“Thank you. I hope your mama is not too worried."
Meg brought in a fresh pot of tea with a basket of muffins. From the corner cabinet she retrieved a cup and saucer and a matching plate which she set in front of William. Forgetting that he had intended to skip this second meal, he spread marmalade on a toasted muffin.
“It's hard to say with Mama. She isn't very realistic, you see. Sometimes she worries about us when there's not a thing in the world to warrant it, and sometimes she does not when there's something quite serious. I think she has determined that Aria will be perfectly fine, and as she's not at the Hall to remind Mama that she is indisposed, Mama may be able to completely ignore the problem."
Clarissa was a little taken aback by this succinct description of Lady Kinsford's mental processes. “She must know she is welcome any time to visit with Lady Aria. As you all are, of course."
Will grinned. “I can hardly wait to see everyone here again, like yesterday. Lord, that was a rare treat! You should have heard Kinsford last night.” He stopped abruptly, remembering that Miss Driscoll was not exactly the person to be telling about his brother's suspicions. He hastened to add, “Firebird was perfectly all right, fortunately. Not a scratch on her and not the least nervous, either, when we found her in the south meadow. As a rule she's rather high-strung. Do you never ride, Miss Driscoll?"
Clarissa would have liked to quiz him on Kinsford's pique, but she could see it would embarrass William and she refrained. “I haven't ridden in years. It's far too expensive to keep a horse. But I rode when I was your age."
“Of course you did.” He ran a hand through his already disordered blond locks. “How thoughtless we've been. You must send for a horse from the Hall anytime you wish to ride. No, more than that. When Aria is up and about again, we shall all ride together."
“That's very kind of you,” Clarissa said dismissively. “Why don't I check on your sister now? She may be awake."
When he rose with her, she merely waved him back to his seat. No sense having him tag along at her heels like a puppy. She shut the door behind her when she went quietly into the sitting room. Aria was lying on the sofa with the blankets about her, but her eyes were open. She regarded Clarissa quizzically.
“I remember having a fall, and seeing Dr. Lawrence here, but I'm not sure why I'm not at home,” she said.
“They thought it best not to move you for a while. Your shoulder was dislocated, and you had a pretty bad blow to the head. How do you feel?"
Aria wrinkled her nose. “Not very well. My head aches abominably."
“I'm not surprised. Meg has been putting compresses on your temple. I'll see if she has another one ready.” Clarissa felt Aria's forehead as she spoke. The fever which had come on some hours after the fall was abating now, but she would need to administer another fever pill, according to Dr. Lawrence's instructions. “Are you hungry, Lady Aria?"
''A little.''
“Meg could make you some barley gruel.” Clarissa fluffed the pillow under Aria's head. “Do you think you'd like that?"
“Yes, if she stirs in a little jam. That's the way I liked it as a child."
“Fine. Your brother is here, my dear. Shall I send him in?"
Aria frowned. “I'm not really up to being scolded, Miss Driscoll. Could you tell him I'm not well enough to see him?"
“I didn't mean Lord Kinsford. It's William who's in the dining parlor."
“Well, of course Will shall come in. My word, is it that late in the morning? Your clock says only nine."
“The clock is correct."
Aria's eyes widened. “And Will is here already? He must be very concerned about me to get up at this hour.''
“I'm sure he is.” Clarissa turned to leave but decided there was something more she needed to say. “Everyone is concerned about you, Lady Aria. Your mother hurried here yesterday and Lord Kinsford made sure you had the best care available. You needn't fear that Lord Kinsford will scold you."
“Little you know,” Aria scoffed as she leaned back against the pillow. “He means well but he doesn't know how to talk to us without scolding, or teaching us a lesson, or ordering us to do something."
“Then we'll have to instruct him, won't we?” Clarissa said in her most tutorial voice, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “For you know he's going to insist on seeing you."
Aria pulled the pillow over her face. “Tell him I've expired, why don't you?"
“I'll send William in."
* * * *
When Clarissa returned with the gruel, she found brother and sister chattering away about the state of the Kinsford Hall stables with Kinsford's return. He had apparently brought not only Longbridge, but the chestnut pair that drew his curricle to admiration. When she set the gruel on a table for Aria, Will said, “Is that all she gets? Mush?"
“It's gruel and it's what I asked for,” Aria told him. “Don't be rude, Will."
He moaned. “She's worse than I thought, isn't she, Miss Driscoll? Else why would she want such stuff?"
“Because it's easy to digest and very soothing,” Clarissa informed him. “Why don't you run along now so she can eat in peace? Come back this afternoon."
“Oh, very well.” he pressed his sister's fingers as he rose to leave. “Don't let Kinsford bother you. He's in one of his pets."
“There, I knew it,” Aria said when he had disappeared. “I don't want to see Alexander, Miss Driscoll. If he comes, you are to say I'm fast asleep."
“We'll see.''
Aria glared at her. “Promise me! It's not fair to be sick and have to bear his teasing me with his fidgets. I won't see him!” Her cheeks became flushed and her eyes glittered with the possibility of tears.
“Very well. We'll discuss it later. Right now I hope you'll have your gruel and the tea Meg made you. And there are some French plums in the box, if you wish them."
Aria sighed as Clarissa put a tray across her legs, but she immediately picked up the spoon and tried the gruel. “Oh, good, she's done it with raspberry jam, my favorite. Thank you, Miss Driscoll."
There was an imperative knock at the door. Aria paused briefly, the spoon halfway to her mouth. “Remember,” she said urgently. “I'm asleep."
Clarissa nodded and left the room.
* * * *
Kinsford hadn't seen his brother Will that morning, so he had been unable to invite him along on his visit to Aria, which he had wanted to do in an effort to smooth things out between them. Lady Kinsford had made Kinsford the bearer of a note to her daughter, for which he'd had to wait a full half hour.
He tied Longbridge outside the cottage, expecting a moderate stay, but not one long enough to have one of the village children walk the horse. It wouldn't do to overtire his sister.
Meg opened the door to him and invited him into the small hall, but before she could go for her mistress, Miss Driscoll appeared from the sitting room. She closed the door carefully behind her, and put her finger to her lips, motioning him to follow her into the dining parlor. While Meg returned to the rear of the house, Kinsford followed Miss Driscoll.
“I had hoped to see Aria,” he said immediately, removing his riding gauntlets and holding them in one hand. “How does she go on?"
“She's much better this morning, but her head still aches abominably and she's drifted off to sleep again. It would be unfair to awaken her, when she has such discomfort."
Kinsford could not tell whether Miss Driscoll was lying to him or not. “Perhaps she'll awaken again soon. I could sit quietly in the sitting room
Miss Driscoll bristled. “I'm afraid not. Lady Aria needs all the rest she can get. If you need reassurance as to her condition, you should apply to your brother. He was here when she was awake."
“Will got to see her?” Kinsford felt seriously put out. He suspected that Miss Driscoll was not telling him the truth, though it would serve no purpose for her to prevent him from seeing his sister. Therefore, he suspected that Will had somehow urged her to keep him
away from Aria, and he would not tolerate that. “I believe as head of the family that I should ascertain for myself what her condition is this morning. So, begging your pardon, I shall just look in on her."
“You will do no such thing!” Miss Driscoll flushed with indignation. “This is my house, Lord Kinsford, and I am in charge of your sister while she's here. If you wish to have her removed to the Hall against Dr. Lawrence's orders, that is of course your concern. I would strongly advise against it, but I cannot prevent you from doing so. In the meantime, you will behave according to my wishes in my house."
Kinsford had not been spoken to in such a way since his father was alive. If he had been seriously put out before, he was now furious. It would not, however, serve the least purpose to allow this impertinent young woman to see his fury.
Apparently his attempt at masking his emotions was unsuccessful, for she said, “Yes, yes, I'm sure I will understand that you couldn't possibly allow the young ones to take lessons from me after this. And I didn't say that you couldn't see your sister while she's here. Will has seen her. When she's ready to see you, you can see her, too."
“What do you mean, ‘when she's ready’ to see me?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing.
“When she's awake and feeling up to company, you may certainly visit with her. In the meantime, you will probably wish to leave that missive with me to give her after you leave."
Kinsford had forgotten the sheet of paper he held. He would as soon have burned it as given it into her care, but he handed it over, turned on his heel, and strode out of the dining parlor into the hall. There he hesitated for the merest fraction of a second, and Miss Driscoll, following close behind him, said, “You will remember what the doctor said. We are to watch for disorientation, not cause it, Lord Kinsford.” Disgruntled, since he had not seriously thought of entering the sitting room, he let himself out the front door.
But the more he thought of it afterward, the more convinced he became that Aria had been awake. Since it did not occur to him that his sister might not have wished to see him, he was convinced that either Miss Driscoll or Will had determined that he should not be allowed access to his sister.
He swung onto Longbridge, nudged his horse forward, and soon found himself at the edge of town facing the same road he and Aria had taken the previous day. In the very short time since he'd returned to Kinsford Hall, he had managed to alienate both his sister and his brother, and to become mightily enraged with their dancing instructor. Though Kinsford was not in the habit of questioning himself, it did just impinge on his consciousness that there might be something wrong with this scenario, and that it might have something to do with him.
* * * *
Lady Aria had indeed been awake when her brother was present in the house. Though she could not hear what Miss Driscoll and he had discussed in the dining parlor, she had recognized from the timbre of their voices that they were arguing. Though grateful to Miss Driscoll for preserving her from her brother's homilies, she felt she had pushed things in the wrong direction. She wanted Alexander to like Miss Driscoll, not be annoyed with her.
Her head, though it ached considerably, was quite clear. And Aria was a very resourceful young woman, sick or not. It seemed to her that the longer she remained in Miss Driscoll's house, the better chance there was for these two important people in her life to get to know one another. Surely they could not help but respect each other once they had established that kind of familiarity.
Aria had caught Miss Driscoll's remark in the hall about disorientation, which gave her a splendid idea. They wouldn't move her to the Hall if she had such a problem, would they?
* * * *
Clarissa returned to the dining parlor after the door closed behind the earl. It was not her habit to antagonize anyone, and certainly not the local aristocracy. But her cheeks flushed when she remembered him telling her that he was going to check on his sister in spite of what she'd said. Apparently it was not enough for the Barringtons to own her father's manor house; now they were intent on trespassing in her own small cottage. Well, she would not tolerate that, even if it meant the end of the greater part of her very limited income. She would open a village school before she would allow the Earl of Kinsford to dictate to her what he intended to do in her own house.
When another knock came at the door, she was strongly disposed to tell Meg to ignore it. She was not in the mood to handle any more Barringtons. But it was only a neighbor bringing calves’ foot jelly for the invalid, someone who wished only to be helpful. When the woman had gone, Clarissa wandered to the sitting room and found Aria indeed sound asleep.
The girl looked quite beautiful lying there with her hand tucked up under her cheek. The swelling on her head had come down considerably. No danger now of having to shave an area to rub in Dr. Lawrence's lotion. Clarissa tucked the covers gently around the resting child and decided she'd best take her constitutional now before anyone else arrived.
Giving strict instructions to Meg that no one was to disturb the girl while she slept, Clarissa donned her blue pelisse and cottage bonnet. If she'd had to give up riding when the manor was sold, she had discovered the pleasures of walking to compensate. On a bright spring day such as this she could walk for hours.
Chapter Six
Steven Traling was three-and-twenty, and usually full of boyish enthusiasm and spirits. His brown eyes frequently danced and his black hair did not always fall perfectly into the prevailing Brutus style. He was not above average height and he rode well, if not brilliantly. It was his habit to come to Pennwick every two weeks or so, but as he had not had a chance to be private with Miss Driscoll the previous day, he returned to Pennwick. He was riding his horse along the main street (if such the rutted lane could be called) of the village when he spied Miss Driscoll striding off across the fields at the end of town.
He thought her a magnificent figure of a woman. Though he was aware that she walked constantly for her own amusement (he had had to wait on numerous occasions for her return), he had not actually watched her stride across a field with that air of certainty with which she did everything. Unlike his wife, who was a beautiful but timid woman.
Mr. Traling rode his horse to the end of the lane, dismounted and tied him to a tree. He was able to overtake Miss Driscoll in a matter of minutes, despite her ambitious pace. “Good morning, Miss Driscoll,” he called with engaging formality when he was close enough.
Surprised, Clarissa swung around to confront him. “Mr. Traling. What are you doing in Pennwick today?"
“Yesterday was hardly a satisfactory visit, was it?” he asked. “Never saw so many people in such a small space in my life. Hope the girl's mending all right."
“She seems to be. She's staying with me for a few days, as it would have been risky to transfer her to the Hall in her condition."
Traling grinned. “I imagine the family loved that!"
“Not in the least,” Clarissa admitted. “But they had little choice.” She returned to her former pace and he matched his stride with hers. “How did you manage to elude your in-laws two days in a row?"
“It wasn't easy. Mrs. Wilton decided to take Jane shopping for swaddling gowns or some such thing, but Mr. Wilton wished me to accompany him to the Pump Room. Odious place. Bath is so full of quizzes and they simply cannot wait to get their hands on a bit of gossip. I told Mr. Wilton the newest rumor was that Wellington was emigrating to the United States and it made him so mad he refused to go."
Clarissa couldn't restrain a gurgle of laughter. “Wellington in America! You have the most fertile imagination, Steven."
“I wish he would go!” the young man declared. “Perhaps my papa-in-law would join him there."
“And you would end up in America as well,” she pointed out.
“Oh, I'm not so sure. I could probably convince Jane that she didn't want to go. Then they would be there and we would be here, a much more suitable arrangement than the current one."
They had reached a path
which led through a small coppice of copper beeches. Clarissa turned onto the path and headed west on the second leg of the triangle she sometimes made on her walks. Mr. Traling kept pace with her, frowning slightly as he considered his situation. “It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't put so much store in the baby,” he remarked. “Poor Jane can't make a move without her mother saying, ‘You mustn't tire yourself, Jane,’ or her father saying, ‘Let's make sure this is a healthy lad, Jane.’ What if it's not the son they expect? Or what if it's sickly and dies? You know that can happen."
“Jane is their only child. Of course they're concerned."
“Oh, it's more than that. You know it is."
Clarissa sighed. “Yes. They're just naturally overbearing people who insist on controlling everything that concerns their daughter. You knew that when you married her, Steven."
She only called him by his Christian name when there was no one else around. Right now they were in the middle of Priory Lane, fresh greenery springing out on either side, with a sweep of fields all about them. Far away to the north could be seen some of the spires of Bath itself; straight ahead lay Stanton Prior. At the hedgerow they would turn back toward the village of Pennwick.
Grudgingly, he admitted that he had known what his in-laws were when he married. “But, you know,” he said, kicking a stone out of his path, “Jane didn't seem so cowed by them then. I think I depended more on her being a stronger person.”
Clarissa regarded him with assessing eyes. “Perhaps you expected that you would be a stronger person, Steven. Or thought you would have more power when you were actually married."
“And so I should have,” he agreed, with asperity. “Under the marriage settlement I was to have control of her fortune. How was I to know that her father still controlled the source of funds? I'm not an attorney. And God knows I couldn't have afforded one to go over the settlement. It sounded perfectly all right."
“You'll come about. Just be patient. Once the baby is born and Jane settles into motherhood, she may very well side with you in having a home of your own—at some distance from your in-laws."
The Village Spinster Page 5
