Instructions given Amelia kissed her mother on the brow, a token of love and reassurance, and hurried out. She had been chatelaine for the past eighteen months and it was her right, and her duty, to participate in anything that affected the estate and its occupants. Whether her authoritative cousin shared her view remained to be seen.
She hurried down the wide passage way towards the library. Even with the door fully closed she could hear an angry voice. Perhaps this was not such a good idea? Maybe Cousin Richard would not welcome her intrusion? Undecided she hovered outside, hand poised to knock; the voice grew louder and the door was flung open and a tall, slim, extremely agitated young man erupted from the room. His sudden appearance gave her no time to avoid a collision and with a flurry of bright green silk she was catapulted backwards to end in an ignominious heap on the floor.
‘God’s teeth, Amelia, what the devil are you doing out here?’ Two strong hands encircled her waist and she was hoisted, unceremoniously, back to her feet. Richard grinned down at her, more amused than angry. ‘Are you hurt?’
Amelia crossly shook her head, too stunned to object to his language. ‘No, thank you, Cousin Richard; it is my pride only which has suffered.’ She had temporarily forgotten the young man who had caused her downfall.
His obsequious apologies rudely jerked her attention from her cousin. ‘My dear, Miss Rivenhall, how can I apologize for my appalling clumsiness? I would rather die than harm a hair of my dear cousin’s head.’
Amelia felt sure she had heard Richard murmur, ‘That could easily be arranged.’ under his breath, but when she glanced his way his face was all solicitude.
‘I am perfectly all right, thank you. There is no need to apologize. How could you have known I was outside the door?’ Amelia’s words were smooth but her thoughts were turbulent. What an odious young man; and how dare he address her so familiarly?
‘If I had been aware of your presence I would never have left the room so precipitously.’
Amelia looked over the fawning figure and her eyes inadvertently locked with Richards’. He raised an eyebrow and his mouth quivered at the corners. Amelia felt a fit of uncontrollable giggles bubbling up, but it would be unforgivable to laugh. Even though his unnaturally high starched collar and violently striped waistcoat made him, in her eyes, a figure of fun.
Richard took pity on her. ‘Allow me to introduce William Rivenhall to you Cousin Amelia, he is a great-great-grand-nephew of your great-grandfather, or so I understand.’ All this was said, deadpan, no trace of anything but urbanity in his tone.
Amelia inclined her head in greeting but was unable to speak. William Rivenhall bowed so low Amelia saw the pomade gleaming on his thin dark hair.
‘I am delighted to meet you, Cousin Amelia. I hope I may take the liberty of calling you so? I know our connection must seem slight, but we are related and I am Lord Rivenhall.’
This last was stated firmly and Amelia no longer wished to laugh. How could he sound so certain, did he know something that she did not? ‘I am pleased to meet you, Mr Rivenhall; but as I am sure you are now aware, Cousin Richard, my Uncle Edward’s legal son, is now Lord Rivenhall.’
William stared, and Amelia saw with a shudder that his sycophancy was a front. This was no popinjay to be fobbed off. He was here to claim a fortune and a title and be prepared do whatever it took to obtain it.
Richard stepped forward. ‘I think we shall leave this discussion until the morning, Cousin Amelia. Aunt Sophia will be anxious at our prolonged absence.’
Amelia belatedly remembered why she had come to the library. ‘Mr Rivenhall, I will have a room prepared for you. Do you have a valet to attend you?’
The calculating glint vanished from William’s eyes and his fatuous expression returned. ‘How kind, Cousin Amelia, but my man has already conveyed my bags upstairs. I believe I am to be in the master suite.’ This astounding statement was greeted by total silence. Amelia was incensed and drew a steadying breath, ready to challenge this person’s impertinence when a warning squeeze on her shoulder restrained her. She glanced up and Richard shook his head.
‘Dinner is waiting, Mr Rivenhall, will you be long changing?’ Richard enquired politely.
‘If dinner is waiting, then I shall delay it no longer. I am sure, sir, that Lady Rivenhall, in the circumstances, will forgive my appearing in my dirt.’ Before either Richard or Amelia could restrain him the unwanted guest dodged past and headed for the drawing-room
‘Oh no, Richard, he cannot be allowed to upset Mama, please stop him.’ Richard reacted instantly and in two bounds had overtaken William and placed himself in front of the door. Only a fool would attempt to pass and, whatever he might appear from his apparel, Mr Rivenhall was no fool.
Amelia sighed with relief believing the danger was over. They had both under estimated their opponent.
‘Lady Rivenhall, I beg you, let me in. I wish only to explain why I am here.’ For a slender man William’s voice was surprisingly loud. Richard was nonplussed. Then like lightning he struck. The crash as his fist connected with the intruder’s chin left no doubt as to the efficacy of the blow. The young man collapsed without a sound.
Amelia was not certain if she was impressed, or scandalised, but Richard had silenced
Rivenhall, and that was what mattered. He bent and gripped the unconscious man’s cravat, preparing to heave him upright, no doubt hoping to remove him before Aunt Sophia emerged alerted by the shout. Too late! The door swung open and Mama saw her nephew apparently murdering a young man who was the very image of her poor departed husband.
With a faint moan she clutched her heart and sank unconscious to the floor. Amelia stepped across the body to reach her mother. ‘Mama, Mama, speak to me.’ There was no answer. She took her mother’s icy hands in hers and chaffed them, hoping to restore some warmth.
Martha joined her on the floor. ‘Best get her ladyship to bed, Miss Amelia, and send John for Doctor Anderson.’
She looked around helplessly and saw Mr Rivenhall’s upturned toes beside her. How could their celebration have turned in to such a disaster?
‘Let me take Aunt Sophia, Amelia.’ Richard spoke softly, realising his young cousin was in shock. Too much had happened too quickly. He had seen the same blank stare on many a young soldier’s face when he faced enemy fire for the first time. He knew to touch Amelia now might promote a violent reaction. ‘Come, little one, stand up and let me carry your Mama to her room.’
From a distance Amelia heard a kind voice telling her to get up. Like an automaton she stood, swaying a little. She watched Richard easily lift her mother and carry the limp body towards the
stairs.
‘Miss Amelia, are you coming?’ Martha’s sharp voice finally penetrated her daze and she stepped back into awful reality. At her feet was the inert, possibly dead, form of a man who called
himself Lord Rivenhall, on the stairs, in the arms of a second man who called himself Lord Rivenhall, was the unconscious form of her beloved mother.
Ignoring Rivenhall she ran after her mother, calling to Foster as she did so. ‘Foster, send John for the doctor immediately.’
She believed Foster was suitably horrified at what his piece of mischief had created for he was for once subdued. ‘Yes, Miss Amelia, at once.’ He pointed at the body sprawled on the floor. ‘And this person?’
‘Leave him there, Foster. Lord Rivenhall can deal with it, it is his affair.’ Richard was leaving the room as she entered. Silently she stepped round him and closed the door in his face.
Martha was efficiently undressing Lady Rivenhall and Amelia went to help. Between them they replaced the crumpled dinner down with a crisp cotton night-rail, and then, whilst the abigail supported her, Amelia quickly removed the pins and feathers from her mother’s hair before they lowered her on to a mass of soft feather pillows.
Amelia was worried. Her mother had fainted several times before, over-exertion or excitement could bring a spasm on, but always she had remained ine
rt for a few moments only.
‘Mama, Mama, can you hear me? Oh please, please, wake up.’
‘Try the smelling salts, Miss Amelia, it sometimes does the trick.’ Martha suggested.
Amelia unstopped a cut-glass flask and waved the pungent liquid back and forth beneath her mother’s nostrils but to no avail. ‘Her lips are so blue, I am so afraid her heart has finally given up. I will never forgive Richard, or Rivenhall, if she does not recover.’
‘Now don’t fret so, Miss Millie; Lady Rivenhall has had many a turn, and she always do recover. Don’t give up hope; the doctor will be with us soon and he’ll know what to do to restore her.’
‘I do hope so, Martha. It would be so cruel to lose her now, just when our fortunes are
improving.’
Her throat tightened; she brushed unwanted tears away with her gloved hand. The dark wet stain looked ugly on the silk. Suddenly she hated the gown and needed to remove it.
‘I am going to change. No, Martha, I can manage on my own, if you would just unhook the back for me before I go.’ Martha, who acted as dresser to both Amelia and her mother, efficiently obliged.
‘Here, put this shawl round you, miss. It won’t do to go out like that.’
Impatiently Amelia threw the shawl around her shoulders, covering the gaping back. ‘Thank you, Martha; I shall be only a few minutes.’ Back in her own chamber she stepped out of her dress, leaving it in a green silk puddle where it fell. The long gloves and slippers were discarded too. Amelia selected a simple, peach, dimity -gown with long fitted sleeves and high neck, from her closet. This had no back fastenings to delay her. She pushed her feet into soft kid shoes and was ready.
She ran back along the corridor. There was no change in the patient. Her mother’s face was still as bleached and her breathing so shallow it was scarcely discernible.
*
Downstairs Richard carried Rivenhall to a guest room. He had his valet, Peters, transfer his own belongings from the Blue room to the master suite. After all, possession was well known to be a strong suit in any dispute over property.
‘You had better undress this fellow, and make him comfortable, Peters. I will request that the doctor check him over when he has finished with Lady Rivenhall.’
Peters gave the recumbent form a cursory inspection. ‘He’ll be right as a trivet before then, my lord, don’t worry. He’s breathing easy and his colour’s good.’
Richard shrugged, indifferent. ‘Good. I suppose it would not do if he croaked at my hand, would it?’
Peters allowed himself a small smile. ‘No my lord, it wouldn’t. Leave him to me; I’ll see he’s all right.’
‘Thank you, Peters. I shall be downstairs awaiting the doctor, if you should need me.’ Richard closed the door quietly behind him. His new man, Peters, had been recommended to him by his lawyer when he returned from Waterloo and, so far, he had fulfilled every expectation. He was finding it strange to have a man-servant after so long living hand to mouth as a serving officer in the army.
Higgs, the housekeeper, was waiting in the hall. ‘Cook wants to know what to do about dinner, my lord.’
‘Good God! I had forgotten all about it.’ He noticed the housekeeper’s recoil at his intemperate language. He must remember to moderate his words. Soldiers’ manners would not do here. ‘No-one will require dinner tonight. The staff can eat what has been prepared and what is left will do for luncheon tomorrow.’
‘Very well, my lord, and thank you.’
Richard paced the black and white tiled floor. How far did the quack have to come? He stopped, remembering the village was a mile away, so providing the doctor had been at home when John called, the man should arrive any time.
The sound of a carriage wheels on the stones outside confirmed his speculations. Not waiting
for Foster he acted as doorman himself. The doctor rushed past him, bag in one hand and ran up the stairs, without speaking, obviously thinking the stranger in black was the butler. Obviously the doctor was too concerned for his patient’s health to indulge in idle chatter with a menial.
Chapter Four
The elderly man drew Amelia to one side, his expression grave. ‘I am sorry, my dear, but this time I fear there is nothing I can do.’ Amelia could not answer. ‘You understand what I am telling you child, nature will take its course.’
‘My mother is going to die, yes, Doctor Anderson, I understand. How long…?’ She could not complete the question.
The doctor patted Amelia’s shoulder. ‘One day, perhaps two, maybe less but certainly no more.’
‘Will she wake up?’
‘It is possible, my dear, but I cannot promise. But she is in no pain; Lady Rivenhall’s bodily systems are closing down gently; soon she will be a better place and reunited with your dear father.’ The doctor collected his bag and coat.
‘Surely you are not leaving, Doctor Anderson, not now? Mama might need you.’
‘There is nothing I can do; it is in the hands of the Lord now, Miss Amelia. I will return tomorrow morning.’ Amelia watched the stooped figure shrug into his coat and depart. How could he go when her darling mama was dying?
There was a slight noise from the bed and she spun round terrified her mother had woken and
heard the doctor’s bleak pronouncement. But it was only Martha adjusting the pillows and talking softly to the mistress she had served loyally for so many years.
Amelia brushed the tears away and straightened her spine. She could pray for a miracle or pray for the strength to endure the inevitable. Quietly she returned to the bedside. ‘Go and eat, Martha; I will sit with my mother. There is nothing either of us can do but watch and pray. I shall ring when I need you.’
Martha nodded and stood up clumsily, her knees were stiff after so long on the floor. ‘Shall I bring you a tray, Miss Millie, you have not eaten since noon?’
Amelia was about to refuse, for she certainly had no appetite, then realized she would need all her strength to get through the next few days. ‘Yes, that would be kind, thank you.’ She paused; the visitors were also unfed. ‘Could you ask Cook to send something into Lord Rivenhall and Mr Rivenhall, as well?’
‘Yes, miss; is there anything else I can get you?’
‘No, you must get some rest if you can and return here at first light.’
The only sound in the bed chamber was of the fire crackling merrily in the grate casting welcome warmth into the room. Amelia moved a small chair to the bedside and sat down. There was no change in her mother’s condition. She laid her head on the sheets and clasped her hands in prayer.
‘Millie, darling, are you asleep?’ The voice, little more than a whisper, wrenched her upright.
She stared into her mother’s eyes, hardly believing her prayer had been answered so swiftly. ‘Mama, I was not asleep, I was praying and my prayer has been answered.’
Her mother was too weak to raise her hand to her daughter’s tear stained face but she
managed a gentle smile. ‘Do not cry, my darling girl. You have to be strong. We both knew this day would come soon. It is time for me to go, my dear, to join your poor papa in eternal rest.’
‘Please you must not say it, I do not want to lose you, I love you so much.’
‘Hush child, I know you do, and I love you. You have been the best daughter a mother could have.’ She was unable to continue as her life force slowly ebbed away. Amelia clutched her mother’s icy hands and wept silently. ‘You have Richard to take care of you now, my love, so let me go in peace.’
‘How shall I manage without you to guide me? Cousin Richard is a stranger to me?’ But she received no further answers. With a gentle sigh Lady Rivenhall gave up the ghost, leaving her adrift in an ocean of unanswered questions and bitter recriminations.
Amelia’s sobs alerted Martha when she returned bearing the promised tray. She placed it on the side table and hurried to the bedside. ‘Oh, miss, not so soon; Oh my lady, Oh dear me.’ Martha’s loud sobs were harsh in the
silent room. For a few minutes they grieved for the person they had both loved above all else.
Amelia recovered first. ‘Martha, that will do. There are things that must be done.’
The abigail sniffed and wiped her streaming eyes on her apron. ‘Yes, miss. I’ll be right in a moment.’
Amelia stood up and gently smoothed the sheets where her wet face had rucked them. ‘She looks so peaceful; all her pain and suffering over, she is with God now.’
‘That she is, Miss Millie. And no one deserves it more. She was a truly good lady, kind to everyone.’ She was unable to continue and broke down once more, crying noisily into her apron.
Amelia watched helplessly unable to offer any comfort. She was barely in control of herself.
She knew there were things that had to be arranged, things that she didn’t want to do herself, but could not recall any of them.
The soft tap on the door was ignored. Then an arm came round her shoulders and drew her away from the bed.
‘Come, little one, there is nothing you can do here. Let Martha take care of things now.’ Richard led her from the still figure in the bed and out into the corridor. There he lifted her up, as if she was a baby, and carried her swiftly downstairs towards the warmth and welcome of the library. Behind him his valet, Peters, slipped into the bed chamber to organise the necessary rituals associated with a death. John had been dispatched to recall the doctor as a death certificate would have to be issued.
Richard shouldered his way into the library and strode across to the fire. There he gently deposited his silent burden onto a leather Chesterfield. ‘There, Millie, you will be better down here.’ He handed her a small glass of brandy. ‘Here, swallow this, it will warm you.’
Amelia refused to take the offered glass. The smell of strong spirit made her gag. Then the first of a series of violent shudders shook her slender form. He sat down beside Amelia and lifted her trembling body onto his lap and then enveloped her in the warmth of his battle hardened arms.
For a moment she resisted then melted against him and allowed her grief to overwhelm her, knowing she was safe from further harm. Knowing that Richard, although a virtual stranger, would, as her mother had promised, now take care of her.
The Lords & Ladies Box Set Page 3
