Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 09] - Logic Of The Heart (22 page)

"Well, well," drawled a mocking voice. "Beauty and the—er,
music master."

Junius Trent's handsome face looked down at her, with
Pollinger looming behind him, and Angelo was calling, "Missue! Missue!
Findings we having!"

"Thank heaven!" cried Susan fervently.

Trent swung his legs over the side, then checked, his eyes
narrowed. "Jove—these steps look crumbly. Doubt they'd support our
combined weight was I to haul him out. Can he walk up, ma'am?"

"No, he cannot walk up," she retorted indignantly. "He is
unconscious at the moment. The steps supported me, Mr. Trent, and I am
no light weight."

"Just the right weight." He laughed, and glancing behind him
said, "D'you hear that, Poll? I made a rhyme! Mrs. Henley says—"

Susan could have struck him. "Mr. Trent—your cousin may be
dying! Do you fancy you could hurry?"

"Your wish, m'dear, is my command!" Even so, he trod very
warily, both hands clinging to the top of the wall until he was obliged
to let go. "Egad, what a bloody mess," he said, reaching the foot of
the steps and coming over to peer down at Montclair. "Can it be that my
beloved coz has expired? Dear me. Well, we cannot live forever, and—"

"He has
not
expired, and I trust will
not do so unless he dies of old age before you carry him out of this
horrid place!"

Trent chuckled, and bent to stroke her hair. "Much you would
care, sweet shrew. So I'm to carry the dolt, am I? As you wish." He
bent and gripped Montclair's arm, swinging him upward.

Susan uttered a shriek. "Have a care! His arm may be broken,
and his leg most certainly is!"

He clicked his tongue. "What a mournful inventory." He dropped
to one knee. "Never say I failed in my duty." He pulled his cousin up
and then swung him over his shoulder, cutting off Susan's protests by
saying, "Now do not rail at me, fairest. I cannot carry him in my arms
and negotiate that narrow stair. Do you go first." Susan declining the
honour, he said with a grin that if she chose to follow she would be
crushed was he to drop Montclair.

"I cannot believe," she said, "that a big strong man like you,
Mr. Trent, would be unable to manage such a burden."

This seemed to strike the right chord. Trent climbed up the
steps quite well, lowered Montclair to the ground where Deemer and
Señor Angelo waited, and turned back to assist Susan to clamber over
the edge.

Watching anxiously, Deemer said, "We brought the phaeton,
ma'am. And Mrs. Starr sent medical supplies." He opened a valise full
of linen strips, flannel, salve, basilicum powder, a pair of scissors,
and an earthenware bottle of hot water.

"Thank heaven," said Susan. She knelt beside the victim, and
began to bathe the blood from his face.

Trent, who had been quiet and thoughtful, now mounted up.
"Well, we'll be off. I expect you can—"

"Be—what?" She jerked around, looking at him in alarm. "Surely
you should wait and escort your cousin home?"

"You never mean—all the way back to Longhills? In
his
condition? My dear ma'am, he'd be much better off was you to take him
to Highperch."

Aghast, she cried, "That is not possible! I am not able to
care for an invalid! Besides, I refuse to take the responsibility! He
must be cared for by his doctor, and—"

"But I understood you'd a doctor on your staff," he countered
with a sly grin.

"Bo'sun Dodman is away with my brother. And Montclair needs
competent medical help at once! No, sir. You must take him to
Longhills!"

Montclair moaned faintly.

Sir Dennis said in a shocked tone, "You surprise me, Mrs.
Henley, begad but y'do. Poor fella lying here in misery, and you refuse
him house room. Cruel."

"Cannot blame the lady," said Trent. "Montclair has treated
her badly, and she takes her revenge."

"What a horrid thing to say," Susan flared, wrapping her
bandage tightly around Montclair's heavy head. "Hold him up a little
please, Deemer. What do you think, señor?"

Angelo trod closer and looked down at Montclair with lips
pursed. "Very not goodly," he declared. "Mostly dyings is. Angelo say—"

"Be bled white by the time we get him to Longhills," put in
Sir Dennis gloomily.

"I am afraid that the long journey," said Deemer, "and—" He
checked, glancing at Trent. "I fear it might indeed be the end of him,
Mrs. Sue."

Susan bit her lip. "You could use our phaeton, Mr. Trent," she
offered hopefully.

"If you insist, ma'am." He shrugged. "But it had as lief be a
hearse."

'Oh, Lord!' thought Susan. 'Whatever am I to do?'

Dr. Sheswell was a big untidy man somewhere between forty-five
and fifty, with puffy blue eyes and a squat nose that seemed too small
for his face. His brown receding hair was brushed forward but had
fallen into clumps which revealed his bald head. He came stamping into
the withdrawing room of Highperch Cottage on this foggy evening, put
down his bag, and scanned the larcenous widow. She wore a rose muslin
gown that became her willowy figure. A dainty lace cap was set on the
thick black hair that fell straight and shining behind her shoulders.
He thought it as alluring as it was unconventional. She had risen when
he entered the room and stood watching him, tiredness in her face, a
scrape on her chin, but her eyes cool and unwavering before his bold
stare. He thought, 'No simpering miss, this one. Old Selby's got a
fight on his hands!'

Susan wished Andy was at home, and wondered why she so
disliked this man. "May I offer you a cup of tea, doctor?" she asked
courteously.

"You may, ma'am," he answered in his loud voice. "But I'd as
lief have something stronger."

She looked at him sharply, then moved to the credenza, poured
sherry into one of the glasses on the tray, and carried it to him. The
doctor sat on the old brown sofa and raised his glass. "Here's to a
speedy resolution of young Montclair's problems."

"You think he will recover, then?" she asked, returning to her
chair.

"Not a doubt, m'dear ma'am," he said with a firm nod.
"Terrible thing, I grant you. Terrible. Young fella struck down. Nigh
murdered on his own brother's lands! Devil take me if ever I heard of
such a thing! But—he's young. Resilient. Strong-willed chap, y'know.
Type who heals fast. Up and about in no time, I'd not be surprised!"

Susan stared at him. When she'd left her bedchamber so that
Sir Selby and his wife could be private with their nephew and the
physician, it had seemed to her that Montclair was very ill indeed. The
shock of the blow to the head was of itself enough, she'd thought, to
have put a period to the poor man, and when one added the fracture of
his left leg just above the ankle, and the despair he obviously felt
due to his broken hand, she would have been less than surprised had the
doctor warned her to prepare for the worst.

"But—I had understood—" she began in a rather confused way.

"Must confess I admire you, ma'am," he boomed. "Yes, by Jove!
Admire's the only word." He sampled his wine again. His brows rose and
he held the glass up and looked at it with lips pursed. "Damme if I
don't admire this sherry as well!" He slanted a narrowed glance at her.
"D'ye chance to know where y'brother buys it?"

At such a time the question seemed so trite and irrelevant.
Impatient, Susan replied, "I could not say. And why you should admire
us for taking in a badly hurt gentleman when our home was nearest to—"

"Come, come, pretty lady," he intervened with a jocose grin.
"Everybody knows there's a—ah, dispute 'twixt y'brother and the
Montclairs. To climb down into that hell-hole as you did was passing
brave! And then to bring the unfortunate fella here was a splendid
thing to do, so it was." He gave her a knowing wink. "I'm very sure Sir
Selby and his lady are damned near overcome with gratitude."

She stiffened, resenting the implication. Besides, they had
not seemed at all grateful. In fact, when they'd swept in at the door
an hour ago, Lady Trent had looked through her as though she'd not even
been alive, and they'd both followed Deemer upstairs without so much as
one word of thanks. "We did as best we could, but—"

"Did damned well," he interposed, not bothering to curb his
language before this scheming adventuress. "Montclair would have died
before the night was out had you not found him. And you did right not
to try and set his leg."

"Well, so I thought, but Sir Selby and his wife did not seem—"

"Ah, you must not mind their manners." He leaned to pat the
hand on her knee and said confidingly, "Just their way. Worried, you
know. Fairly dote on the boy."

Of course they would have worried. And she had not been very
polite to Lady Trent when they'd met on the stairs at Longhills; she
could hardly expect the woman to fall on her neck now, especially if
they really judged her claim to Highperch to be fraudulent.

She drew her hand away. "I quite understand," she said,
wondering if they meant to move Montclair tonight. "It must have been a
great shock. And to see him in such pain—but I expect you will have
given him laudanum."

"Don't hold with it," he said sternly. "Saw too many young
fellas fall under its spell during the war. Drugs. Bad business."

Taken aback, she said, "But—surely it must have been very
trying when you set his broken limbs. Anything that would give him some
relief—"

"Tush, ma'am. D'ye take the boy for a weakling? Do assure you
he ain't. Now don't you worry your pretty head. You ain't responsible."

His cunning little eyes reminded her of a bird of prey. Her
bruised knees ached; indeed, she seemed to ache all over, and she was
very weary. She thought, 'You're overtired and being silly. Dr.
Sheswell takes care of most of the best families hereabouts and is a
skilled physician who knows what is appropriate for his patient.' Even
so, she said, troubled, "I found him, sir. I
feel
responsible."

"Very commendable of you, Mrs. Henley!" Sir Selby was coming
down the stairs, one arm about his wife who looked distraught and held
a handkerchief to her eyes.

Susan and the doctor stood and Lady Trent left her husband and
flew to throw her arms about Susan and embrace her amidst a torrent of
tears and thanks. Mrs. Henley was the bravest creature in the world!
She had, single-handedly, saved their beloved nephew! She had risen
above petty disputes and arguments, and gone like a Good Samaritan to
the aid of the afflicted.

Embarrassed, Susan drew back, only to have her hand taken,
bowed over, and kissed by a much moved Sir Selby. "My very dear lady,"
he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "There are no words! But we
will find some—ah, tangible reward for your courage and generosity, I
do assure you!" He turned away, and blew his nose.

"Whatever we did," said Susan, irritated, "was not done with
an eye to reward, sir."

"Spoken as a true Christian," trilled my lady, clasping her
hands and regarding Susan with a misty smile. "And to have put poor
dear Valentine into your very own bedchamber! Compassion!
Self-sacrifice! Oh, you are too good—too forgiving, my dear!"

"Yes, indeed," affirmed her spouse, mopping at his brimming
eyes. "I hope you will not hesitate to call on us, dear ma'am, should
you find yourself short of beds or bedding. Meanwhile, we will make
every effort to see that the least possible burden falls on your
shoulders. The good doctor will arrange for nurses around the clock,
and—"

"But—but," gasped Susan, appalled, "you will want to take
Montclair home, sir."

"Take him—
home
?" Lady Trent regarded
Susan as though she'd said something sacrilegious. "You cannot
mean
it!"

"No, no. Not to be thought of," interjected the doctor, his
face suddenly very grave. "He is in no condition to bear the move. Not
for a day or two, at least."

"But—you just said he would be up and about in no time."

"And so he will, I've no doubt. But just at the moment 'twould
be best not to move him. It has been a shock. No denying that. You
surely can understand, ma'am?"

"Yes, well—I do, of course. But—we are not properly settled
yet, and—and are simply not equipped to care for an invalid. Besides,
if you feel his injuries are of a more serious nature, I don't—"

"Pooh! No such thing," declared Sheswell. "Ah, I know what it
is. You've heard he's been ailing this past month or two. Set your mind
at ease, dear ma'am. It's not—ah, contagious. Rather baffling,
medically, but likely only some minor disorder, causing dizziness and
weak spells. Comes on poor Montclair without warning. A nuisance more
than anything else, but—combined with this unhappy business… Better he
should be peaceful here, than to haul him all over the countryside."

Mrs. Starr put in gently, "I will be able to help, Mrs.
Henley. And we have Bo'sun Dodman, don't forget."

Shocked by such treachery, Susan turned to her friend and met
a pleading smile that horrified her.

"Bo'sun—er, Dodman?" echoed Sir Selby, curious.

"The Bo'sun served on Captain Ephraim Tate's man o'war in the
Navy, sir," explained Mrs. Starr, apparently unconscious of Susan's
dismay. "The Captain was Mrs. Henley's grandpapa, as you may know. Such
a splendid gentleman. When he left the Navy, the Bo'sun followed and
was Sails Officer on his East Indiaman until the Captain retired.
Bo'sun Dodman is in Mrs. Henley's service nowadays. He has a great
knowledge of medicine and would easily qualify to become a full-fledged
apothecary."

"Excellent!" exclaimed the doctor. "The very man to take
charge of the case! I vow, it could scarce be better, do you not agree,
ma'am?"

"I do indeed," said Lady Trent. "As if it were planned!"

"B-but…" stammered Susan.

"And I do promise, my very gallant lady, that you will be not
one penny out of pocket," said Trent.