by Mira Stables
He said slowly, “If I were a gentleman, Miss Ashley, I suppose I would accept my disappointment with stoicism and would trouble you no more. It seems, alas, that I am not. Have I displeased you in some way? Is there something in my habits or character that you find utterly unacceptable? For I would do my utmost to mend such matters.”
Graine was cast into complete confusion. It had taken all her determination to pronounce that abrupt refusal to his face, when all she had wanted to do was to melt into his arms and promise that she would be all that he desired, so that she brought him happiness.
“No, indeed. There is nothing. Your lordship’s character is quite admirable,” she stumbled out.
“But you do not find yourself able to sustain the thought of living with me,” he returned grimly. “Very well, ma’am, I accept my defeat. Now let us consider how I may take my leave with the least embarrassment to you. The devil is in it that I must stay overnight. Sir John and I have business affairs that will keep me in Town until tomorrow. It is obvious that my continued presence must be uncomfortable for you. In time, no doubt, we shall become accustomed, but for tonight –” he broke off and appeared to be wrapped in thought.
“I could keep my room,” she said desperately. “Lady Elizabeth enquired at luncheon if I had the headache. No one would think it strange if I did not come down to dinner. So we could avoid any awkwardness. As for the future, I shall resign my post here. I have already written about another situation.”
His lordship felt like a murderer. Where he had hoped to give her every care and luxury, he had cast her adrift. He knew that she had been happy with the Brownings. Now she must leave her comfortable situation, the blame to be laid at his door. He would find her a comparable post, he determined, even though she had refused to marry him, even if he had to fabricate one. A post where she could be as happy as she had been with the Brownings.
He said temperately, “That would seem a reasonable solution. And in the morning you will be busy with the children until after I have taken my departure.”
But he did not immediately take his leave, standing looking down at her in contemplative fashion as though there was a good deal more that he would have liked to say. In actual fact he was conning the ranks of his acquaintance in search of a family who might have need of a governess, but his thoughtful air made her nervous, and nervousness drove her to revert to the very topic that she had meant at all costs to avoid.
“There could be no happiness in such a union as you suggested, milord,” she said timidly. “The disparity between us could never be bridged. I could not have been the same person whom you singled out for your preference. Perhaps I seemed to you a little unusual, which caught your attention, but I am sure you will not long regret your disappointment when you consider the number of disagreeable problems in which you must have been involved.”
He supposed her to be referring to Dominic’s difficulties, to which he had already found an excellent solution. But since he also thought that the reference to disparity could only apply to the difference in age, he was not prepared to argue further. It was as he had thought, and knowing her situation he could only respect a decision that held no trace of self-interest, however much it hurt him personally.
“You cannot, of course, expect me to agree with you,” he said with that delightful smile. “Indeed, I still nourish some faint hope that you will change your mind. But once again I find myself obliged to give you my word that I will not pester you with my solicitations. Only I beg that if you do change your mind you will not permit modesty or that sensitive pride of yours to prevent you from informing me. Surely that is a fair bargain? For despite your attempts to assure me that I shall soon forget you, I promise you that I shall not change mine. Moreover I hope that you will still regard me as a friend to whom you may bring any problems that trouble you. In the matter of Dominic’s future, for instance,” he began, and broke off short.
His kindness was the one thing needed to shatter her composure. The tears were rolling down her cheeks, though she made no attempt to turn her head away as she said huskily, “I am sorry, milord. Pray hold me excused,” and turned and fled.
Chapter Thirteen
It was hours before she slept. She sent her supper tray away almost untouched, which brought Lady Elizabeth to see if she was seriously unwell. Her ladyship was kind but distant. Her brother had naturally been obliged to tell her that his suit had not prospered, and she had considerable difficulty in mastering her indignation to the point of speaking politely to the girl who had actually presumed to reject the most eligible bachelor in Town. Ross! Who had every card in the matrimonial stakes stacked in his favour. Rank – wealth – character. He would make the very nicest kind of husband thought his sister, with a good deal of justification. And Graine Ashley had refused him. The girl’s wan little face and tear-swollen eyes did something to soften her employer’s heart, but she could not bring herself to the point of forgiveness. There could be no understanding Miss Ashley’s behaviour. But her brother had straitly forbidden her to refer to the matter so she confined her remarks to a suggestion that the physician should be summoned if the sufferer thought she might be sickening for the influenza, of which there was a good deal about, and, when this proposal was firmly negatived, Graine declaring that she ailed no more than a severe headache which would be mended by a night’s sleep, to the offer of a few drops of laudanum. She insisted that Beatrice bring the bottle from her room but agreed that it would be better if Miss Ashley could sleep naturally. Graine, a healthy creature who never ailed anything, was a little frightened of powerful drugs since she had never had cause to use them. She tried every time-honoured method of wooing the sleep that could bring her blessed forgetfulness for a time. But neither counting sheep nor the recitation of French verbs sufficed to drive his lordship’s image from her mind. And she saw him, of course, as he had looked when they parted, his face grave but full of kindly concern as he began to speak of Dominic’s future, and could have wept anew. How could she ever hope to understand him? How could the same man make improper proposals to the sister and yet, even though they were rejected, concern himself with the affairs of a youngster who had no shadow of a claim on him?
Between this recurring vision and thoughts of a future in which his lordship had no part to play, it was little wonder that sheep and recitation stood small chance of success. Towards midnight she re-made her tumbled bed, measured out a few drops of the opiate which she sipped with mingled doubt and distaste, and composed herself once more for slumber. This time she did sleep, heavily and uneasily, but she slept.
She also dreamed; so vividly that she could recall a good deal of the dream when she woke. In the dream she was walking in a forest. It was very dark and the trees were gnarled and ancient. No birds sang. The stillness was so oppressive that she grew frightened. The twisted branches seemed to spread cruel fingers to clutch at her and hinder her passage. They caught in her hair and clothing. She struggled to free herself, only to be held helplessly so that fear turned to panic. A stand of trees ahead of her burst suddenly into flames and she fought desperately to escape from the prisoning branches that held her at their mercy; fought so desperately that she woke, to find herself once again entangled in the bedclothes.
The dream still possessed her imagination. She could even smell the smoke from the burning trees, so strongly that it was choking. That’s the last time that I take laudanum, she vowed in exasperation, and then realised that the smoke was no dream. Something was burning. The smoke was real and was growing thicker every moment.
She struggled out of bed, still hazy with the remnants of drugged slumber, and began to pull on her clothes, hurriedly, any how. This must be investigated. It might be only a chimney fire, but it was an odd time for such a mishap she thought, her brain clearing with every active movement that she made. There could be danger. It was even possible that the house was on fire. That last thought accelerated her movements. The children! No one else seemed to have be
en alarmed by the smell of smoke, for all was quiet. She dispensed with the formality of stockings and gown and pulled on her slippers and a loose wrapper that needed no hooking up.
As she opened her bedroom door she could see that the smoke was thicker in the corridor. She turned back and tugged at the bell pull, jerkily, fiercely. It would sound some sort of alarm she hoped, picked up her candle and set off for the children’s rooms. It might have been more sensible to rouse Sir John and Lady Elizabeth, but in her still slightly dazed state her only thought was for the children who were her responsibility.
The schoolroom floor was only slightly tainted with the smell of smoke. It was possible to breathe freely, but Bridget and Adam were sleeping rather more soundly than usual and objected to being roused and bidden to dress at such an unseasonable hour. She left them drowsily obeying her commands and went to rouse Beatrice whose room was at the other end of the corridor. Here the smoke was much thicker, so much so that she was seriously alarmed. Beatrice was deeply asleep. She set this bell, too, pealing violently and shook the girl into wakefulness, huddled her into her clothes and bade her go down to waken her parents, while she herself went back to shepherd the younger children to safety.
The house awoke to sudden, unnatural life. The family gathered in the hall, the children divided between excitement and awe, Sir John giving orders with crisp authority. A man was sent running to summon the parish fire brigade, others to ensure that all the servants were awake and aware of the danger. Lady Elizabeth suggested that it might be wise to remove small valuables to a place of safety, but Sir John said that there was little danger of a serious fire. The outbreak was at present confined to his study, and thanks to the early warning given by Miss Ashley he thought that their own servants and the firemen would have no difficulty in bringing it under control. His wife stared at him – and shrieked.
“Ross! I put him in the room over your study, because his usual room is rather cold at this time of year. Oh! If anything has happened to him, I shall never forgive myself.”
Sir John, who had forgotten all about his brother-in-law, made for the main staircase at his best speed. Graine Ashley was quicker. At the news that Lord Valminster was in the room immediately above the fire, she forgot everything except his danger. He must have been stupefied by the smoke, might even now be suffocating. She could picture the flames already licking at the floor of his room. Young Benedict had once formed the opinion that Miss Ashley could move swiftly enough if occasion demanded. She had never moved faster. Regardless of her rather exiguous attire she brushed past Sir John – still limping a little from his injury – without ceremony, her wrapper streaming behind her, and raced up the stairs to his lordship’s room to fling open the door and learn the worst without delay.
Lord Valminster had gone late to his bed, having spent the evening with Sir John in the study, thankful to seek distraction from his personal problems in discussing various matters of mutual interest, in blowing a cloud (and thereby, between them, causing all the present alarm and excitement) and in sampling his host’s excellent brandy a good deal more freely than was his normal custom. Probably it was the depth of his potations that had caused him to sleep soundly through the initial alarm. Certainly he did not wake until the unusual noises produced by the arrival of the fire brigade penetrated his peaceful slumber. He was still not alarmed. Some freak current of air had prevented the smoke from invading his room to an extent that made it immediately noticeable. He just wanted to know who had arrived at this hour of the morning with such jingling of harness and ringing of bells.
He lit his candle and climbed out of bed in leisurely fashion, yawned, stretched and took off his nightcap. He was in the act of pulling on an exotic looking dressing gown when his bedroom door was flung open with some violence and the unpredictable Miss Ashley appeared on the threshold.
For a moment he stared, unable to believe his eyes, wondering if he was still asleep and dreaming. Miss Ashley did not at first perceive him because he was standing in the far corner of the room behind the circle of light cast by the candle. She ran across to the bed, flinging back the curtain to discover that there was no occupant, and lifted her head in anxious search.
His lordship was no slow-top. Whatever had brought her here in this unconventional fashion, he must learn its cause at once. He had already started towards her when she saw him. In a passion of relief that he was alive and safe when she had feared him dead or at least in grave danger, she flung herself into his arms. They were not unreceptive. His kiss was pressed on her mouth almost before she was aware. Her feeble defences crumbled. She returned the kiss and clung as though he was her sole dependence, while he folded her protectively close. A pretty sight to meet the eyes of Sir John, entering the room only a few seconds behind Miss Ashley, and both participants barely decently dressed. Fortunately he was a gentleman of wide tolerance in certain aspects, and not devoid of humour. His wife having apprised him of how matters stood between her brother and Miss Ashley, he began to detect the finger of providence in the fire that had wrecked his study. No serious damage had been done, no one was hurt, and at least, he decided, hiding a grin, he would have a pretty tale to tell his wife if she began to upbraid him for the carelessness with the smouldering end of his cheroot which had probably caused the conflagration. In his opinion – and he was something of a judge – the pair so raptly locked in each other’s arms that they had not even noticed his arrival, were in a fair way to settling their difficulties, if they had not already done so. It was really quite a pity to interrupt them, but he had left his wife in a state of considerable anxiety about her brother’s safety, which he must relieve as soon as possible. Nor did he think that Elizabeth, something of a high stickler where morals were concerned, would approve of this bedroom tête-à-tête.
With the tact to be expected of an experienced diplomat he said pleasantly, “I think this floor is growing unpleasantly warm, Ross. And since the door was opened the smoke is beginning to creep up through the floor boards. Oh! Nothing serious or alarming, you understand. Just a small fire in the study. One of us must have been careless, I fear. The firemen are dealing very competently, but I think we would be more comfortable downstairs. It would really be very awkward if this floor collapsed and precipitated the three of us into the embers below.”
He politely held open the door to allow Miss Ashley to precede him from the room, and Lord Valminster released her with a final reassuring hug. There was nothing he could usefully say to her in the presence of a third party, but he was no longer in any doubt as to the state of her feelings and meant to have a sensible explanation from her before he left Town. He was very happy, for he knew now that whatever misguided scruples had persuaded her to refuse him, she loved him as much – or almost as much – as he loved her. He had only to coax her to explain her reasons and then they could arrange matters openly. He began to wonder how soon they could be married, but the welcome from the family who were looking anxiously for his appearance and came crowding round him with little ejaculations of relief and greeting served to distract his thoughts. Only his sister was a little surprised by his obvious high spirits. Perhaps they might be attributed to his escape from a potentially dangerous situation, but she rather thought not. She remembered how Graine had fled up the stairs at the thought of that danger and studied that damsel searchingly, but Graine’s face gave nothing away. She was engaged in answering Adam’s questions about the progress and direction of the fire, explaining how it needed air to fan it into real ferocity and using the homely bellows as an illustration of this truth. Feeling her employer’s eye upon her she asked if she should now settle the children down for what was left of the night. Hot milk and biscuits, she suggested, might persuade them to abandon the scene of action. In any case there was not much more to be seen. The firemen were packing up their equipment. Their leader, who was a senior clerk with the fire insurance company, was solemnly warning Sir John of the dangers of smoking indoors, an attitude fully endorsed by
Lady Elizabeth, but relaxed into a more benevolent attitude when it was suggested that he and his men might appreciate some refreshment after their labours. Fire fighting, he admitted, was thirsty work. A drop of ale would not come amiss.
He and his men departed kitchenward, and since Lady Elizabeth would not permit the children to go outside to see the horses that pulled the fire engine, Graine was able quite easily to persuade them back to bed.
Graine’s own feelings were mixed. Paramount was gratitude that no one had suffered injury. But no amount of recalling the exact circumstances could blind her to the fact that her demonstration of relief at his lordship’s survival had been excessive. She had betrayed herself completely and she knew it. After such encouragement he might well renew his importunities and the whole sorry business would be to do again. She dwelt for a moment on the memory of that one illicit kiss, shook her head vigorously as though by so doing she could banish it, and climbed into bed. Tomorrow seemed likely to be a difficult day. She had better snatch what sleep she could if she was to bring her usual calm good sense to bear on the problems that she saw looming ahead.
