Miss Debenham's Secret: A Husband Hunters Club Book by Sara Bennett Page B
Authors: Sara Bennett
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Just for a moment he imagined himself back in the sailing boat with Clarissa, and the rogue wave coming over them, capsizing them. Only this time he was sinking, down, down, and then there was nothing but darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Clarissa read the details of the Amazonian’s dramatic encounter in the newspaper, her eyes wide, and a chewed fingernail between her teeth. She’d read it many times already and it was old news, really, but she kept hoping she’d missed something. Some mention of him.
Alistair’s ship had fought hard and although they had won the battle, coming away heroes, there was no further news about casualties or deaths. She prayed he was all right. Lieutenants, as he had told her once, were always in the thick of things, on the gun deck, giving the orders to the gunners. The gun deck was a dangerous place and she didn’t dare to think he might be injured.
Or worse.
Her heart fluttered wildly when she thought of ‘worse’.
She tried to concentrate on her teaching, that was the only way she could keep her mind from dwelling on dire possibilities, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. Now the day they had capsized in their sailing boat seemed somehow a prophesy of things to come, which was very silly, and so Alistair would tell her next time he wrote.
She missed him terribly, but she’d rather miss him than lose him altogether.
“Clarissa, that is an appalling habit.”
Guiltily she removed her fingernails from her mouth. “Sorry, Father.”
“What are you reading that is so compelling?”
“The story about Alistair’s ship in action, Father.”
He nodded but said nothing. He still hadn’t forgiven Alistair and Clarissa knew he blamed him for making her far more assertive than she used to be. She rather thought her father was afraid that one day she would up and leave him to manage for himself in his old age. He’d probably blame Alistair for that, too.
“I must go,” she said, carefully placing the newspaper in a drawer for next time. “The students will be arriving soon and I haven’t put out the slates or written up the lessons.”
He shot her a look and for some reason she thought he appeared guilty. “I have an old grammar school friend coming for a visit today,” he said, as if it were of little consequence. “You needn’t come home for lunch, Clarissa. I will manage. I’d rather you didn’t interrupt us.”
He was acting strangely but Clarissa was too busy thinking about Alistair to give it much thought as she hurried away.
***
Debenham opened the door to the knock. He was prepared for this visit and he knew what to say, but nevertheless he was shocked when he saw his visitor, and felt a momentary inability to speak. He’d made Clarissa believe it was an old friend but he’d lied, to spare her feelings, he told himself self-righteously. This was all for Clarissa’s sake and nothing to do with his fears for his own lonely old age.
In fact the man who was visiting him today was Lieutenant Alistair McKay.
The young man had gone off to sea hale and hearty and he’d returned a cripple. He walked with the aid of crutches because half his leg had been sawn off, and there was a rather ugly scar on his face too.
“Come in then,” he said gruffly, and turned away so he wouldn’t have to watch the chap struggling through the doorway and into the parlour.
He waited until Alistair had sat himself down, with some awkwardness, and offered him tea.
“I won’t stay for refreshments,” Alistair said quietly, and there was no lurking smile in his eyes, as there used to be. Alistair was not only changed outwardly, physically, but inwardly too.
“I am here to talk to you about Clarissa,” he said with quiet determination.
Mr. Debenham had thought as much. It was why he had made certain his daughter would not be present at this interview.
“Clarissa is doing very well at the school,” he said quickly. “She is in charge now that Mr. Marly has
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Clarissa read the details of the Amazonian’s dramatic encounter in the newspaper, her eyes wide, and a chewed fingernail between her teeth. She’d read it many times already and it was old news, really, but she kept hoping she’d missed something. Some mention of him.
Alistair’s ship had fought hard and although they had won the battle, coming away heroes, there was no further news about casualties or deaths. She prayed he was all right. Lieutenants, as he had told her once, were always in the thick of things, on the gun deck, giving the orders to the gunners. The gun deck was a dangerous place and she didn’t dare to think he might be injured.
Or worse.
Her heart fluttered wildly when she thought of ‘worse’.
She tried to concentrate on her teaching, that was the only way she could keep her mind from dwelling on dire possibilities, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. Now the day they had capsized in their sailing boat seemed somehow a prophesy of things to come, which was very silly, and so Alistair would tell her next time he wrote.
She missed him terribly, but she’d rather miss him than lose him altogether.
“Clarissa, that is an appalling habit.”
Guiltily she removed her fingernails from her mouth. “Sorry, Father.”
“What are you reading that is so compelling?”
“The story about Alistair’s ship in action, Father.”
He nodded but said nothing. He still hadn’t forgiven Alistair and Clarissa knew he blamed him for making her far more assertive than she used to be. She rather thought her father was afraid that one day she would up and leave him to manage for himself in his old age. He’d probably blame Alistair for that, too.
“I must go,” she said, carefully placing the newspaper in a drawer for next time. “The students will be arriving soon and I haven’t put out the slates or written up the lessons.”
He shot her a look and for some reason she thought he appeared guilty. “I have an old grammar school friend coming for a visit today,” he said, as if it were of little consequence. “You needn’t come home for lunch, Clarissa. I will manage. I’d rather you didn’t interrupt us.”
He was acting strangely but Clarissa was too busy thinking about Alistair to give it much thought as she hurried away.
***
Debenham opened the door to the knock. He was prepared for this visit and he knew what to say, but nevertheless he was shocked when he saw his visitor, and felt a momentary inability to speak. He’d made Clarissa believe it was an old friend but he’d lied, to spare her feelings, he told himself self-righteously. This was all for Clarissa’s sake and nothing to do with his fears for his own lonely old age.
In fact the man who was visiting him today was Lieutenant Alistair McKay.
The young man had gone off to sea hale and hearty and he’d returned a cripple. He walked with the aid of crutches because half his leg had been sawn off, and there was a rather ugly scar on his face too.
“Come in then,” he said gruffly, and turned away so he wouldn’t have to watch the chap struggling through the doorway and into the parlour.
He waited until Alistair had sat himself down, with some awkwardness, and offered him tea.
“I won’t stay for refreshments,” Alistair said quietly, and there was no lurking smile in his eyes, as there used to be. Alistair was not only changed outwardly, physically, but inwardly too.
“I am here to talk to you about Clarissa,” he said with quiet determination.
Mr. Debenham had thought as much. It was why he had made certain his daughter would not be present at this interview.
“Clarissa is doing very well at the school,” he said quickly. “She is in charge now that Mr. Marly has
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