“We’ve taken on too much water.” He stood upright, balanced the long pole in one hand, and flung it like a javelin toward the bank. It landed in the water a few yards short of the shore. “We can fish it out later.”
He looked at her. “I’m a strong swimmer. Can you swim at all?”
She’d stripped off the sash that had secured her hat to her head and used it to bind the hat and her sandals into a bundle. She humphed as she tied the other end of the sash to her wrist. “Despite my having little experience of country ways, swimming is the one outdoor activity I can do, mostly due to trips to the seaside. That and having a little brother who was always issuing challenges.” With a determined light in her eye, she fixed her gaze on the bank. “I don’t swim well, and I’m certainly not fast, but I won’t sink.”
Julian exhaled in relief. Few of their peers, indeed few of their countrymen, could swim at all. “Right, then.” The punt was sinking deeper and deeper. “I’m going in. I’ll wait for you, and we can swim in slowly together.”
She nodded, and he stepped off the stern and plunged into the water. At least it was summer, and although cold, the water wasn’t icy.
He resurfaced, slicked back his hair, and opened his eyes to see her sitting on the sinking prow with her legs in the lake, then she pushed off, sliding into the water.
She floundered somewhat, and when she finally struck out, her style was ungainly, but as she’d promised, she didn’t sink.
He swam across behind her and, with one hand, caught the ring at the front of the punt. Dragging the boat through the water behind him wasn’t easy, but it wouldn’t be for long, and he wanted the evidence.
Half on his back with his left hand gripping the punt’s ring, with a few strong kicks, he swam up alongside Melissa. He kept a few feet away, avoiding her paddling arms and hands. With his free hand, he fished and caught the bundle of her hat and sandals so that the weight of it no longer dragged on her wrist. With sure, steady kicks, he swam parallel to her. “That’s it. It’s not much farther before we’ll be able to stand and walk out.”
A few minutes later, he tested the depth and found he was just tall enough to reach the bottom. He kicked on a few more feet, then stood. The water came to his upper chest. Changing hands, using his right to tow the boat behind him, he waited until Melissa had swum a few more feet, then gripped her elbow. “You can stand, I think.”
She blew out a breath, then tried and discovered he was right. With a sigh of relief, she stood, retrieved her sodden hat and sandals, and waded beside him as they covered the last ten feet to the bank.
“There’s a bit of a step to get out.” He held one hand as, with the other, she hauled her drenched skirts up above her knees, then with his help, she clambered onto the bank.
She paused, catching her breath, then bent and gathered her wet skirts and wrung them out. After releasing the wet fabric, she took three dragging steps up the lawn, swung around, sank down to sit on the thick grass, then slumped back full length, flinging her arms wide.
Not a bad idea.The sun was streaming down, and although the water had been cool, with no wind to further chill them, they’d be warm again soon enough.
He pulled the punt close, then stepped onto the bank and heaved the boat onto the grass. He released it and stared at it for a moment, then looked at his ruined boots. It was tempting to take them off, but he would struggle to do it, and the thought of expending that much energy then and there had him turning to where Melissa lay. He walked to her side, sat, and stretched out beside her.
The caress of the sun on his face felt like a blessing.
He closed his eyes, and they lay there for several minutes, soaking in the warmth.
Eventually, without opening his eyes, he murmured, “Clearly, we have more than one perpetrator on the premises.”
The sound she made signified how deeply unimpressed with that state of affairs she was. After a moment, she asked, “Could Mitchell have done it? Drilled the hole some time ago and left it as another little trap for you?”
“There’s only one punt, and Mama and Frederick took it out yesterday, after we came home. That’s what gave me the idea for an excursion of our own.”
“Ah. I see.” A minute later, she sighed and asked, “So what should we do?”
He considered various options, then said, “We can leave the punt where it is for the moment. Let’s see if we can creep inside and get changed into dry clothes, then meet in our sitting room and figure out our next move.”
“All right.” Melissa sat up, and he followed suit.
She waited while he rose, then took the hand he offered and wobbled to her feet. She gathered up her hat and sandals—she had no idea if Jolene could resurrect the hat—and hand in hand with Julian, crept toward the house by a roundabout route that gave them cover almost all the way to a side door.
They slipped inside and reached the bottom of one of the numerous secondary stairs without meeting anyone. They had to pause at the top and take refuge in an alcove to avoid a pair of maids, but once the chattering girls had passed, they hurried to the family wing and their apartments at the end.
As she led the way into the foyer, she murmured, “I’m surprised you haven’t worked out a better route to clandestinely go back and forth. Like a passage in the walls or something of that ilk.”
He flung her a laughing glance. “These weren’t my rooms while I was growing up.”
“Ah. Of course.” She headed for her bedroom and the bathing chamber beyond. “Are there passages in the walls?”
“Of course.”
She didn’t look back, but from his tone, she could tell he was smiling.
