A Question of Impropriety (18 page)

Brett paid no heed to the man and raced forwards. The heat from the engine seared his face. Simon Clare stood propped up at the controls, eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the carnage happening around him. He had courage, Brett would grant him that.

‘This contraption is going to explode! Get out while you can.'

Clare glanced at him. ‘Get away from here. You don't know what you are playing at, your lordship. Go back and play with your horses. Leave this to the experts.'

‘Neither do you!'

‘I am perfectly safe. You will be in danger if you stand there.' Clare leant forwards and twisted a knob. The great machine heaved forward again with a grinding sound. Sparks flew up in greater arcs, covering Brett with a thousand pin points of light.

‘Not as much danger as you are in.'

Without hesitating, Brett plunged in and pulled the man out. The infernal machine gave one last shudder and then the orange-red flames licked the spot where Clare had stood. He placed Clare on to the ground and turned his attention to the machine and the smouldering rails. The machine continued to puff smoke and steam in to the air.

‘How do you stop it?'

Clare lay there, singed, a queer smile on his face. His features were blackened with soot, but his green eyes blazed. He struggled to stand up, stood there swaying back and forth as Brett examined the wreckage. ‘What sort of mad man are you, Coltonby? I told you to get away from here. You and your bungling have destroyed every thing.'

‘No permission needed. No thanks required.' Brett leant closer, made sure that Clare could see his lips. ‘You would have died in that machine.'

Clare's response was to land a punch on Brett's jaw. Brett staggered back, surprised.

‘I don't forgive a man lightly when he reacts that way,' Brett said, fingering his jaw.

‘You had no cause to rescue me.'

‘You don't want to be rescued. Very well, then.' He picked the man up by his jacket, started to haul him towards the smouldering machine, then stopped. ‘You are not worth it, Clare.'

‘Let go of me,' Clare struggled.

The machine's groaning and creaking in creased. The men who had been gathered round started to scatter.

Brett kept his grip tight around Clare's arm. In this mood, there was no telling what he might do. And he had no wish for Diana to accuse him of harming her brother.

‘Let go of me, Coltonby. If I don't stop it, that boiler will blow.'

‘Promise me you will be sensible.'

But Clare twisted and freed himself from Brett's grasp.

Brett gritted his teeth and watched Clare take three steps. With a gigantic roar, the boiler of the engine exploded. Brett watched in horror as Clare was hit. He staggered and fell to the ground. He got up on to his knees and tried to rise, only to fall again.

‘I think I might have overestimated something.' He collapsed on the ground and lay still.

Brett leant down him over. Clare's face was pale white against the soot. He gave a funny gurgle and lay still. Brett put his ear to Clare's chest and heard the faint rattle of a breath.

‘Get a doctor, quick!'

‘D
o I have to do my times table?' Robert looked up from the dining-room table. ‘I am not at school, and the sun is shining.'

‘You will be learning at home until Dr Allen says that you can return.' Diana regarded her nephew. She wanted to be else where, as well. Not in here, stuck trying to remember how the eight times table went. The weather had turned slightly chillier and the sloes, blackberries and other hedge fruit were ready for picking. There were a thousand other things she longed to do, but her duty was to ensure Robert kept up with his school work. If she concentrated on Robert, she could forget Simon's insidious accusations about Brett. His words kept going round and round in her brain. Why had Brett become interested in her? Why had he started paying her attention? She needed to know the answer, but it also frightened her. What if Simon was correct?

‘But…but…'

‘Do you want your school friends to see that you have fallen behind? Do you want them to laugh at you? I have always had trouble with my eights, in particular eight times
seven.' She swallowed hard. He had to understand how easy it was to fail. ‘I know how cruel people can be.'

‘But I can already do up to the twelve times table, Aunt Diana,' Robert blurted out, holding out his paper. ‘See! It is simple, particularly eight times seven. You write fifty-six equals seven times eight.'

Diana sighed, and reached for the paper. He had neatly written out all the times tables. The pain behind her eyes threatened to become a fully fledged headache. Despite having no expense spared on her education, her grasp of mathematics remained hazy. Abandoning maths might be the best plan. ‘Shall we try geography, then? I will draw a map of Northumberland and you can put in the principal rivers and towns. And I want the handwriting legible, not ink stained.'

Robert groaned. Then his face brightened. ‘I can hear horses. Someone is coming to visit.'

‘Robert. You cannot hear the stables from the house. Sit back down.'

‘No really, I can.' Robert rushed to the window. ‘They are coming up the gravel path, but it looks like Papa's carriage.'

Diana's hand trembled slightly. There was no reason for Simon to return home so quickly. He had told her this morning at break fast that he would not make the midday meal as he wanted to have a trial run of the engine. Her mind raced with all sorts of possibilities and she tried to hang on to the most rational—Robert was seeking an excuse to stop his school work.

‘What nonsense, Robert. Your father would never come up the gravel path. He always goes to the stables.' Diana pointed to the chair. ‘Pick up your pen and concentrate.'

‘But he is. I know my father's carriage.'

Diana went to stand next to her nephew. Simon's carriage
was indeed turning up the drive. She pressed her lips together as the back of her neck prickled. ‘Robert, I was wrong and you are right. Remain here while I see what is going on. And while I am away, you may recite your eight times table.'

Ignoring his groans, she walked quickly outside, in time to see Brett alighting from the carriage. His face was furrowed and his coat covered in soot. He made no move towards her. She tried for a smile, but he gave a brief shake of his head. She forced her legs to carry her out to the carriage.

‘Is this some sort of joke?' Diana asked quietly. ‘Why are you in Simon's carriage? Where is yours? You are scaring me, Brett.'

‘No joke.' A great weariness hung over him. ‘I have been to the colliery. There was an accident.'

Diana's mind raced. Fire damp? An exploding engine in the pump house? The colliery had a good safety record, but that counted for nothing. Pockets of dangerous gas could develop without warning. She had tried to tell Simon that he should find a solution to that problem, but he had only laughed and said that he would, after he'd managed to get the travelling engine to work. She swallowed hard and refused to let her mind wander down that path. ‘And Simon? Where is he? What have you done with him? Is he…?'

Her throat closed and she could not ask the final question.

‘Your brother lives. You must keep that in your mind. He is alive.' Brett nodded towards the carriage. ‘I have brought him back to you.'

‘Diana.' A voice croaked from the carriage.

Diana peered in and saw Simon sitting there with his face swathed in bandages. He held his arm awkwardly. His
clothes were far more rumpled that Brett's and a distinct smell of smoke and grease hung about the carriage. ‘What happened?'

‘Coltonby will explain.' Simon closed his un dam aged eye and leant back against the carriage seat.

‘The travelling engine. Or rather the non-travelling engine. Your brother's attempts at Loco Motion have failed. Spectacularly.' Brett proceeded to explain the morning's events.

Diana listened with growing horror.

‘I am grateful you arrived in time.'

‘I would have sorted it!' came the yell from the carriage. ‘Do not believe Coltonby, Diana! It was a triumph! A triumph! If he hadn't pulled me from the engine, I would have stopped it.'

‘Or you would be dead. Nobody could have stopped the boiler from blowing.'

‘Coltonby, you have no idea about engines.'

‘I know enough.'

‘I knew it! I knew it! You want to get that land cheap. You have done a deal with the Bolts. It is why you have been nosing around my sister.'

‘I have no idea what you are talking about. I have made no arrangement with the Bolts.' Brett's voice was calm and measured.

‘Brett?' Diana whispered. He wrapped his fingers about her hand and gave it a brief reassuring squeeze. Then let go.

‘Your brother took a blow to the head, Diana. He is not in his right mind. Ignore what he says. Ignore every thing he says about the land.'

She nodded, wanting to believe him, but she had also seen his eyes, seen the way they slid away from her.

‘Your brother has been ranting and raving all the way
home. I have paid it no mind. The doctor wanted someone with him. He is afraid that he might be suffering from shock. People in shock say things that are not to be believed.' Brett reached out and touched her hand. ‘He will bear the scars of this day for the rest of his life.'

Diana's brow wrinkled. She knew vaguely of the term ‘shock'. She had heard it used before, but had never actually seen the effects. She peered again into the gloom of the carriage. Her brother moved restlessly, irritably.

‘Will he recover?'

‘He has the luck of the devil. He is alive, Diana. He may lose the eye, but his limbs will heal eventually and the burns on his face will fade. But he will have to spend time resting.'

‘Easier said than done with Simon.' Diana at tempted a laugh, but it came out as a strangled cry. It was all too easy to imagine what had nearly happened. She had to be thankful for small mercies. Only an eye, when he could have lost his arm or worse. ‘Simon hates to be ill. He sees it as a sign of weakness, that it is his duty to get up as soon as possible.'

‘Why does that not surprise me?' Brett's lips turned upwards.

‘And you are a good patient?'

‘Guilty as charged.' Brett touched his hat. ‘The doctor has given him some laudanum and it should help make him sleep. He will call later today to check on his patient.'

‘I assume you used Dr MacFarlane, the colliery's physician. He is good, if a little old fashioned in his methods.'

‘He was quite thorough.'

‘And with you as well?'

‘With me?' Brett gave a shrug. ‘A few bruises and scrapes, but nothing life threatening.'

‘I see.' Diana pressed her hands together, to prevent them
from reaching out to him and discovering for herself his injuries. She had to remain discreet.

Diana motioned to several of the servants, who helped Simon from the carriage. At first, it appeared that Simon had fallen asleep, but he eventually rose and stumbled from the carriage.

Simon's face turned black and he pointed his finger. ‘That man interfered with my engine. Mine! And the land stays mine despite your sniffing around my sister. I know what you are on about, Coltonby.'

‘Simon!'

‘We were not all born with a golden spoon in our mouths. Some of us had to work for our fortunes.'

‘We will discuss this later, Clare.' Brett turned to Diana, his face stern. ‘Get him into the house before he does himself damage.'

Diana concentrated on getting Simon into the house and then settled into his bed. She tried to be efficient and not to cringe at the red welts on his arms and face, burns from the steam. Robert came rushing in, but halted, uncertain, by the door. Diana walked quickly over and shut it, telling Robert that his father was tired.

She had just turned to go when Simon croaked from the bed. ‘That Coltonby, don't believe a word he says. Interfering fop!'

‘You are over wrought, Simon, and very lucky that Lord Coltonby saw sense not to take offence. Such men settle slurs by duels.'

‘I am the equal of him.' He struggled to sit up. ‘Bring him on! He has insulted you, Diana. I can feel it. He only paid attention to you because he wants me to give him the land. It is why he came to the colliery. I am not afraid to avenge your honour, Diana. I can shoot straight.'

‘I know you can,' Diana said soothingly and forced her
mind from the knowledge that somehow Simon had worked out that Brett had seduced her. How? Had it been only a lucky guess? ‘Now lie back down.'

She smoothed the bed clothes, tucking him as if he were no older than Robert. He turned to face the wall.

‘You were right, Diana. Hedley did not let me have one that could be easily fixed.'

‘I told you the engine wouldn't work. When are you going to abandon this dream?' She waited to hear his scathing remark. He swung his head around and stared at her, his good eye burning with an intense heat.

‘It went, Diana. It moved. It is the rails that are wrong. I can feel it in my bones. It is not the engine that is the problem, but the rails it travels on.'

‘You sleep now. We can speak later.' She brought the sheets up to his chin.

‘You are a good person. Keep Coltonby away from here. He only wants to use you, Diana.'

Diana paused. ‘I don't have any say over where Lord Coltonby goes. And you should be on your knees, thanking him for saving your life.'

‘I would have had the engine under control, if he had not distracted me.' Simon raised his hand. ‘The man's a fop for all his bravery. He is cut from the same cloth as all aristocrats.'

‘You are wrong, Simon.'

‘I know I am right.'

Diana closed the door with a decisive click. Simon wanted a fight, but she did not. Brett was different. He had to be. She retraced her steps and found Brett entertaining Robert in the dining room. The chairs were drawn up like a coach and four and Robert was perched on the end of the table. ‘Robert Clare! Get down this instant.'

Robert slipped down from the table. Both he and Brett
had the grace to hang their heads. Brett had discarded his coat. ‘I thought he could use the distraction.'

‘But on the table?'

‘I needed to have the right perch, Aunt Diana. And Coltonby says that I am a natural with how I hold the ribbons.'

Diana gave Brett a hard look and he shrugged, unrepentant. ‘It is all in the proper teaching. How is the patient?'

‘Robert, go and see Rose,' Diana said. Robert looked as if he was about to protest, but took one glance at Brett and became quiet.

‘We will continue with your driving lesson later.'

‘Yes, Aunt Diana.' He left the room.

‘I thought it would cheer him up.' Brett began to replace the chairs and restore the dining room to some semblance of order.

‘But the dining room table?'

‘It is solid.' He lowered his eyes. ‘There are many uses a table can be put to.'

‘You know them all.'

‘One or three.'

Her insides tingled. Ruthlessly she sup pressed the feelings. Without even waiting or asking, Brett had set about making himself indispensable. But why? Was Simon right? Did it have to do with the land?

‘The fact remains that it should not have been used as a perch.'

‘Your nephew is worried about his father. He needed a distraction.'

‘And you sought to provide it? How obliging of you.' Diana crossed her arms.

‘I do but try. You should see how very obliging I can be.' He made a smooth bow.

‘Is that what you are to me—obliging?'

‘You are upset, Diana.' He reached for her, but she stayed on the other side of the room. His eyes assessed her for a long moment and he ran his hand through his hair. ‘My father was killed in a carriage accident when I was Robert's age. I know what it feels like to have a father who is more interested in machines and objects than in his son. He thought he could make a carriage that could travel on its own. Sheer madness.'

‘Is this why you are against engines?'

‘I am not against progress, Diana, simply against the all-consuming need to achieve it no matter the cost.'

‘What happened after your father's death?'

‘My mother remarried quickly, too quickly. My stepfather sent my brother and me off to Eton where I was beaten and learnt to make cheese on toast. My mother died in child birth and my stepfather simply sent a terse note to tell us that we were now orphans. I know what it is like to be miserable at school and what needs to be done to survive. You wanted to know why I understand Robert—because I was once that boy! There, I have said it! Are you happy?'

‘Brett, I am sorry.' Diana's throat closed. She could see the boy that Brett must have been. ‘I had no idea.'

‘I have never asked for anyone's pity. For a long time, all I had was my name, Diana. I had to make my own way in the world.'