by June Calvin
Just then Buckman opened the door with some appearance of haste. “Miss Olivia, would you step out here a moment?”
Her heart in her throat, Olivia excused herself and stepped into the entryway, followed by her aunt and uncle. Her head groom, Richard Cox, stood there, his seamed face working with emotion.
“Begging your pardon,” he said with a darting glance around at the trio. He tugged at his forelock. “We’ve had a message from the young master, you see. His horse came in without him a few minutes ago, with this tied to one of the stirrups.” He held out a torn piece of cloth, which Olivia took in trembling hands as her aunt and uncle drew near.
“Is that blood?” Lavinia fairly shrieked.
Olivia’s mouth trembled. “It appears to be written in blood on a torn shirtsleeve.” She read the message aloud. “ ‘Robin Creek, foot hurt.’ ”
“Have you started someone in that direction yet?” Edmund demanded of Cox, alerting Olivia that he, too, had joined them.
“Yes, m’lord. Sent two men out. Thought I orta let the family know, though.”
“Hitch up a wagon, get some rope, wood for a splint, and something to carry him on,” Olivia directed. “He’s hurt badly, perhaps has broken something, to send this instead of riding home.”
Cox tugged at his forelock and started on his errand, closely followed by Edmund.
Olivia turned to her aunt. “Why don’t you take our guests in to dinner?” she asked.
“But my dear—”
“It will keep everyone occupied. Don’t explain just now. Simply say that something has come up. Uncle, will you act as host? I am going to go with the wagon.”
He nodded, his face grim. “Send word as soon as you know something?”
“I will.” She gave him a brief hug, then started toward the rear of the house. By the time she reached the stable, Edmund had mounted Storm. He saluted her briefly and rode off while she waited for a wagon to be hitched and loaded with equipment. With Richard Cox driving, they set off at a spanking pace toward the creek that ran to the north of the estate, a favorite fishing spot for Jason and Olivia.
As they approached the spinney through which the creek wound, Edmund emerged and shouted at them, waving them on. By the time they had drawn up as near the trees as possible, he came back out, carrying Jason. He staggered with the load, for a summer of hard work had added muscle to Jason’s already considerable height.
Olivia’s heart turned over at the sight of her brother lying there so limply in Edmund’s arms. She jumped from the wagon and ran toward him. “Is he . . .”
“Barely conscious,” Edmund replied in a tight voice. “Get those sticks out and I’ll stabilize his ankle before we go any farther.” He bent with his burden, laying Jason carefully on the ground. The boy groaned as he did so.
“Oh, Jason. What have you done to yourself?” Olivia sank to her knees beside him.
“Hullo, Livvy.” He turned a white face toward her, his eyes crinkled in pain. “Something stupid, if you must know. Went wading barefoot in the creek, and slipped in a hole. Wedged m’foot under a tree root.”
“Wading? It’s almost October!” She shivered, for though it was a sunny day, it hardly seemed warm enough to be dabbling in the water. “You’re soaked,” she exclaimed.
Edmund knelt on the other side. His clothes were wet where he had held Jason. “He was in the creek for some time, apparently.”
“Yup. Told you it was stupid.” Jason began shivering violently.
Mr. Cox stepped up, three sturdy sticks in his hand, along with some rope.
“Get the blankets,” she told him, taking the items from his hands and passing them to Edmund, who was examining Jason’s left ankle and foot carefully.
She looked at his ankle and gasped. It was swollen, covered with scratches, and oozing blood. “Oh, Jason. You poor darling. Do you think it is broken, Edmund?”
“I can’t tell for sure, of course, but I feel no protruding bones. It seems to be mostly bruised and cut.”
Through chattering teeth, Jason explained, “Had the devil of a time getting it out, and all the time water sluicing around me! Hurts like the devil, Edmund. Must be broken. And Moonstar just kept twirling around when I tried to pull myself up to mount. Fool horse!”
The blankets arrived, along with the door the men had taken from the stable to carry him on. Olivia tucked the warm woolens around her brother once he was positioned on the flat surface. Edmund wrapped the injured ankle in his own neckcloth, then fastened one of the sticks on either side for stability. He and the grooms then carried Jason to the wagon, Olivia alongside, holding his hand.
“S-stupid of me,” Jason muttered. “Hate to make such a fuss.”
“Hush, dearest. It is nothing to worry yourself about.” She climbed into the back of the wagon and rode home with her brother’s head in her lap.
After a long, confusing evening that saw first Mr. Higgens and then Mr. Plimm examine Jason’s ankle, and pronounce in turn that they did not know whether it was broken or not, Aunt Lavinia chased the others out of Jason’s bedroom so she could clean and bandage her nephew’s foot.
“Olivia, you look like death,” she announced firmly, almost pushing her niece out the door. “Have Cook prepare a tisane for you, and get some rest. And Edmund, go change. You’ll catch your death in those wet clothes.”
Uncle Milton looked on, his face grim, as the bandaging went forward. Once Olivia was gone, he said to his nephew, “Had to go ahead and do it, didn’t you, sprout?”
“You’d have said no, Uncle. Or if you didn’t, your conscience would have bothered you forever.”
“Took it all on your own soul. Don’t you know morals are like muscles? Use them and they’ll grow strong. Abandon them and they’ll weaken from disuse. Then when the important moral decisions come along, you’ll have no muscles to use to resist evil.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Jason said, then winced at his aunt’s ministrations.
“You’re well served for your wickedness, you know,” Milton barked.
Jason responded between clenched teeth, “If you mean my ankle is truly injured now, you have the right of it.”
“You overdid it, I think,” Lavinia agreed, straightening from spreading a healing unguent on his bruised, torn flesh.
“Not on purpose. Just meant to scrape it up a bit. I really did get it wedged under there. As you say, Uncle, I am well served. But now the trick is getting matters to fall out as we intended.”
“Don’t say we, you varmint. You are on your own!”
“You aren’t going to tell?” Jason looked anxiously at his uncle’s severe face.
“He feels feverish to me, Milton. What do you think?”
Milton laid his hand against Jason’s cheek. “Don’t you get sick on us and die, you wretch! I’ll never forgive you.”
Jason smiled ruefully. “Nor would I forgive myself.” He grabbed his uncle’s wrist. “Say you won’t tell, please?”
“No point in that now. It’s done. As you say, the trick will be to get Olivia to leave you, especially if you come down with an ague.”
“She won’t, if he does that. I’m going to have some willow-bark tea sent up.” Lavinia stepped to the door to summon Jason’s anxious valet.
Once outside Jason’s door, Olivia felt a mild attack of the vapors coming on, the events of the day having finally taken their toll on her nerves. She had been forced to bear up while politely dealing with her guests’ solicitousness when they brought Jason home. Mary Benson had fallen into near hysteria. It was Lord Edmund she required to calm her. Olivia had watched this blatant flirtation irritably, telling herself she only wanted to be done with the girl and all the other guests so she could go to her brother.
When at last all of them had left, she had hurried upstairs to watch first Mr. Higgens and then Mr. Plimm twisting and turning and handling Jason’s ankle over his loud objections, until she thought she would scream. She had been almost relieved when Aunt Lavinia insi
sted on doing the treatment and bandaging.
Instead of going to her room and sending for a tisane, as Lavinia had suggested, she went to the drawing room, intent upon a glass of brandy. There she found Edmund pacing back and forth. He poured her brandy while questioning her about Jason’s condition, and stood next to her, a concerned frown on his face, as she lifted the glass to her lips with shaking hands.
When the fiery liquid rushed through her veins, she found her shakes replaced by weakness that made her knees buckle, and Edmund helped her to a sofa, then sat down beside her, chafing her cold hands as she babbled.
“I’ve never seen Jason take on so. Edmund, you’ve never seen him injured, so perhaps you think he’s overdramatizing.”
“That is not my assessment of him. I expect that ankle hurts like the devil.”
“I am sure it has a crack in it, as Mr. Plimm said might be the case. I am just glad he could not mount his horse and ride home. He might have made it worse. But, oh! He shook so. And looked so pale. What if he comes down with a fever? Just last year the Melbys’ boy was carried off within a day of a fever caught after a wetting.”
She began to cry, and Edmund put his arms around her, drawing her close to him in a comforting hug.
“He’s a strong, healthy young man, Olivia, not a child.”
Olivia bit her lower lip, trying to bring the crying to a halt. “I know.” She sniffled. “It’s just . . . he seemed half out of his head on the way home. He said over and over that I must still go to London. As if I would leave him when he is ill! When he is hurt!”
“Of course you won’t. But he’ll bounce back more quickly if he doesn’t think your trip is scuttled.”
“He wants me to go so much. He wants to see me married so badly! I am surprised he no longer pushes me to marry Corbright.”
The bitter tone in her voice caused Edmund to move so he could look into her face. “Don’t you want to marry Corbright, Olivia? I had the impression you still cared for him.”
“I don’t know.” She wouldn’t look into his eyes. “I haven’t decided. Poor Edmund, you shouldn’t have to shoulder our family’s troubles.”
“I care deeply for . . . for every member of this family. If I can help you in any way, I will. Above all you mustn’t let yourself be pressured into marrying anyone you don’t want, including Corbright.”
“You don’t like Franklin, do you?”
“No.” He looked down at her, at the way her head was cocked to one side and her blue eyes still glistening with tears, and yearned to tell her that he would hate any man who might win her heart. But she would not welcome such a declaration. Right now she seemed to trust him, to accept him almost as a brother. He had gained that much ground with her. She no longer regarded him as a scoundrel, and he would certainly be one if he used her present vulnerable state to advance his own cause. Moreover, he was mindful of the advice he had given Jason, not to arouse her contrary spirit by trying to manage her.
“My dislike of him is of long standing, but I can certainly see why a woman might find him . . . eligible.”
What precisely she had hoped to hear, she did not know. But this cool, dispassionate response to her question wasn’t it. She remembered the way he had comforted Mary Benson earlier in the evening, and stiffened. “Thank you for giving me a shoulder to cry on, Edmund. I won’t pester you anymore.”
“I won’t go to London without you!”
Jason groaned. “You must, Livvy. Please!” Jason had battled a cold for the last three days, and his throat still sounded hoarse.
“How can I, when you are ill?”
“I’m fine. It is just a cold, almost gone. Just because my ankle is hurting, that doesn’t mean I need you here.”
“We can delay our departure until you are feeling up to the trip.”
“You’ll miss Lady Bower’s ball if you don’t go on. You know you want to attend, and she really wants you to be there to celebrate her husband’s new appointment to the cabinet.”
“Her ball will be a success without me, though. And Aunt Lavinia and I can’t go unescorted.” She glanced at her aunt, who with her uncle and Edmund were ranged about Jason’s bed.
“Uncle—”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Uncle Milton exploded. “You young chub! You know I detest London. And besides, I’ve got my duties here.” Everyone knew how seriously Milton Ormhill took his ministry, so Jason ventured no reply to this.
“I expect Edmund would escort us, dear,” Lavinia said, looking at him for confirmation. He nodded assent.
“No, indeed.” Olivia lifted her chin. “Edmund didn’t agree to act as a substitute brother. He wants to learn how to manage an estate. He won’t learn that in London. And besides, who will manage the estate if he goes?”
“Are you saying I can’t keep track of things for two or three weeks? That I’ve learned nothing this summer?” The gravel in Jason’s throat made him cough as he almost shouted his protests. “Won’t the instructions you wrote out for Edmund serve well enough for me, too? You think I’m too stupid to follow them, don’t you?”
“No, that was not my meaning.”
“And it wouldn’t be as if I were asking Edmund to stand in my stead for long. I shall join you as soon as I am well enough to travel. I can practice at Manton’s with a bad ankle, I daresay. Then, when I have completely recovered, I can begin my training with Gentleman Jackson, and a good fencing master.”
Olivia frowned, touched by her brother’s distress, but puzzled, too. “You have never before agreed to allow me to go farther than High Wycombe without your escort.”
“Oh, Livvy!” Jason threw his arm over his eyes in a despairing gesture.
“If you will allow me to escort you, Olivia, I would be happy to do so.” Edmund held out his hand to her. “I’d like to speak privately with you for a moment.” He led her across the room. “He’ll fret himself into a fever again if you persist,” he half whispered. He looked into her blue eyes and felt his heart contract with longing. He knew he should resist this assignment. But the conversation he had had with her about Corbright the night of Jason’s injury had given him renewed hope. The scorn in her voice when she spoke the man’s name had contradicted her insistence that she was undecided about her feelings for Corbright.
Olivia looked into Edmund’s warm brown eyes and knew a moment of panic. Why do I feel so fluttery around him? When he touches me or speaks to me, I want to throw myself at him. This could be a disaster, to be in his company even more. It was a pointless attraction, for Mary Benson was now his object.
Yet she knew she could not deny her distraught brother what he appeared to be so set on having. And in fact it might be an excellent idea to encourage this tentative step by Jason away from his strict interpretation of his father’s deathbed charge. Moreover, she really needed to be at the Bowers’ ball to meet the eligible men there.
I will just have to be very careful to keep Edmund at a distance.
“If you truly do not mind,” she said.
“I truly do not.”
She returned to her brother’s bedside. “Very well,” she told him. “We will go on to London. When you join us, Edmund can return to look after Beaumont and his . . . other interests here.”
Because she was looking at Jason as she spoke, she did not see the hurt that flashed across Edmund’s face. But Lavinia and Milton did, and looked at one another in consternation.
Chapter Eighteen
“They make a charming couple.” Olivia was proud of her steady voice as she remarked upon Mary Benson and Edmund, stepping their way lightly through a waltz. Finding that the Bensons had also traveled to London for the Bowers’ ball had not been a particularly pleasant revelation for her. Seeing Mary and Edmund so very much in step with once another hurt her more than she had expected. When Edmund had asked Mary for this waltz, Olivia had declined a partner and retreated to the wall, where Mr. Benson joined her, his eyes on his daughter and the handsome man who partnered her.
>
“Yes. It is a pity, really.”
Olivia looked sideways at Mr. Benson, surprised. She had seen no evidence that he objected to Edmund prior to this moment. “A pity?”
Mr. Benson nodded. “I have run off dozens of men as fortune hunters who were a great deal wealthier than Lord Edmund. He hasn’t a feather to fly with, yet I feel he would make my Mary an excellent husband. I know I could trust that he would never neglect her, mistreat her, or waste her fortune.” His solemn voice and depressed manner only added to Olivia’s perplexity. He turned and encountered her surprised look.
“Will she not have him, sir?”
“Not have him? Of course she would have him. Mary would have any half-presentable young man of whom I would approve. She falls in and out of love with the seasons. This season it is Edmund. Thank goodness for her fickle nature, for this failure to attach him cannot cause her much pain.” Mr. Benson rounded on her, suddenly angry. “Can it be that you believe he is dangling after my daughter?”
“Why, I . . .”
Mr. Benson gave a bark of humorless laughter. “No, indeed. I fairly threw her at him, but he gave me to understand his affections were otherwise engaged.”
“Otherwise engaged!” Olivia felt as if she had been hit by lightning. “But who . . . ?”
He frowned at her, then smiled crookedly. “Who, indeed, Miss Ormhill? For an intelligent woman, you are being remarkably obtuse.”
He is mistaken. That was all Olivia could think as she watched Edmund smile and bow to Mary at the end of the dance. He was the very pattern of a polite suitor as he led her back to her father. She had discounted as mere show his look of surprise at finding the Bensons at the ball. Of course he had known they meant to go to London. Why else had he been so willing to escort her in Jason’s stead? But if Edmund actually told Mary’s father his affections were engaged, what could it mean? Olivia’s heart thrummed with a painful sort of excitement.
Seeing her partner for the next dance searching for her, she ducked out of the ballroom and made her way to the withdrawing room. She was not alone there, but the chattering women who clustered in the outer chamber primping at the mirrors were strangers to her. She went to the window and looked down at the rainswept street below.
