‘I had no idea that I had an audience, sir,’ snapped back Eleanor truthfully.
Lovell raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Oh really? Then we are not correct in thinking you were hoping to impress us?’
Indignation pulsed through Eleanor. ‘Impress you? Why on earth would I wish to do that, sir?’
Lovell tittered derisively. ‘For the same reasons, madam, any lady wishes to impress a gentleman.’
Eleanor tried desperately to quell the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘Perhaps,’ she replied bluntly, ‘if there were any gentlemen here, then your point may have some credence. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to the castle. I have a great deal to do today.’
As Lovell made some acerbic comment regarding her pianoforte playing, James remained silent, staring at her in that same discomfiting manner he had demonstrated of late.
Seething at the arrogance of the pair, Eleanor wheeled her horse around and with her head held high, set off at a brisk trot down the lane.
She had only gone a little way when James called after her. ‘Oh, Lady Eleanor, I think you will find that the castle is in the opposite direction.’
Eleanor pulled the horse to a halt, silently cursing herself. She had been in such a rush to distance herself from the pair that she hadn’t given a thought as to the correct way back to Whitlock.
Steeling herself for their reaction, she swung the beast around to face the two men. James was doing his best to conceal his amusement although his twitching lips and sparkling eyes betrayed the earnest expression he was affecting. Lovell, on the other hand, was laughing so hard he was almost doubled up.
Reluctantly, Eleanor trotted the horse over to them. Looking James defiantly in the eyes, she said, ‘I am well aware of that fact. However, I thought I would partake of a little more fresh air and ride out a while longer.’
James affected an understanding countenance and nodded his head. ‘I see. Then forgive me for interfering, Lady Eleanor. You had, however, given me the impression that you had much to do today and that it was a matter of some import that you returned to the castle immediately.’
Eleanor tossed her head. ‘Well, of course I have a great deal to do, sir. However, one should always make time in the day for recreation.’
This remark caused another snort of laughter from Derek Lovell. Eleanor shot him a baleful glare.
‘Oh, I could not agree more, Lady Eleanor,’ replied James solemnly, ‘as, I am sure, will my aunt. She is, I take it, aware that you are galloping wildly around the countryside without the accompaniment of a groom?’
Eleanor’s heart sank. Damn the man. Damn him to hell. He knew fine well what the dowager’s opinion on such conduct would be.
His lips were twitching furiously as she regarded him once more.
‘My godmother was not present when I left the house, sir. I was therefore unable to inform her of my plans.’
‘I see. Then I think it best that you allow us to accompany you back to the castle. There are, as you are no doubt aware, Lady Eleanor, numerous unmentionable mishaps which could befall a young lady out riding alone.’
It wasn’t only Eleanor who resented this unwelcome invitation but, by the sudden sobering of Derek Lovell, he, too, had no wish for her to join them. ‘Oh, come on, Prestonville,’ he moaned. ‘Let her go on. The last thing we need is some chit tagging along behind us.’
Eleanor was about to protest at this disparaging remark when James forestalled her. ‘On the contrary, Lovell. I think I can safely say, from what we have just witnessed, that Lady Eleanor is a match for any man in the saddle. What would you say to a race back to Whitlock, Lady Eleanor?’
Eleanor turned her eyes to Lovell. He was looking as though he could quite happily murder her. Moving her gaze to James, she found him regarding her expectantly, his brows raised and his eyes glinting. He was daring her to accept. Well, thought Eleanor stoutly, she had never refused a challenge in all her nineteen years and six months and she was certainly not about to start now.
‘Very well,’ she replied blithely. ‘I accept your challenge.’
‘I had no doubt that you would,’ smiled James knowingly.
The three of them lined up their steeds on the edge of the meadow and, on James’s count of three, kicked them to a gallop. It was James who immediately took the lead, with Eleanor behind him as they cleared the first meadow and soared over the stone wall to the next. Eleanor was aware of Derek Lovell shouting something from behind her. She tossed a look over her shoulder to see him draw his horse to a halt in front of the wall. Evidently the beast had refused to jump which meant Lovell was out of the race, leaving just her and James. James was still slightly ahead. A vision of his smug face and the comments she would have to endure should he win, stoked Eleanor’s determination. She pressed her heels harder into the mare’s flanks and bent low over its head, the wind streaming through her hair. Half way up the next meadow, a mass of bobbing buttercups, she caught up with James and nudged into the lead. So intent was she on the race that this time she failed to notice the glint of the arrowhead. Her horse, however, did not. As the weapon soared across the beast’s eye-line, it reared, tossing Eleanor to the ground with a deathly thud.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, Eleanor was only vaguely aware of the fuss caused by James and Lovell returning to the castle carrying her limp, lifeless body. She heard the dowager demanding an explanation; Madeleine declaring that ‘some people will do anything to gain attention’; and James replying, ‘Well, you should know all about that, Madeleine’. She was aware of strong arms carrying her upstairs and laying her gently in her bed, and of cold hands lifting her eyelids and taking her pulse. During all this activity, a strange medley of images flitted about her mind: of Felicity Carmichael laughing as she dissected an enormous butterfly; of a plague of rats taking over the castle; of Derek Lovell sitting before a huge pile of bills at a gaming table; and of the dowager chiding her for her unbecoming behaviour.
She even dreamt of James: a dream so vivid that she could smell the faint aroma of his cologne and feel the gentle touch of his lips on hers.
It was late into the evening when she awoke. Milly was in the armchair at her bedside, concern etched all over her freckled face.
‘Gracious, miss, you ain’t half given us all a scare. Thought you were dead so we did when the master first brought you in. We’ve had the doctor here and everything.’
Eleanor smiled weakly. ‘It’ll take more than a fall from a horse to get rid of me, Milly.’
‘And we’re thanking God for it,’ smiled Milly, taking hold of Eleanor’s hand and squeezing it affectionately. ‘I’ve never known such a to-do,’ she carried on, leaving her hold of Eleanor’s hand to plump up the pile of pillows behind her mistress’s head. ‘Never seen the master looking so worried. Been in and out of here all day so he has.’
‘What?’ said Eleanor wrinkling her brow.
‘The master, miss. Been in and out more times than a poss-stick in a wash tub. Even stayed and kept an eye on you while I nipped downstairs for a bite to eat.’
Eleanor’s heart skipped beat. ‘Did he indeed?’ she muttered, raising her hand to her lips.
Much to everyone’s relief, Eleanor had awoken with a large appetite. Milly had wasted no time bringing up a tray from the kitchen containing a bowl of beef stew, a hunk of fresh bread, a slice of apple pie and a jug of thick cream. Having devoured the stew and the bread, Eleanor tucked into the apple pie as she entertained Milly with those of her dreams she dared repeat.
‘And I even dreamt,’ she giggled, ‘that my godmother had invited the ghastly viscount and his family over for tea on Thursday.’
The smile slid from Milly’s face. ‘Oh that weren’t no dream, miss. The three of them Graysons are coming for tea on Thursday and, if I’m not mistaken, it’s more than the pleasure of their company they’ll be offering.’
Eleanor put down her spoon as her appetite suddenly disappeared.
As the rest o
f the house retired, Eleanor, having slept most of the day, was wide awake. Milly had maintained that it was only proper that she stayed in the room with Eleanor that night and that she would sleep in the armchair. Eleanor, however, had maintained that there was no need for such a fuss and had insisted Milly return to her own room under threat of Eleanor refusing to divulge a single detail of any of the events she attended, if Milly did not obey. Instead, she had asked that the girl bring her the poem by Byron, which Eleanor had hidden in the library. By the light of a single candle she engrossed herself in the text. A little after two o’clock, still wide awake, Eleanor heard a sound - a terrifying sound that made her stomach lurch and her heart jam in her throat. It was the ghostly moaning of the Wailing Whitlock Widow.
Terror surging through her veins, Eleanor lay stock-still waiting for the sound to pass. To her horror it lingered outside her bedchamber door. And then something happened which caused her body to freeze. She watched, her eyes almost popping out of her head, as the brass knob slowly turned and the door creaked open. Eleanor’s heart was pounding so wildly that she thought it might burst out of her ribcage. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound was forthcoming. She stared unblinking as a stream of dirty white chiffon floated partway into the room followed by more gruesome moaning. In a flash it disappeared and the door clicked shut, leaving Eleanor trembling from head to foot.
FOURTEEN
Despite the horrors of the night, and her subsequent lack of sleep, Eleanor had not forgotten that today was the day of the picnic she had promised Milly and her family. Due to her accident the previous day, though, she had done absolutely nothing regarding the food. Anxious to rectify this situation, she jumped out of bed and padded over to the window. Gazing out at the breath-taking view already bathed in brilliant sunshine, she pushed aside all memories of the terrifying scene she had witnessed several sleepless hours ago and discovered that, apart from a bump on her head, she actually felt quite the thing.
She pulled on a plain, unfashionable brown day gown she had brought from home - the same gown that had inspired the dowager to enquire if Eleanor had inclinations towards becoming a monk. For the task she was intending this morning, the gown would suit perfectly.
It was the first time Eleanor had visited the castle’s cavernous kitchens. Located in the bowels of the building they were already abuzz with activity despite the early hour. Hovering in the arched doorway, she observed a host of bustling scullery maids and kitchen maids going about their tasks under the watchful eye of the formidable cook, Mrs Green, who was standing at a table vigorously pummelling a mound of dough.
Eleanor started as Mrs Green suddenly raised her head and spotted her.
‘Well I never,’ she declared, ceasing her kneading. ‘What on earth are you doing down here and at this hour, Lady Eleanor?’
Eleanor felt extremely self-conscious as all other activity stopped and a dozen or so pairs of eyes regarded her incredulously.
‘Please do forgive the intrusion, Mrs Green,’ she began, tentatively approaching the older woman, ‘but I have promised Milly and her family a picnic today and I had a bit of an accident yesterday and … well, I didn’t arrange for any food. So I was wondering if you would mind if I baked a few things.’
Mrs Green’s eyes grew wide. ‘Baked a few things?’
‘Only a few pies.’
A look of disbelief spread over Mrs Green’s ruddy countenance. ‘Lord, miss,’ she declared, shaking her head, ‘there’s us all thinking you’re on your death bed and here you are at this ungodly hour, down in my kitchen wanting to bake a few pies.’
‘I promise not to be any trouble. And I have done it before. Mrs Bentley – that’s Zach the farmer’s wife. In Nottingham. Where I live. Well, I’ve often helped her with the baking but I’ve never actually done any by myself and I’m sure my efforts will come nowhere near your own. I mean, that mutton pie we had several days ago was the best I had tasted in my entire life.’
Mrs Green flushed with pride. ‘Well, I must admit,’ she flustered, tucking a stray lock of hair into her cap, ‘Mr Green do say I make the best mutton pie in the county.’
‘And I agree with him,’ said Eleanor, truthfully.
‘Well then,’ said Mrs Green, bustling over to a hook on the wall on which hung a gleaming white apron, ‘we’d best get a move on if you’re to bake enough to fill that Maguire clan. And seeing as how we were all so worried about you yesterday, I might just share with you a couple of secrets about my pastry …’
Two hours later, Eleanor wiped her floury hands on her apron and admired the fruits of her labours. The large rectangular table almost strained under the weight of pies, cakes and scones. Yes, she thought, with a stab of pride, this was going to be the best picnic ever.
Fortunately for Eleanor, she had managed to avoid her godmother all morning, despite returning to her chamber to swap her brown dress for one of lawned muslin.
‘Please tell Lady Ormiston that I am feeling quite well today, Giles,’ she instructed the butler, as she tied her bonnet strings in the hall. ‘And tell her that I shall be spending the day in the fresh air.’
Despite his perplexed, disapproving expression, the butler had nodded his compliance.
Being an only child, Eleanor always experienced a stab of envy whenever she saw a large, loving family together. She loved her father very much but she was aware that, should anything happen to him, she would be quite alone in the world. As independent and self-sufficient as she was, that thought sometimes frightened her. With a large family, one need never have such concerns: there was always a younger brother to fight, or an older sister with whom to gossip. Eleanor had often wondered how many siblings she would have had and what they would have been like, had her mother not died so young.
In the brilliant sunlight Paddy’s Meadow looked magnificent. As she made her way there now, the gig crammed with baskets of food, she could see the tribe of Maguire children, including Milly, running wildly around the field, laughing and squealing.
Eleanor smiled to herself. It was good to see Milly happy again. They really had developed a mutual fondness in the short time she had been at Whitlock. Indeed she doubted she would have endured her new life for so long without Milly’s friendship. The girl was the only person she had met in London who seemed anywhere near normal. Of course sometimes, unfortunately, she had to pull rank , like this morning, when Milly had awoken quite late to find her mistress already up and about.
‘Heavens, miss,’ she had puffed. ‘Don’t know what sort of a lady’s-maid I am, letting you get yourself up and all. You should be resting after your accident, miss, not gallivanting around.’
‘Milly,’ Eleanor had replied, ‘I am perfectly fine. And if you insist on fussing, I shall dismiss you from your post instantly. Now I don’t want to hear another word on the subject.’
As Eleanor pulled the gig to a halt, she was immediately accosted by the children, all eager to help. She was amazed to discover that three of the brothers were the same boys with whom she had enjoyed her fishing experience at the Stanningtons’ picnic. Due to the display of her unconventional talents that day, Ed had apparently elevated her to goddess status, gazing at her in awe and tripping over himself to help her.
Mrs Maguire, the matriarch of the brood, was in her mid-forties and, despite the lines on her haggard face, was still remarkably handsome, with the same blue eyes and blonde hair of her offspring. The woman was obviously very shy and very much in awe of Eleanor, thanking her over and over again for all she was doing for them.
‘Mrs Maguire,’ puffed Eleanor, after the woman had told her how grateful she was for what seemed like the twenty-fifth time, ‘let me assure you that this is nothing compared to what Milly has done for me. Not only is your daughter my one and only friend in London, but without her I would still be tripping over my own feet on the dance floor. And that, I can tell you, is as bad in my godmother’s books, as going to a ball wearing nothing but one’s undergarments.’
At Eleanor’s down-to-earth tone, Mrs Maguire had gawped at her for several seconds, before collapsing into a fit of giggles – an activity, which, if the worry lines on her forehead were anything to go by, the woman probably did not engage in very often.
‘See, Ma,’ beamed Milly proudly, ‘I told you she were a one, didn’t I?’
Eleanor, with Ed’s eager help, organized various games for them to play. She had brought along several bats and balls and they played rounders; their own version of a new game known as cricket; as well as several others they ingeniously devised especially for the occasion. Then, having built up hearty appetites, they tucked into the feast Eleanor had brought along. As well as the pies, cakes and scones she had baked that morning, there were thick slices of ham and roast beef, a selection of cheeses, plump tomatoes, fresh fruit and jellies.
‘Goodness,’ puffed Ed as he rubbed his stomach, ‘I don’t believe I’ve eaten so much in all my life, miss.’
This being the general sentiment of the group, it was decided that a little repose would be a good idea. The younger Maguires fell asleep with various limbs draped carelessly over their nearest sibling. The older ones chatted amongst themselves, revelling in the heat of the afternoon and a rare day away from their never-ending chores. How hard these people worked, thought Eleanor, and how much they appreciated the simple things in life unlike those of her own class who filled their days with empty, frivolous amusements.
An hour later, with everyone awake, Ed suggested they split into two teams and play another game of rounders. Various items of clothing were placed around the meadow marking out six bases. Eleanor was the third person to take her turn with the bat. She took up her position and waited for Ed to throw the ball. As it flew towards her, she pulled back the bat and, as hard as she could, belted the ball out into the field.
‘OW!’ came an almighty screech.
The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor Page 15
