Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

“You’re holding the net like a tennis racket. We’re not out to kil . Think of it as netting a fish out of a fishbowl. Like this. Gently.”

He guided her arm in slow, swishy, underhanded swoops. His minty breath felt cool on her warm neck. She shouldn’t be here, like this, with Henry, when the riddle needed to be solved. The sun shone in what had become a Tiffany-box-blue sky, the birds sang overhead, and she was, of al things, chasing butterflies with a captivating man. How a guy could’ve made catching butterflies look manly, sexy even, blew her mind.

“There. That’s better. Just relax.”

Easy for him to say, he didn’t have a stolen vibrator rattling around in his bonnet and a burning desire to find something that matched the description of a house without wal s.

He released his hand from hers, and even in this summer heat, her hand suddenly felt cold. “Mr. Wrightman, would you be so kind as to fix my tiara? I’m quite sure you could do it, after al .”

“I’m happy to do the smithing, but there isn’t enough time to have it ready for the bal .”

“That doesn’t matter. I’l have a footman bring it to you before you leave. Please, though, don’t let Lady Grace help you with it.”

“Did Mr. Darcy al ow Caroline Bingley to mend his pen?”

Chloe laughed. Did this mean he saw Grace as a Caroline Bingley type?! Chloe knew she couldn’t be the only one who’d noticed a similarity between Grace and the Jane Austen character.

He pointed to a couple butterflies across the lawn in the lavender, and motioned her toward them, but then stopped and squinted toward the rose garden. “You’re wearing my glasses and I’m nearsighted—is Mrs. Crescent trying to get your attention?”

“No. Not real y.” Chloe pretended not to see Mrs. Crescent, who stood now under the shady bower of roses, and waved Chloe in like a jumbo jet on a foggy runway. As Mrs. Crescent waddled toward them, Chloe’s arm went limp and the net fel to her side. She didn’t catch a single butterfly and she wasn’t able to go beyond the hedgerow. She took a step back and crushed a clump of lavender behind her.

Fifi trotted up to Chloe as Henry bowed to Mrs. Crescent. “Thank you for releasing your charge for a few moments, Mrs. Crescent.” He reached for the butterfly net in Chloe’s hand, but she moved it behind her back and pushed it into the lawn as if she were staking her claim.

The servants had set up a green-and-white striped canopy above the clover patch.

Mrs. Crescent wiped sweat from under her cap with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “Miss Parker, the mantua-maker is here to work on your gown.” She lifted her watch from her chatelaine and tapped on it. “I would’ve sent a servant to tel you, but I thought I’d deliver the message personal y, so you understand the sense of urgency.”

Chloe looked back at the hedgerow. “Mrs. Crescent, Mr. Wrightman, you must excuse me. I’l be right with you. Just wait here!” She curtsied, held on to her bonnet, and ran al the way to the end of the hedgerow.

“Obstinate girl!” she heard Mrs. Crescent say.

“Is she, real y?” Henry asked.

“I implore you, Mr. Wrightman, to please get her back here immediately.”

Chloe heard al this, because she was on the other side of the hedgerow, exactly where the shaft of light would’ve pointed, and she found herself looking at a gazebo she had never noticed before.

“A house without wal s,” she said to herself.

By the time Henry caught up with her, she had discovered a fountain on the other side of the gazebo. It was in the form of a statue, a merman tipping a seashel , but the fountain was dry. She looked frantical y for a secret door of some kind, but the fountain was solid.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked.

“Admiring this fountain,” Chloe said. She was stil looking for some kind of secret door when she stepped on a smal metal square with a green patina. It must’ve had something to do with accessing the plumbing for the fountain.

“Your chaperone is growing very impatient. I think you’ve pushed her to her limit.”

Chloe yanked on the weathered ring that was set into the metal until the smal square creaked open. There, just under the lid, was a basket with a note that read, You have found the secret door outside the house without walls, but have you solved the puzzle in the poem? If so, you may place your answer here. If not, then you must go back and begin again.

Henry walked over, but Chloe slammed the lid shut just in time.

“Mrs. Crescent is waiting.”