boat struck a hidden rock, or something like that. However, while there is a hidden rock in that area, it's too well submerged to catch the bottom of a boat. An oar would reach it, and it would be possible to overturn a boat by shoving hard that way, but it could not happen by accident."

A chill ran down Arthur's spine. "What are you saying, then?"

Daniel's gaze did not waver. "I think you know what I'm saying. Miss Sinclair may well have capsized her boat on purpose. If so, the natural follow-up question all but answers itself. Why would she do such a thing?"

Arthur bit his lower lip as his own words came back to him.

I doubt she'll let anyone or anything get between her and her goals. Miranda is a determined woman, there is nothing she would not do to get what she wants.