Part XXIII: Miss Claymore

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.