by Mira Stables
In his Oxford days his lordship had been a notable exponent of the manly art. But that was some twenty years ago, and the care of his vast estates left little time for sparring practice. Nevertheless he dropped his first assailant with a right hook to the jaw. The other two drew off for a moment. There was a hoarse mutter of, “You go for ’is mark, George. I’ll tackle ’im from the side.”
His lordship mentally thanked them for the information and stood lightly balanced on the balls of his feet, awaiting the promised attack. He got in a heavy body blow on the frontal assailant, but the gentleman who had suggested attacking from the side used a knife, stabbing savagely at his victim’s shoulder. It went deep, but fortunately slanted upwards, the Earl being considerably taller than his opponent. At the same moment his other attacker landed a blow on the temple that sent him dizzy and sprawling to measure his length on the turf while the poachers made good their escape.
It was some minutes before he recovered sufficiently to get to his feet. The wound in his shoulder was bleeding freely and there was nothing he could do to staunch the flow. His only course was to get back to the house as swiftly as possible and get help.
This he proceeded to do, but by the time he reached his goal he was weakening rapidly, sick and giddy from loss of blood. It was fortunate that the devoted Bosworth invariably waited up until his lordship came back from his night wanderings. After one shocked exclamation he was swift to set about mending matters. With the help of his lordship’s man a pad was bound tightly over the ugly wound. It checked the bleeding. The patient was tenderly installed in a comfortable chair and the fire made up to guard against the danger of a chill, while rain-soaked clothing was peeled off and a warm dressing gown substituted. Bosworth heated wine, to which he surreptitiously added a generous measure of brandy, and coaxed his master to swallow the potent brew. The Earl was docile until the butler spoke of sending for the doctor. At this he roused himself to veto the suggestion. Time enough for that in the morning, he pronounced, and no need to drag the poor fellow from his bed at this hour of the night. Bosworth was dubious but allowed his judgement to be overruled. The master did look a mite better, he decided, with a trifle of colour creeping back into his cheeks; and he had never been a one for grand fusses about his health.
Lady Elizabeth took over the reins next morning. Apprised by Bosworth of the injury that her brother had sustained, she went straight to his room to find him very feverish and very uncomfortable. There was no more bleeding but the wound looked much inflamed, the flesh around it swollen and discoloured. The doctor must be summoned she decreed, and rated poor Bosworth for not having done this at once.
The doctor looked solemn. The wound had not touched any vital spot but it seemed possible that some portion of clothing had been driven into it. He ordered hot fomentations and a light diet, roundly condemned the administration of wine and spirits, and promised to send over a draught that would ease the patient’s discomfort and help him to sleep.
In fact the Earl slept for most of the day, though his slumber was uneasy. The fomentations seemed to afford him a measure of relief. His condition gave no cause for serious anxiety, though it was obvious that he would need careful nursing for some days.
In the circumstances it was only natural that Lady Elizabeth should defer her return to Town yet again. Who else should tend her brother? It would hardly be proper for Graine to do so, and nothing, she told her husband, could take the place of a woman’s touch in a sick-room. Nor was she willing to leave her brother to the care of servants, however devoted. Just see what had come of Bosworth’s ministrations! Enough to cast any one into a high fever, the doctor had said.
In one respect, however, her kindly scheming failed. No suggestion of hers availed to win her brother’s consent for Miss Ashley to visit the sick-room. Not even a week later when he was quite convalescent and might have been expected to enjoy a quiet game of piquet, or even having his visitor read to him. It was no part of Miss Ashley’s duties to tend the sick, or even to entertain the convalescent, he said firmly. Lady Elizabeth could not understand his attitude, but she knew better than to go counter to his wishes. Miss Ashley enquired decorously after his progress each morning, and that was all the news she had of him, since the children, too, were excluded from his presence.
His lordship’s reasoning was quite simple. It was bad enough to be ten years older than his love. He had no desire to play the invalid as well. At least he would offer her a man in the prime of his health and strength, not the sickly looking creature that he appeared at this present. But Graine felt the rebuff sharply. She had thought that at least she could count on his lordship’s friendship.
She saw him once or twice before the Brownings eventually took their delayed departure, but only briefly and never alone. The fever had pulled him down a little. His face was thinner and paler, his stride lacked its old impulsive vigour and his manner was quieter, more restrained. She missed the old, teasing note and her heart was very tender towards him, but he seemed infinitely remote, grave and quiet. Together with the children she took a protracted farewell of Valminster, re-visiting all the places that had been so familiar, with never a thought that she would see his lordship again, save in the way of the occasional family visit.
Chapter Eleven
The interlude of a week which the Earl had planned was extended to three. Business which had accumulated during his illness must be attended to, and to his disgust he found that he still tired easily. A long day in the saddle left him exhausted. To complicate matters still further, the gang of poachers that had attacked him was apprehended during a raid on a neighbouring estate and he was invited to identify the man who had stabbed him and to give evidence at his trial; a distasteful duty, but a necessary one. He was thankful that the men were strangers to him, part of a band of tinkers who wandered the countryside, accomplished thieves and highway robbers. The honest folk who had suffered from their depredations for many months would be thankful when the sentence of transportation was carried out. There were some who grumbled that it should have been a hanging matter. A man might pick up the odd bird on a dark night, knowing the risk he ran, but an organised raid was a different matter and there was no call to have used a knife. Public sympathy was on the side of his lordship, who was held to have behaved with foolish generosity in not pressing a charge of attempted murder.
Graine was making a conscientious attempt to find a measure of contentment in her situation. She knew that she was singularly fortunate. Her employer was kind and considerate, her charges were genuinely fond of her and gave no trouble. She could scarcely have been better placed. What ailed her, then, that she should be so low-spirited? She made determined efforts to enjoy the amenities that were available. The London scene was not new to her. On previous visits she had found it stimulating and amusing. Though she had a natural preference for country life she also enjoyed theatres and concerts and assemblies, not to mention the endless delights of the shops. She had often dreamed of spending a Season in London when all these delights were not strictly limited by her slender purse. Now here she was, for once beforehand with the world, since there had been nothing to spend her money on during the months she had passed at Valminster. It was disheartening to discover that now, when she could afford some of the small luxuries for which she had so often yearned, they had lost their appeal. She bought a handsome silver-gilt mug for her new nephew, but took no interest in the delightful fripperies designed for personal adornment. She came to the conclusion that work was the best anodyne for an aching heart and spent her leisure with the children, amusing them and playing with them when lessons were done until even Lady Elizabeth declared that never were children so much indulged, and that she really must insist that Graine have some time to herself. But for one reason or another the various schemes never came to fruition and Graine continued to spend her free time in the schoolroom. Evenings, with Adam and Bridget both asleep, were the worst times, for Beatrice was frequently in the drawing room, l
earning how to make herself conversable among the wide range of guests whom her parents had entertained at dinner. Often the girl would run up to Graine for a comfortable gossip before bed-time, telling whom she had met and what they had said. Sometimes her mother detained her and she would go straight to bed. In either case there were long hours to be got through when reading – even poetry and novels – failed to hold her attention; when sewing seemed a burden, and she could not think of any letters that must be written. She would drift over to the battered schoolroom pianoforte and allow her fingers to wander idly over its keys. Sometimes she would sing softly to herself, wistful Irish airs that her nurse had crooned to the baby Graine, airs that had no words but a burden of aching sorrow. Sometimes she would find herself fitting words to the music. They were words of love and loss and grief. They were a sign that it was time to be done with wallowing in self-pity. Time to think of tomorrow, and to go to bed.
She scarcely noticed the shy attentions of Mr Hughes. Sir John’s young secretary had been swift to note the attractions of the new addition to the household. Sometimes he managed to contrive an errand so that he could accompany the schoolroom party on their walk. Graine received his overtures of friendship civilly and forgot him within minutes of his departure. Only once did she show any sign of animation, and that was when he chanced to mention Lord Valminster’s yacht, ‘Swallow’, speaking enthusiastically of his voyage to Copenhagen. Sailing seemed to him an odd interest for a female, but he was well aware that this was the first time that he had really engaged her attention. He made the most of it, expounding at length on ‘Swallow’s’ best points of sailing with a wealth of technical jargon that took his listener well out of her depth. She listened patiently, finding some small comfort from this tenuous link with his lordship.
Considerably encouraged, Mr Hughes said that he would very much like Miss Ashley to make the acquaintance of his mother. She was a widow, residing in Kensington. It was not too far to drive if Miss Ashley had a free afternoon, and Sir John had given him permission to use the light chaise if no one else needed it. Not a very dashing vehicle, perhaps, but a prudent choice for a time of year when the weather was notoriously unreliable.
Graine heard the wistful note in the pleasant voice, and awoke to the delicacy of her position. Mr Hughes, she guessed, would very much have liked to invite her to drive in some dashing, sporting vehicle of his own. Her senses were alerted to a new source of embarrassment, but the young man had been kind and courteous. She did not wish to hurt him by a direct snub, the more so since her own stupid heedlessness, her preoccupation with her personal problems, had led her into offering what could only be regarded as encouragement. She thanked Mr Hughes for his kindly thought and was sure she would much enjoy such a meeting as he suggested, but she could see no immediate prospect of a free afternoon. In this she maligned an employer who kept urging her to make better use of her free time, but desperate cases demand stern measures. To visit Mr Hughes’s mother might well lead to a degree of intimacy between them which she did not desire, encourage hopes that must wither and die painfully. She would not do it. Better to disappoint him now, even if Lady Elizabeth must bear an unfair share of the blame.
In the event it was her brother Dominic who established his claim on her free afternoon, and Lady Elizabeth who insisted that he do so. Dominic and her ladyship had reached easy terms over the Christmas holidays. The boy had no hesitation in calling upon her and asking if he might speak with his sister, adding, when an abigail had gone to summon Graine, that there was nothing particularly private in his business, and if her ladyship could spare the time he would be glad of her opinion as well as Graine’s.
The father of one of his school friends had offered him a position in his London counting house when the time came for him to leave school. Mr Sutcliffe was an East India merchant and also controlled wide shipping interests. His own son, Evan, Dominic’s friend, was destined to follow his father into the business, but he was an only son, and Mr Sutcliffe felt that he had room for two reliable apprentices. Dominic would have everything to learn, but if he worked hard he could rely on steady promotion. It was an excellent opening for a likely lad. Mr Sutcliffe’s reputation for integrity and fair dealing stood high. Uncle Everard thought Dominic very fortunate to be offered such an opportunity. Bridie was enthusiastic. To be sure there had never been an Ashley in trade before, she said, but that was fusty old prejudice, and for her part she thought that it was high time that one of the family made some money. The East Indian trade was the place to do it. In twenty years’ time Dominic would be a wealthy Nabob, able to offer his patronage to his own young nephew.
What did Graine think?
Graine shook her head doubtfully. It was easy for Uncle Everard and Bridie to talk. They were kind enough and certainly had Dominic’s interests at heart. But both were comfortably circumstanced and neither had ever had to earn a living. Graine knew something of the drudgery of routine, the weariness induced by conscientious application to a job for which one had no natural liking. If Dominic had a fancy for the Indian trade or for shipping concerns, it was a different matter. In that case his life would be a busy and contented one. If it was prosperous as well, so much the better. But she would not willingly see him apprenticed to a trade that he detested, be the prospects never so golden.
“What do you think about it yourself?” she probed, and was swift to see the shadow of doubt on his face.
“I should like working with Evan. We get along pretty well together. And later on, Mr Sutcliffe says, there will be a chance to travel. His idea is that once we know our work we could take over the Calcutta office. I should like that. But to be spending all my days on an office stool, making entries in ledgers and studying profit and loss – well – I just don’t know. I don’t suppose it’d be so very different from school. And if I found it dull and boring I don’t know if I would work hard enough to satisfy Mr Sutcliffe. At school I always did best at the subjects that I enjoyed.”
He had touched the core of Graine’s own doubts. Lady Elizabeth said shrewdly, “If you were entirely free to choose, what would you like to do?”
His answer was prompt. “Something that took me out of doors a good deal. Probably to do with farming or horse breeding, like Papa. Not racing. It’s the animals that appeal to me, not the excitement of a race course.”
“Not book work,” said Lady Elizabeth reflectively.
“Well actually there’s quite a bit of book work to do with breeding horses. Or any other animals, come to that. You have to know the blood lines and keep careful records. But I like that sort of book work. And Mr Oliver showed me some of the book work that goes to the running of Valminster when I was there in the summer, and I liked that, too.”
Silence fell, while the three of them contemplated such a life as Dominic described and the one that was offered to him. The difference was vast.
A plan began to form itself in Lady Elizabeth’s mind. It was only loosely connected with the problem of Dominic’s future, though it should prove helpful in that respect, too. But as regards a certain project of her own, she felt that it might well prove to be a master stroke.
“Ross is the man to advise you in such a case,” she announced, with an air of decision that brooked no argument. “Sir John would certainly side with Sir Everard and Bridie. The financial prospects would out-weigh the years of drudgery. Besides, he likes poring over musty old papers and arguing over clauses and premises. He would see nothing wearisome in the life that Mr Sutcliffe suggests for you. In fact he would probably find a fatal fascination in cargo manifests and bills of lading. Ross will take a more dispassionate view, and since many of his tastes seem to agree with Dominic’s, he may even be able to suggest some form of employment that would be more suitable.”
Dominic’s face brightened considerably, but Graine viewed her employer with a wary eye.
“You shall go down to Valminster this very day,” planned her ladyship briskly. “No use dilly-dallying.
I daresay Mr Sutcliffe will want your decision pretty soon, Dominic. You may take my town carriage. I shall not need it today. The roads are reasonably dry, so you should encounter no particular difficulty and should be back by nightfall. In any case there is a moon, so long as the clouds hold off. And you shall take your sister with you. No, don’t argue, Graine. I am sure I have been saying for ever that you are wearing yourself to a shred over those abominable brats of mine. You shall have an afternoon of holiday, and you may discuss your brother’s plans at leisure during the drive. Bear my greetings to my brother and tell him it is high time he paid us another visit. Now run up to your room and put on a carriage dress and a warm pelisse. The evenings are still cold.”
Graine did as she was bid, half reluctant, half eagerly. Lady Elizabeth turned to Dominic, her glance assessing him thoughtfully. A likeable lad, sensible and tactful. She would trust him.
“Will you do something for me, Dominic?”
“Very willingly,” he assured her.
She considered for a moment, then said slowly, “I think that my brother might like to have private speech with Graine. You will understand that there may be possibilities that he does not care to disclose before you for fear of raising unfounded hopes. If opportunity offers, leave them alone together.”
