Beauty and the Beast of Thornleigh

by Kate Westwood

  She took in this information silently. It seemed that she was to have no end of mortification; perhaps this was her punishment by providence, for having refused the Captain’s offer in the first place, and now she was to be made to suffer for it!

  ‘Captain?’

  ‘Miss Hall?’

  ‘When you send your man to— to recover Old John’s body—’ she paused a moment, distressed, but collected herself. ‘I lost something, my cane; it may still be inside our carriage.’

  Captain Brandt became thoughtful. ‘I see. I will ask Manfred to look for it. There are, you know, a walking stick or two here, in my own collection, should that be easier?’

  Two more tears slipped down her cheeks.

  ‘But I see that your own cane is of particular significance to you. I shall ask Manfred to do his best to retrieve it for you, Miss Hall.’

  ‘I am greatly obliged. Captain?’

  He waited.

  ‘How long shall my sister and I have to stay here?

  He gave her a serious look. ‘Let us not discuss it now, Miss Hall. I perceive that you are still weak. I shall have Manfred bring you something to eat, and a glass of something fortifying. Then I suggest you sleep. We will discuss the particulars of your — visit — tomorrow.’

  He left her, and she lay back against the crisp white cushions, too weak to worry about what could not be altered. She supped on the promised meal, and discovered from Captain Brandt’s manservant that Julia was now awake, although weak, and eating but little.

  Manfred, quite unused to female guests, was a gruff make-shift nurse, but not an unkind one. When he came to retrieve her dishes, he left her with assurances that he would check on Julia frequently in the night, and fetch her if she was needed.

  After he had left, Georgiana sleepily watched the firelight play over the walls of the vast chamber which was Captain Brandt’s. The shapes reminded her of his scars, and she watched them for a long time, fascinated and yet horrified at the night’s events. She marvelled at the unfathomable workings of providence. She coloured deeply when she once again thought of how he, Captain Brandt, had undressed her and put her to bed, only hours ago. How could she face him tomorrow, and how could she accept his help? But providence had brought her to a point non plus, and for Julia’s sake, she must find a way to retain her dignity, for she had no choice but to remain here for the present. It seemed impossible not to submit to fate, although it gave her a vast discomfort of mind to do so. She drifted, finally, into the deep, dreamless slumber only great exhaustion could inspire.

  Eighteen

  When she awoke, she discovered her trunks had been placed in the room, and alongside them lay her walking stick. Rising, she dropped to her feet, and took it up with emotion. She lost no time dressing in a fresh, birds-egg blue gown. There was only cold water in the ewer, and she made her toilet hastily. Then covering herself with a warm shawl, she went in search of her sister.

  She did not have to look far. Her sister was in the next room but one and was pale and flushed. Julia held out her arms for an embrace, and then lay back against the pillows. Her wounded forehead had been attended do with a deft hand, but she shivered a little and Georgiana could see her sister was feverish.

  ‘I think you have caught a chill, dear. You must stay here in bed, just for a little while.’ She spoke with calm, and yet she felt a great stirring of anxiety. What if her sister became very ill? How would she send for an apothecary, or a surgeon? She felt quite certain that in this remote place, there would be no draughts to be had! Perhaps Manfred kept something below stairs. She left her sister sleeping and went in search of him.

  She ventured along a great gallery, lined with paintings, and found a stair case which led downward. Emerging into an entrance hall, she spied a room from which she could hear voices issuing, and she went forward, determined to meet her host with the equanimity which had deserted her yesterday.

  Opening the door quietly, she found a large, not uncomfortable drawing room, and a cheery fire burning in the grate. Beside it lay a great, thick-haired, black-and-tan dog, the size of which she had never seen in her life. Captain Asher Brandt crouched beside it, petting the great beast’s head, and treating it to quite a speech, to which it listened with twitching ears and occasional looks which seemed as if to agree, or disagree, with its master, as required.

  ‘My wolf-horse!’ she exclaimed. ‘He is real, after all! I thought I had imagined him.’ Her eyes were large with wonder.

  He looked up, and seeing her standing there, he stood awkwardly. She blushed, not knowing why.

  ‘Wolf-horse?’ he replied, not understanding her meaning. ‘Don’t be afraid of him,’ he added quietly. ‘He is quite gentle, you know. Have you never seen a Great Dane?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Thor hunts with me, but he really is the gentlest of creatures. How does your sister do?’

  ‘Not very well, Sir. I think she has a chill. Might you have anything, any draught, which might be given her? I know we cannot send for a doctor.’

  He shook his head. ‘I am afraid I cannot say, but I imagine Manfred would never keep that sort of thing here. I have never needed an apothecary, since I was a small boy. I think I am indestructible, or so my nanny used to tell me.’ He smiled slightly.

  Georgiana’s eyes widened at the thought of him, this beast-like man with a twisted mouth and half-closed eye, as a small, tow-headed boy. She wondered what he had been like.

  ‘If you would be so kind as to send Manfred with a little gruel, and some tea, I shall sit with her today. Is there really no way to fetch a doctor?’

  ‘We are quite trapped here, for the present, I am sorry to say. If your sister takes any turn for the worse, however, I shall myself try to ride out to the nearest town and fetch one here, if it can be done. But, for the present, ask Manfred for anything you need, and let us hope it is merely a chill.’

  ‘Thankyou. You are very kind.’ She paused, hesitant. ‘Captain Brandt, forgive my intrusion, I do not mean to pry, but what happened to the little girl — your niece? There was talk that— that—’

  ‘That I had a niece who would be sent away to live with her aunt unless I could provide her with a mother? Yes, Miss Hall. Rose has gone to live with her grandmother. As you see, I am all alone here.’

  She reddened with self-reproach. ‘It is just that I wanted very much to say— I am most sorry for your loss, Captain. Your brother, I mean, and your niece. I am sorry if my refusing you in town led to your losing her.’ She turned to the door in confusion, at having mentioned the circumstances which made her visit all the more awkward, but he spoke before she could leave.

  ‘I think I ought to reassure you, Miss Hall, that you need not be anxious that I might renew the offer of marriage which in town you found so offensive to your sensibility. Providence might have sent you here to torment me, but I shall behave, in all things, like a disinterested gentleman. You have nothing to fear from your being under my roof.’

  So mortified was she to hear his words, that she fled the room immediately, and spent the rest of the day hiding in her sister’s chamber, attending to her needs. The offer which so offended her sensibility! He truly did think her unkind, if he thought of her at all!

  ~~*~~

  She kept herself busy alternately soothing Julia’s fever with cool water, and watching her sleep, anxiously checking the strength of the fever every hour or two, but it seemed to abate as the day wore on, and at about four o’clock, Manfred came into the room.

  He was a stocky, dark-skinned fellow of about five and forty, with a sprinkle of grey hair near his forehead and on his thick sideburns. His hair curled in tight rings about his pitted face, and the fierce squint of his eye seemed to make his great, white teeth all the more rakish and animal. She marvelled because she had never seen the like of him. He was gruff and spoke with a thick accent from she knew not where, and yet there was a kindness in his address which did not go unappreciated. He brought a meal for
Julia, and some fresh tea for Georgiana, and a little bread and butter. She thanked him, as he set the tray down and he nodded.

  ‘Cap’n Brandt would like me to inform you, that providing your sister is well enough for you to leave her, you are expected in the dining room at seven o’clock. I hope, Miss, that you are fond of beef and pie.’

  ‘Oh! Yes, if my sister can be left…and as for beef, why, I am sure I should like it better than salt-pork and navy biscuits, at any rate!’ She smiled hesitantly at her small joke, then suddenly worried she might have offended the seaman. ‘Oh, I am sorry, I did not mean—’

  Manfred did not seem perturbed. ‘We dine on simple fare here, Miss. I’ll come see the young lady here once dinner is served, and let you have a rest from the infirmary. Your sister will be in good hands, if you allow me to take your place, be it ever so briefly, Miss.’

  He nodded as a punctuation to this small speech and took her startled silence as acquiescence. When he returned an hour later, Georgiana, being not so very anxious for her sister and quite easy in her mind that Manfred’s care of Julia would be as adequate as her own, she left her sister sleeping and went to her promised new room to dress for dinner.

  This chamber was three doors removed from Captain Brandt’s own, and next to her sister’s. She found it to be modestly large, and sweetly decorated in a fresh white counterpane and floral watercolours on the wall. It boasted a fine view from the window, which although was mostly snowy landscape and dark figures of trees, she thought would be charming in the summer. There was no looking-glass, but two dolls sat on the mantelpiece of her fireplace, and warmed their porcelain toes over the edge. She guessed this might have once been his niece’s nursery, or perhaps the nanny’s room.

  Before she went down to dinner with Captain Brandt, she surveyed herself in the reflection of the window. In her dark blue, long-sleeved muslin, with her dark hair coiled at her nape, and no ornament for her hair or neck, she seemed to herself to look more like a governess than a young lady of class. Her dark eyes were very large, and her mouth was turned down slightly at each corner, giving her a serious aspect.

  She was owned to be an accredited beauty; she acknowledged this without vanity, but she could never see it herself. She idly wondered if Captain Brandt thought her handsome, then dismissed the thought with a wry smile. He had only ever thought of her as a piece of furniture, something he must furnish his house with in order to retain his niece. Had she accepted his offer, she would have no doubt occupied a space in the drawing room of Thornleigh, between the table and the long-case clock, quiet and unmoving; or tucked away in a nursery, like the dolls on her mantelpiece, only to be brought out occasionally. Yes, she would have been mistress of Thornleigh, but to sacrifice her freedom, her right to choose love over duty, her self-respect, for the nominal title of Mrs Brandt of Thornleigh, even now, she could not countenance. She took up her cane and went downstairs to find the dining room.

  Nineteen

  Dinner was served in a rather austere room, which seemed to suit her host’s personality, Georgiana reflected privately. Captain Brandt made no attempt at conversation, other than to ask after her sister, and did she find her room comfortable, then lapsed into silence. Georgiana ate sparingly of the rather watery soup which Manfred served up, then picked at her beef. Once the accompanying plain vegetables had been served, Manfred left them alone, to attend Julia, and after some few minutes, Georgiana felt she must try to make some conversation with her host, if only for the sake of politeness. But before she could open her mouth to begin a question regarding the house, he looked up and put down his fork.

  ‘I must beg your pardon, Miss Hall, if I do not converse with you as is the custom at refined dinners. I have not that ease around others, which people who are used to being in company seem to draw upon so readily.’

  Her startled fork jangled against the plate. ‘Why, please, do not think you must entertain me. I am not so great a conversationalist myself, Captain. I do not object to silence. Sometimes it can be quite… agreeable.’

  ‘Then you prefer silence?’ He paused in thought. ‘But you seemed so very at home in company when I — when we first met — in London. There, you seemed quite diverted. Are not all women naturally formed to be entertained by a great deal of conversation and company?’

  She smiled but it did not light her eyes. ‘Why, I cannot speak for anyone but myself Captain, and I do not object to conversation, nor company, on the whole. I suppose I mean that I find small talk trying and empty. If conversation is merely to fill a silence, and has no purpose, then I confess, I prefer silence.’

  After another moment’s pause, he said, ‘Then you are dissimilar to your sex, I think. I have found that most ladies delight in talking excessively, until every subject is exhausted; there is nothing quite so entertaining to each other, it seems, as having an audience for absurdity, foolish ideas, and inconstant opinions!’

  She regarded him suspiciously and her idea of him was confirmed. There was a glint in his eye and she could not but help the curve of a smile. ‘This is very severe indeed, upon my sex! I collect you must have been forced to endure some very poor company, to have formed such an unjust opinion!’

  ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘Perhaps it is true. My exposure to social circles, poor or otherwise, as you know, has been limited these last three years. Perhaps I judge hastily. I can see that you, Miss Hall, do not seem to talk nonsense, which is refreshing to me.’

  ‘I hope very much that I never need be accused of talking nonsense! I confess that the only conversation which gives me real pleasure, is that of well-informed, amiable people, with whom one can exchange ideas, and similar understandings. In London,’ she blushed at the reference, ‘you observed me in company with my dear friend, Miss Osbourne. She is one of the few people in the world that I feel truly at ease with. But I confess, to my detriment I am sure, that I am usually quite reticent in large groups, and prefer the company of one or two at most; I think, that must mean I prefer silence unless I am in good company, although I am not convinced that is a virtue,’ she finished self-deprecatingly.

  ‘On the contrary, Miss Hall, I believe it is a great virtue in a person. One can, you know, have too much conversation. As you say, mere nothings can be become tiring quickly.’

  He lapsed into silence, and returned to his meal, then thought to add, ‘We do not have many guests here at Thornleigh. And, as you know, I myself do not get to town much these last few years. I have lost the art of conversation, I think,’ he added, his scar twisting slightly in the way she had come to recognise as self-consciousness.

  ‘I see,’ she said gently. ‘But did you not have your niece, and perhaps a governess, or people to visit from your brother’s family? Have you been so much alone these last three years?’

  ‘Rose’s nanny removed with her to Derbyshire several months ago. Just after my return from town. We had more staff here, when the child was with me, but after she left there seemed no need.’

  She coloured slightly at the mention of town. She apprehended instantly that the child’s departure had been because he had returned to Thornleigh without the wife he had gone to town to seek; he had returned without herself! Not able to reply, she studied her glass.

  Oblivious to the feeling he had raised in her, he continued. ‘I have decided to enquire at the village, to procure a woman, for you and your sister’s comfort. It is likely you may be here for several days; the snow is so thick as to be nearly impassable. I shall go myself, on horseback, tomorrow. I shall bring back a woman to cook and clean, and a maid servant, if they can be got. I hope this meets with your approval, Miss Hall.’ He took up his fork again with gusto, and it was difficult for Georgiana to tell if he was put out by the inconvenience of having a woman in his house, or merely hungry.

  ‘I am much obliged, Captain. May I ask, if you are able to get to a village, can I please give you a note to send on to my aunt’s? She must be anxious for us and looking for our arrival every hour
.’

  ‘I shall send someone.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  They ate in silence a few moments more. Then he added, ‘Do you wish to send word to your family in Derbyshire as well? Or perhaps there is… someone else to whom you wish to write?’

  Immediately she recalled the day in the Square, when she had fallen into him, and he had mistakenly assumed that she had an understanding with Henry. ‘No, indeed, there is not, I assure you,’ she replied hastily. ‘Only my aunt, who will inform my family herself, I am sure.’

  She blushed as she spoke, which gave all the unfortunate appearance of dishonesty. She could not meet his eyes, such was her discomfiture. She recalled Henry’s proposal and said in a rather conscience-stricken tone, ‘I cannot allow you to continue under a false impression, Captain. There is no understanding between my cousin Henry Hall and me.’

  ‘I am sure it no business of mine, Miss Hall. You are under no obligation to explain yourself,’ he rejoined coolly. She paled under the rebuttal but did not press her point.

  ‘If you want anything more, there is fruit on the sideboard there. Manfred will clear away the plates later.’

  She shook her head. ‘I thank you, but I am quite satisfied. But I am curious — your manservant — how did he come here? He is not English, is he?’

  ‘Manfred has been with me for many years. He is West Indian, and I found him in Martinique when serving there many years ago. It was his own wish to return to England with me.’

  ‘I see.’ She paused. ‘It must have been very difficult, to be in action, I mean, and to be away from home, and risk yellow fever and typhoid, and risk your crew. I mean to say, it must have been greatly distressing— to lose crew— your brother—’ She stopped, in consternation, unsure of the sentiment she wished to express, and the dubious wisdom of doing so. Her cheeks burned.