Fenella Miller (8 page)

"Mr Bucknall, no doubt you have seen the improvements I have already made in the house. However, to restore it fully I need a full complement of staff. Jack tells me you have already brought in a flock of sheep to tidy the park, and taken on sufficient outside men to bring it back to its former glory."

He steepled his hands in front of him and nodded solemnly. Why did she think he was having fun at her expense? She could feel her irritation building, she did not care to be laughed at in this way. "Do I have your agreement to increase the inside staff?"

"You are the housekeeper here, Mrs Reed, you may do as you please. However I must make it very clear that I do not care for liveried footman and all that flummery. Discreet and invisible, that is what I want in all my servants."

"Then I thank you, sir, I shall send someone to the village. I have already taken on all those available who live in the cottages nearby. Forgive me for asking, but do you have any more bolts of the darker blue material? It is perfect for the female staff, if I'm to take on more than I need to see they are dressed accordingly."

"The trunks in the box from on the nursery floor are full of such stuff." He tossed the parcel of gold silk back to her, his sudden gesture startled her and the item fell the floor with a thump. She had not fastened the string securely and it unrolled; yards of shimmering silk cascaded across the boards.

She exclaimed in horror at her clumsiness. This was no way to treat such delicate stuff. Scrambling from her chair she dropped to her knees and started to gather it back. Strong arms gripped her elbows and she was lifted from the floor and dropped, rather too hard, back on her feet.

"Leave it. You have girls to pick up after you, Mrs Reed. I will not have you scrabbling about the floor as if you are no better than serving maid." He stared down at her, his mouth firm and his expression uncompromising. "Ring the bell. Summon a girl to pick this up. Come with me, we can continue our discussion on the terrace." Without allowing her time to disagree he gripped her elbow and all but bundled her out of the open French doors. "Sit there, in the shade, I shall speak to the girl when she arrives."

He strode inside and she heard him issuing orders, no doubt they would be obeyed with alacrity. His absence gave her a precious few moments to recover her composure. She was unused to being manhandled in this way, he was a very dictatorial gentleman and she wasn't at all sure she liked him at all. He reappeared and handed her a glass of something sweet. "Drink this, my dear, it is sherry wine, it will calm your nerves."

Obediently she sipped and found the contents to her liking. "I have not had this before, it is most palatable, I thank you for bringing it, sir."

He folded himself on to the stone bench beside her. His proximity was unsettling and nervously she gulped her drink. The liquid went the wrong way and she choked. Red-faced and mortified, she was obliged to suffer the indignity of being thumped on the back, whilst gasping like a landed fish.

"I am recovered, thank you, for your assistance. I do not know why it is, but every time I am in your vicinity some accident occurs. I think we will do well to keep our meetings to a minimum in future." She stood up and curtsied. "I would like to ask you a favour, Mr Bucknall. Would you allow my daughter to play your pianoforte? She is a talented pianist, I can assure you it will be no hardship to listen to her."

His gaze was no longer on her, but over her head towards the natural lake that graced the sweeping lawn. "Is that your son, over there, by the boat shed?"

Emma followed his pointing finger. "It is, he should not be there on his own. He is forbidden to go near water without an adult with him."

Before she could gather her skirts and race down the slope he grabbed her arm restraining her. "Has he been told expressly not to go down to the lake?"

Why was he delaying to ask such silly questions? "Yes, did I not just say so? Please, sir, I must go down there before he falls in drowns himself."

"No, I shall fetch him back, he will come to no harm from the water. I can assure you, Mrs Reed, he will not venture there again. Go about your duties, allow me to take care of this matter for you. After all, your children are as much my responsibility as yours whilst they reside under my roof."

Reassured by his confidence, although puzzled by his comments about responsibility, she returned to her sitting room. Mrs Turner was due to discuss the menu for tomorrow, but first she would find Mary and tell her the good news.

* * * *

As Rupert jogged down to the water he wondered what had possessed him to become involved in this way. Each step jarred his head, he would be glad when the sawbones returned to remove the sutures. It was correct that anyone in his employ was his responsibility, but he wasn't sure that included the offspring of employees. However, Mrs Reed had more than enough to do running the household. And it was high time this young scamp was taken in hand. He was hopelessly spoilt, overindulged by his doting mama, in desperate need of discipline in his opinion.

The child had been told not to come near the water and had deliberately disobeyed. He doubted he would be punished by his mother, so he would administer well deserved discipline himself. A few sharp slaps on his backside would do the child no harm, and might teach him to mind his mother more. It might also save his life by keeping him away from the water.

When he was within range he raised his voice and roared. "Jack Reed, what the devil do you think you're doing down here when you have been forbidden to do so?"

The little boy had been happily poking his stick into the water. The child, scared witless by his shout, tumbled forward and disappeared beneath the reeds. Cursing his stupidity, Rupert ripped off his jacket and waistcoat, one boot and then the other followed. He dived headfirst into the lake and swam desperately towards the bottom.

At first he could see nothing, just waving greenery and water. Then he caught a glimpse of something solid and lunged forward. His lungs were bursting. There were black spots before his eyes. He would not surface without the child. His questing fingers touched a slippery leg; he gripped it hard and shot up. It was too deep to stand even for him, and the water was cold even in midsummer. The boy was limp in his arms, his head lolling to one side, no sign of life at all.

Not again, not another life lost because of him. Desperately he turned the boy over his knee and began banging him vigorously between the shoulder blades. Although a gush of water came from his mouth, Jack was still not breathing. Once, when a sailor had gone overboard, he'd watched in amazement as an Arab physician had somehow breathed life back into what had appeared to be a corpse.

Flipping the child on to his back he knelt over him trying to remember what he'd seen. Whatever he did, it could not make matters worse. Placing his own mouth over the boy's he breathed deeply, then turned his head and drew a second breath and pushed this into the boy's lungs. He turned his head away and then the miracle took place, just as it had done on the ship. The child convulsed, vomited up the remainder of the water he'd swallowed and started to weep piteously.

Scooping him up, Rupert stroked his little head. "Hush, my brave boy, you are safe now. Perhaps you will remember not to go near the water in future." Stopping momentarily to snatch up his jacket and wrap the shivering child in it, he ran back to the house.

When he arrived at the terrace William was waiting for him. "Here, let me take him, sir. You must go upstairs and get yourself dry, you will have done yourself no good so soon after your accident."

Reluctantly Rupert handed his burden over, his valet was correct. He did feel extremely unwell, he ran his hand over his dripping hair and it came away red. At least one of the sutures had broken. "Send for Dr Andrews, William. I fear that I shall need him as urgently as the little lad."

* * * *

"Lawks a mussy! Whatever's all that noise?" Mrs Turner jumped to her feet and bustled to the door. Emma was beside her instantly, she had hardly had time to settle behind the table for their meeting.

Tilly hurtled down the passageway. "It's your Jack, Mrs Reed, he fell in the lake. The master got him out but he looks mighty pale. William's sent for Dr Andrews."

The flustered girl had hardly finished speaking when William hurried round the corner carrying her beloved son wrapped in Mr Bucknall's jacket. What felt like a stone lodged in her stomach. Her voice sounded strange, as if it belonged to someone else. "Bring him through. Mrs Turner, fetch a warming pan and hot water. Tilly you come with me."

William waited, holding the dripping bundle, while she placed a thick comforter on top of the bed. He gently placed her child in the centre and stood back. "Quickly, Tilly, we must strip off his wet clothes and then rub him dry with a towel. The more vigorously we rub, the quicker we will restore his circulation."

Although he was deathly pale and cold he was definitely breathing. His eyes flickered open and he half smiled at her before slipping back into a swoon. She flung his wet clothes in a heap on the boards and dried him vigorously. Tilly rubbed one arm whilst she worked on the other. His skin was less pallid, their treatment was working.

The patter of light footsteps warned her Mary was about to arrive. "Mama, is Jack drowned?"

"No, darling, he is cold and miserable but not drowned. Fortunately Mr Bucknall was there to fish him out in time."

Jack turned his head and stared at his sister. "I told you he was brave, he's very good at saving people."

"Dearest, raise your arms and let me slip this warm night gown over your head. Then you must get into bed and drink this hot tea Cook has sent you."

Mary leant over and kissed her brother's forehead. "Well, Mr Bucknall's certainly better saving people now than he was before. Mama is always telling us that practice makes perfect."

"Mary, I think that is quite enough from you. Run along and make yourself useful in the kitchen. Jack needs to rest."

Tilly smoothed the covers and stepped back with a happy smile. "He'll do, Mrs Reed. Look, his colour's much better and his skin's warmer too. I don't reckon Dr Andrews will say any different."

Emma looked at her son, she believed she was feeling more unwell than him at the moment. "Jack, Tilly is going to help you with your lovely sweet tea. Mama is going to see how Mr Bucknall is after his courageous actions."

Her apron was quite sodden, she discarded it, checked her cap was straight in the over mantel mirror and ran up the stairs to the main part of the building. It was hard to imagine what it would have been like working at Stansted Manor when the east wing had still been there. It was overlarge as it was.

William met her in the hall. "Mrs Reed, Dr Andrews is with the master. Unfortunately Mr Bucknall has reopened his wound and it needed re-stitching. I took the liberty of sending the doctor upstairs first, word from downstairs was more encouraging."

"You did exactly right, William. Jack is a very lucky boy and is almost fully recovered from his unpleasant experience. I should like to thank Mr Bucknall personally, would you be so kind as to let me know when it would be convenient for me to come?"

"If I were you, ma'am, I should leave it for a bit. The master's a bit tetchy at the moment if you know what I mean, demanding his brandy be brought up to him."

"Oh dear! I do hope this accident does not set him back. I shall suggest to Dr Andrews that he might forbid strong alcohol for the moment. Kindly send the doctor down when he has finished upstairs."

The doctor declared her beloved boy to be quite well. He could get up as usual the following day. She was glad she could inform the rest of the staff that the drama was over and they could return to their duties. Her meeting with Mrs Turner was completed satisfactorily and she spent the remainder of the afternoon with one ear listening out for her son while she filled in her housekeeper's journal.

Jack sat up in bed and demanded his supper when he woke a second time; news from upstairs was also more encouraging. Emma left Tilly and Mary to sit with her son and sent word to William that she was on her way. Mr Foster had told her the invalid was refusing to remain in his bed, but had agreed to recline on a chaise-longue in the sitting room that adjoined his bed chamber.

Emma paused outside the door to steady her breathing. How did one thank one's employer for saving the life of a beloved child at the expense of his own health? Words were not adequate for what she felt, any animosity she had harboured towards him had vanished. Only Mary still had reservations, for some reason she did not take to Mr Bucknall even though he had been polite and charming in his exchanges with her.

Raising her hand she knocked quietly. William opened the door pulling a comical expression. He was obviously warning her that she was likely to get her head bitten off.

"Come in if you must, Mrs Reed, do not stand dithering in the doorway like that. William, be about your business. I've had more than enough of your fussing for one day."

"I'm glad to see that you are fully recovered, sir, after your watery experience. I should hate to have seen you languishing."

His sudden bark of laughter startled her. "Touché, my dear. You are a tonic, never fail to rouse me from my ill-humour."

It was her turn to laugh. "Then I am thankful I had not seen you other than in the sunniest of moods, Mr Bucknall. I shudder to think how unpleasant the experience would be otherwise."

"I suppose you must leave the door ajar, but come in and pull up a chair. Tell me how Jack does."

She chose a footstool, the only chair was a large upholstered one which would be far too heavy for her to shift and she had no wish for him to be applied to help. Unfortunately this would mean her head was on the level with his knees. Before she could sit he grasped her forearms and neatly lifted her on to the end of his day bed.

"Sit there, I will not have you at floor level. Do not look so cross, my dear, I am merely doing you a service. I'm certain you had no wish to crouch on a stool like a child."