Lord and Master

by Rosemary Stevens

  The cat watched the play of expressions across Lord Ravenswood’s features. Then he let out a low growl and stared at him in what Anthony viewed as a challenging manner.

  The earl hesitated, for some reason unable to put his rational plan into action. Should he waste valuable time going to the Blenkinsops first? What if Miss Kendall were in real danger?

  His glance fell on the picture of his ancestral home portrayed on the Chinese bowl. He had chosen Elfleta Blenkinsop carefully as the best countess for Raven’s Hall. All that mattered was the future of Raven’s Hall. Not the fleeting feelings Miss Kendall evoked in him. The earl frowned. Granted, he must admit his feelings for her had persisted beyond what they ought.

  But Raven’s Hall would live on for eternity. His tender regard for Miss Kendall would fade away, would it not?

  He turned toward the front door, intent on completing his mission at the Blenkinsops before haring off to High Jones.

  A loud crash stopped him. Mihos stood on the wood table, staring at Lord Ravenswood.

  Anthony looked down at the shattered remains of the Chinese bowl. He passed a hand across his forehead and moaned.

  “Pomfret!” he shouted. The butler appeared immediately. “Have this mess cleared away.”

  Pomfret’s face registered horror at the destruction. “Shall I try to have the bowl pieced back together, my lord?”

  “No,” the earl said. “’Tis not necessary.”

  “Grraow!” Mihos agreed.

  Anthony ignored him. “Have the grooms send around my fastest horse as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Pomfret said.

  The earl took the stairs two at a time, Mihos scampering after him. Reaching his chambers, Anthony quickly changed into riding clothes, cursing Eugene for not being there to help him.

  Once dressed, he moved to his desk and scribbled a hasty note to the Blenkinsops, begging their pardon for his rudeness.

  He explained an emergency obliged him to leave Town, and he would call on them upon his return. He folded and sealed the letter, and in his hurry, left it on his desk.

  He recalled the letter halfway down the stairs. He paused just long enough to instruct the housemaid polishing the banister to fetch it from his room and see to its delivery. Then he was out the front door.

  Upstairs, Mihos reclined on his lordship’s bed. With no one about, and little for him to do, amber eyes fixed on the last item the cat had seen in motion.

  He stretched, and then crept across the bedcovers. With a bound he leaped to the desktop and pounced on the folded scrap of vellum. Velvet paws batted the paper onto the floor, across the carpet, and to the edge of the bed. Apparently tiring of the game, Mihos gave the paper one final swipe, propelling the missive entirely out of sight.

  Tail high, the tiger-striped cat then strolled out of the room, mounting the stairs to the servants’ quarters in search of Eugene’s bedchamber.

  Not many moments later the housemaid entered his lordship’s room. Over lunch that day she confided to the downstairs maid that she feared their master had gone off his hooks, ordering delivery of nonexistent letters.

  * * * *

  Rain fell in sheets outside the coach in which Daphne and Eugene traveled. Neither occupant made an attempt at conversation. Eugene was busy blaming himself for Miss Shelby’s departure. Daphne concentrated all her energies on not bursting into tears at the mental image of Lord Ravenswood going down on one knee in front of Elfleta Blenkinsop.

  When they reached the village of High Jones, Eugene alighted first. “Please stay in here where it is dry, Miss Kendall. I shall question the villagers until I find which direction the gypsies took.”

  “Thank you, Eugene,” Daphne said.

  It did not take long to learn that the gypsy troupe had left the village travelling in a southwesterly direction. Eugene returned to the coach, and they rambled along the road pointed out to them for another hour. At last they spotted the gypsies camped over to the side, their ramshackle caravan half-hidden among the trees.

  Again Eugene instructed Daphne to remain inside the coach. He was already thoroughly wet, so there was no need for her to ruin her clothes.

  After five minutes Daphne grew impatient. She wiped the window glass with her gloved hand, and saw Eugene speaking with a gypsy man.

  She could tell the conversation was not going well. What if Eugene had been wrong? What if Miss Shelby were not with the gypsies at all? Daphne frowned, recalling she had not really inquired as to how Eugene knew Miss Shelby’s whereabouts.

  Unable to remain idle any longer, Daphne wrapped her green cloak closely around her and opened the coach door. The sweet smells of the country met her nostrils. Even as she stepped down, the rain slowed to merely an annoying drizzle. She carefully adjusted the hood of her cloak to protect the precious green ribbons Lord Ravenswood had purchased for her at the fair.

  James, acting as their driver, made as if to climb down from the box to assist her. She waved him away. Stepping closer, she realized that Eugene and the gypsy were indeed involved in an argument.

  “I tell you there ain’t no woman by the name of Leonie Shelby here,” the gypsy man said.

  Eugene’s expression was tight with strain. “I know she is here. Take me to her now, or it will be the worse for you.”

  The gypsy man’s gaze traveled to Daphne, and he eyed her appreciatively. He turned back to Eugene and sneered. “Want a fight, do you?”

  Daphne gasped. She laid a restraining hand on Eugene’s white-clad arm. Addressing the gypsy, she said, “If you please, I am searching for my companion, Leonie Shelby. Do you have any information that might help?”

  The man leered at her. “If it be a companion you want, I’ll be glad to fill the position.”

  Daphne shrank back in disgust from the man’s blackened teeth and filthy attire. Eugene, however, stepped forward menacingly.

  The sound of hoofbeats interrupted the trio. The horse came to a halt a few yards away, and Daphne’s green eyes widened in astonishment. A drenched Lord Ravenswood gazed anxiously down at her. “Miss Kendall, are you all right?”

  “Y-yes, my lord,” she stammered. “However did you catch up with us?”

  Lord Ravenswood removed his hat from his head, emptied the accumulated rainwater, and put it back on. “As you can see, I have ridden through hours of rain to find you. Horses, of course, are always quicker than coaches.”

  He turned to Eugene. “I shall speak with you later regarding that reprehensible letter you sent me. Where is Miss Shelby?”

  Eugene looked uncomfortable at Lord Ravenswood’s mention of his enigmatic message. But he did not waste time dwelling on his master’s irritation. The letter had brought his master, which was his goal. “Master, that is what this man,” he said, pointing derisively at the gypsy, “will not tell us.”

  Lord Ravenswood transferred his gaze to the gypsy, who eyed his fine clothes and horse with seeming disdain. The man said, “I ain’t telling no swell nothing, neither.”

  The earl dismounted and glowered at the man. “I am going to give you one opportunity to tell me where Miss Shelby is before I have you and the rest of your troupe thrown off my land. Yes, you may well look surprised. I am the Earl of Ravenswood, and you are camped on the edge of my property.”

  The gypsy did not hesitate. “Over there in that tent,” he said, and pointed. “She be with Mary Tucker, her what can tell the future.” He promptly spit over his left shoulder.

  The trio from London crossed the camp, while various members of the gypsy troupe bowed in turn before them. When they arrived at the indicated tent, Lord Ravenswood threw back the flap. Miss Shelby sat with another woman at a table. The gypsy was probably in her sixties, but still a very handsome woman. She looked up and smiled knowingly. “Ah, you are here at last.”

  Miss Shelby jumped up, fluttering her hands. “Eugene! Daphne! Oh, my lord!”

  Eugene stepped forward and took her hands in his. “Wise lady, you frig
htened us all.”

  “Indeed, Leonie,” Daphne said. “I have rarely been so overset. How could you think yourself not wanted and loved? How could you leave us?”

  Miss Shelby blushed at all the caring attention given her. “But, I thought... with that dreadful housebreaker... oh, it is all my fault—”

  Eugene cut off the flow of words, giving her a gentle shake. “It is not your fault! Never think that again.”

  “Would someone tell me what is going on here?” Lord Ravenswood asked.

  “It is of no importance any longer, is it, Leonie?” Daphne asked, a hint of steel in her expression. Now that Lord Ravenswood was betrothed to Miss Blenkinsop, Daphne did not want to involve him further in her difficulties.

  Miss Shelby was outnumbered. Tears of gratitude came into her eyes, and she hugged Daphne. “I do so want to come home. Not,” she added hurriedly, turning to look at the gypsy woman, “that I have not enjoyed my time with you, Mary, and I learned much.” Miss Shelby made hasty introductions all around.

  Mary Tucker’s gaze lingered on Eugene for a moment before she gave a little nod of her head. “All will work out well for you, Leonie. You have a special gift.”

  Then she turned and regarded Daphne and Anthony. “Ah, you will have three fine sons. But only one daughter. Take care you do not spoil her, my lord.” She shook her finger at the earl.

  Daphne felt heat flood her face. She waited for Lord Ravenswood to explain they were not married, indeed, that he had only that morning become engaged to another, but his lordship remained silent.

  The gypsy woman laughed and shook her head. “Remember I said how it would be. I left the card picturing the couple pledging their troth to one another for you to find in the tent. Did it not tell you something?”

  Daphne noticed a heightening in the earl’s color. Fortunately Miss Shelby chose that moment to gather her things and begin thanking her hostess. Eugene lifted Miss Shelby’s portmanteau, and the foursome took their leave and began to make their way back through the gypsy camp.

  Eugene and Miss Shelby moved a little distance ahead. Daphne turned to the earl. “My lord, I must thank you for your assistance.”

  The earl waved his hand dismissively. “I am only happy to see you and Miss Shelby sate. Later an explanation as to what this was all about would not be amiss.”

  Daphne suddenly realized the color was still high in Lord Ravenswood’s face. What she had taken for embarrassment was clearly something else. “My lord, are you quite well?” she asked.

  For an answer he stopped walking and swayed alarmingly. In the next instant he lay sprawled out on the ground at her feet. “Anthony!” Daphne cried, in her distress using the earl’s given name.

  She crouched down beside him, cradling his head in her arms. His forehead was burning hot.

  He looked up into her eyes. “Those ribbons are dashed pretty in your hair, Miss Kendall,” he said.

  Then he fainted.

  * * * *

  The earl was too ill to travel all the way back to Town. Obtaining directions to Raven’s Hall from me gypsies, Daphne instructed James to tie his lordship’s horse to the back of their coach. The Hall lay a mere three miles to the south. Eugene easily picked up his master and carried him into the coach.

  Lord Ravenswood regained consciousness a few times during the trip, but did not seem aware of his surroundings. In Eugene’s opinion his lordship was suffering a recurrence of the fever he had endured in Egypt. For lack of space, Eugene sat on the backseat beside the earl to guard his master from bumps and jolts. Miss Shelby and Daphne sat opposite, with Daphne twisting her fingers together and never taking her gaze from Lord Ravenswood’s flushed face.

  As they pulled into the drive of Raven’s Hall, Daphne was relieved that the rain was over and that the sun had decided to come out for a brief time. Although anxious about the earl, she could not help but be curious about his home. She took a minute to look out the window. “How lovely,” she cried when the building came into view.

  Raven’s Hall was done in the elegant Palladian style. The mellow stone glowed warmly under the setting sun. The large park surrounding the house was meticulously cared for, and Daphne could make out a wide stream with a Palladian bridge spanning across it farther away down a hill.

  No sooner did the carriage wheels cease turning before Daphne said, “I shall make our presence known, Eugene. James must hold the horses, for no one has come to do so.”

  The manservant nodded. “The estate has been undergoing restoration, Miss Kendall. I do not expect there are many hands in the stables or very many to staff the house as yet.”

  This prediction proved to be true. The front door was opened by a petite woman in black, rather than a butler. Silver curls peeped out from under her large cap. Her small hands rested protectively on the large bunch of keys at her waist, which identified her as the housekeeper.

  She eyed Daphne warily. “Yes?”

  “I am Miss Kendall. Lord Ravenswood took ill unexpectedly, and as we were nearby, we brought him here.”

  The woman’s eyes rounded with concern. She turned from the door and called, “Byron! Byron! Master Anthony is home and needs help. Come quickly!”

  A pleasant-faced man with gray hair appeared and rushed to help Eugene carry his lordship upstairs. The housekeeper hastily introduced herself as Mrs. Violet Tinkham.

  Mrs. Tinkham scurried ahead to a large bedchamber. They carried the earl inside, making sure the sheets were turned back on the bed before laying him down. “Byron, be sure to keep his neck straight,” she said. “The poor dear, he’s burning with fever. I’ll fetch his nightclothes.”

  “If you show me where his things are kept, I shall care for my master now,” Eugene said imperiously.

  In unison, Mr. and Mrs. Tinkham glared at him. Violet Tinkham looked like a small soldier ready to defend her field.

  She informed Eugene that she and Mr. Tinkham—Byron—had been at Raven’s Hall for more than twenty-five years. Her husband’s position as house steward gave him precedence, she did not doubt.

  Daphne stood near the door with Miss Shelby. A knot tightened in her stomach at seeing the earl stretched out on the large bed. Fearing that an argument as to whom should care for the patient was about to break over their heads. Daphne tried to diffuse the situation. “Mr. and Mrs. Tinkham, this is Eugene, Lord Ravenswood’s manservant. He was with the earl in Egypt and nursed him through a previous fever. Is that not so, Eugene?”

  “Yes. For many days and nights I tended him,” the manservant informed them proudly.

  Mrs. Tinkham’s face softened a trifle at this devotion, but she was not prepared to relinquish the reins. “Byron, will you see to the ladies while I take care of Master Anthony? Mr. Eugene can remain here in case I need help.”

  Eugene’s lips pressed together, but realizing Mrs. Tinkham held sway at Raven’s Hall, he resigned himself to the role of assistant.

  A short while later Daphne wandered around the opulent blue and gold drawing room done in a classical style. Its warm richness, marked by beautiful works of art, velvet and silk covered furniture and a painted ceiling, was a contrast to the cool, classical hall with its plain stone walls and geometric black-and-marble floor with Adam’s pattern, a la grecque, running diagonally across the surface.

  Daphne and Miss Shelby enjoyed a delicious supper and retired to the drawing room afterward. Miss Shelby sat on a blue velvet sofa while Daphne walked about the room, pausing once or twice to examine a piece of the earl’s fine collection of porcelain.

  She could not help but admire the elegance of Raven’s Hall. She judged Lord Ravenswood had worked very hard on the estate. Miss Blenkinsop was a lucky girl, indeed. Daphne felt all the strength drain from her body at this depressing thought. She sank into a chair across from her companion.

  “Daphne, dear child,” Miss Shelby said. “’Tis been a long day, and you look exhausted.”

  “I confess, I am tired,” Daphne admitted.

&
nbsp; “You must go up and rest, but before you do, you must know how thankful I am that you came after me. I daresay I was not thinking clearly when I ran away. I am not used to having people care about me, you know. But when I saw you and Eugene and the earl come through the entrance of Mary Tucker’s tent, I was overwhelmed by happiness.”

  Daphne rose and hugged Miss Shelby. “Thank goodness we found you, Leonie.” Her brows came together. “Though how Eugene knew where you were, I cannot say.”

  Miss Shelby remained silent on that point. “Well, dear, we still have the problem of the housebreaker. And now Lord Ravenswood is fighting a fever.”

  The two ladies turned as the door to the drawing room opened, and Eugene entered. Daphne asked, “How is Lord Ravenswood?”

  “He is still battling the fever,” Eugene said wearily. “I only came down for a moment to say good night.”

  “Oh, dear,” Miss Shelby said.

  Daphne bit her lip. “Perhaps Miss Shelby and I should return to Town in the morning. I have no wish to be a burden on the household, and I am sure Miss Blenkinsop would want to know her fiancé is ill.”

  “What?” Miss Shelby cried. “His lordship is betrothed to Elfleta Blenkinsop?” Her blue eyes nearly started from her head.

  Eugene did not address the question. He turned to Daphne. “I am hopeful this fever will be of short duration, and believe you and Miss Shelby should remain here. Lord Ravenswood, I know, would not like to think that you and Miss Shelby traveled such a distance with only James’s protection.”

  Daphne was too tired to argue. “Very well. We shall make no decisions tonight.”

  Eugene smiled and bowed to Daphne. He then raised Miss Shelby’s hand to his lips, bringing a blush to that lady’s cheeks. “Do not worry, wise lady, all is not lost,” he whispered before leaving the room.

  The tenderness in his gaze was comfort enough to send Miss Shelby into a deep, restful sleep.