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BOOK: Patricia Wynn
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“Zat is too bad, Kitty,” answered Susan, scarcely hiding her relief. “I would ’ave loved to converse wiz you in my own tongue. But you must not let it concern you. I am quite used to speaking English. My ’usband, you remember...”

“Of course, my dear. And isn’t it fortunate for us both he was an Englishman. Otherwise we would never have met. Now where was it you said his estates are situated?”

Susan froze for an instant, trying to remember the story she and Lord Harleston had agreed upon. In his absence, she had strived to keep his image at a distance, but she had not intended to forget his instructions. In truth, as the time passed, she had begun to worry about him, wondering when he would return. Her mind was distracted, and she could not think clearly. She was about to issue a vaguely worded answer to Lady Mewhinny’s question, when a footman approached the table.

“Excuse me, milady,” he said, directing his comments to Lady Mewhinny, “but madam’s servant has just returned with the carriage and said she requested to be told as soon as he arrived.”

Susan sprang to her feet eagerly. “Lord...! Tom!” she corrected herself. “I must have a word with him.”

Lady Mewhinny regarded her, her eyes mildly curious. “Surely you could send a message, dear.”

“Oh, no!” Susan protested vehemently. “Zat is, you see...zat’s not ze way we do it. We French, I mean. We always speak to our servants directly. It is a vestige from ze revolution, you see. We dare not trust anyone to carry out our wishes unless we ’ave seen zem for ourselves.”

Lady Mewhinny looked puzzled, but did not ask for further explanations. “It shall certainly be as you wish then, dear. Far be it from me to suggest otherwise, having not lived through such a horror. But could it not wait until you have finished your meal?”

Susan blushed with embarrassment and sank back into her chair. She knew she had seemed more eager than the situation warranted, but she could hardly wait to see Lord Harleston again.

“Of course, my lady. ’Ow silly of me. It was my earnest desire not to impose upon you any longer zat made me jump in ’aste. I shall ’ave to instruct Tom to ready our carriage for tomorrow.”

“Oh, must you go?” Lady Mewhinny asked sadly. “I have so enjoyed your company.”

Susan felt ready tears spring into her eyes. “And so ’ave I, Kitty. I ’ave never felt so at ’ome. But we—zat is—
I
’ave a commitment, and I ’ave already stayed too long.”

“I understand, dear, but I hope you will come to visit me again soon.”

“You are very kind,” Susan answered noncommittally. She wished it were in her power to do otherwise.

She sat uncomfortably throughout the rest of dinner, trying not to appear too anxious, yet yearning to go and find Tom. Fortunately, Lady Mewhinny was not a finicky eater. She seemed to require loads of nourishment to feed her energy, but disposed of it very rapidly. Soon she got up from the table and Susan was free to leave it. So, bidding her hostess good-night, she went in search of Tom.

 

Chapter Six

 

Susan found the stables with the assistance of a footman and, dismissing him, entered the vast, dark building. Lanterns were burning, hung up along the walls a safe distance from the stacks of straw, but no one seemed to be inside minding the horses. What horses there were, she had to admit, required little care, for the huge room was almost empty of animal life. Lady Mewhinny had little reason to keep a large stable.

Susan began to tiptoe about, looking over and around the empty stalls for signs of Tom.

“Lord Harleston,” she whispered loudly into the silence, her footsteps muted by the layers of straw. “Lord Harleston, where are you?”

From behind a nearby wall, a deep chuckle greeted her, followed by Lord Harleston’s voice saying, “That is a very strange way to address your groom, madam.”

Susan peeped over the wall and was shocked to find Tom lying in a bed of hay, looking for all the world as if he had been in a cockfight. His clothes were soiled and torn, and she spied several scratches on his face and hands.

“Lord Harleston! What happened?” she cried, coming around the wall to sink beside him in the straw. She had to restrain herself from putting out a hand to touch a long scratch down the side of his cheek.

Despite his appearance, his eyes had lit with humour, but he did not rise to greet her. He lay with one muscular arm bent to cradle his head. “What would Vigor say if he heard you tiptoeing about the barn, calling for my Lord Harleston?” he asked, still amused.

“I doubt very much he could hear me,” Susan answered, unwilling to let him divert her attention. “But you must tell me what happened! I have been so worried, but I never thought you would come back like this! Did you have another accident?”

“Nothing so romantic, I’m afraid,” he said, smothering a yawn. He seemed immeasurably weary, but his eyes glistened. “It was simply quite a task to lift that carriage. It must have been made entirely of iron. No wonder it has lasted so long.”

Susan’s big eyes grew wider in horror. “Don’t tell me you righted it yourself!”

“All right, I won’t tell you,” said his lordship obligingly. “But I will tell you, I found no one else to do it. The locals became grossly occupied when I asked them for help. They must have sensed its weight by some look on my face. I had thought myself better at dissimulation.”

“But couldn’t you have paid them more? Surely someone would have done it, and I would gladly have paid you back with my father’s money.”

Lord Harleston hid a smile and looked at her sheepishly. “I forgot to replenish my purse,” he admitted.

“You forgot to...?” Susan was speechless with dismay.

He nodded wearily, but still managed to see the humour in the situation. “When I finally got the carriage righted and started back in this direction, I had the devil’s own time finding my way back. I see now why the people of this region were unaware of the Norman Conquest until twenty years after the Battle of Hastings
—in spite of its being a mere thirty miles away. Most of them don’t know their way as far as the next village, much less the way to London. I shouldn’t wonder if they had not heard of it yet.”

“Oh, you poor man!” wailed Susan, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, my lord, I am so sorry. I ought never to have mixed you up in my affairs.”

“You had nothing to do with it,” he reminded her. “I promised your father. Besides, if I don’t regret it, even after the past two days
—or is it three?—why should you?”

“But this last is all my fault,” Susan protested. “Your promise was to get me back into England, not to go running about the country on wild-goose chases. I gave you no choice in the matter when I offered to help Lady Mewhinny. But I never knew it would come to this! I beg your forgiveness, my lord. And tomorrow, when you have rested, we shall be off, and there will be no more of this groom nonsense!”

Tom lifted an offended eyebrow. “Am I to be turned off then, without proper notice? Is this how you thank a loyal servant?”

Susan would not be amused. She shook her head and refused to be teased out of her ill humour with herself.

Tom gave up his efforts with a weary sigh and closed his eyes. Then he said, “I beg leave to remind you, madam,that my promise was to your father. I shall consider it discharged when, and only when, I have delivered you to complete safety. Let us have no more discussion on the matter. But tell me,” he added, “how have you got along? Did you find it difficult?”

“Oh, no,” Susan said apologetically. “I have been most comfortable. It is so mortifying! I wish I could have changed places with you. Lady Mewhinny is a darling. She wants me to call her Kitty. And she keeps monkeys here, hundreds of them. It’s a charity of hers.”

Lord Harleston’s tired brain scarcely followed her disjointed speech, but he was relieved to see she had not been in danger. She was not to know it was worry for her which had caused him to hurry as much as he had, so that he’d forgotten to refill his purse.

“I’m glad you were comfortable” was all he said.

“Oh, I was. I will admit the monkeys were a bit disconcerting at first. But Lady Mewhinny is so kind-hearted,” she continued musing. “She treats them like pampered children. I only wonder what will happen to them when she’s gone. It’s not the kind of thing someone else is likely to be willing to do. Do you agree?”

Susan looked down to find his lordship’s eyes closed, but he managed to answer her with a mumbled, “Quite mad.” Her heart filled with remorse when she realized her concern for the monkeys had distracted her from his condition.

“But I was so worried about you,” she said. “I could only think of the terrible inconvenience I had caused you
—so unsuitable to your station. But if I had known what really was happening, I should have died of mortification.”

He smiled sleepily. “Would you? Don’t give it another thought. My only concern was for your safety.”

Susan blushed and then wondered if he had really meant what he said, for he was suddenly asleep. The poor darling man, she thought, feeling so deeply for him she could almost sense the weariness in his limbs. She whispered his name once and then again, but he did not answer. Only then did she put out a hand to touch his cheek. His boyish blond hair was caked with mud, but still shone in the light of the lanterns. She brushed a lock of it away from his scratch and winced at the sight of it.

Looking around the stable, she saw a bucket of water and some pieces of cloth. Though rough, at least they were clean. She dipped one in the water and brought it back to wash the mud from his face, hesitantly at first, but soon she saw nothing would wake him. When his worst scratches had been cleansed of dirt, Susan went on another search and found some horse blankets. They were coarse and terribly heavy, but they would keep him warm. The night air was cold and she feared his getting a chill after such exhaustion.

When his lordship was thoroughly covered and tucked round with the blankets, she rose and reluctantly prepared to leave. Looking down at him one last time, Susan felt a pang of guilt mixed with overwhelming gratitude. Never had anyone exerted himself for her as Lord Harleston had done these past few days. She reminded herself how great his debt must have been to her father for him to engage in such a burdensome task as getting her back into England had proved to be. Loath to leave him alone in the great, empty room, she stooped once more and smoothed the hair away from his face. Her touch was gentle, but she discovered her hand was trembling and pulled it slowly away. With a deep sigh, she rose and made her way back to the house.

Once inside, Susan left instructions that Tom was not to be disturbed in the morning and sent a message to Lady Mewhinny indicating her intention to set out only when he should be rested and well fed. But she half expected to be told that Tom was up and ready to go by breakfast time, for she was certain Lord Harleston would wish to be on his way.

* * * *

No
MESSAGE
to that effect came, however, and Susan went down to a late breakfast in time to catch Lady Mewhinny at her morning work.

“Are you staying on then, dear?” asked the kindly old lady. “I did so hope you would change your mind.”

“S’ank you, Kitty,
non. I
cannot. It was just zat Tom was so exhausted I s’ought it best not to rush ’im zis morning.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Susan. And wise. You would not benefit from his coming down with a chill. Although I must say you surprise me
—I had thought him stronger than Vigor. But perhaps I was wrong to send him.”

Susan smothered a quick smile with a dainty cough. “It is perfectly all right, Kitty. I am certain zere was no ’arm done. But per’aps ’e
is
a slight bit weaker zan Vigor.”

Lady Mewhinny nodded in agreement and went back to her work. Susan was touched by her attachment to her faithful old servant, which apparently kept her from seeing how ancient he had become. There must be something in the attitude, however, she had to admit, for Lady Mewhinny herself carried on as if fifty years more or less meant nothing to her own abilities.

By afternoon, Susan had begun to worry that all was not well with Tom, for she received no message from him at all. She had by now realized that he must not have slept for the past two days, perhaps longer, but so prolonged a sleep could not be healthy, either. She was sitting with Lady Mewhinny in the drawing room before dinner when, at last, Bates brought the grim tidings.

“Pardon me, madam,” he said with a slight bow, ignoring the eager expression on her face. “But I fear I must inform you of a slight impediment to your travelling plans.”

Her face fell instantly and she swallowed, unable to speak. Turning, she silently sought Lady Mewhinny’s help.

“What is it, Bates?” asked her ladyship calmly.

“It is madam’s manservant, my lady. It would appear he has come down with a fever.”

“Tom?” Susan said anxiously. “Tom is sick?”

“Quite, madam,” confirmed Bates.

Susan rose to her feet immediately and put down her needlework. “I must see him,” she said.

Lady Mewhinny looked at her in astonishment, “Go see him now, my dear? But you might catch something from him. Surely someone can see to it for you that he receives the proper attention.”

Bates spoke in agreement, “Madam’s maidservant is doing so at this very moment, my lady.”

Susan’s blood rose within her. Peg! “I am afraid not, Lady Mewhinny,” she said, the effect of Bates’s formality rubbing off on her. “I fear I must go myself.” Then, as it was evident her hostess was about to protest again, Susan fell back upon her imaginary spouse. “You see, my ’usband, Mr. Faringdon, was quite fond of Tom. ’E was ’is most valued servant and ’is family ’as been attached to ze Faringdon estates for many generations. My conscience would not allow me to leave ’im entirely to a stranger’s ’ands. It would ’ave grieved my ’usband for me to do so.”

This appeal sufficed. Lady Mewhinny conceded immediately. “Then you must go right ahead and see to it, my dear. And may I say how right you are to feel so. Too often, I fear, these old and valued loyalties are not attended to, to the detriment of country society. But do not tarry. I shall hold dinner for you.”

BOOK: Patricia Wynn
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