Fenella J Miller (4 page)

The strain of the past thirty minutes caught up with her and her knees folded. She collapsed under the tree, unable to stop the violent trembling. She drew her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them as if by holding on tight she could prevent this catastrophe from overwhelming her. Why had she not reserved this rage for her brother? If Ned had not attacked Bentley, she was sure he would have done no more than shout at her.

Perhaps it would not hurt if she remained where she was a moment longer. This was her last opportunity to breathe in the sweet scents of the countryside before she was taken away by the constables. When her head stopped spinning and her limbs remained still she would check once more on the patient and then fetch assistance.

Slowly her wits returned and she inched her way up the tree trunk until straight. She stumbled across to the man she had so grievously injured and stooped to check his pulse. Relieved to find his skin was warmer and his heart beating firmly, she straightened.

With one final glance around the clearing, she turned and hurried back along the path. She rehearsed several versions of the event but could think of none that would serve. Unless she involved the children or suggested that Lord Bentley had made an unprovoked attack on her chastity, there was no explanation that made sense.

When she arrived at the rear of the house she came face-to-face with her host. Haverstock’s shocked expression reminded her she had neglected to remove the blood from her person.

“My dear child, what has happened? Has there been an accident?”

She found she couldn’t speak. The enormity of what she’d done completely overwhelmed her.

“Lord Bentley—in the woods.”

She managed no more before collapsing into welcoming blackness.

Alex opened his eyes to find himself alone in the woods. What the hell had happened? His memory was fuzzy and his head hurt like the very devil. He could remember nothing after deciding to follow Lady Eleanor and the children. He had obviously been injured and someone had tended to his wound.

Gingerly he touched his forehead. His fingers encountered a neatly wrapped bandage. How extraordinary! What had happened to the sleeves of his jacket? Who had covered him up with a picnic blanket? He wished he could recall how he had come to be injured. He must assume that Lady Eleanor had been the one to look after him, but why had she left him alone?

He should get up, not lie on the ground waiting for someone to assist him. He pushed himself up to his elbows and a wave of nausea accompanied by a blinding pain across his eyes sent him plunging back into oblivion.

The next time he regained consciousness, he was in bed and a doctor stood beside him.

“Lord Bentley, I am Dr. Smith. I am going to remove your bandages and suture your wound.”

“Is it that bad? I can remember nothing. I have no idea how I received the injury.”

“Judging by the quantities of blood upon your person I imagine you have a serious gash. If you are ready, I shall begin my treatment.”

The doctor did not speak to him again. In fact, his whole manner was brusque to the point of rudeness. As Alex drifted in and out of consciousness, he tried to force his wandering mind back to the events that had caused the damage to his head. The whole procedure left him faint. He was glad to see the physician depart and be replaced by his valet, Foster.

“Foster, tell me, how did I come by this injury?”

His man looked grave and shook his head. “Lady Eleanor struck you with a piece of wood. She is too distraught to explain her reasons.”

Lady Eleanor? God’s teeth!

He was more confused than ever. Why on earth should this young woman make an unprovoked attack on him? “I can remember nothing. I followed Lady Eleanor and the children into the wood, but my mind is blank from that point onward.”

“The children spent the morning in the maze with their nursemaid. Lady Eleanor took a picnic hamper into the wood to spend time alone enjoying the countryside.”

Alex closed his eyes. Why was his valet to being so stiff? Like Smith, Foster was showing no sympathy for his master. Apparently, everyone considered the attack to be his fault. A most terrible explanation occurred to him.

There could only be one possible reason why a quiet, nervous young woman should be so desperate as to knock him out.

He had to face it. Was it possible he had tried to force his attentions on Lady Eleanor and she had protected herself in the only way available? He had never raised a hand to a woman or child. He would never hurt someone weaker than himself. So why had she done it? He must have…he couldn’t complete the thought.

Such an act would explain the way he was being treated, as though he was a social pariah not a well-respected peer of the realm. “Foster, did I attempt to…did I force my attentions on Lady Eleanor?”

“There is no other explanation, Lord Bentley. If you require anything, sir, I shall be sitting close by.”

Despair overwhelmed him. That poor woman, had she not enough to endure from the bastard Thorrington without him adding to her problems? He was certain he had intended her no harm; she must have misinterpreted his overtures. Somehow he must get on to his feet and put things right. He had almost decided to make her an offer before his appalling behaviour. Now he had no choice.

“Foster, I need to get up. I must see Lady Eleanor.” He tried but got no further than his elbows before a wave of pain and sickness overwhelmed him. When he had recovered sufficiently to think clearly he knew he must write to her, he was in no state to approach her in person.

“Fetch writing materials. If you hold my hand steady I think I can manage to pen a note.”

“Would it not be easier, my lord, for you to dictate and me to act as scribe?”

What the hell! His man knew more about him than any living soul. He would trust him with his life, why not let him do this?

“Very well, get yourself organized whilst I marshal my thoughts.”

The chamber was dark, and for a moment Eleanor was disoriented. Then she remembered everything and her throat tightened as tears spilt down her cheeks.

“My dear Eleanor, do not cry. That monster did not harm you. Thank God you were able to protect yourself from his outrageous attack.”

“Jane? Why are you here? I don’t understand, who attacked me?”

Her sister-in-law patted her hand and stepped away to talk quietly to someone Eleanor could not see. “Kitty, this is far worse than we feared. Poor Eleanor does not even remember what took place. The event was so upsetting she has blanked it out. I am so relieved that Thorrington has gone to Town this morning; he would have been most displeased.”

Edward was away; that was indeed the only good thing about this morning’s activities. The ladies obviously thought that an unknown assailant had attacked both her and Lord Bentley, so she would do nothing to disabuse them.

“Jane, how is Lord Bentley?”

“He will recover, but you must not consider him. Dr. Smith says you have had a great shock and must rest quietly for the remainder of the day. Is there anything that you need?”

“No, thank you. I should like to sleep, I’m sure I shall feel more the thing when I wake up again.”

“Here, my dear, I shall place this little brass bell on your bedside table. You can ring it if you need assistance of any sort. Lady Haverstock has supplied you with a girl; she is in the dressing room and will hear you easily.”

Eleanor realized she was no longer in the little attic room she always used on their visits. For some reason she was now in a guest chamber, not as grand as some, but twice the size of her usual abode. As soon as she was certain she was alone, she pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed.

A pretty wrapper was draped across the end of the bed. She recognized it as one of Jane’s. Things were becoming more strange by the minute. Her sister was not in the habit of lending out her garments in this way. Why was she being treated so royally? Was this like a condemned man’s last supper?

Even with the shutters closed she could see how well appointed the chamber was. She was not accustomed to such luxury and having it thrust upon her now made her feel even worse. She did not deserve to be treated well; she was little better than a murderer.

A tap on the door, too soft to be heard by the girl in the dressing room, stopped her maudlin thoughts. Without thinking she walked across to open it. She did not know who was more startled—the smart grey-haired gentleman or herself. He recovered first.

“Lady Eleanor, I have a note for you from Lord Bentley. Would you be so gracious us to read it? I shall remain outside for your response.”

The letter was thrust into her hand, the man bowed, stepped smartly back and closed the door. Her hands were shaking. Why should Bentley wish to write to her? Taking the missive over to the window she pulled open the shutter a little to allow in some sunlight. She unfolded the paper and stared at the contents incredulously.

Lady Eleanor,

I do most heartily beg your forgiveness for my atrocious behaviour. I have no excuses and no explanations. I wish to make amends in the only way open to me. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife? I knew as soon as I saw you that you were the lady I was seeking.

If you agree, I shall send to London for a special licence and we can be married tomorrow.

I shall make no demands on you. I wish ours to be a marriage of convenience. I can offer you a comfortable home, a life free from stress and fear and the freedom to live in the countryside.

All I require in return is that you love my children and be a mother to them.

Yours in sincerity,

Alexander Bentley

She read it a second time and the note still said the same thing.

He
was apologising to
her
?

Good grief!

All he had done was
threaten
her with violence. S
he
should be on her knees begging
his
forgiveness.

Marriage? This was something she had vowed she would never contemplate, but his offer was quite specific. She would be a wife in name only, a mother to his children, and was to remain in the country to live as she pleased.

This proposal beggared belief. She had struck him down and he wished to marry her to make amends? His offer made no sense at all, but he was giving her a lifeline, a means of escaping from her degradation. She must accept; she might never have another chance.

Running to the door, she flung it open to find the messenger pacing up and down as if expecting a curt rejection. “Do you know the contents of this letter?”

The man nodded.

“In which case you may tell Lord Bentley that I am stunned by his offer, but agree. If he is to obtain a special licence, he will need my details. I do not wish you to apply to Lady Thorrington. I wish no one to know of this arrangement until the marriage has taken place.”

“Thank you, Lady Eleanor. If you could be so kind as to write your information on the back of the letter I shall give the information to Lord Bentley straight away. I shall be travelling to London to obtain the licence. Would you prefer me to bring a curate with me to perform the ceremony?”

“Yes, indeed. It would not do to alert the local vicar of our plans.”

After Bentley’s manservant had departed with the necessary dates and facts Eleanor curled up on the bed trying to make sense of what was nonsensical. Another thing that had struck her as odd was the fact that Foster had not quibbled about her desire to keep the matter secret. Did Bentley know that her brother would do everything he could to prevent the union?

The sound of the dressing room door opening woke her from a fitful doze. She sat up to see a smiling maid approaching with a tray. Her stomach gurgled. She had not realized she was so hungry. The hands on the mantel clock were indistinct, but she was fairly sure it must be dinner time.

“I am delighted to see you, I have no idea of the time, but my digestion is telling me many hours have passed since I broke my fast.”

“Shall I put the tray on the table by the window, my lady? If I draw back just one of the shutters you shall have sufficient light to eat your meal.”

“Let me do that, I’m not an invalid. I feel perfectly well, but I do not wish to go downstairs tonight.”

With the shutters pulled back the girl had no difficulty putting down her burden. When she’d done so, she curtsied. “Cook says if there’s nothing here that you fancy, I’m to go down and tell her and she will prepare it for you.”

“Whatever you have fetched will be more than adequate. What is your name? If you are to take care of me I would like to address you personally.”

The girl dipped a second time. “Sally, my lady, if it please you. I have fetched down all your things and spent the afternoon getting them pressed for you.”

So…this was to be her permanent chamber. Her brother had better not return to find her here or he would be enraged. She was supposed to remain out of sight, away from society at all times, and until now she had obeyed his instructions to the letter.

“Thank you, Sally. That will be all. I shall ring if I require you later.”

The appetizing aromas wafting from the tray were making her desperate to start her meal. She lifted the first napkin and stared down in delight. After many years of short rations in the nursery she could hardly believe all this is food was for her.

A tureen of vegetable soup, roast fowl and potatoes, salad leaves and fresh radishes. A veritable feast. Under the second cloth was a dish of strawberries, a jug of cream and a selection of dainty pastries. To drink there was a jug of buttermilk and a jug of fresh lemonade. She wished she could share this with the children, they deserved such culinary treats far more than she.