Fenella J Miller (3 page)

Alex was returning from the stables with his host and two other gentlemen when he saw Eleanor and the children running across the grass to the woods. A plump nursemaid trundled along behind, clutching a picnic basket. The shouts and calls from the boys made him smile. The adults in that household were either subdued or bad-tempered, but the children were obviously unaffected, their high spirits plain to see.

“Forgive me, Haverstock, I have left my crop behind. I shall, no doubt, catch up with you in the billiard room later this afternoon.”

He let the others continue without him and headed for the woods. Lady Eleanor was chaperoned so it would be perfectly acceptable for him to join her and the children for a while even in the privacy of the trees.

The sound of splashing echoed down the path. What was it about this family and water? Smiling, he headed towards the noise. However, something made him pause, to dawdle, giving him time to consider the real reason he was seeking out her company.

He needed a mother for his children, not a wife. Sarah gave him everything that a wife could, and made no demands either financial or emotional. The arrangement suited him perfectly. He had known when he met Anna that he would never love another. Eleanor would be an ideal choice for what he required. Surely she would leap at the chance to escape from her brother’s cruel domination? All he had to do was spend the day with her and he would know for certain if she was a suitable candidate.

The shouting and laughter drew him forward but the voice talking to the children was that of the nursemaid, not Eleanor. Soft footed, he approached the sunlit clearing just ahead, wanting to see before being seen.

The children were paddling in the stream, lifting stones and exclaiming over what they discovered hiding there. Where was their aunt? A slight movement at the far side of the dell caught his eye and he moved forward. His quarry was resting peacefully against a tree trunk, her skirt smoothed out carefully over her legs and not even an inch of ankle visible. He remained where he was for a moment staring at her. She looked almost pretty with the harsh lines of worry smoothed from her face.

He must not lurk in this way. He cleared his throat loudly. “Lady Eleanor, is there sufficient in your hamper to feed an extra mouth?”

Her eyes flew open and there was dismay, not pleasure, written on her face. He was not wanted here; he had made a grave error of judgement. He bowed. “I beg your pardon, madam. I am obviously
de trop
. I shall—”

Although he had spoken quietly his words had carried and the smallest boy heard him. “Lord Bentley, what fun! Are you going to fall in the stream for us today?”

He shrugged an apology and turned to greet the child. “Absolutely not! However, I shall be delighted to paddle with you all. Do you know how to catch a stickleback with your hands?”

“I am sorry if I seemed ungracious, sir, you startled me. You are, of course, most welcome to stay and enjoy a picnic with us.”

He glanced down, Eleanor was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. His first impression had been correct; she did not want him here. She was prepared to suffer his presence because the children wished it. For some reason her disdain annoyed him. He did not enjoy being rebuffed in this way.

When Eleanor opened her eyes and saw Bentley standing there, her stomach flipped. Why was this man pursuing her? She had no wish to encourage him; the last time a gentleman had shown a serious interest in her he had vanished without a trace. It might have been a coincidence, but she feared her brother had been involved with his disappearance. She had no wish to be responsible for any harm coming to this man just because he felt sorry for her and enjoyed the company of the children.

She had not intended to reveal her feelings, but his smile faded. Hastily scrambling to her feet, she went to his side to tender her apologies. Now that Peter had seen him, she had no choice but to invite him to stay. Should she warn him of her fears or would he think her ready for Bedlam?

Of course she couldn’t speak. Not only would he consider her deranged, but would think her decidedly forward. She was at her last prayers—what possible interest could she be to this handsome aristocrat? From the cut of his clothes, one could see he spared no expense. Haverstock only invited the cream of Society to his house parties.

At his mention of catching sticklebacks her interest was piqued. “That is impossible, sir. They are the smallest and most slippery of creatures. I defy anyone to catch one in his hands.”

He grinned. “Is that a challenge? I accept. But I shall demand a reward if I am successful.”

“Nonsense! You shall have my resounding applause and that will have to suffice.”

“Very well, Lady Eleanor. However, you must promise to answer me three questions honestly if I succeed, and I shall do the same for you if I fail. Is that acceptable?”

There seemed no harm in this request so she nodded. “I agree. Now, children, we must set some rules for this challenge. How many attempts is Lord Bentley to be allowed before we declare him the loser?”

“Three, no more, but you may take as long as you like for each one, my lord.” Ned, as always, acted as spokesperson for his siblings. The boys clapped and Amanda squealed.

“Hush, children, your noise is scaring away the fish. We do not wish to be unfair to Lord Bentley, now do we?”

“I don’t believe fish have ears, Lady Eleanor. As long as no one splashes about in the water whilst I make my attempts you may make as much noise as you wish.”

Eleanor turned to Mary, who was standing to one side and most interested in what was taking place. “Would you lay out the picnic under the tree, please, Mary? We shall all be hungry and thirsty by the time this fish catching experiment is over.”

Lord Bentley lay face down on the bank and peered into the shallow water where the reeds and stones were plentiful. She watched with amazement as one by one the children lay down on either side of him, mesmerized by his strange behaviour. Intrigued in spite of her reservations, she stood behind him, watching what he did.

He pushed himself onto his knees with a satisfied smile. “This is an ideal spot. I must remove my jacket and roll up my shirtsleeves before I attempt this amazing feat. Young man, do you have a receptacle in which I can put my trophy?”

Peter scrambled to his feet and delved into his pockets. “I have my handkerchief. Will that do?”

Ned laughed derisively. “A handkerchief, Peter? Lord Bentley means a jar of some sort, do you not, sir?”

“Your handkerchief will do perfectly. If you soak it first, the fish will come to no harm the short time it will be out of the water.”

Eleanor followed Bentley as he walked away from the edge of the stream to remove his jacket. “Thank you. I’m afraid that sometimes Ned can be a little harsh in his dealings with his younger brothers. He does not suffer fools gladly.” She could have added he had more reason to be aggressive than the other three, but refrained. How the children behaved was none of this man’s business. What went on in her family was a private matter.

Mary hurried across to take his jacket, carefully draping it over a convenient branch. When Eleanor turned he was beside the water, his shirt sleeves rolled up. She flushed. Surely a man should not be displaying his forearms? Should she not go and join him at the bank? Ignoring the possible breach of etiquette she hurried over to stand as before, just behind him. The children resumed their places, prone on the grassy edge.

The only sounds in the dell were the gurgle of the water and the songs of the birds in the trees that surrounded them. The children had never been so quiet or remained so still. She peered over his shoulder as his strong brown arm slipped into the water. He held it stationary for a few moments. Then with a flick of his wrist, a small scrap of wriggling silver flew into the air to land at her feet. Immediately Peter was beside it and rolled it tenderly into his wet handkerchief.

“Good gracious! That was amazing! Look children, before we put it back. Isn’t it a beautiful fish?” She had no need to urge them for they were already exclaiming in admiration. Peter, who had taken charge of the stickleback, decided it had been out of its element long enough and tipped it back. The fish swam away unharmed.

“I believe I have just won the challenge, Lady Eleanor. Shall we stroll around the wood whilst the children attempt to emulate my amazing skill?”

The last thing she wanted was to be private with him. If Jane or Edward learnt of this there would be horrible repercussions not only for herself but also for Lord Bentley. “I cannot leave the children alone at the water’s edge, my lord. We shall have to postpone questioning until another time.”

He was not so easily dissuaded. “Mary, come and watch the children. Lady Eleanor and I wish to sit under the tree and converse.”

The maid curtsied and rushed to obey his command. How dare he issue orders to her servants? “I am sorry, Lord Bentley, but I’m no longer amused by this silly charade. I think it would be better if you return to the abbey.” She nodded her dismissal and his jaw hardened. “I am sure you would not wish to be the subject of idle gossip any more than I would.”

He snatched up his jacket and attempted to ram his arms in without bothering to roll down his shirt sleeves. The top coat was close-fitting. This was an impossible task.

He had his back to her. Should she offer to help before he lost his temper and blamed her, or one of the children, for his plight?

She shrank back against the tree. He spun around and she flinched.

God’s teeth!

Alex was firmly jammed, both arms half in his jacket and unable to extricate himself. His lips twitched. This ridiculous situation had put paid to his storming off in high dudgeon. He would have to ask for her assistance or he would be stuck there like a clodpole when the children came for their lunch. No doubt she would be laughing already at his predicament.

He turned and his amusement faded.

What had happened to turn a confident young woman into a shivering heap? “What is it? What has frightened you?”

There must be something in the trees. He could not protect her, restricted as he was. He would be free regardless of the ruination of his new jacket. He punched his arms out and heard a shocking rip as the sleeves tore from the shoulder seams, leaving him unfettered.

He froze. He could hear his breathing in the silence. The children had stopped playing, Lady Eleanor was clutching the trunk of the tree for support. Angrily he ripped the sleeves from his arms and tossed them down. He must reassure her, tell her he would not let anything harm her. He took one step forwards and then a small body launched itself onto his back knocking him to his knees.

“You shall not harm her. You’re a bad man. I hate you. I hate you.” Each statement was accompanied by punches and kicks. Fortunately the youngster was still barefoot. Alex reached round and gripped Ned’s arms, swinging him around to face him.

“Enough. Enough, young man.” He shook the boy to emphasize his command. From nowhere Eleanor appeared, a length of stick in her hand. There was a searing pain in his head and his world went black.

Eleanor dropped the piece of wood she had used to strike Lord Bentley. She was frozen to the spot. Her limbs were leaden. She felt as if she was viewing the unconscious man through the wrong end of a spyglass. Amanda whimpered and her brain refocused.

“I have not killed him, darling, he shall be perfectly fine in a little while.” She had no idea if this was in fact the case. He had fallen as if pole-axed. Unless she turned him over to view the injury she would have no idea if the damage was as serious as it appeared. Ned was not so squeamish.

“He is still breathing, Aunt Eleanor, but there is a prodigious amount of blood. What are we going to do?”

The children must go back to the house. They could not be involved in this disaster. “Mary, quickly, take the children away. If you follow this path it will lead you to the maze. Take them in there and don’t return to the abbey for an hour at least. Pretend you have been there all morning. I shall deal with this matter.”

She guided the children back to the stream and helped Mary refasten their boots. Gathering them within the circle of arms she kissed each in turn. “My dears, you must not speak of this to anyone—ever. Do you understand? Whatever happens to me, this has nothing to do with any of you. I can only bear the consequences of my actions if I know that you are all safe.”

Amanda dried her eyes on her sleeve and Peter sniffed loudly. The two older boys exchanged worried glances, but nodded their agreement. Ned said what they were all thinking. “I didn’t think there could be another gentleman with the same temper as our father. Whatever anyone says, he deserved it.”

Eleanor squeezed Ned’s shoulder. “You’re brave, young man. I am proud of you. You must now take care of your siblings. I love you, all of you. God bless you.”

She remained on her knees until they were out of sight. Would this be the last time she ever saw them? She had not known herself to be a violent woman. Her repressed rage had surfaced in a moment of madness when she had seen Bentley about to hurt her nephew.

Bandages were needed and a clean wet cloth to clean the wound. When she had tended to the injured man she would run to the house and fetch help. To leave him to die was unthinkable even if his recovery would mean her possible arrest and certain incarceration.

Would it be better to claim insanity and be confined to an institution or tell the truth and pray that the magistrate would believe her? She shuddered. Would her title protect her from the hangman’s noose if poor Lord Bentley died?

After tearing several strips from her petticoat she dipped one into the stream to clean the wound. She must not procrastinate further. This man had not deserved to be struck down. Her eyes brimmed. He had children of his own. What would the poor things do if they were left orphaned by her dreadful actions?

He was so still; he had not moved nor made a sound since she had hit him on the forehead. Dropping to her knees beside him, she placed her fingers at the juncture of his jawbone and his neck. To her astonishment, and relief, she felt a regular pulse. Lord Bentley was alive, and perhaps not as badly injured as she had feared.

With some difficulty she rolled him over. The gash running across the right-hand side of his head made her stomach lurch. He must have lost half a pint of blood already and if she did nothing to stem the flow he would die. Folding the wet material, she cleaned away the traces of bark and dirt from the wound then quickly pressed a second pad across the gash.

Holding this in place, she deftly tied several strips of petticoat around his head and didn’t release the pressure until she was certain the bandages were doing the job for her. Throughout this procedure he had been comatose, his breathing regular, but he showed no sign of waking. Satisfied she had done all she could, she ran across to fetch the picnic rug and placed it over him. Retrieving the sleeves from his coat she folded them up and put them carefully under his head.

There was nothing more she could do.

Her gown was blood-spattered, no doubt her face and hands also. Would it help to clean herself and appear at the abbey calm and dispassionate? Or would running pell-mell to report her crime in her dishevelled state give weight to her plea of insanity? The blood-stained cloths she had used were scattered on the grass. She could not bear to look at them. When they were safely buried she was ready to return and report what had happened.