Page 5 of The Case at Castle Rock Cove (Beau Monde Secrets #4)

A unt Faith sank down on the worn cushioning of the old carriage and sighed with relief. Ben could only suppose that her arthritis was acting up.

“Benjamin Radcliffe, one would think you had never paid a call on a neighbor,” she scolded. “Where are your manners, young man?”

Ben hung his head. “It was an awkward situation.”

Speaking to Lady Wilhemina by herself would have been bad enough. She was a young lady, yes, but she was also W.S. Their brief exchange of letters might have paved the way for a conversation. But he couldn’t discuss their clandestine correspondence in front of Lady Inglewhite, who might or might not know that her daughter had been corresponding with a young bachelor.

Conversing with the countess posed its own challenges, since he knew nothing about her other than that she was currently recovering from influenza. Probably he should have uttered some trite comments about the weather, the healthfulness of sea bathing, or the most recent discovery of a fossil. Or were fossils considered unladylike? Surely not, given Miss Anning’s success finding and selling them! Many holiday trippers bought fossils as souvenirs of their visit to the Dorset coast.

“I hope you will be more sociable when the ladies dine with us,” Ben’s aunt continued. “I only asked them on your account, you know. Neither your grandfather nor I particularly care for entertaining strangers.”

Ben stared blankly at Aunt Faith. “When did I ever ask you to host a dinner party?” He liked dinner parties even less than his grandfather did!

“You said you wanted to get to know this Lady What’s-her-name.” Her gentle voice carried a faint hint of rebuke.

“Oh.” Had he said that? He had wanted to befriend W.S. when he thought W.S. was a man, but given the reality—well, circumstances made such a friendship impractical.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Ben concluded, though he was certain that dining with Mrs. Trimmer and her cousin would be a disaster.

*

On Friday night, Ben went to bed silently hoping for a rainstorm that would force his aunt to cancel tomorrow’s dinner party. He would even be willing to undergo a second round of dyspepsia if that meant being left in peace! But he had no such luck. Though clouds hovered over the coast all day, no rain fell to alter anyone’s plans.

In fact, Lady Wilhelmina and her cousin arrived early. Aunt Faith, dressed in her customary black silk, rose to greet them. “How lovely you both look! Lady Wilhelmina, that is such a charming confection of a gown! I only wish our simple entertainments were more worthy of your finery.”

While Ben bowed, he doubtfully examined the guests’ attire. Mrs. Trimmer wore a simply cut gown, in a practical dove gray. But “confection” was a good word for Lady Wilhelmina’s dress, which had two layers: an opaque layer of some shiny fabric, topped by a layer of embroidered see-through fabric.

Aunt Faith glanced at Ben and raised a single eyebrow. Though he sometimes missed social signals, he knew perfectly well what that meant. He was supposed to say something complimentary, too.

“Yes, you do both look very well this evening.” Then, feeling that something more ought to be said, he asked, “Is that muslin?”

A smile flashed across Lady Wilhemina’s face, but she repressed it as she shook her head. “It is silk net, Mr. Radcliffe. Silk is all the rage for evening gowns these days.”

“Whatever it is, it looks lovely.” He wished he’d kept his mouth shut rather than exposing his ignorance. But how was he supposed to know what fabrics were in style?

Especially since what he really thought about the dress was that it would not be practical for walking down to the carriage house. He’d hoped to show W.S. his collection of treasures from the beach, but she probably wouldn’t want to venture into the stable yard while wearing a delicate white silk dress.

But Lady Wilhelmina unexpectedly brought the subject up herself. “What is that rock you have on the mantel?” She squinted at it from across the room. “Is it a souvenir from a holiday trip?”

“That’s one of your fossils, isn’t it, Ben?” Aunt Faith looked pointedly at him, as if he were a child who needed to be prompted to talk about his latest toy.

Ben lifted his chin. He was a grown man, and he was perfectly capable of discussing his interests. Talking about other people’s interests was the real challenge.

“Yes, it’s a fossil. An ammonite. I found it when I visited Lyme Regis a few years ago. There aren’t as many fossils here at Castle Rock Cove, but you find a few every now and again.” He carefully lifted the specimen and brought it to Lady Wilhelmina. “You can see it much better from up close.”

She held the fossil carefully as she turned it around, studying it from different angles. “Oh, how fascinating! I thought it would look like a snail shell, but it’s quite different, isn’t it?”

“People used to call them snakestones,” Ben explained, “because they thought ammonites were coiled-up snakes that had turned into stone. In the north of England, there were legends of a saint turning all the snakes into stone.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh yes! St. Hilda! I remember reading about that in Marmion . Just as well that it’s only a legend. It would be rather sad for the poor snakes, if it were true!” She wrinkled her nose, then looked up at Ben. “Do you think it hurt the ammonites to be turned into fossils?”

Ben had never thought about that. “Surely they must have been dead before they were fossilized?” he suggested. “That’s what I’ve always assumed.”

“How do you know they were ever alive?” Mrs. Trimmer wanted to know. “Couldn’t that simply be a pretty pattern on the rocks?”

“A good question,” Ben admitted. “The resemblance between the spiral pattern in the stone and the shells of certain living invertebrates, such as the nautilus, suggests that ammonites were once alive, for one, and—”

At that fortuitous moment, Graves opened the drawing room door and announced, “Dinner is served.”

Ben silently escorted Lady Wilhelmina to the table, relieved that he’d been cut off before he had a chance to bore her with an unwanted geology lecture.

Only after he sat down did it occur to him that etiquette might have required him to escort Mrs. Trimmer, who was so much Lady Wilhelmina’s senior. He tensed up for a panicked moment until he remembered that Lady Wilhelmina outranked a clergyman’s widow. He had done right.

“The spiral pattern on the ammonite really is quite pretty,” Lady Wilhelmina said. “Did people incorporate ammonites into rococo furniture design, do you think?”

Though Ben knew next to nothing about rococo design, Aunt Faith knew a bit, and Grandfather Marlowe knew even more, so that supplied a topic of conversation for the first half of dinner.

After that, Mrs. Trimmer asked Grandfather a question about the dairy on the home farm. Ben blithely ignored the conversation, returning his attention to the dinner itself. He hated trying to eat and talk at the same time, so it was a relief to be able to focus on his food and drink.

He did not get a chance to speak to Lady Wilhelmina alone until after dinner, when Graves brought tea and coffee to the drawing room.

“Do you have many fossils?” she asked brightly.

“Only a few. I am actually more interested in the man-made objects one finds on the beach. Things like old coins, odds and ends from shipwrecks, and of course sea glass.”

“And letters in a bottle?” Her mouth remained set in a serious line, but the hint of a smile twinkled in her eyes as she leaned forward.

Though Lady Wilhelmina moved only a fraction of an inch closer, Ben’s heart beat faster. He fumbled with his cup, splashing coffee onto his trousers. He had no idea whether the blush burning along his cheekbones was due to his unexpected clumsiness, or if it was a reaction to Lady Wilhelmina’s physical proximity. He felt entirely too aware of how attractive she was.

“Oh no! Here, let me help!” Lady Wilhelmina attempted to help by dabbing at the stain, but since that meant dabbing at his pants, this escalated the awkwardness by the power of ten.

Ben yanked the napkin away from her before she could accidentally touch something infinitely more embarrassing than his leg.

Her eyes widened as she drew back from him. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”

“Oh, it’s quite all right. I mean, I can take care of it. I never liked these trousers, anyway.” He cleared his throat and forced himself to look her in the eyes. “You were saying?”

“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten. I’m sure it was nothing of any importance.” She stared down at her own neatly folded hands, looking embarrassed.

Perfect! They were both absolutely mortified. To make matters worse, Ben kept imaging what it would have felt like if she had touched his groin while trying to clean up the spill. Such contact would undoubtedly be stimulating, even with two layers of clothing separating them.

Desperate to turn his mind to a safer subject, Ben blurted out, “If it weren’t so late, I would show you some of the objects I’ve collected on the beach. But I don’t suppose we can go out to the stable at this hour.”

They both glanced towards the night-darkened windows. “It is a pity,” Lady Wilhelmina said, but he could not tell if she meant it, or if it was merely a social fiction.

“You would be welcome to call on us some afternoon,” Aunt Faith suggested. “We do not keep regular hours for callers, but we would always welcome a visit from such an old friend as Mrs. Trimmer, wouldn’t we, Papa?” She looked towards Ben’s grandfather, giving a jerk of her chin to indicate that he should back her up.

Grandfather Marlowe must have been half-asleep in his chair. Hearing himself addressed, he startled, then blinked owlishly at Aunt Faith. “Oh, of course. You are welcome to have all the callers you want, Faith. But I thought you preferred writing letters to entertaining visitors—”

Aunt Faith loudly interrupted her brother. “Even a hermit needs to see a friendly face now and again! We would love to have you here, Mrs. Trimmer. You too, Lady Wilhelmina. Wouldn’t you agree, Benjamin?”

“Er, yes?” He relaxed a trifle when his aunt’s pleased expression showed this must have been the right answer. He shifted his eyes towards Lady Wilhelmina and forced a smile. “If you call during the day, I can show you my collection.”

The smile fell away from his aunt’s face, and she subtly shook her head at him. He recognized that look, though he didn’t know what he’d done wrong this time.

“That is, if you want to,” he amended. “The sea glass and some of the shells are rather pretty.” Girls liked pretty things, didn’t they?

“That would be charming,” Lady Wilhelmina replied.

Ben suspected she was merely being polite. Very likely, some excuse would prevent her from calling with her cousin. And that was just as well, wasn’t it? She and Ben could have nothing to say to each other.