Amanda Scott (12 page)

“Thank you, doctor. Mr. Sitwell has said it will be safe to take my brother home to Bath in a day or so. Is that correct?”

“Certainly, certainly, but I thought the young man said he was going into Leicestershire from here.”

“He might have said so, but what he will do is another matter.” She meant it, but half an hour later when she entered Brandon’s bedchamber to find him sitting up in bed, his dinner on a tray before him, she soon discovered that he had other notions.

“Go to Bath? I should say not!” he exclaimed when she told him what she had decided. “No, really, Syb, I’ve plans to visit friends in Leicestershire. A neat little hunting box with all the trimmings, even a French cook. You’d not want me to miss that! I ought to be there now but for this deuced accident.”

“You will perhaps do as you are told, for once,” Ramsbury said sternly from behind Sybilla’s shoulder.

“The devil I will,” Brandon retorted furiously, “and you’ve not the least right to command me, so do not attempt it!”

“Please, Ned,” Sybilla said hastily when she saw the earl’s brows knit together in that look she knew so well. “It cannot be good for him to fly into a temper. Perhaps, if the doctor does not think it unwise—”

“It don’t matter a hoot what the sawbones thinks,” Brandon snapped, shooting an unloving glare at the gentleman in question.

The doctor said with a smile, “As it happens, I see nothing amiss in the young gentleman’s driving into Leicestershire if his friend means to go with him. Driving himself is out of the question until that shoulder heals, and I doubt he will want to do any hunting for several weeks, but—”

“Much you know,” Brandon muttered, scowling, but his temper cooled rapidly once he saw the doctor did not mean to oppose him, and a moment later he was grinning at Sybilla. “Goose, you worry too much. Don’t bother your head about me. You can see for yourself that nothing’s truly amiss.”

She couldn’t agree, but she knew from long experience that having made up his mind, he would do as he pleased. If she tried to dissuade him, he would fly into a passion, and that could do him no good at all. Ignoring Ramsbury’s grim look, she thanked the doctor, bade her brother good night, and retired to her bedchamber to fall asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

The following day was spent entertaining the invalid, who insisted by afternoon, despite the doctor’s orders, that he was fit enough to come downstairs for his supper. If the ordeal tired him, he concealed the fact beneath a charmingly cheerful countenance and a bantering manner, insisting upon playing whist for penny points until his weary sister proclaimed herself exhausted and took herself off to bed.

Though she had not then given up the notion of persuading him at least to keep to the inn for a few more days, she did so the next morning when it became obvious that he intended to depart just as soon as he had consumed a hearty breakfast.

When she opened her mouth to debate the decision, he shook his head. “Don’t say it, Syb. I’m going, and that’s all there is about it.”

She sighed. “Very well, then, but I will depend upon you not to behave too foolishly. And you, Mr. Sitwell, must give your word to sit upon him if he tries to ride a horse before he is truly mended. Do you promise?”

“Aye, ma’am,” replied Mr. Sitwell doubtfully.

Ramsbury made no attempt to take part in the conversation, and when the two younger gentlemen had gone upstairs to attend to last-minute details before their departure, Sybilla looked at him searchingly. “I daresay you think I ought to have insisted that he heed my wishes, or that I ought to have let you force him to do so. Which is it, Ned? You have been very silent.”

He grimaced. “I think neither of those things. Indeed, I believe you concern yourself unnecessarily over that brat. He won’t thank you for it.”

“I don’t require his thanks. I know my duty, and I care very deeply for Brandon.”

“I know that, though God and everyone else of sense knows he doesn’t deserve your concern. And don’t snap my nose off for speaking the truth to you,” he added harshly. “If you wish to do anything else before we depart from this place, you’d better attend to it now. I’ve ordered the phaeton for ten o’clock, and we’ve lingered rather long over breakfast.”

She stiffened. “There is no reason for you to continue dancing attendance on me, sir. I have decided to return by way of Westerleigh Hall, since it lies this side of Bristol and thus is nearer to us than Bath is. You cannot think I require your escort when I visit my brother Charles and his family.”

“You will not be rid of me so easily as that, Sybilla,” he said with a tired smile. “Not only is the weather steadily growing worse, but the road from Charfield to Westerleigh cannot be familiar to you. I know you won’t get lost, but it would be folly to chance losing a wheel or breaking an axle where you don’t know the country. Moreover, ’tis my tiger who attends us, you will recall, not your groom.”

“I’ll hire a man from the village,” she said firmly. “You may make your own arrangements.”

“No.”

She glanced at him, but he said no more than the one word. Furious, she turned with a flounce and went upstairs to get her cloak, hat, and gloves. By the time they had reached Nibley, however, she was once again grateful for his presence. Not only was the road in poor repair, but they could scarcely see it for the thickening mist, and she was glad that he was driving.

“We are going to find an inn,” he said the moment the carriage wheels struck cobblestones.

Recognizing the implacable note in his voice and knowing better than to challenge it outright, she said, “Very well, but only to warm ourselves. Despite the gloom, it cannot be past one, and I want to make Westerleigh today.”

He said grimly, “I think you are going to be disappointed, because this mist, if I am not mistaken, will soon turn to rain, if not snow. We’ll rack up here and hope for better weather tomorrow. I’ve no wish to freeze to death on this damned road.”

“Good gracious, Ned, the hall cannot be but a few miles from here! We can easily make it in an hour or so.”

He called over his shoulder, “Jem, do you know these parts?”

“Nay, m’lord,” the tiger shouted from the other side of the hood. “Never been here afore, and I’ll tell you, them tall hedges a-leanin’ over the roadway in this fog make me keep listenin’ fer boggarts and beasties. Makes m’ flesh crawl.”

“Very likely.” He looked at Sybilla. “You cannot possibly be any warmer than I am, and I’ll tell you right now that once I find a fire I’m going to sit by it till bedtime.” His expression altered, making his thoughts clear to her even before he added, “Perhaps by then I’ll have found something else to warm me.”

“Don’t hold your breath, my lord.”

She could not deny the cold or the damp. Nor could she think him mistaken in believing the weather would grow worse before it got better. Still, she had not needed his suggestive remark to tell her she did not wish to spend the night at an inn with only him for company. It had been easy at Charfield, with Sitwell and Brandon to provide buffers, but there would be no one to help her at Nibley. By the time Ramsbury located the inn through the deepening mist, she had decided she would have to take matters into her own hands. The information they received at the inn reinforced that decision.

“Only the one bedroom for hire upstairs and the taproom below,” the landlord replied to Ramsbury’s request for two bedchambers and a sitting room. “Don’t get many folks on this road. Can let ye have the taproom to yerselves, I expect, lessen we gets more company tonight. Don’t think we will, though. Most folks’ll be laid low where it’s warm.”

“The one room will have to do then,” Ramsbury said. “Draw me some ale, man, and fetch out a maidservant to see to my wife. She will wish to refresh herself.”

“Aye, we’ve a maidservant, sure enough. Here, Sarah! Lady needs yer!” he shouted. Moving to the tap, he drew a tankard of ale, blew the foam from the top, and handed it to Ramsbury. “That do yer, sir?”

“Excellent,” the earl responded, meeting Sybilla’s shocked gaze with a look of amusement.

She moved nearer, turning her back to the landlord and speaking in a low tone so that he would not hear. “You will not share my bed, Ned, so you need not think it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “ ’Tis the only bed in the house, love. You heard the man.”

“There will be a carpet,” she snapped, “or a nice hard floor!”

“I should infinitely prefer a soft bed and your arms to comfort and warm me.”

“They are more like to strangle you,” she muttered.

He chuckled, but just then the maid entered, apologizing for the delay and assuring Sybilla that she would have her settled in a jiff. Sybilla followed the young woman willingly, racking her brain to think what to do. Only one solution presented itself. Inside the tiny bedchamber—really there was not even room on the floor for a man Ramsbury’s size to stretch out—she turned quickly to the maid.

“Is there someone who can help me get to Westerleigh Hall?” she demanded.

“Why, mistress, the weather—”

“Never mind the weather. Is there someone who knows the way to Westerleigh well enough to find it in this dreadful mist?”

“Aye, I expect m’ brother Seth could find it easy enough, but why would ye be wantin’ ter set out again when ye’ve only just got here?”

Sybilla opened her mouth to inform the young woman that it was none of her affair, but her good sense stopped her before the words were formed. Ramsbury would be on her heels before she was out of the innyard if she did not have help. Her brain worked swiftly, and the words fell from her lips without thought. “I have been abducted,” she said in a conspiratorial murmur. “That man below wishes to seduce me, and he brought me here thinking no one would help me. He is accustomed to getting what he wants,” she added, thinking that that much, at least, was true.

“We’ve a constable in Nibley,” the maid said, shocked. “I’ll have m’ father send for him straightaway.”

“No!” Sybilla exclaimed, horrified. “Oh, no, you mustn’t do that. His lordship is a powerful man, and it would never do for us to cross him so openly as that. But you must help me. Seek out this Seth you told me about, and have him hitch horses to my phaeton. If he will direct me, I am an experienced driver, and I will see to it he comes to no harm. I will also pay him handsomely,” she added shrewdly.

The maid nodded. “Do you wait here, m’lady, and I’ll tell Seth what he is to do. We’ll have to wait till his lordship’s man comes into the kitchen for his dinner, but then Seth can see to things, right enough. How will you get away, then?”

“You’ll tell his lordship that I am not feeling well,” Sybilla said, thinking quickly. “No doubt he will assume that I am only sulking, but that will do as well, for he will leave me alone, I think. If he suggests calling a doctor or coming up himself to see how I am, I must depend upon you to think of a way to stop him. Can you do it?”

“Oh, yes, m’lady,” replied the maid, entering into the spirit of the thing. “I’ll tell him I’ve given you one of my ma’s possets and it’s put you straight off to sleep. It would do, too,” she added, grinning.

“Very well,” Sybilla said, sighing with relief. “Perhaps I will go down now and have a bite to eat. Then I can tell him I wish to rest. That will give you time to attend to everything.”

And so it was. Ramsbury, having found a newspaper on the bar in the taproom, was deep in its contents soon after they dined, and he raised no objection to Sybilla’s desire to rest after the meal. She hurried upstairs, threw her cloak over her shoulders, pinned her hat in place, and drew her veil over her face. Sarah came to fetch her only minutes later, and after listening carefully at the door, they tiptoed down the corridor to the back stairs and descended to the rear door. Sarah put her finger to her lips, nodding toward the kitchen, from whence Sybilla could hear the sound of Lassiter’s voice. She nodded and followed Sarah across the yard to the stable.

The young man who met them nodded in reply to Sybilla’s questions, assuring her that they could best get away by taking the phaeton slowly around behind the stable to the road.

“Can’t see nothing from yon kitchen in this weather,” he said, “but they may hear if we ain’t careful, and ain’t no one else hereabouts with a rig like this one. Chance is, man’ll recognize the sound of ‘is master’s rig.”

“No, he won’t,” Sybilla said, “for the rig is mine, not his, but you make a good point. It won’t do for anyone to hear us.”

That he was relieved to learn he wasn’t stealing the earl’s phaeton was obvious, for the young man relaxed visibly. After that, it was relatively simple for him to lead the horses—the same team they had driven from Charfield—to the road. When he started to swing himself up onto the tiger’s perch, however, Sybilla hissed at him to join her on the driver’s seat.

“It won’t do for you to sit back there, for you cannot see past the hood well enough to guide me.”

“Can’t see worth a groat as it is,” he said, chuckling, “but Westerleigh Hall ain’t hard ter find. You be a friend to Mrs. Manningford, ma’am?”

“I am Mr. Manningford’s sister,” she said.

“Ah, well it be a pleasure to meet you, ma’am, and ’tis glad we be ter favor Mr. Manningford. He is a right good landlord.”

“Is he, indeed?” said Sybilla politely. She had her doubts that the credit went to Charlie. It was Clarissa Manningford who ruled the roast at Westerleigh, but at least it appeared that she had the good sense not to flaunt that fact.

By the time Sybilla turned the phaeton between the tall iron gates at the end of the avenue leading to the hall, she was chilled through, damp, and miserable. As Ramsbury had predicted, the mist had turned to snow twenty minutes after they reached the roadway, and the phaeton’s hood did little to protect them. Seth hunched beside her, his hands dug into his jacket pockets for warmth and his chin tucked down into the wool scarf he had wrapped around his throat. Sybilla’s hand were numb, despite her thick gloves, and she was stiff and tired by the time she handed the reins to the lad and told him to take the carriage around to the back and turn the horses over to Mr. Manningford’s people.