Lord Ilchester's Inheritance

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Lord Ilchester's Inheritance Page 10

by Fenella J Miller


  This bold statement did not shock him as she had expected. Instead he raised his glass to her. ‘I am well aware of how you feel about me, Miss Stanton, and I can assure you that I reciprocate your feelings.’ With that cryptic comment he drained his glass of claret and got to his feet.

  ‘Are you going to run away as well, or will you join me in the drawing room – perhaps outside on the terrace?’

  She was tempted to agree but this would entail being in his arms for far longer than she wished. Being held so close to him was unnerving and she thought it would be wiser to cut the evening short.

  ‘I would love to have spent a further time with you, however, my ankle is throbbing unpleasantly and I think it would be best if I retired so that I might elevate it once more.’ In fact she had quite forgotten her injury until that moment and, as if to punish her for her prevarication, she inadvertently knocked it against the leg of the chair and a shaft of agony made her flinch.

  He was on his feet in an instant and at her side, his face etched with concern. ‘I am a brute to think of my own pleasure when you are in such pain. I shall return you to your apartment right away.’

  He lifted the chair with her in it with ease and then scooped her up. This time she was more relaxed and was happy to put her arm around his shoulder and rest her cheek against his jacket. For some reason he was tense, as if he disliked being so close to her.

  Her journey was accomplished more smoothly this time as he made every effort not to jar her ankle. Although dinner had gone on for over two hours, the evening was still light, and she was too full to contemplate her bed just yet.

  ‘Please place me on the chaise longue, my lord, I’m not retiring.’

  He did so and then hastily stepped away. ‘Goodnight, thank you for your company; I cannot remember having spent a more pleasant evening.’ He bowed, gave her one of his toe-curling smiles, and vanished.

  Jenny helped her out of her evening gown and into her negligée and Sapphire settled down with the latest novels that had arrived from Hatchards that very day. She finally went to her bed after ten o’clock but found it difficult to sleep.

  The more she considered it, the more she thought that her uncle was up to something. The only conclusion she could draw was that he wished her to marry Lord Ilchester. She turned over for the umpteenth time. That could not be the case, because if she did marry the handsome, but impossibly autocratic, gentleman she would be obliged to leave Canfield Hall. Uncle John could not possibly wish her to do that, so his actions made no sense.

  Her chest constricted and she fell back on the pillows in dismay when she realised what could be behind his actions. Was he dying and wished to make sure that she and the boys were taken care of? Once this thought was in her head she could not rest until she had confirmed it one way or the other.

  The overmantel clock had struck midnight some time ago – everybody would be asleep – but she was determined to make her way downstairs even if it meant making the journey on her bottom or her knees. If her beloved uncle was indeed at his last prayers she wished to know about it now and could not wait until the morning.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sapphire swung her legs to the floor and then, still holding onto the bedpost, stood up, waiting for her injured ankle to fold under her. It was a trifle sore, but hardly hurt at all even when she walked normally. She could hardly go gallivanting around the house in her diaphanous negligée, but she wasn’t going to go to the bother of getting dressed either.

  She found the black silk domino that she had ordered to wear over an evening gown if she should ever wish to go out at night. This would be ideal as the voluminous folds covered her from neck to toe. There was little point in wearing a bedroom slipper on one foot only, so she decided to go as she was.

  It was going to be impossible to carry a candlestick as well as lean on the wall and keep her skirts from beneath her feet. The shutters and curtains had not been drawn in her sitting room and she could see there was a full moon tonight. She would just have to pray there was sufficient illumination coming in from the windows. Fortunately this was the case and she was able to find her way along the passageway without too much difficulty.

  By the time she was halfway down the staircase she was bitterly regretting her impulsive decision. The ankle that had seemed almost recovered ten minutes ago was now no longer able to bear her weight. She sunk down and completed her descent on her backside.

  The distance to her uncle’s apartment was as far again as she had come and she doubted she could complete the journey without mishap. This was ridiculous – she was not going to give up so easily. A vast expanse of chequered tiles stretched in front of her; how was she going to negotiate this with no wall to help her balance?

  What she needed was a walking stick or something similar, but where was she to get such a thing? Then she spied a container made from an elephant’s foot which contained several canes and sticks. She thought she could hop as far as that without too much difficulty.

  She withdrew two canes and once her weight was taken by these the pain in her ankle eased. The only disadvantage with this method of travel was that she was making far too much noise. If the passageways were carpeted, not only would it be warmer, but it would have made her progress quieter.

  After a deal of clumping and shuffling she eventually reached her destination and was unsurprised to find her uncle’s valet, his nightshirt collar clearly visible above his black jacket, waiting to receive her.

  ‘Good evening, miss, the master is awake.’ Like a magician he produced the bath chair and with a sigh of relief she tumbled into it.

  ‘I’m sorry to have woken you, but I have something of the utmost urgency to discuss with my uncle and it could not possibly wait until the morning.’ There had been no need to give any explanation, but they stood on no ceremony at Canfield Hall.

  She was pushed through the small drawing room and directly into her uncle’s chamber where he was sitting up in bed his nightcap set at a jaunty angle. He did not seem at all put out by her nocturnal visit.

  ‘Come in, my dear girl, I am eager to know what prompted you to hobble all this way.’

  Once they were alone she studied him closely for any telltale signs of fatal illness, but could see nothing untoward. ‘Why are you throwing Lord Ilchester and I together in this way? The only possible explanation, as far as I can see, is that you are anticipating your demise and wish to see me settled before you depart.’ She gave him no opportunity to answer but continued, fixing him with a basilisk stare. ‘You look perfectly healthy to me, thank the good Lord, so what game are you playing with us?’

  He looked a little sheepish, but unrepentant. ‘There is no pulling the wool over your eyes, my dear. I am perfectly well – indeed I would like to live for years. However, it is possible that I could be struck down with a fatal seizure at any time. That was what laid me low in the first place.’

  Her eyes filled and she reached out to clasp his hand. ‘How is that possible? You said that you suffered your first seizure more than five years ago and have had none since. Is that not a sign that you will not have another one?’

  ‘These things are in the hands of the Lord. I could live healthily for another twenty years or could meet my maker tomorrow. Please, my dear child, do not look so stricken. I am merely stating the truth and it is better that you know it.’

  She swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty. ‘I understand that you wish to know that you leave me taken care of, but I have no intention of marrying Lord Ilchester as I wish to remain here and take care of my brothers.’

  ‘I fear that you cannot be their guardian if I am gone, the law does not recognise the authority of an unmarried woman. Therefore, I have changed my will so that David and Thomas will be the wards of Lord Ilchester and he will manage the estate until they reach their majority.’

  ‘Am I also to be part of his inheritance?’

  ‘We discussed that very point, but decided you were old enoug
h to take care of your own finances without his assistance. You will be a very wealthy young woman, and have the right to remain at Canfield Hall until you choose to reside elsewhere.’ He paused and yawned widely. ‘I am sure you understand, child, that Lord Ilchester might well prefer to have the boys with him and not leave them here in your care.’

  ‘He would take them away over my dead body, Uncle John. If anything happens to you, and God forbid that it does, then we will all remain here where we are happy. Ilchester can take it or leave it.’

  The strange remarks his lordship had made earlier were now explained. He already knew he would be involved with her brothers’ upbringing and had been staking his claim. There was no point in arguing the issue, the matter had been settled and there was nothing she could do about it.

  ‘I shall leave you to sleep, Uncle John, and return to my own bed. If your valet would be so kind as to push me back to the stairs I believe I can manage to complete the rest of the distance myself.’

  ‘There is no need to do that, Miss Stanton, I have been summoned to offer my assistance.’ Lord Ilchester took hold of the handles of the bath chair, and before she could complain, she was whisked out into the passageway and across the entrance hall.

  They had travelled at such a speed it took her a moment to catch her breath. ‘What are you doing here? How did you know you were needed?’ She now had time to study him more carefully and saw to her horror that he was wearing only his breeches and shirt – the latter hanging loose around his knees and open almost halfway down his broad chest. The very idea of being held by him was unsettling.

  ‘You are inappropriately dressed, sir, and I have no wish to be carried by you. That would be quite unacceptable.’

  ‘Believe me, sweetheart, you are calling the kettle black. Now, do not make a fuss, there’s a good girl, I wish to return to my bed as soon as I may.’

  She gripped the edges of the flimsy domino across her bosom in the vain hope that she had not revealed too much of herself. Obediently she held out her arms and he picked her up with as much interest as if he were transporting a sack of flour.

  They ascended the stairs as if his shirt tails were on fire and before she could draw breath she was in her own bedchamber and being unceremoniously dumped in the centre of the bed. There was no time to thank him for his gallantry, if his careless approach to the matter could be called that, as he was gone in a flash of white and she was alone.

  *

  Dammit to hell! Gideon thanked God he had not had the time to dress correctly. Fortunately the shirt flapping around his knees had served to cover his embarrassment. When he had been woken and asked to come at once to Mr Bishop’s apartment he had feared the worst, that the old man had suffered a second seizure.

  He had not wasted time dressing, just dragged on his breeches and thrown his shirt over his head before thundering down, only to find he had been summoned to carry Sapphire back to her bedroom. What the devil she was doing downstairs in the middle of the night he had no idea – but seeing her in her nightwear was almost his undoing.

  She was surely the most beautiful and desirable girl in the kingdom. His pulse was pounding through his body as he recalled the sweet curve of her bosom and her glorious copper curls tumbling around her shoulders. Unless he removed himself immediately from Canfield Hall he would do something he might live to regret. He had only known the girl for a couple of days and this was no basis to make a decision that would change his life forever.

  He would wake his man and get him to pack immediately. It would be dawn in a couple of hours and he wanted to be on his way by then. Such an abrupt departure might well give offence and that would be unpardonable. Possibly a letter written to both Mr Bishop and Sapphire would smooth things over. He would write these notes whilst he waited to leave.

  In the letter to his host he offered no explanation, just apologised for leaving so early. He also said he was looking forward to coming back with his family for the house party next month. After three attempts he gave up the notion of writing to Sapphire. He scarcely knew her, and leaving her a personal message might well cause her unnecessary distress. After all, she had made it abundantly clear she had no wish to leave her uncle for anybody, however eligible they might be.

  As he had only one item of luggage his valet was quite happy to carry that himself thus disposing of the need to summon a sleepy footman to assist. Gideon was tempted to creep out like a thief in the night, but his dignity would not allow him to do so. Dressed immaculately in his dark green jacket, grey silk waistcoat and Hessians, so well-polished one could see one’s face in them, he was ready to face the world. He marched through the house and waited whilst the butler hastily unlocked the front door to allow him to exit.

  The carriage was not yet outside so he strolled around to the stable where he met the head groom.

  ‘The horses are being put to, my lord, you should be able to depart very soon. I fear that your stallion is not ready to be ridden.’

  ‘Then I shall leave him in your good care, Ned, and shall collect him when I come back for Miss Stanton’s celebration. Turn him out, it will do him good to graze outside for a while.’

  The man touched his cap and grinned. ‘He’s taking a mighty fine interest in Miss Stanton’s grey mare. Would you have any objection if we ran them together in the meadow?’

  ‘A good idea. Any progeny from such excellent stock would be well worth seeing.’

  His coachman had completed harnessing the matching bays that drew his barouche and so Gideon climbed in the vehicle not bothering to open the door or use the step. Being an open vehicle it was ideal for a summer drive through the countryside, but less pleasant in the winter months.

  The carriage halted outside the front of the building in order to allow his manservant to join the coachman on the box after stowing the portmanteau under the seat. ‘Find somewhere pleasant to break our journey, Higgins, the horses will need to be watered and fed and so shall we.’

  The coachman raised his whip. ‘I reckon it’ll take just over four hours to return to Ilchester Abbey, my lord, so I’ll stop after two.’ With no further ado, the man released the brake, snapped his whip in the air and the carriage moved smoothly away down the drive.

  *

  Sapphire was impatient to resume her normal life. With a walking stick she was quite sure she would be able to hobble about quite satisfactorily. However, Dr Smith was due to visit this morning and she thought it sensible to wait until she had his opinion on the matter.

  There had been no sign of the boys so far, they must be having their riding lesson with Lord Ilchester. His given name was Gideon – did she dare to use it in the privacy of her head? She had scarcely touched her breakfast tray, her normally healthy appetite appeared to have deserted her.

  The book she had found so interesting yesterday now failed to hold her attention. Why did no one come to see her? Then there was the sound of running footsteps in the passageway outside her sitting room and she knew her brothers had arrived to visit at last. She could hardly ask Jenny or the chambermaid what was going on downstairs, but she could certainly draw the information from the children.

  ‘Come in, boys, did you enjoy your lesson? Was Lord Ilchester pleased with you?’

  They scrambled onto the daybed both eager to sit beside her and quite forgetting that she had an injury to her ankle. ‘Ned and Billy did it, Saffy, his lordship has gone home. Billy says he left without his breakfast,’ Tom announced.

  ‘I see, I thought he was to stay until Sultan was ready. Surely he did not take the stallion with him?’

  David tugged at her sleeve. ‘No, it’s ever so exciting. Ned says Star and Sultan are going to have a baby horse next year.’

  This was news indeed. She held her breath waiting for one of them to ask how this miracle would take place, but fortunately they had other interesting news to impart and did not require her to explain how Mother Nature worked. She was aware of the mechanics of the action between animals,
and presumably humankind as well, but had no clear idea how this actually took place. Mama had never got round to telling her and now it was too late.

  Her mind wandered as the children chatted on about swimming lessons and riding lessons and picnics. The act of love required the husband and wife to remove their clothes, that much she was sure of, and it took place in the privacy of the bedchamber. After that her knowledge was sketchy and she wished she had somebody she could ask.

  An image of Gideon in a transparent shirt which clung to his manly torso filled her head with unexpected thoughts.

  ‘Saffy, Saffy, you are wool-gathering. We asked if you were going to come down today after Doctor Smith has come.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, David, I did not sleep well last night. I have every intention of joining you in the garden later, even if I can’t play, I can watch you do so. Perhaps Uncle John will allow some of the boys an hour or so off, so you can have another game of rounders, or perhaps cricket this time?’

  ‘We can push you in the bath chair, Uncle said we can as he doesn’t need it anymore. All you have to do is get downstairs.’ Tom pointed at the two walking sticks leaning drunkenly against the far wall. ‘Are those for you to walk with?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, my ankle is so much better I am sure I can manage with those to lean on.’

  Doctor Smith pronounced her well enough to leave the daybed but warned her against overtaxing herself as this could lead to permanent damage to the ankle. Reluctantly she agreed to be wheeled around by her brothers and they thought this was a lark.

  Uncle John was reclining on a comfortable armchair, his feet on the padded footstool, in the shade of a spreading oak tree on the lawn and seemed remarkably pleased to see her.

  ‘Your young man has departed, however, he left me a gracious note thanking me for my hospitality and confirming that he and his family will be coming to our house party to celebrate your twentieth name day. How are the arrangements progressing, my dear?’

 

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