Haddock made
it back to the inn around early afternoon and had his things packed up and
loaded onto a coach an hour later bound for the coast. The carriage bounced about on the road like a
small boat on a rough sea. Haddock tried
to read for a while but the ride was so bumpy that the words kept flying off
the pages, so he gave up and instead watched the countryside glide past his
window. He found that he couldn’t do
this for very long as his mind kept wandering back to Broadburn and what had
occurred prior to his leave-taking, and the possibility that Isolde might have
returned while he was miles away. He
resorted to forcing himself to read despite the horrible state of the roads
that the coaches traveled upon, at least keeping his mind distracted when it
could otherwise dredge up raw memories.
The coach made several stops
before arriving at the intended destination on the coast where Haddock boarded
a ship bound for Scotland. The voyage
took longer than usual as the ship hugged the coast to avoid the conflict
happening between The Napoleonic Empire and England, eventually making it to
port in Glasgow several weeks later.
There, Haddock wandered across the historical and pastoral country for a
while before finding himself at his friend’s extravagant villa. He had met this particular friend—Lord
Wilson—while at school, back when the fellow had been moderately wealthy. Lord Wilson had since married into money and
spent it without a second thought, his wife doing likewise. Haddock had figured that the couple would
have spent every last shilling they had by now and was surprised when his old
school friend had invited him to stay indefinitely in what he thought would be
a hovel but was instead a palatial retreat on the river. What was more, the couple seemed to throw a
ball every other night, always with new faces stepping past their threshold. Haddock had enjoyed the distraction and
gaiety for a time, but it began to wear on him after a week of nonstop
revelries. He didn’t want to be an
inconsiderate guest, so he attended them, but his enthusiasm had waned
considerably since the first couple of parties.
He preferred hanging back in the shadows or sitting on the outlying furniture
while the guests mingled and chatted, the talking and laughter growing louder
as more alcoholic beverages were brought out from the cellar. A few of the young women had taken Haddock’s
aloofness as a sign of flirtation, but he quickly dissuaded them with
monosyllabic responses to their inquiries and a general lack of interest that
sent them sulkily on their way to hunt around for more open bachelors.
Now he sat on an expensive bench against an ancient tapestry in an alcove
near the balcony, having danced enough to give off the appearance that he was
enjoying himself. He was hoping that
maybe, just this once, the Lord and Lady might decide to cut the festivities
short for the evening, but as soon as the servants emerged with more bottles,
he swore under his breath.
A crowd of chittering women bedecked in rich silks and pearls parted
through the sea of people and drew a human entrenchment around Haddock. He stood to greet them, feeling like a mouse
cornered by a clowder of cats looking for a good time.
“Mr. Haddock! I have someone here
I would like to introduce you to!”
It was Lord
Wilson’s wife, a very loud and very tenacious woman. She would not take “no” for an answer, no
matter how many times Haddock told her he wasn’t interested in the “friends”
she continually brought around for him to meet in hopes that she might spark a
romance. Steeling himself, he pasted a
smile on his face.
“Oh really, Lady Wilson?”
“Yes! She’s an old schoolfriend of mine”—Lady
Wilson turned fiercely as she beckoned her friend over and hissed loudly—"Celine! Come over here—Don’t be shy,” and at
Haddock, “She’s not one for large crowds, but she’s been abroad and I simply
couldn’t let her stay at an inn when we have rooms to spare here. Ah, here she comes. Mr. Haddock, I would like to introduce you to
Miss Claymore.”
So far, all of Lady Wilson’s
friends had been rather flighty and pretty in a girlish way that told Haddock
he would not get very far in an intellectual conversation with them. Miss Claymore’s first impression was quite
the opposite. She was a very striking
woman with white-blonde hair and a pale countenance to match. She wore a silken dark green dress that
looked plain in comparison to all the other women, but only made her stand out
even more. Haddock was so rocked by her
that he forgot to introduce himself.
“Hem, this is my husband’s friend, Mr. Haddock,” Lady Wilson
prompted as she jostled her friend closer to him. Haddock was an expert at fake smiles, so he
could tell that Miss Claymore wasn’t exactly happy that her friend had dragged
her over to meet a complete stranger.
“Uh, it’s a pleasure to meet you,
Miss Claymore,” Haddock said as he held out his hand. The women tittered like birds as they hid
their grins behind fans and gloved fingers.
Miss Claymore, however, obliged him and gave his hand a firm shake, the
first genuine smile showing in her eyes.
“Yes, I’m sure we’ll get along
splendidly,” Miss Claymore said as she shifted her eyes over to Lady Wilson,
who was giving her an annoyed look. She
had a low and sharp tone of voice that contrasted greatly with Lady Wilson’s
grating soprano. Lady Wilson thrummed
her fingers on her jeweled fan, her head twitching from one to the other
suspiciously while she pursed her lips.
“Hm. You two ought to enjoy each other’s’ company
without an audience,” and then to her entourage, “Come along! There’s a General Solomon you simply must meet!” and wheeled off with her troop
of well-dressed women. Haddock and Miss Claymore
watched them go, and when Lady Wilson and her friends were well out of earshot,
Miss Claymore’s composure quickly changed.
“To tell you the truth, Mr.
Haddock, I would much rather prefer a walk on the river than the company of
this hedonistic crowd.”
She checked herself.
“Not that I’m
calling you hedonistic, Sir,” she quickly added as her golden eyes pointed
themselves at the floor.
“Oh, no, I completely understand,”
Haddock replied. “If you don’t mind, would it be all right if I joined
you? I thought I was the only one who
had had enough with this excessive frivolity for the night.”
Miss Claymore’s gaze returned and
she graced him with an enchanting smile.
“If you don’t mind.”
Haddock felt a little jolt flicker up his spine as she slipped her arm
through his. He tried to quell the
feeling of excitement as she led him through the boisterous crowd and out onto
the veranda. They were blasted with a
cold breath of watery air as they wended their way down the stairs to the
moonlit riverside. Haddock thought that
the chilly breeze might cool him down, but he still felt unusually hot. He kept his eyes peeled ahead on the shore
and the river’s waves as they lolled onto the sand and retreated, doing his
best to ignore the fact that he was walking alone with a woman who people would
typically call beautiful. Haddock was
dredging up the image of Isolde when Miss Claymore shattered his thoughts.
“Now this is much better. I could
never stand Lady Wilson’s parties.
They’re such garish affairs and the people she and her husband invite
are nothing more than things to show off.”
“And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“Lady Wilson
said that she and I were old schoolfriends, but she failed to mention that was
when we were little girls. I’m from a
wealthy family who tragically lost their fortune…I shan’t go into details. It’s a long and boring story. Lady Wilson likes to invite me to her parties
whenever she wants to tell people my story and point out “Poor Celine Claymore.” She uses people that way, making herself out
to be a charitable friend,” Miss Claymore said with a trace of anger in her
voice.
Haddock didn’t know how to
respond.
“Oh,” he
said quietly. Miss Claymore laughed
bitterly.
“Yes, “Oh” indeed! And how did she
manage to entrap you?”
“I wasn’t
invited by Lady Wilson, per say. I’m…an
old schoolfriend of Lord Wilson.”
“And don’t you find that the least
bit coincidental?” Miss Claymore inquired as she cocked her head up at Haddock.
“Well after your insinuations, now I do,” Haddock shot back with a
grin. This earned him a laugh from Miss Claymore
and another nudge of excitement in his chest.
She really had a very pleasant smile—
No. He was confusing her
with Isolde. Haddock sought to keep the
conversation going to avoid the lingering silence that had descended upon them.
“Ah, so did you come alone or are
you traveling with someone, Miss Claymore?”
“Mr.
Haddock, are you asking if I’m a married woman?” Miss Claymore purred
teasingly. It was a good thing it was
dark, else Miss Claymore would have seen Haddock’s face flush with
embarrassment.
“Oh! No, no!
I mean—"
“I’m only
teasing. I’ve had an escort with me for
my travels, but it seems as if he didn’t find me to be the most interesting of
company…But I’m glad! I’ve found someone
who isn’t a dunderhead to talk with this fine evening!”
She gave Haddock’s arm a quick
squeeze that he found hard to ignore.
“Ahhh, it
looks like we’ve wandered for quite a distance from where we started,” he said
as he brought the two of them to a halt, causing sand to spray at their
feet. Miss Claymore looked over her
shoulder at the bright lights of Lord Wilson’s abode with raised eyebrows.
“Hm. So we have.
Are you eager to return to that
crowd then, Mr. Haddock?”
“Not
particularly,” Haddock replied truthfully. “But it is getting late.”
“We’re on the same page then,”
Miss Claymore said as she narrowed her eyes at the glowing edifice. They wheeled around and faced Lord Wilson’s
home as they slowly made their way back.
The rush of the waves on the shore filled the night air, blocking out
the music from the house and the loud revels of its inhabitants. Haddock was sure that Miss Claymore’s shoes
were probably uncomfortably filled with sand, and something told him she’d keep
walking on the riverside no matter how irritating it was to avoid going back to
the party.
“Mr. Haddock, why do you seem so
sad?”
“What? What do you—?”
“Don’t try to make excuses. I’ve sensed a melancholy air about you since
we first met. Who did this to you?”
Haddock felt a sharp stab of guilt
as the words of Isolde’s letter appeared before his eyes. Me.
“It—I—I left
on bad terms with…someone.”
“A woman,” Miss
Claymore stated. “I’m truly sorry. My
sex are such fickle creatures—”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Haddock quickly interjected. Miss Claymore tilted her head up at him,
golden eyes looking surprised. And
sympathetic.
“Here, now let’s not talk about something that makes you sad. I can’t stand to see people sad. What if I told you about when I pushed Lady
Wilson into a muddy puddle when she said my dress was horrid when we were
little girls? Would that cheer you up?”
Haddock felt a smile tugging at his mouth.
“It might
cheer me up even more if you did so now.”
“Oh, I would! It’s a shame that the weather is so fair
though. Not a decent puddle for Lady
Wilson to bathe in,” Miss Claymore said with a mock sigh of vexation. They were nearing Lord Wilson’s home now,
dragging their footsteps as they dreaded facing the boisterous crowd. Miss Claymore planted her feet in the sand at
the feet of the stairs. Haddock looked
over at her.
“Is something wrong, Miss
Claymore?”
She was
biting her lower lip, brows furrowed, before she met his eyes.
“I don’t want you to think I’m loose, or forward, or anything like that,
but I wanted to know if you would be willing to accompany me tomorrow? My escort will most likely be confined to bed
and feeling wretched from all of the alcohol he’s likely to have consumed, and
I don’t…I don’t feel comfortable wandering about on my own. Not in a strange town by myself”—she flicked
her eyes to the sand at her feet, kicking at a dune and causing it to spray in
the wind—“And not to sound like I’m endeavoring to win your favor, but you seem
like a good-hearted man who I can trust.”
She looked back up at him with an expression of embarrassment and
questioning in her eyes. Haddock wasn’t
exactly sure how to respond for a few moments, mouth slightly parted, before he
heard himself say: “I would be more than happy to.”
Miss Claymore’s face erupted into a dazzling smile.
“Mr.
Haddock, you are too kind!”
A loud
guffaw blasted through the cacophony of noise from the party, causing the both
of them to remember where they were as their expressions became equally sour.
“Best not to prolong this,”
Haddock said grimly, as if he were leading a platoon into a raging battle.
“It
shouldn’t be too terribly awful,” Miss Claymore replied with a little raise of
her brows, “now that you have a friend.”
*
As he lay
staring up at the scalloped ceiling that night, Haddock couldn’t shake off the
oozing feeling of guilt that had crept in and taken up abode in his
breast. Whenever he closed his eyes,
Miss Claymore’s blonde-white head was smiling at him. Haddock turned over, staring at the French
doors where the murmur of water emanated from beyond the glass panes. Isolde had made her attitude towards him very
clear in that letter. He still carried
it with him despite its sting, to remind him of what he had done.
It was possible that she had met with another man and had forgotten all
about him, though Haddock fleetingly and vainly thought that it would be very
hard for her to forget about him considering all that they had been through.
For all he knew, she could be
happily married to someone she had met abroad.
Someone who treated her well and didn’t ignore her when an Old Flame was
in the room. Haddock snorted at those
unhappy thoughts and tossed in bed again.
Don’t be so fatalistic. She wasn’t as fickle as his imagination made
her out to be, she had proved that over the past few months and their ordeal
with Drexel. But still Miss Claymore
wouldn’t leave him be. Would he be
betraying Isolde if he entertained even the slightest possibility of something
with Miss Claymore?
One thing could lead to another…
He brought
his hand up from under the sheets to press his knuckles against the bridge of
his nose and squeeze his eyes shut. He
would treat Miss Claymore as a friend for the time being. He just hoped that she wouldn’t try to make
their budding friendship anything more than that.
*
Lord and
Lady Wilson didn’t make it to breakfast at the appointed time, leaving Haddock
and Miss Claymore to dine alone while the Wilson’s servants waited on
them. Miss Claymore had given him a
knowing look when they had sat waiting for their hosts to arrive, only for the
butler to shuffle up to the table to tell them that the Wilsons had requested
that their guests dine without them, as they were feeling a bit under the
weather. When the butler’s back was
turned, she had made little guzzling motions with an invisible glass that
caused Haddock to snort in an effort to suppress a laugh. They made little small talk over the
vittles. Haddock had a feeling that Miss
Claymore would have probably been more loquacious if the servants weren’t
waiting on them hand and foot, secretly waiting to sponge up whatever gossip
dropped between the two of them.
Once they were finished with their
mostly silent breakfast, Miss Claymore asked if Haddock would prefer to stay in
or go out. Haddock replied in the
affirmative to the latter suggestion.
There was still a lingering, stifling feeling of the outrageous
festivities from the night before hanging in the air that he would be more than
happy to escape. They retreated to their
respective rooms to put on their walking articles and met in the Wilsons’
cavernous foyer. Miss Claymore appeared
to be barely containing her excitement to go exploring.
“We simply must visit one of the castles if the weather holds out,” she said
as she fumbled with tying her bonnet on. “I have been here for a only two days
and still have yet to explore one.”
Haddock
cocked a questioning eyebrow at her.
“Surely Lady Wilson isn’t as demanding as to deny her friend a little
excitement?”
Miss
Claymore tossed her head as she finished tying her bonnet on, both to make sure
that it wouldn’t fall off, and to express her annoyance with Lady Wilson.
“Lady Wilson has promised to take
me out to see the sights but has always been laid up in bed following the
nightly revels. I wouldn’t dare deign to
ask my escort—all he’s good for is following me around during long travels and
storing alcoholic beverages.”
“Hm. Hopefully I can promise you a look at a
castle or two today.”
“I doubt
you’ll disappoint,” Miss Claymore replied with a smile. Haddock quickly swung his gaze to the doors
where the carriage was drawing up, the folded corners of Isolde’s letter poking
him in the chest, a reminder to not get
involved. He helped Miss Claymore
into the carriage before boarding himself and instructing the driver who was
bundled up against the cold where to go.
The day proved to be chilly as fog
rolling in from the waterside settled in the streets, making other carriages
and pedestrians look like wandering phantoms.
Miss Claymore tried to hide her shivering by squeezing her hands in her
lap, but the slight shaking in her upper body belied her discomfort. Haddock hesitated, then moved to unbutton his
jacket for Miss Claymore to drape over herself, but she shot him a sharp
look.
“I appreciate the gesture, Mr.
Haddock, but I don’t need your charity,” she had told him with a tone that said
she had spent a lifetime looking after herself without stooping to ask for
others’ help, and wouldn’t compromise her principles now. Haddock’s fingers dropped from the buttons
and rested on his walking stick as he felt a twinge of…what? Embarrassment? Annoyance?
He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what he felt, but he knew that he
would have been happier if Miss Claymore had just acquiesced to his
courteousness. The trip to Crookston
Castle wasn’t as long as Haddock thought it would be once the two of them got
to talking. They commented on the world
passing by them outside the windows of the carriage, and Miss Claymore told
Haddock about her travels abroad with her chaperone and how her mother had
wanted her to “broaden her understanding of the world” in these trips.
“Not to be presumptuous, but I
gathered from you earlier that your family didn’t have the substantial means to
afford such jaunts,” Haddock said, feeling the flush of embarrassment
threatening to crawl up from his chest to his face. Miss Claymore gave him a crooked smile, one
that held bitterness in it.
“Ah, this is where we delve into
the odd nature of my family. My father
never elected to make an honest woman of my mother and left as soon as my
siblings and myself were born. However,
he made sure to send each of us children a sizable inheritance once we came of
age. His way of keeping us satisfied and
our mother from sending him hordes of nasty letters about not being able to
support his children, I suppose.”
Miss Claymore’s explanation caught
Haddock by surprise, not only because of the outrageousness of the situation,
but by how nonchalant she had been with volunteering her family’s predicament
to him.
“Oh, I, uhm—”
“Please,”
Miss Claymore interrupted him, holding up a gloved hand. “I would rather you
not respond with any “I’m so sorries,”
or “How dreadfuls!” I’ve heard it often enough and they’ve both
lost their meaning over the years. My
family belongs in a madhouse. Pray let
us forget them for the time being and talk about something more pleasant.”
The fog began to clear, revealing
a startling blue sky as they neared their destination, which looked more
foreboding than friendly with its sharp, square towers and dark patches of moss
crawling up the sides of the edifice.
Haddock handed Miss Claymore out of the carriage, who eagerly began
marching up to the castle without waiting for him to walk with her.
“Miss Claymore! Wait a few—!”
She was
already out of earshot, his words impaired by the strong wind. Haddock snapped the carriage door shut and
jogged to catch up with her, his walking stick tucked under his arm as he
fought against the strong gales that rippled the grass in waves. Miss Claymore’s white-blonde curls flew out
from her bonnet while her dress whipped about as she turned to beckon him. Her golden eyes were bright as she took in
the surroundings, looking genuinely happy and free from the constraints of the
Wilsons’ residence and overwhelming feeling that she needed to look like she
was enjoying herself around them.
Haddock knew exactly how she felt and was more than happy to share in
this escape from constant parties and decorum.
He met Miss Claymore under the shadow of Crookston Castle and gestured
at the gloomy structure with the top of his cane.
“I did say you would see a castle
today, but I’m hoping you weren’t expecting something glamorous,” he said with
a grin.
“It’s better
than I could have imagined,” Miss Claymore replied, all smiles. “It’s just full
up with all sorts of history! If only
these bricks could talk!”
She passed a hand over a
weathered, stained wall, fingers probing the surface. Haddock found himself studying her
profile. You stop that. He jerked his
head a little too hard away from Miss Claymore, causing his hat to tear loose
in the wind. Haddock swore, causing Miss
Claymore to look up and chuckle while Haddock’s hat bounded down the hillside. He went racing after the tumbling hat while
trying to maintain his footing and dignity on the sloping ground. He nearly snatched it up once or twice, but
it was kicked up by the wind and sent careening over rocks and bushes at a
faster pace, almost as if it had come alive with a mind of its own. Haddock caught up with his hat at the base of
the hill as it came to a rest against a boulder and stuck there.
He grabbed it and began to swat it
against his pants’ leg, freeing up loose strands of grass and dirt that it had
acquired on its journey. Miss Claymore
was at his side a few moments later, panting while she laughed. Haddock was still swatting his hat as he
said:
“I think I’ve seen enough of Crookston Castle for today. I’m afraid it doesn’t like me very much.”
“No matter,”
Miss Claymore replied in between gulps of air, “We can always come back a
little later when you’ve trained your hat to stay put.”
Satisfied that his hat was now clean enough to wear again, he smoothed
his tousled hair down and replaced the hat on his pate and shot Miss Claymore a
questioning look with a tilt of the head.
“Where to next, Miss Claymore?”
She raised
her dark brows and shoulders.
“How does a hot cup of tea sound?”
“Excellent.”
*
Haddock and
Miss Claymore spent the rest of the day in the city, keeping to the quieter
districts. The sun burned away the fog
and made the day pleasantly warm, which was evinced by more people filtering
into the streets. They visited a few
shops, one being a bookstore that they whiled away in for two hours before
Haddock realized how much time had passed.
As the sun began to sink closer to the horizon, the roiling ball of displeasure
in Haddock’s chest grew. They would have
to return to the Wilsons’ home for yet another ball, another night of masks of gaiety
and being ogled at like an exotic creature.
As they sat in the teahouse prolonging their departure, Haddock saw Miss
Claymore’s brow beginning to furrow and her lips contracting into a slight
frown. She was twirling her spoon in her
teacup even though there was barely any tea left inside. Haddock made to speak but she beat him to it.
“I really wish we didn’t have to
go back.”
“Just
another sacrifice we have to make in behalf of being good guests.”
Miss Claymore laughed softly.
“Listen to
us! Bemoaning that we have to attend a
ball when most people would give whatever money they had to attend something so
lavish just for once in their life!”
A thought that had been battering
about at the corner of Haddock’s mind began to take shape and jostle to the
forefront. He kept his eyes directed at
the tablecloth as he addressed Miss Claymore.
“Well, if you would like, I could
act as your escort, seeing that your own chaperone has been somewhat lacking in
that respect. Ah, that is to say, only
if you want—”
“I would be delighted, Mr. Haddock,” Miss Claymore replied warmly. Haddock didn’t have to see hear face to
recognize the smile in her voice.
“Then it’s settled,” he said,
looking up to meet her eyes. “I’ll fend you off from undesirable dance partners
whilst you keep Lady Wilson and her gaggle of giggling disciples at bay.”
“A mutually
beneficial plan, with good company too.
How can I refuse that offer?”
Suddenly, the
miasma of displeasure started to dissipate in Haddock. Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be quite as
terrible and lonely as the previous ones.
*
With the
evening came a completely new set of attendees to the Wilsons’ celebration,
including some marginally renown individuals, idle rich with nothing better to
do, and officers in His Majesty’s army.
Haddock and Miss Claymore made their rounds about the rooms, making sure
to let Lord and Lady Wilson know that they were enjoying themselves immensely
while also warding off possible advances and requests to dance for one
another. Haddock realized with a sudden
jolt that he was genuinely having a good time with Miss Claymore instead of
languishing in a dark corner while batting away thoughts of
self-recrimination. Miss Claymore was
clad in a simple white dress, somehow making it stand out even more than any of
the expensive and tailored gowns of the other women. Haddock noticed that they gave her snide
expressions and gestures behind her back, which would have eaten at him if Miss
Claymore hadn’t told him to not take too much stock in it.
Her tongue was fast and barbed as she made commentary about the festooned
guests. Haddock had snorted into his
glass to cover up a laugh when she commented that a Corporal Vale’s animated
eyebrows looked like they were on the verge of gaining a mind of their own and
jumping off his face if they behaved any more wildly.
While watching the couples twirl
about in the quadrille lines, Miss Claymore’s chatter ceased. Haddock had cast a questioning look down at
her and saw that she really looked like she might want to join in the dancing
as she leaned forward in her seat, straight-backed and golden eyes eager. He checked himself twice, the second time a
noise actually making its way out of his mouth when he asked:
“Would you care to dance, Miss
Claymore?”
Her upper
body made a little jump and she turned to stare at him in surprise that she
quickly masked over with a mocking expression.
“Oh, no. I’d rather not stoop to flailing around among
a crowd of sweaty strangers this evening,” she had said before snapping her fan
open and using it to create a breeze and a barrier. Haddock had resorted to staring at the
distorted reflection of himself in the toes of his polished boots, feeling more
than a little confused. And maybe a bit
put out. Miss Claymore didn’t have to
take her stand against indulging in the revels so far as to avoid any and all
amusement entirely. He would have asked
again, but casting a furtive look at Miss Claymore told him she would give him
a flat out “No thank you, Mr. Haddock” if he did.
*
The zeal of
the ball began to wane as the hour neared early morning. While they were seated in an alcove in the
music room, a moderately famed singer performing for the lingering guests, Miss
Claymore leaned over to whisper to Haddock.
“I think that I’ve had my fill of frivolity for tonight.”
She looked to
be struggling to keep the enthusiasm on her face, usually heavy eyelids
drooping even further. Haddock nodded.
“Would you like me to escort you
to your room?”
“No, it’s
fine. I would like to thank you for a
splendid evening though,” she quirked a smile, “and for keeping that Corporal
Vale at bay. I owe you so much for
staring daggers at him all night.”
“You are most welcome. I doubt you’ll be seeing him again. It seems he forgot where he placed his spine
and ran off to go find it.”
As Miss Claymore moved to stand,
she whispered again:
“What say
you to exploring the shore tomorrow?”
“I say yes,” Haddock responded. As the singer hit a high note, Miss Claymore
took her cue and swept out of the room unnoticed, save for one person. Haddock watched her white skirts whip around
the corner of the double doors and disappear.
He snapped his head back to the front of the room as the singer ended
her song to mechanical applause. She beamed
and bowed overdramatically while the feathers on her headpiece bobbed
ridiculously. Haddock joined in the
clapping on principle, but his thoughts were miles away. Or rather, they had left the room with Miss
Claymore.
