‘Ah, well then.’ The housekeeper came closer and stood, hands folded, looking down at Natalya. ‘Poor dear needs rest. As do you, sir, I’ll be bound. I’ll send Maisie up with some soup for you and I will look out a couple of nightgowns for you and your wife.’
She bustled away, closing the door softly behind her. Tristan rebuked himself for not telling her they were not married. His senses were more disordered than he had realised. He glanced at Natalya, lying still and silent in her torn silk gown. Almost all the white rosebuds had disappeared now and her tangled curls were fanned out across the pillows like a dark storm cloud. A wry smile tugged at his mouth.
‘Hell and damnation,’ he murmured. ‘Here’s a pretty coil!’
* * *
Natalya stirred, fighting against the fog of a very deep sleep that had been plagued by disturbing dreams. Then she opened her eyes and realised she was not in her own bed. Nor was it her own nightshift she was wearing, for it was far too large and much thicker than the fine cotton shifts her aunt had purchased for her. So, it could not all have been a dream.
‘You are awake.’
Turning her head, she saw Tristan sitting in a chair by the window. As memory came crashing back, she tried to stay calm and gather her thoughts.
‘Where are we?’
‘Farnell Hall, home to Sir Toby Farnell and his lady. They are in London at present, but fortunately for us their housekeeper, Mrs Sturry, is a good Christian and took us in when she learned of our predicament.’
Natalya put a hand to her cheek. ‘What could you possibly have told her to account for our appearance last night?’
‘I told her the truth, that you had been abducted and I rescued you.’ He smiled. ‘She thought it quite romantic.’
He had shed his coat and neckcloth, his shirt was open at the neck and the sunlight glinted on his hair, turning it a rich golden brown. With his handsome face and strong, athletic body, there was no denying he looked every inch a romantic hero. Natalya blushed furiously at the thought.
‘You are probably wondering why I am here alone in the room with you,’ he said, anticipating her next question. ‘I am afraid our hostess thought we were man and wife. I was...er...not quick enough to refute the idea.’
‘You s-slept here?’ She shrank back against the pillows.
‘In the chair,’ he told her. ‘It was not difficult; I was so tired I could have slept on a board.’
‘Oh.’
He pushed himself to his feet. ‘Would you like something to eat? I told Mrs Sturry I would go and find her when you were awake. She will bring something up for you to break your fast.’
‘No, no,’ she cried, distracted. ‘I must get up. I must get back to Bath with all speed. Where are my clothes?’
She tried to throw back the bedding, but he stopped her.
‘There is no hurry. Mrs Sturry has taken your gown away to clean it as best she can.’
‘But I must get home!’
He said gently, ‘It is well past noon now and too late to get you there today.’
‘Nonsense. We cannot have come that far.’
‘Far enough.’ Tristan tucked the bedcovers back around her. ‘I do not propose to ride into Bath with you across my saddle-bow. And on a Sunday, too. Think what a feast the gossipmongers would make of that!’
She fell back against the pillows. Despite her long sleep she felt too exhausted to argue. All she could do was whisper a faint, ‘Thank you.’
He smiled and stepped back from the bed.
‘We will need to hire a chaise. Our hostess tells me the nearest place to do that is Devizes. By the time I have returned here to collect you, we should not reach Bath before dark, and I want to make the journey in broad daylight, with plenty of traffic on the road.’
Natalya plucked nervously at the sheet.
‘Do you think the men who abducted me might be watching out for us?’
‘It is unlikely, but I will not take the risk of driving you home at night, when we would be most vulnerable to attack. Now, I will send Mrs Sturry up with your breakfast and I shall ride into Devizes and find a suitable vehicle to convey you back to Sydney Place tomorrow.’ Without thinking she reached out her hand and he took it, smiling at her. ‘Do not look so frightened, Natalya. You will be perfectly safe here while I am gone.’
‘No, no, you misunderstand.’ Her fingers clung to him. ‘You must not go alone. I c-could not bear it if something happened to you.’
He sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded her for a moment, his grey eyes enigmatic.
‘Nothing is going to happen to me, Natalya. I will be as quick as I can.’ Giving her hand a final squeeze, he went to the door. ‘Oh.’ He turned. ‘Just in case you were wondering. We are Mr and Mrs Quintrell. It is my family name, so not too far from the truth.’
With that he was gone. Natalya listened to his quick, firm tread on the boards fading away to nothing. She felt bereft. Not even his final smile could shake it. She allowed herself the indulgence of a few hot tears, which she dashed away when the door opened and the housekeeper came in with a heavily laden tray.
‘There, there, dearie, there’s nothing to weep about,’ she exclaimed. ‘You are safe enough here, you have my word on that. Now, you just eat up your breakfast, that will put some heart into you.’ She put the tray across Natalya’s lap and bustled about the room, plumping cushions and straightening ornaments. ‘It is only ham and a little bread and butter, but I have brought you tea, as well, which Lady Farnell swears always perks her up.’
‘That is very generous of you,’ murmured Natalya, taking a sip.
‘Nonsense, it’s the least I can do, after the trouble you have been through. Your man was telling me how those horrid relatives of yours took against him when he married you and wanted to fetch you back. Shameful, I calls it, when anyone can see he is head over heels in love with you!’
‘He—he is?’ The teacup clattered in the saucer.
‘Lord, yes! I’ve never seen a man more besotted, ma’am! And when he laid you down here, and you stirred and clutched at his hand, beggin’ him not to leave you—well! It fair brought tears to my eyes to see the two of you. So don’t you be afraid. If anyone comes here a-looking for you I shall send ’em to the rightabout.’
She was standing with her fists on her hips, looking so fierce that Natalya did not doubt her at all.
‘Thank you, Mrs Sturry. You are too kind. Especially with your master and mistress away.’
‘Aye, Sir Toby and his lady have gone to town, to see these foreign Emperors and Kings and the like who are coming to celebrate the fact that that French monster has been well and truly beaten and sent to Elba.’ She snorted. ‘To my mind he should be given the same treatment as his sort gave all those poor French aristos during the Revolution. They should cut off his head. But there, as a good Christian I suppose I shouldn’t say so.’
Natalya did not know how to respond to this outburst so she concentrated on her breakfast. She found she was, after all, quite hungry and had soon eaten everything before her.
‘I feel much better for that, Mrs Sturry, thank you.’
The housekeeper beamed as she bustled over to collect the empty tray.
‘I knew you would. Now, I shall go and see if your gown is ready, then we can get you dressed before your husband comes back from Devizes.’
‘Is it very far? That is, will he be long?’
‘Ah, bless me, you are missing him already! He will be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, you mark my words, then you can have a cosy dinner in here, just the two of you. Your man thought you would prefer that to the formal dining room. I did tell him I was sure my mistress would not object to you using the family rooms, but he was adamant this would be better. It’s my belief he does not want to impose on Sir Toby without express permission. Such a thoughtful gentleman,
Mr Quintrell, is he not? And so handsome, too, if you don’t mind my saying so.’ She gave a fat chuckle. ‘Ah, now I’ve made you blush. No need to colour up so, my dear, many a woman would give a lot to have such a man for a husband.’
She went out, still chuckling, leaving Natalya feeling more bereft than ever.
* * *
The housekeeper assigned one of the housemaids to help Natalya dress. Despite the best efforts of Mrs Sturry and her maids, the white gown looked shabby in the bright light of a summer’s day. The satin was discoloured and the overdress showed signs of rough handling, with snags in the muslin and threads of the silver embroidery broken. Natalya sighed. It would have to do. At least there could be no doubting that she had been forcibly abducted, when she made her explanation to her aunt and uncle.
Once Natalya was dressed and had done her best to put her hair up into a knot, using the brush and comb Mrs Sturry supplied, she looked for some way to amuse herself until Tristan’s return. It could be hours and she was grateful when the housekeeper brought her a pile of novels that her mistress had recently purchased. By a lucky chance, one was The Absentee, a novel by Mrs Edgeworth. Natalya’s uncle had given her a copy as part of his study regime for her, so she had already started it. She quickly found her place in the story and continued to read, resolutely forcing herself to concentrate on the words.
Despite her best efforts, the time dragged and the summer sunshine was waning by the time Tristan returned. He came in, preceding his entrance with a brief knock and she jumped up, giving a sigh of relief when she saw him.
‘You are safe!’
He was still wearing his riding jacket and she thought how well he looked in the blue coat and buckskins. Even his neckcloth looked crisp and white. It had obviously fared better from the laundry maid’s ministrations than her poor gown.
‘Quite safe.’ His sober countenance was lightened with a brief smile. ‘But I have bad news, I am afraid. There are no carriages available at any price.’ He moved further into the room. ‘There is some sort of gathering afoot. A boxing match, I suspect, although being a stranger, no one wanted to tell me too much, in case I informed the magistrates. There is not even a gig to be had tomorrow. I am sorry.’
‘Oh.’
Strangely, Natalya was not as disappointed as she knew she should be. The idea of spending time here, with Tristan, was sinfully pleasing.
‘However, I have the promise of a vehicle for Tuesday,’ he continued. ‘It is a rather shabby affair, but it was the best I could find and it will convey you back to Bath in relative comfort, I think.’ He pulled a package from his coat and held it out to her. ‘And I have this for you.’
She stared at the parcel.
‘But it is Sunday. Nothing is allowed to be sold but milk and mackerel!’
‘Then all I will say is that I did not steal it.’ His sudden boyish grin made her heart skip a beat. ‘I thought it might be useful.’
Natalya unfolded the brown paper to reveal a fine woollen shawl of the palest pink.
‘Oh, it is just what I need.’ She rose, shaking out the folds and throwing it about her shoulders. ‘I shall not ask any more questions about how you procured it. I will just say that it is perfect and I thank you.’
She was tempted to put a hand on his shoulder and kiss his cheek, but she restrained herself, blushing slightly at the thought.
* * *
Tristan saw the gesture, the way her hand started to reach out towards him, then pulled back. An awkward silence stretched between them and he turned away, not wishing to embarrass her.
‘Mrs Sturry told me she had served your dinner some time ago.’
‘Yes. She said I should not wait. That you might be late.’
She sounded very subdued. No doubt she was reflecting on the delicacy of their situation.
‘Yes, she said as much and that she has put aside a meal for me.’ He walked towards the door. ‘I shall eat it downstairs, rather than disturb you.’ When she did not reply, he continued, ‘Having gone thus far, I am afraid we must continue with the pretence that we are man and wife. There will be gossip, but I hope we are sufficiently far from Bath for no one to guess the truth about you.’
He saw that Natalya was very pale. Her eyes were fixed on him, dark and anxious. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
‘If you are apprehensive about tonight, pray do not be. I have no intention of sharing your bed. I shall make do with the chair again. Or failing that,’ he ended lightly, ‘there is always the floor!’
She nodded, but as she turned away he caught a glimpse of unhappiness in her face and something more.
By heaven, he thought, shaken, was she disappointed?
His thoughts were in chaos. This was not the time or the place for a declaration. Their situation was far too delicate. And yet—
‘Natalya, I mean you no harm, trust me.’
‘Of course I trust you. I am an educated woman, a rational being and not some silly romantic ninny who thinks every man I meet will want to make love to me!’
She sounded quite calm, but she had her back to him and he could not be certain. He wanted to look into her face, to assure himself she was as rational as she professed herself to be.
Nonsense, you want to take her into your arms and tell her how desperately you want to make love to her!
It took him a supreme effort of will to keep his distance, but he succeeded, and after a moment she spoke again in a matter-of-fact fashion.
‘I think I should write a note for the Pridhams, telling them I am well, but I wanted to wait until you had returned, in case you thought it unsafe to travel.’
‘I do not think there is any danger, as long as you do not tell them our direction. Would you like me to undertake the task? I also want to send word to George Street, to apprise my valet of the situation.’
‘Yes. Thank you, that would be very kind.’
‘Very well. I shall seek out pen and paper and write the letters in the morning room after I have finished my dinner. That way I need not disturb you again.’ Still she would not look at him. Tristan bit back a sigh. He said, ‘You should go to bed, Natalya. I will ask the maid to come and help you undress. Goodnight, my dear.’
* * *
Natalya heard the soft click as he closed the door behind him and felt the emptiness of the room as the silence closed in around her. When he returned she would be tucked up between the sheets, the curtains pulled around the bed and he would sleep in the chair, keeping watch. Her chivalrous protector.
And knowing he would not disturb her made her want him even more.
* * *
Natalya slept soundly and did not wake until the maid came in with a cup of hot chocolate.
‘It is nine o’clock, ma’am, and a lovely morning.’ She continued to chatter as she fastened back the silk bed-hangings. ‘Mr Quintrell came downstairs early to break his fast, ’cos he did not want to wake you.’
‘Oh.’
Natalya sipped at her hot chocolate. She had barely moved in the night and one side of the bed was untouched, the pillows plump and pristine. A sigh welled up inside her. He had kept his word, he had not come to her bed and now she was not sure whether she was most glad or sorry.
However, it convinced her of one thing. He was not behind her abduction. This was no elaborate plot he had devised to seduce her. But if that was the case, he might be in danger.
She said as carelessly as she could, ‘And where is Mr Quintrell now?’
‘He’s gone into Devizes with his letters. Said he didn’t want to put Mrs Sturry to the trouble of sending a servant with them, which she was very happy to do, ma’am, but no, the gentleman says as how he would take them himself, even though it has been raining since dawn.’ The maid finished bustling around and beamed at her. ‘So, ma’am, would you like me to bring your breakfast on a tray no
w?’
Natalya held out the empty cup. ‘I think I should like to wash and dress first, if there is any hot water?’
‘Indeed there is, ma’am. I shall bring it up immediately!’
* * *
Natalya spent the morning in her room. The window overlooked the drive and she glanced out frequently, wondering just how long Tristan would be. She tried to concentrate upon Mrs Edgeworth’s improving tale, but could not help looking up at regular intervals, wondering if he had returned. She missed him more than she could say.
It was a day of sunshine and showers and a short but violent downpour at about two o’clock rattled the windows. It also covered the sounds of approaching footsteps and Natalya gave a start when the door opened.
She could not prevent a smile of relief when Tristan came in.
‘You are back! Did you get very wet? We have had rain, on and off, all day here.’ She flushed at the banality of her greeting.
‘It was the same in Devizes,’ he told her. ‘Fortunately, Mrs Sturry found me a greatcoat and hat to wear, which kept off the worst of the rain. The poor horse suffered more than I. You know, she really is an exceptional mare, far too good to be hired out to just anyone. When I get back to George Street I shall buy her before she can be ruined by some cow-handed novice. I shall send her down to my own stables at Dalmorren.’
She knew he was trying to put her ease and felt grateful, although she was barely attending, her thoughts fixed on the way his brown hair curled damply about his head.
She said, ‘I thought you would be soaked to the skin.’
Suddenly she imagined herself helping him to strip off his sodden clothes, wielding a towel to rub dry the honed flesh she had felt beneath his shirt as they rode through the night. Natalya berated herself and tried hard to keep the thought from setting her cheeks on fire. Not only her cheeks, but her whole body. And she ached with longing. Oh, goodness, this must be the reason respectable women fell from grace! Or perhaps it was because she was the child of some wanton woman, who thought of nothing but earthly pleasures. To cover her confusion, she walked to the window.
The Mysterious Miss Fairchild (HQR Historical) Page 15
