She had not gone more than a mile when a travelling carriage with its curtains drawn, either to save the occupant from the still bright sun of early September or to conceal him or her from prying eyes, drove past her. The wheels and lower sides of the body were so mud-spattered that she thought it must have travelled some way.
Chapter 7
The road along which Agnes was walking was not a busy one and the passage of a travelling chaise was sufficiently rare for her to wonder if it was carrying her employer’s son.
What, she wondered, should she do? If she turned round and went back, she would still arrive at the door some fifteen minutes after the coach and would not be able to help Lady Armitage immediately through whatever travails awaited her. She reasoned that the troublesome son could not be dead – or in any event had not been when he entered the vehicle – for, if he was, it would surely be a different sort of carriage conveying him to his mother’s charge.
On the other hand, if she abandoned her journey to the post office and turned round now, she would not have posted the letters – which needed to be sent as soon as possible. Of course, if Sir John was in the carriage, the letter to the tenants would arrive too late to be of any use and the one to the army would be of no significance, while the one addressed to the younger son would have acquired additional importance because he would doubtless want to know as soon as possible that his brother had arrived home.
This last decided her: she had better continue on her way and return as quickly as possible to attend to the widow. With this thought in mind, she increased her pace until she was almost running.
She had joined the larger road which led to the village when she heard the quick trot of a pair of horses behind her and, turning, saw that a dashingly dressed female was bearing down upon her at considerable speed. She recognised her at once – not many women drove curricles and even fewer in Sussex – so that it came as no surprise to see that the driver was none other than Miss Newbolt.
Louisa also recognised the small figure hurrying down the road and drew up beside it.
“Where are you going in such a hurry that you decided to cancel our meeting this morning?” she asked.
“The post office. I have some urgent letters to send for her ladyship.”
“In that case, pray climb up and I will take you there much faster than you can manage on your own two legs, no matter how quickly you run.”
“Thank you,” Agnes said at once and jumped up beside her friend without waiting for the groom to assist her.
She was somewhat breathless as she settled herself and Louisa tactfully refrained from asking a question until her passenger had ceased to gasp.
“Did something happen this morning which led to the urgency with which those letters must reach the post?” she asked then.
“Yes.” Agnes glanced behind her at the groom, reluctant to open her budget when there was a listener so close.
“Oh, Bert’s very discreet,” Louisa assured her. “You can say anything you like – it won’t go any further. The truth is he prefers conversing with horses,” she added in a low voice, leaning towards her friend.
“Oh, it is quite dreadful,” Agnes said then, but she spoke very low so that it was unlikely that Bert would be able to distinguish the words; certainly Louisa could not.
“You will have to speak a little louder,” she said. “Is it so very bad?”
“Yes; it concerns her son – Sir John.”
“He is not dead, is he?” Louisa asked, gratifyingly shocked.
“Not so far as I know but he is certainly moribund. A letter arrived from his commanding officer this morning informing her ladyship that he had been shipped home. I think the letter was on the same boat as he.”
“There wasn’t much point in sending it then, was there?” Louisa asked in her pragmatic way. “Has he been wounded?”
“Yes, but he had, I believe, more or less recovered from that when he was brought low by something called dengue fever.”
“Goodness! It sounds ghastly! So they put him on a boat – are you certain he is not dead?”
“Not by any means; I should think it very likely that he would have breathed his last on the ship but a carriage just passed me – on the lane – which I suspect was carrying him. I did not know whether to run after it or continue to the post office.”
“To whom are the letters addressed?”
“One is to the tenants at Armitage Hall to warn them – but I am persuaded it is already too late for that – one is to General Lord Somerset and the other to Mr Armitage.”
“Ah! We are expecting him very soon in any event. It is fortunate that Mama has already invited him to our house because there would not be room for them both in your cottage. Where will you put the invalid?”
“I will give him my room and I will move into Jess’s; she will have to share with Mrs White.”
“Yes, I suppose that will answer although it seems a pity that you are to be forced to give up the room whose colours you chose so carefully, but I do not think we want Sir John at the big house – unless all three of you were to come – we could easily accommodate you and, if his mother is there, she can no doubt keep him confined to his chamber.”
“But you cannot want him there when you have refused his offer!” Agnes exclaimed.
“No, I own I do not but I suppose he will not be in a fit state to be making love to me – and if he is, I shall not find it difficult to send him to the devil – as I did before. I am sure Lady Armitage would be more comfortable at the big house – and there are plenty of servants to attend the sickroom.”
“Would not your parents object to having their house turned into a sort of rehabilitation home?”
“Oh, no, I should not think so. He can keep to his bed and Lady Armitage, when she is not hanging over him, can provide a diversion for my parents. I tell you what we will do: we will go at once to the post office where you shall despatch your letters, then we will hurry back to Lady Armitage and put the matter to her. If her son has indeed arrived, we can review the situation in the light of his state of health and her wishes.”
“You are the best of all possible friends,” Agnes said warmly. “But should you not run it past your parents before you go issuing invitations to such tiresome people as the Armitages may prove to be?”
Louisa laughed. “Do you find her tiresome?”
“No; I am, in truth, growing quite fond of her – or I was until this new development arose. If he dies – or is already dead – I am afraid she will be inconsolable and, if he does not, she will be hanging over him all the time, which would make her a less than amusing guest.”
“But my parents are of much the same age as she so that they will be able to commiserate with each other about the foolishness of the young; it will help them to endure the noisiness of the other guests.”
“Sir John sounds a great deal more than foolish,” Agnes argued, “and you are not at all foolish.”
“Am I not? I think that is precisely what irritates my mama – she wishes I would behave more injudiciously.”
“Well, much conversation with Lady Armitage is bound to convince her that improvident children are to be avoided at all costs.”
“Does she speak much of him?” Louisa asked, drawing up the curricle outside the post office.
“No; never; I do not think she can bear it.”
Agnes jumped down, this time assisted by the groom, and ran into the post office where she handed over her letters.
“What were you coming into the village for when you passed me?” she asked, seating herself once more beside her friend, who had passed the time while she was in the post office in turning the curricle.
“I was not. I was intending to go further – into Tunbridge Wells – and wander about the shops.”
“I am sorry. If you take me back quickly, you can turn round and go there after all.”
“Oh, I have no great wish to do so. It was only for something to do. Now I have
another project to attend to I can well do without any more bonnets or shawls.”
It did not take them long to return to the little cottage and, as they turned the corner, they saw that the travelling chaise was drawn up in front of it.
“Oh dear!” Agnes said.
“What do you think we should do?” Louisa asked. “Shall I wait out here until he has been settled somewhere? I do not want to have him recognise me at this juncture.”
“Do you suppose he will?” Agnes asked flippantly. “Did he form an attachment to you or was it only to your fortune?”
“My fortune, I am afraid. But he did pursue me quite assiduously – I would imagine he would recognise me, but then, again, perhaps not. I do not think he was much taken with my appearance. He can – could – turn a pretty phrase but his eyes, although he fixed them upon my countenance, did not convince me that he was thinking of me at all.”
“Dear me! He sounds quite horrid,” Agnes said. “And how could he not have admired your face? You are an unusually good-looking woman.”
“Thank you, but I daresay he admires a different type.”
“He sounds worse and worse. I suppose he likes a rather obvious type of beauty – probably he prefers females to be excessively plump.”
Louisa laughed at this. “In person as well as pocket?”
“Yes, very likely. In any event, I shall be quite safe for I am plump neither in person nor pocket – and not pretty either. I cannot conceive that he will notice me at all.”
“He cannot really avoid doing so if you continue to live in the cottage for it is so very small I should imagine he will trip over you if he is not looking where he is going.”
“Perhaps he cannot walk,” Agnes suggested. “Oh, Louisa, we should not be laughing about something which is so very serious.”
“That is why we are laughing,” Louisa said astutely. “There will be quite enough crying without our joining in before even we know what the situation is. I will wait here for you.”
She drew up her vehicle and the groom assisted Agnes to alight again.
“I will return directly and tell you what is happening,” Agnes promised, wrapped her shawl more tightly about her as though to protect herself from what she might find, and approached the open door of the cottage.
The travelling chaise was also open but empty so that it seemed that the occupant must have already gone inside one way or another.
As she went in, she met Jess coming down the stairs.
“What has happened?” she asked.
“Oh, Miss, it’s her ladyship’s wounded son! He looks like a corpse, Miss!”
“Dear me! Where have they put him?”
“In her ladyship’s room, Miss. That’s what my lady told them to do.”
“Is her ladyship with him?”
“Yes, Miss.”
As she spoke, two men came down the stairs, evidently having laid their burden down.
“Are you leaving now?” she asked them.
“Not right this minute, Miss. There’s some baggage to unload first.”
“Very well. Would you mind waiting before you set off again until I have spoken to her ladyship and ascertained precisely what she wishes to do in the circumstances?”
“Certainly, Miss.”
“Good, thank you. Jess here will give you some refreshment while you wait.” She raised an eyebrow at the maid, who dropped a curtsey and scuttled back to the kitchen.
Agnes went up the stairs and knocked upon her ladyship’s door, although it was not closed.
“Yes?” Lady Armitage replied without looking round.
“It is I, Agnes. May I come in?”
“Of course. This is my son, John, who has just arrived. He is not at all well.”
Agnes approached, saying, “Would it not be better if he were to be placed in my bed? I can take Jess’s room for the time being although Lou… – my friend, who is waiting outside, has offered us all accommodation in the big house until Sir John is on his feet again.”
“Oh!” her ladyship exclaimed. “How kind!”
“Yes. I am to run down and tell her what you want to do. Also, I have asked the men to wait because, if you prefer to stay here, I think he should be moved to my room without delay. I do not suppose we would be able to do it by ourselves.”
“I did not like to turn you out of your room,” Lady Armitage murmured.
“No; it has all happened so fast we have not had sufficient time to plan anything,” Agnes said. “Shall I ask them to come back for a moment and move Sir John and I will tell my friend that we will discuss her kind offer and return an answer before the end of the day? I am sure there will be plenty of people – and carriages – who will be able to assist if you decide to move to the big house.”
As she spoke, she barely glanced at the figure on the bed for Lady Armitage stood between them.
“Who is that?” the man on the bed asked.
“It is Agnes Helman, my companion.”
Agnes came a little further into the room, saying, “This is your mama’s room, Sir John. I think it would be better if you were to take mine rather than turn your mother out of hers.”
So adverse was her opinion of this man that she did not wish to give him an opportunity to inconvenience his much put-upon mother any further.
“Where will you sleep?” he asked.
“I will take Jess’s room and she can double up with Mrs White.”
“Very well,” he agreed to her surprise. “I have already caused my mother quite enough distress without turning her out of her bed as well. I am afraid I am not at present very strong but, if your room is not too far, I daresay I can make my own way there if you will give me your arm. I still have two legs – and two feet.”
“There is no need for that, sir; I have asked the men who carried you upstairs to wait.”
“Do you consider yourself too small to support me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and surveying her with a measuring eye. “I should not think that, now, I weigh appreciably more than you although I am considerably taller.”
“No; I thought that it would be more comfortable for you if you allowed yourself to be carried.”
“Has anyone ever carried you?”
“Not since I was a small child, no. Is it very disagreeable?”
“Exceedingly so, particularly if you are made of not much more than skin and bone and already covered in bruises from being thrown around during the sea passage. I believe I can stand upon my own legs and imagine it will be easier when the ground is not rocking all the time - as it is inclined to do on board ship.”
“Very well; I will change the sheets upon my bed and put a warming pan through before I assist you, sir.”
“Thank you. I am sorry to put you out. Could I not sleep in Jess’s room myself?”
“Would you prefer that? It is very small and is in the attic so that I think it might be necessary to carry you up.”
“I believe I would rather take that one; I do not know how much you know about me but, as it is on my account that my poor mama is forced to live in such a very small abode, it would be more fitting for me to sleep in the maid’s room than to turn you out.”
“I am not at all sure it would be fitting,” Agnes answered rather sharply. “You may have spent all the family inheritance and you may be exceedingly unwell and weak – and everything else that is disagreeable – but, in spite of that, you are a Baronet and I am your mother’s companion – a person whose position hovers somewhere above that of a servant but can by no means be accounted an equal.”
“So you would be more comfortable in the servant’s room?” he concluded, not a whit disturbed by this forthright assessment.
“Yes; infinitely. I cannot allow you to spend all day crammed in under the eaves. In any event, it would be exceedingly inconvenient for everyone else if they were to be have to run up and down those stairs all the time to attend to you,” she added with some asperity.
“I am perfectl
y accustomed to life at the bottom of the social rank,” he argued, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “I was not an officer in Africa – only a man.”
“You will not be much more than that in such a small house,” she answered. “But you are your mother’s elder son and your father’s successor; now that you are back in England, you must, I believe, endeavour to take up your proper position. I will see to the rearrangement of my room and assist you to walk to it in due course. I must first go downstairs and speak to my friend, who is waiting patiently outside.”
“Why is she – or he – waiting outside? Is the house too small for even a single friend to come inside?”
“No, of course it is not; when we arrived, your carriage was parked outside, the front door was open and it was clear that something was going on. She did not wish to be in the way.”
“Very thoughtful. I will wait as patiently as I am able, Miss Helman, for your return. I wonder if, in the meanwhile, you could ask someone to bring me a glass of water.”
Chapter 8
Louisa passed the time while Agnes was in the house in walking her horses up and down the narrow lane. The travelling chaise remained where it was, directly outside the door.
As she watched, two men came out and unloaded a trunk which, with a good deal of grunting, they carried inside. She began to wonder if there would be room not only for Sir John but for his effects as well and she could not help thinking it a pity that poor Lady Armitage, who had only recently moved into the tiny house, must now accommodate not only her tiresome son but also his no doubt travel-stained and damaged clothes and boots. It was the thought of the boots which elicited her greatest sympathy. Very likely they were still encrusted with African mud and possibly exotic and deadly insects which, in the warmth of the house, would come to life, crawl out and bite not only the poor ill-used mother but also her innocent and well-meaning friend. Such a scenario began to cause Louisa, usually such a pragmatic young woman, so much distress that she found herself almost quivering at the thought of what the future might hold.
Agnes Or The Art 0f Friendship Page 6
