by Joyce Alec
“I do not know what to say to you, my lady,” he said, spreading his hands as he sat back in his chair, looking at her. “I can only tell you the truth.”
The pain in her head began to grow steadily, making her wince, and he reached forward at once to hand her a glass of water from the table beside her. About to refuse it, a sudden, angry thirst rose deep within her and she reached for it without hesitation, drinking it eagerly. Her body cried out in relief, taking in every bit of moisture it could.
“You have been here for three days,” the man said as she finished drinking. “I have been waiting for you to awaken, fearing that the injury to your head would be too severe for you to waken from.”
Henrietta blinked in confusion, her pain ebbing slightly. “Three days?” she repeated, a sudden terror clutching at her heart. “My mother! Is my mother returned to me?”
Again, the gentleman spread his hands. “I do not know who your mother is, my lady,” he told her carefully. “Nor do I know your name. Being that I think you are a lady of quality, I have told none of your presence here save for my brother, the honorable Mr. Grieves, who has come to enquire after you from time to time. He has remained in society in the hope of discovering an absence of some lady or other, but none has been mentioned as yet.” Tipping his head just a little, he looked at her again. “I cannot help but wonder as to your name, my lady.”
Henrietta swallowed the lump in her throat and refused to let another tear fall. Her mother might well be at home again, waiting for Henrietta to return and praying, as Henrietta had done, that she was quite well. Most likely, her mother would not have said a word about Henrietta’s absence, for fear of staining her reputation in the most dire manner. Looking up at the gentleman again, the ache still deep within her head and her heart pounding with a furious terror, Henrietta knew she had to make a decision. Was this gentleman involved in what had occurred or had he, as he had claimed, merely found her at the docks? If it was the former, then she ought not to say a word to him. But if it was the latter, then she would need his help.
“You say you were at the docks,” she began slowly, seeing him frown and wondering if it was because she was prying. “Why were you there, my lord?”
The man shrugged. “My brother owed a good deal of money to a gentleman there,” he replied with a small, rueful smile. “Although I would not call the man a ‘gentleman’, I suppose.” His smile spread. “As the money was being exchanged, I stepped out of the tavern to allow my brother to conclude his business without my interference. That was when I came across you.”
Henrietta looked at him carefully. “You say that you discovered me?”
“You were by one of the ships,” he said, making her heart burn with the memory of what had occurred there. “I do not know why you were there, my lady, but it was obvious that you had been attacked.”
Henrietta nodded slowly, still watching the man carefully.
“I picked you up and, upon discovering your injury, returned to the tavern and demanded that we return at once. We did so quickly and had a doctor sent for almost at once. And this is where you have been since then.” His smile gentled, reaching his eyes. “It is a relief to me to see you awake.”
Henrietta did not smile back, recalling how she had set the bag with the rubies down by the boat, in the small wooden crate that had been waiting for her. Had someone taken it? Had this gentleman taken it?
“You did not see a cloth bag?” she asked him, looking up to see if his eyes flickered in a way that might betray his guilt.
“No,” he said, frowning in puzzlement. “There was nothing there that I could see, but then again, I did not leave the tavern for long. Once I had discovered you, I did not continue to look about me but rather hurried you to the carriage.”
There was something in his eyes that made Henrietta question what she thought of the gentleman. She looked at him again, taking in his features and wondering whether or not she could trust him. He had a square jaw and large, blue eyes that seemed a little too large for his face. His nose was straight, with a firm look about his mouth, and his dark blond hair cut in the most fashionable of styles. His cravat was perfect, she had to admit, although she knew this gentleman very little indeed. So, he had saved her from what might have been a dreadful fate indeed, and it did seem that he appeared to know very little about what she spoke of when it came to her mother.
“You will tell me your name, will you not?” he pressed. “I must know it.”
Her lips pressed together as she studied him, her heart still filled with warning.
“I know you have endured a very great ordeal,” he said gently, “but I cannot help you unless you speak the truth to me. Please, my lady, tell me your name so that I might treat you with every propriety.”
Nodding slowly to herself, Henrietta held the gentleman’s gaze. He was quite right. He had to know her name if he was to help her and the more she was in his company, the more she felt herself wanting to trust him.
“Henrietta,” she said slowly, seeing how he nodded fervently, as though to encourage her. “Henrietta Preston, daughter to Viscount and Lady Cuthbert.”
The gentleman inclined his head, as though they were at a formal meeting. “Lady Cuthbert’s daughter, then,” he said slowly, lifting his eyes back to hers. “How very good to meet you, Miss Preston. I am Lord Carrick.”
Her eyes flared, the pain in her head reducing all the more. “Lord Carrick…” she repeated, the name familiar to her. “You mean to say that you are the Earl of Carrick?”
“I am,” he agreed at once. “And have no doubt, Miss Preston, I shall do all I can to ensure that the truth is found in all its completeness. Whatever has occurred, I shall do my very best to help you.”
Much to her embarrassment, Henrietta’s eyes flooded with tears again, and she suddenly felt very tired. Closing her eyes, she felt herself sink into the pillows as a reassurance filled her. A reassurance that Lord Carrick was not about to demand yet more payment in order to return her to her mother. There was an honesty about him that she wanted to trust, and she became aware of a slowly growing gratitude that she was not to be left alone.
“Where is your mother?” he asked gently, taking her hand in his again and squeezing it lightly. “Do you have a townhouse?”
“They took her,” she whispered, her eyes still closed as she began to sink into sleep, lulled by the promise of relief from the pain in her head. “There was a note… it will still be in my bedchamber. The staff…” Hardly able to get the words from her mouth, she fought to keep herself from sleep. “They will wonder where I am. My mother, if she has been returned, will be beside herself.”
“Have no fear,” she heard Lord Carrick say, his voice seeming to come from a great distance away. “I will find her for you and bring her here. Soon you will be back in your own home, Miss Preston, ready to recover completely. I am quite certain of it.”
There was a reassurance in his voice that made her want to believe him, want to trust that what he said would come true. Clinging to that hope, she let herself drift into sleep, her hand still tight in his as he held it carefully. This Lord Carrick, whomever he was, seemed to be one of the best gentlemen in all of London. He would make sure that she was safe and protected, kept away from the darkness that seemed to surround her at present. Drawn back to sleep, she let the gentleness take her away from her confusion, from her pain and her agonized mind. Rest was what she needed and she went into it gratefully.
When she awoke, her mind felt a good deal clearer than before. Her head no longer held the same pain, although a dull ache remained. She tried to sit up, turning her head to see a small bell on the table.
Reaching for it, she rang it but winced as she did so, for the sound seemed to rattle her head a little more. A maid opened the door at once, her eyes widening as she saw how Henrietta was trying to sit up.
“Let me help you, Miss Preston,” she said quickly, hurrying towards the bed and helping Henrietta to sit up before p
lumping up the pillows behind her back. “Goodness, you have slept for a long time, but the doctor said that it is a good sign. A sign that you are recovering.” She scrutinized Henrietta’s face, as though she expected her to fall back into unconsciousness again, but Henrietta managed a small smile which the maid returned at once.
“Are you hungry, Miss Preston?”
Henrietta opened her mouth to say that no, she was not, only for her stomach to growl in a most undignified fashion.
“I shall have tea and perhaps toast and marmalade sent up?” the maid continued, not waiting for Henrietta to answer. “What say you to that, Miss Preston?”
Finding the maid very jolly indeed, to the point that her cheerfulness thrust the rest of Henrietta’s concerns away, Henrietta nodded and managed to smile a little more. “That would be quite wonderful,” she replied, praying that her stomach would remain silent. “I thank you.”
The maid nodded and made to leave the room, only to be stayed by a word from Henrietta.
“Pray tell me, is Lord Carrick still in residence?”
The maid paused but shook her head. “After he spoke to you yesterday afternoon, he left the house and did not come back until late,” she told Henrietta, surprising her by just how vehemently Lord Carrick seemed to be pursuing Henrietta’s confusing situation. “He is gone out again this morning, but I was to inform him the minute he returned as to whether or not you were awake. I am certain he will be glad to see you looking so recovered, Miss Preston.”
Henrietta swallowed hard, her voice rasping just a little. “I thank you,” she said, as the maid bobbed a curtsy and then left the room. She felt a strange sense of awkwardness fill her when she thought of Lord Carrick. It was very odd to be residing under a gentleman’s roof when she did not even know the gentleman very well, and even though her mother might understand what had occurred to permit this to happen, Henrietta had no doubt that Lady Cuthbert would find a way to be vastly displeased with the entire situation.
Sitting back, Henrietta rested her head back just a little and looked around the room. It was a beautifully decorated chamber, with delicate furnishings here and there and gentle touches that made her feel quite welcome. She prayed desperately that Lord Carrick would have discovered her mother quite well, that she would soon hear her mother’s voice and have her arms about her again. Surely her mother would understand that what had happened was not Henrietta’s fault, that it had not been her doing in any way. Once Lord Carrick returned with Lady Cuthbert, she would be able to explain everything.
Some three hours later, Henrietta was still waiting. Lord Carrick had not returned home. Lady Cuthbert had not come into her room, flinging her arms about her daughter and weeping over her safe return. In fact, the only people who had come into her bedchamber had been the same cheerful maid, who had brought another with her so that they might help Henrietta prepare herself for Lord Carrick’s return. She had eaten as much as she wished until she was satisfied and had even been permitted to bathe and dress in a gown that was not her own, but which had been provided for her by Lord Carrick.
Now Henrietta was quite certain that Lord Carrick could be trusted. He had nothing to do with what had occurred, she was quite certain, and as such, she felt a good deal more reassured than before. The pain in her head was lessening with every moment that passed and certainly had reduced significantly by the time she was onto her third cup of tea.
Closing her eyes for a moment and grateful for the warm fire that burned in the hearth, Henrietta tried to recall exactly what had happened that dreadful night. She could remember making her way to the docks, could remember setting down the rubies in front of the ship, but thereafter, she could not recall what had happened. Her head ached as she opened her eyes, frustrated that she could not remember a single thing, that she could not recall anything about her assailant. And then came that usual bite of fear—fear that she had, somehow, been outsmarted and that the person responsible had both her mother and the rubies. Perhaps they would demand more now.
“But why did they attack you?” she murmured aloud, frowning heavily. “What was the reason for it?” She could not think of any particularly good reason for someone to have done so, for it had been so dark that she had been in no danger of recognizing anyone. The rubies had been left, as she had been instructed, so why had she then been attacked?
A cold hand grasped at her heart, making her gasp. Had someone tried to kill her? Had they thought that their blow had rendered her not only unconscious but drawing near to death? Most likely, they had not expected anyone to come down to the docks until the early morning, and had it not been for Lord Carrick, she would have lain there until morning, by which time her body might have succumbed entirely.
Henrietta shuddered violently. Was this the reason behind the attack? Had someone wanted her gone from this earth? Closing her eyes, she fought to keep her composure, knowing that she would have to tell her mother everything the moment she came into the room. Mayhap they would not be able to stay in London. Mayhap they would have to return to the Cuthbert estate to ensure that both Henrietta and Lady Cuthbert would be protected from any further attacks.
“Miss Preston?”
Her eyes flew open as the maid began to make her way towards the door, her eyes on Henrietta. Henrietta nodded and tried to get to her feet, swaying just a little as she did so and accidentally staggering forward.
“Please, Miss Preston, do not rise on my account!” Lord Carrick was beside her in a moment, his face filled with concern. “Please, sit down again and rest.” His hand was about her waist, the other capturing her hand as he took her the two short steps back towards her seat and helped her down into it. Grateful, Henrietta looked up at him, seeing the concern in his eyes and wondering at it. He was a very amiable gentleman, she had to admit, particularly when she was nothing more than a stranger to him and he had, quite literally, stumbled across her.
“There,” Lord Carrick said softly, looking down at her with a good deal of concern. “You are quite all right now, I think, Miss Preston. Although I must say I am glad to see you out of bed and appearing to be so well recovered.” He sat down in the small seat opposite her, his smile present but fading quickly. “Does your head ache still?”
“It does,” Henrietta admitted, looking back at him and feeling her expectation shift into worry. Her mother was not present. She had not come. Was something wrong? Surely Lady Cuthbert had not decided that Henrietta had done wrong in some way and had, therefore, refused to come to Lord Carrick’s house?
“It will become completely healed in time,” Lord Carrick said firmly, as though she required some encouragement in this. “You are to remain here, Miss Preston, at the present, and indeed, for the significant future also, I believe.” A tight expression came over his face as he looked at her, making Henrietta’s stomach twist. “I do not wish to alarm you, Miss Preston, but there are some matters that I must discuss with you.”
Henrietta laced her fingers together and squeezed them tight, showing no outward sign of fear but inwardly feeling quite terrified.
“It is to do with your mother, Miss Preston.”
“My mother,” Henrietta repeated, her heart trembling within her. “My mother. Is she unwell? Has she been injured?” She took in a long, shaking breath, trying not to allow terror to capture her entirely. “Where is she?”
Lord Carrick cleared his throat, but rather than looking afraid, he appeared to be quite uncomfortable. “Lady Cuthbert was not at home when I went to call upon her. Indeed, Miss Preston, the house itself was shut up tight.”
Ice trickled down her spine.
“I sought to find someone who knew what had occurred—indeed, it has taken me the best part of a day to discover it, but it seems that the staff and Lady Cuthbert have returned to their estate.”
Henrietta blinked rapidly, not able to make sense of what Lord Carrick said.
“What I can surmise, Miss Preston, is that your mother is gone back to the estate a
nd all the servants with her. There is not one left in London.”
Henrietta shook her head, feeling tears beginning to burn in her eyes as panic gripped her heart. Panic that she had been left behind, that she had been left here in London to fend for herself.
“I do not understand,” she whispered, leaning forward and shielding her eyes with her hands so that he would not see her cry. “Does she think that I am gone? Does she not seek me out?”
He hesitated. “I cannot answer that, Miss Preston,” he said slowly. “I did make enquiries for you, but none were able to answer, save to say that they believed you returned with your mother. But we shall discover the truth, I am quite certain of it. That is what I mean when I say that you are to remain here. I shall not have you concerned over that, Miss Preston. You are to reside here for as long as is required.”
Such was the hubbub that rose in Henrietta’s mind that she could barely even hear Lord Carrick’s voice. She could not quite accept that such a thing had happened, that she had been left behind in London whilst her mother returned to the estate. It did not make any sense whatsoever!
“Miss Preston?”
She did not look up, hearing Lord Carrick’s voice but feeling as though it came from very far away.
“Miss Preston, you are not alone,” Lord Carrick said quickly, leaning forward in his chair and finally catching her eye. “When you are recovered, I would know what has occurred in all its fullness.”
“Oh, yes,” Henrietta replied faintly as the maid came in with a fresh tea tray. “I shall tell you everything, Lord Carrick.”
“But only when you are ready,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Do not rush yourself in any way, Miss Preston. This is a great burden for you, I can see. I would not have you injure yourself any further, not when you have so much to deal with already.”
