Miss Heins reached a startled hand up to her bonnet, which looked perfectly adequate as far as Whit could tell. He thought to mention as much, but Mirabelle beat him to it.
“It’s a lovely bonnet, Miss Heins,” she said with a bright smile for the blushing girl. “Did you do the work yourself?”
“I…I did, yes.”
Miss Willory started and blinked at Mirabelle as if only just realizing she were there.
“Oh, Miss Browning, will you be joining us? How…unexpected.” She sent Whit an overly sympathetic smile and reached out as if to pat his arm.
In a move too smooth to insult, he avoided the contact by stepping over to Mirabelle and offering his arm. There were, it seemed, unexpected benefits to this truce with her. Not the least of which was dodging Miss Willory’s advances.
“Mirabelle agreed to join our group at my insistence.”
“Oh.” Miss Willory floundered for a moment before pasting on a doting expression. “How very, very sweet of you, my lord. You must be terribly excited, Miss Browning.”
If he hadn’t been holding her arm, Whit likely wouldn’t have noticed the way Mirabelle tensed. Her face remained impassive, and she gave a small shrug of indifference.
“I’ve always enjoyed this particular trail,” she said. “It’s best viewed in the fall, mind you, but there’s plenty to appreciate in the spring, as well. Perhaps next year, if you’re about, you might have the opportunity to view the western shore—as we’ll only be making a half trip of it today. The flora on that side are not to be missed…if one can help it.”
Neatly reminded that Mirabelle had regular access to both Haldon Hall and its master, Miss Willory could do little more than hold her false smile and speak through her teeth.
“I’m sure it’s lovely.”
“Oh,” Mirabelle breathed sweetly and took a good hold of his arm. “You have no idea.”
“Shall we begin?” Whit suggested quickly.
Conversation between Whit and Mirabelle along the trail was stiff and awkward. It was still so new, this not arguing, and there were long stretches of silence between them. Mirabelle wished dearly for long stretches of silence from the others, but while there was a notable dearth of intelligent discourse, there seemed to her no lack of pointless jabbering.
“How pretty everything is!” Miss Willory crooned. “I vow I could live on this path!”
“But what of the gypsies?” Miss Stills gasped, as if there was a real risk of Miss Willory forsaking all her worldly goods to live in the Haldon Woods.
“Or the hermit McAlistair,” Miss Sullivan added. “Oh, do look at these big round things!”
“Oh! They’re prickly.”
“Oh! What ever could they be? Lord—”
“Chestnuts,” Mirabelle informed them, though she’d have wagered they knew quite well.
“Don’t be silly, Miss Browning,” Miss Willory snapped, clearly put out by having her question answered by someone other than his lordship. “I know what a chestnut shell looks like. My uncle’s quite fond of them. Lord Thur—”
“It’s the outer casing,” Mirabelle snuck in. It was no doubt small of her to gain such satisfaction at thwarting Miss Willory, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.
Miss Heins nudged one with the toe of her boot. “Looks to be a chestnut.”
“Lord Thurston?” Miss Willory asked, ignoring her.
“It’s a chestnut,” he confirmed.
“How clever you are,” she simpered. “You simply must give us a lesson on—”
“Miss Browning would be a better choice of tutor. She’s made quite a study of the local flora and fauna.”
“It’s only a hobby,” Mirabelle said with a startled glance at Whit. She hadn’t realized he knew of her interests.
“Are you a bluestocking then, Miss Browning,” Miss Willory asked in a patronizing tone. “A great scholar of plants?”
“Hardly, but I’ve some passing knowledge. For example, the tree you’re standing next to is a sessile oak, and the vine wrapped around it is Toxicodendron radicans, a species introduced from the Americas—better known as poison ivy.”
“Oh!”
The vine was actually a harmless everyday variety of ivy, but Mirabelle didn’t think it would mind the lie. “Shall we continue?”
The lake path followed the curve of the shore for the most part. But there was a small section that required the group walk up a steep hill and through the trees. It was tougher going, but well worth it in Mirabelle’s opinion. The advantage of height and the distance from the lake allowed for the most spectacular views of the water. She didn’t even mind stopping when some of the others needed a rest from the climb.
“It’s beautiful,” Miss Heins said softly when they’d reached the top of the hill.
“What it is,” Miss Willory complained, “is muddy.”
It was almost always a bit damp at the top of the hill. The steep side received more sunlight and allowed for draining, but the combination of a thicker canopy and a flat expanse meant the top often had several small puddles of mud, and one larger stretch of it that disappeared around a curve.