When a Rake Falls

by Sally Orr

  The confection widened her eyes, and Eve noticed glances exchanged between her and Parker. His expression appeared rather odd, sleepy, and heavy lidded. The giggle, decidedly for his sake, was a mature female sound meant to gain male attention.

  Parker made an effort to sit up, failed, and then closed his eyes. He waved his hand in a giant arc. “Mrs. Lydia Buxton, it is with great delight that I introduce you to Miss Eve Mountfloy, the dedicated lady of science. Miss Mountfloy, Mrs. Buxton, the late widow of Mr. Gill. Recently married, if I remember rightly, so felicitations are in order. While we have never met formally, I’ve heard quite a few stories about you too. And I see no reason why you should be cross with me.”

  Eve dropped her best curtsy, an ironic gesture wearing such a filthy gown. “Mrs. Buxton, a pleasure.”

  The confection gave Eve a brief nod and, by the swift movement of her eyes, a complete and thorough analysis. “That gown is the very color of the dirty turnips, is it not?” She did not wait for an answer. Instead, she placed her glove tenderly on the Parker’s boot. “Where are you hurt, dear…may I call you Boyce? You must call me—indeed—you both must call me Lydia. There, isn’t this nice. I already feel like we are old friends. So imagine my distress to find my friends in this regrettable state. It does make me worry so.”

  Parker remained lying down. “Yes, yes, but please do not worry on my account. A day’s rest, and I’ll be pluck in no time.” He tried to lift his head again, grimaced, and laid back on the wagon’s boards. “I’d be honored to call you Lydia, since we have many friends in common. So, Lydia, I’d like to request the assistance of your fine fellow, Mr. Muckles here, to take Miss Mountfloy and myself to a nearby inn. Perhaps tomorrow, with your permission, he could assist the lady with the recovery of her balloon.”

  Lydia giggled again, a little softer, probably a sound in affirmation. “Why, both of you will reside at Duddleswell Priory with us, of course. Dear Buxton is in temporary residence in London these days. All of which is the fault of your friend George, but we will speak about that and why I’m so cross with you later. So there is only dear Buxton’s mother and myself at the priory now. I know Lady Buxton will be pleased to have your company.” She made a few small claps. “We’ll have a regular house party.” She turned to address Mr. Muckles. “Do what you can to help the young lady, won’t you, Frank? I don’t know what is involved with all of this ballooning equipment, but surely Burwell can find space in the stables.”

  Mr. Muckles doffed his hat. “Yes, missus. Me and Jem will take de young man to de house, and we will return to pick up his machine.” With those words, he nodded and waved to Jem. The two climbed up onto the wagon’s seat then urged the horse forward.

  “Wait,” Eve called, expecting to ride in the back of the wagon with Parker.

  Lydia turned to Eve and repeated her head-to-toe perusal. “I’d be delighted to have your company in my gig, Miss Mountfloy. I’m sure you don’t want to sit in the back of a wagon and spoil the remains of that gown.”

  Eve dropped a slight curtsy this time. “Thank you, ma’am. You are very kind. I can’t tell you how grateful we are for your rescue, but I wish to accompany his lordship back to the house. He was my passenger and therefore my responsibility.” She climbed into the wagon and the two conveyances set off for the priory. “What happened?” She reached over to loosen Parker’s neckcloth. “Do you need a surgeon immediately? How badly are you injured?”

  “Injured but survivable.” With the first bump over a row of turnips, he moaned. “Ended up flat on my back on some sort of shrubbery, with berries—red berries. Then I heard a strange sound and decided to follow it. The sound turned out to be your pretty voice. Definitely hurt everywhere, but nothing broken. Might be stiff for a week though. Still, I made a solemn promise to return you, and your balloon, to your father. He must be anxious about your whereabouts.”

  “Thank you, but what about the earl’s race to France?”

  Despite his physical injury, soiled garments, and dirty face, he smiled. “Some luck there. It’s a monthlong race, so I have over twenty days left to reach Paris. My stay in Sussex must be short though.” The wagon bumped over endless rows of turnips. “Ow. After I leave this place, I will never eat turnips again—painful vegetables, turnips.”

  Once they arrived at Duddleswell Priory, Parker fell under the butler’s care. Mr. Tut had reigned over the priory for fifty years, and he efficiently saw that Parker was taken upstairs to a guest room, undressed, and the surgeon called. Later, when Eve and Mrs. Buxton were allowed to enter the room, Tut instructed a housemaid to fetch a glass of barley water for the patient.

  Eve entered the room, recognized an unfamiliar urge to grasp Parker’s hand, and dismissed it.

  Lydia performed that office first. “Dear Boyce.” She reached out with her other hand to pull back the soft, blue coverlet. “Where does it hurt?”

  He seized her wrist before she could adjust his coverlet.

  “Nothing to see, ladies. I am not gravely injured, just a little sore here and there.”

  The door flew open and a tall matron stood on the threshold, dressed from head to toe in black, except for a striking gold quizzing glass hanging from her neck. Within seconds, the older woman’s sharp gaze took in the details of everyone in the room. She then addressed the confection standing at the bedside. “What is this all about, Lydia?” The matron marched over toward the bed but stopped in front of Eve.

  “Lord Boyce Parker fell out of his balloon, Mama. And this young lady does something with balloons.” She frowned. “Why were you in the balloon, Miss…?”

  “Mountfloy,” Eve answered, dropping a curtsy to the older woman.

  “Oh, yes.” Lydia smiled broadly, revealing noticeably white teeth. “Miss Mountfloy, this is my mother-in-law, Lady Buxton.”

  The matron surveyed Eve for one second. “Tut!”

  The butler appeared in the doorway. “Yes, my lady.”

  Lady Buxton clutched the gold chain of her quizzing glass. “See that the surgeon is called for. And make sure you call Mr. Hulbart and not Mr. Young—his breath kills his patients long before he has the chance to cure them.”

  “I have already sent Henry to fetch the surgeon, my lady.”

  “Of course. I should have known.” Lady Buxton approached the bedside and held her quizzing glass up to briefly examine Lord Parker. “You must be the youngest. Rumors are you are an out-and-out frivolous buck. Is that true, young man?”

  He widened his eyes. “Well! I wouldn’t say—”

  “You look just like your mother,” the matron stated, followed by a sigh. “She was a childhood friend, you know.”

  “No, I did not—”

  “It’s the green eyes, of course. Quite rare. But you have her hair, her chin—in fact, the resemblance is remarkable.” She exhaled a long and deep sigh. “Young man, you have made me sad. I liked your mother and haven’t thought of her in years. Despondent when she died. As children, we used to play cat and mouse at her uncle’s house. Your mother always lost the game because her laughter gave her away. Lovely woman, lovely.” Lady Buxton pulled up a cane chair and sat. “Since your mother and I were such close friends, I will naturally treat you as my son during your stay here at the priory. If there is anything you need, let me know. I’ll be sure to inform Tut of the importance of your comfort. Now tell me all about this ballooning adventure.”

  “Mama, I—”

  “Have more chairs brought in, Lydia,” Lady Buxton said, nodding at Eve. “I’m sure our guest would like to sit.”

  Lydia glanced once at Parker before she dropped his hand and left the room.

  This time Eve boldly strode forward and took Parker’s hand. Decidedly cooler than normal, she wanted to chafe it vigorously, like their warming game, but she didn’t want to explain this to the others. So she moved to block Lady Buxton’s view of their joined hands,
then slowly and softly rubbed his palm.

  He squeezed her hand and smiled up at her. “Is my face presentable enough to be viewed by ladies?”

  “You have two bruises, one of them quite alarming in size, but you are certainly presentable.” She caught his glance, smiled, and squeezed his palm in return.

  Lydia returned followed by Tut and a footman carrying several turned oak chairs with thick cushions.

  Tut pointed to locations around the bed, and the footman placed each chair on the exact spot.

  By the time everyone was comfortably seated, Parker attempted to sit up but soon became restless. “Ladies, if you will excuse me, my ribs are paining me. At the moment, I’m in no condition to chat.”

  To spare him physical discomfort or difficult explanations, Eve offered to describe their accident. “If you would pardon me, Lady Buxton. Perhaps you will let me relate the nature of our adventure, since his lordship is injured.”

  Lady Buxton raised a brow; the madman grinned.

  Eve smiled at both of them in turn. “You see, your ladyship, Lord Parker has an interest in aerostation and wished to invest in balloons. His primary interest, however, was a race to Paris sponsored by the Earl of Stainthorpe. For that purpose, he joined a flight planned by my father and myself. We planned to perform our experiments and then cross the Channel to France. During the night, the wind changed directions and blew us back over England. I must compliment Lord Boyce because his help was invaluable in completing the experiments on board—”

  Lady Buxton huffed. “I find your father’s actions hard to believe, Miss Mountfloy. I do not approve of two young people engaging in a dangerous adventure alone.”

  “He meant to join us after we briefly touched down, but landing became impossible and my father was unable to board. At the time I was…held up.”

  Parker groaned then lifted the coverlet over his mouth.

  “So together, his lordship and I soldiered on. This is by no means an unusual event, as we frequently have only two on board. I want to assure you that my father did give his lordship some sage advice before we left. I don’t remember exactly what he said—”

  “Hang on,” Parker said, followed by a chuckle. “I have great respect for this young lady. The goal of our journey was to save humanity. We only thought about experiments to understand our weather and save lives.” He stared at the ceiling and smiled broadly. “Miss Mountfloy needed my presence to assist with these scientific experiments too. I also landed the balloon under difficult circumstances and saved her life when we were caught in the trees. I also—”

  “I agree,” Eve said, “that you saved my life, but you don’t deserve all of the credit for the landing. The two of us worked together to land the balloon the first time, remember?”

  “Yes, yes, I stand corrected. The first attempt at landing was a team effort, but I did save your life.”

  She turned to Lady Buxton. “It was after the first attempt to land that the freak gust of wind caught us and blew us into the woods. His lordship is very strong and kept me from suffering his fate and falling out of the basket. So, yes, I’m grateful he saved my life.”

  “I repeat,” Lady Buxton said, “your flight sounds dangerous and not up to conventional standards of behavior.”

  “It was only dangerous at the end,” he said. “Also, concern over the propriety of our flight is unnecessary. Besides, at thousands of feet in the air, no one could see…”

  Lydia gasped. “Thousands! Oh, I just realized how high that must be. How frightening.”

  Lady Buxton lowered her chin, indicating she questioned the veracity of their story, but she did not pursue it further.

  “Oh, but you are a gentlewoman, my dear,” Lydia said. “I have no intention of being vulgar, but one does wonder. I mean there are no airborne privies. How exactly do you…?”

  In less than a second, Eve determined the nature of her question, since it was a common one. “Over the side, ma’am. The other aeronaut faces the opposite direction for privacy and does not turn around. Under the circumstances, it is a matter of honor.”

  “No!” Lydia slapped her palms together and held them in front of her chest. “I couldn’t. I’d rather die first. Oh, Miss Mountfloy, I don’t see how a lady could exist under the unpleasant conditions you describe. It is just not natural.”

  Lady Buxton appeared to be made of sterner stuff than her daughter-in-law. “You are a remarkable young woman, Miss—”

  “Actually, that bit is quite natural,” Parker said, another chuckle simmering in his throat.

  “I see you enjoy the same outrageous levity as your mother,” Lady Buxton admonished. “Without a doubt.”

  He whipped his head around to peer at the matron. “Really? How wonderful.”

  “Lady Buxton,” Eve said, “in the crash, I lost my father’s Results book. Perhaps you could lend me the assistance of your servants and a horse, so I might retrieve it?”

  Parker instantly sat up. “Yes, you must help her. You see, I funded the flight to win the earl’s race, so if anything happens to Miss Mountfloy’s research, I’ll be the one to blame.”

  Before the matron could answer, Tut entered the room and announced the arrival of Dr. Hulbart.

  The surgeon bowed. “Lady Buxton, ladies. I understand the young gentleman fell out of a balloon. This is my first patient from a ballooning accident, and I am quite excited about it.” He moved to the bedside. “You must be the young Lord Boyce Parker I’ve heard about. Very pleased to meet you, sir.” He turned to face Lady Buxton. “I prefer to examine his lordship alone, if you don’t mind. Once I have finished my examination, I will inform Tut, so you ladies can return.” The surgeon held his arm out. “No arguments, please.”

  The women exited the room.

  During their wait in the drawing room, Eve wrote her father, explaining their whereabouts. Once the letter was handed to Tut for the post, she joined the two women, and consumed four pots of tea and a great deal of yellow almond cake. Lady Buxton mostly remained silent and watched Eve with great attention, while Lydia inquired ceaselessly about the hardships of balloon travel, putting great emphasis on the effect of wind upon one’s hair. She then offered Eve several recommendations of various bonnets found to be reliable in wind storms before the surgeon called them back into the sickroom.

  “A week or two of bed rest and you’ll be well enough to charm all the ladies in the house again,” Mr. Hulbart said as the women took their seats. “I’ve also given him a draught of laudanum, so he should sleep like an infant tonight.”

  Eve strode to the bedside. “What is the prognosis, sir?”

  Parker winked at her. “Seems my ribs took great umbrage from bouncing off a tree trunk into shrubbery. But I heal fast. Tomorrow I’ll help you recover your book and then the day after escort you back to London.”

  The surgeon snapped his leather case shut. “No, your lordship. You will do as I instructed and spend the next week or two in bed. If your ribs become inflamed, the consequences could be severe.”

  Eve’s mind raced after hearing the word “severe.” She certainly did not want to associate severe with Parker’s injuries. She must insist he follow the doctor’s orders and remain in bed. She even vowed to sit on him, to make him obey. “What can I do, sir?”

  The surgeon turned to answer, his spectacles resting on the end of his nose. “See he gets bed rest and barley water. Any brand of restorative jelly is acceptable too. In my experience, there is nothing like restorative jelly to improve a patient’s spirits. I will return tomorrow and check up on his progress.” Mr. Hulbart spoke softly to Lady Buxton for a minute or two.

  Lydia stood to show the surgeon to his carriage. “I promise to nurse you later, dear Boyce.” The two of them left the room.

  “Boyce, my dear,” Lady Buxton pronounced, “due to my advanced age, I have a great deal of experience wi
th people. I can easily recognize a person thinking of noncompliance from across the room. Tomorrow, I will see that a nurse is engaged to enforce your bed rest.”

  Parker opened his mouth in probable protest. “But—”

  “Behave,” Lady Buxton admonished, pointing a finger.

  He gave her a radiant smile. “My dear Lady Buxton, since I have given my word as a gentleman, I have an obligation to see our lady of science here returns to her father. My wounds are not serious enough to stop me in that endeavor, I can assure you.”

  Lady Buxton glanced over to Eve, and to her astonishment, the older woman winked. “You will do as I say. I claim acquaintance with your father too, and I have confidence he will approve of my actions. We can all discuss this balloon and what’s to be done tomorrow. Tonight, I insist you sleep. I will, of course, nurse you myself this evening. Tomorrow, our housemaid will do the job until a proper nurse arrives.”

  Eve devised a logical plan so her hostess would leave him under her care, but there was something about the elder woman’s air that spoke of resistance. The stubborn set of her jaw combined with the manner in which she stabbed her needlework indicated to her that England’s most powerful steam engine could not move Lady Buxton if she did not wish it. “With your permission, I will stay with—”

  “Cats,” Lady Buxton said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Do you like cats, Miss Mountfloy?”

  “Why, yes, I have a ginger I am very fond of.”

  Lady Buxton smiled, and the twinkling firelight reflecting in her eyes made her appear younger than her somber dress and gray hair suggested. “I love cats. Don’t always know the mischief they are going to get into, of course. But sometimes you can predict their behavior. I have seven cats altogether and the prettiest is a white fluffy one with long fur. Her name is Annabel, and she is my favorite. A completely selfish, frivolous creature whose only talent is her fur. Three of my other cats are excellent mousers. I really have nothing against mice, you understand. Although they can ruin the walls in a shocking manner. Joe—my best mouser—once brought me three mice in one day. What a fine fellow. Nothing so worthy as a good mouser, is there, Miss Mountfloy?”