The sound of his wife’s muffled sobbing drove him from the room. One thing he would say of his sister—she was not so feeble a single slap would reduce her to tears. Eleanor had, it seemed, cracked her attacker on the head. This meant Bentley, according to his snivelling wife, was still incommunicado. The longer the better. He would write him a note, demand an apology, and that could be the end of the matter.
The sound of carriage wheels attracted his attention and he sauntered to the window that overlooked the turning circle at the rear of the house. He did not recognize the carriage. There wasn’t an emblem emblazoned on the side, but the equipage was extravagant and must belong to a wealthy man.
He was about to turn away as the vehicle completed its circle and for a moment was parallel to the house. To his astonishment he saw his sister sitting inside, and what looked like Bentley lounging opposite her.
Chapter Seven
As the carriage swung around, Eleanor glanced up at the nursery windows, knowing the children would be there. The row of faces, white blobs against the glass, made her throat thicken and her eyes fill. She blinked. A movement at a window on the first floor caught her attention.
Edward.
She shrank back against the squabs, praying he hadn’t seen her. Sally, who was sitting next to her, clutched her hand. Her brother had recognized her. Her husband was slumped on the other side taking up most of the seat. Foster was squeezed into the far corner. At least they would not know their flight had been discovered.
“What is it, my dear? Are you sad to leave the children?”
Her head flew up to meet Bentley’s sympathetic gaze. “Yes, my lord, they were most distressed at my leaving so suddenly…” Her voice trailed away; she could manage no further explanation.
“When the dust has settled, you must invite Lady Thorrington and your niece and nephews to stay at Blakely Hall. It will be good for my…our children to have playmates.”
She rummaged in her reticule until her fingers grasped her handkerchief. When she had wiped her eyes and blown her nose, she felt ready to ask some important questions. “If you are feeling well enough to talk, sir, there are some things that I need to know.”
“The names, ages and disposition of the children?”
“Yes, indeed. I wish to be a good mother to them…” She paused, perhaps this was not the time to talk about her duties as a wife.
“Lucy is the oldest. I’m not sure of her age.” He turned to Foster for assistance.
“Miss Lucy is eight, Miss Elizabeth seven and Master Alexander is five, my lord.”
“Thank you. I have spent so little time at Blakely since my first wife died that I have lost contact with them. I am relying on you to supply what I cannot.” He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Eleanor was horrified at his callousness. When the children had lost their mother so tragically he should have supplied the love and stability they needed and not abandoned them to the care of servants. They must have been devastated to be ignored in this way. She would not be surprised to discover they had run wild with no parent to supply firm guidance as well as love.
They were obliged to stay for one night at The Red Lion in Colchester High Street. Foster organized the accommodation and took care of his master. She and Sally ate supper upstairs and were waiting at half past seven the next morning, as instructed, in the vestibule. Today was market day and the noise from the livestock on sale outside made conversation difficult.
The carriage appeared promptly and she decided it would be better to wait inside than stand around being gawped at in the yard. “Come along, Sally, let us get in. I am sure Lord Bentley and Foster will be with us very soon.”
She had been sitting there a good fifteen minutes before the door opened and Foster almost pushed her husband inside. “Good gracious! You look decidedly poorly, my lord. Do you think you should be travelling today?”
“We are two hours from my home, madam. If I am to be laid up, I would much prefer to be in comfort.” With that, he collapsed on the seat and closed his eyes. His face had an unnatural waxy hue; she did not like the look of him at all. She leant across and touched his hand. He didn’t stir, he was deeply unconscious.
“Foster, I think Lord Bentley is very ill indeed. I do hope there is a good physician to be found when we arrive at Blakely Hall.”
“There is, my lady. I have taken the liberty of sending the groom ahead by post horse. The doctor should be waiting when we arrive.”
The more she knew about her husband’s valet the better she liked him. He was more a man of affairs than a mere servant. “Thank you. I wish we had remained at the abbey until he was well.”
Foster cleared his throat. “In the circumstances, my lady, it was far better that you left immediately.”
What did he know? Had downstairs gossip revealed the true state of things between herself and her brother? Eleanor hid her face in the brim of her bonnet. She had no wish to discuss her personal life with anyone.
The remainder of the journey was spent in silence; the laboured breathing of her husband the only sound in the closed carriage. She prayed she was not to be made a widow before the day was out. If Bentley died then she was a murderer. Her stomach roiled. What must Foster think of her? His master was at death’s door and it was all her fault.
She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible. Would she be arrested? Her heinous action had been accepted by her husband, but if he was dead would his family feel the same about the woman who had struck him down? She didn’t know if he had any relatives apart from his three children; surely if he had siblings they would have stepped in and offered comfort and a home to his little ones?
Some time later the carriage slowed to travel through a village with well tended cottages. They trundled past several shops and a hostelry, as well as more substantial dwellings and swung sharp right into a winding lane. An ancient church appeared on the left and unexpectedly, across an expanse of lawn bordered by dark yew hedges, she saw what was to be her home. The house was pinnacled, symmetrical, and built from rose red brick. The building was stunning.
A forecourt, flanked by projecting gabled wings, led straight to a bridge defended by stone gargoyles, high above which tapered the fantastic tiers of a clock tower. The vehicle slowed to a walk and halted in front of the house. In order to enter, one was obliged to cross a bridge over a dry moat.
Eleanor could scarcely take in what she was seeing. She could not see the main portal as it was set back some way behind another beast protected arch.
“My lady, do you wish me to remain here and take care of Lord Bentley?”
“Yes, please do so, Foster. I shall go in at once and introduce myself to the children. They must not know that their papa is grievously ill.”
Several footmen appeared and their feet echoed on the bridge. The carriage door was flung open and the steps let down. One of the servants offered her an arm. Shaking her head, she descended unaided. She was pleased to see a tall young man, dressed soberly, stepping forward to greet her. This must be the doctor, it could be no other.
“Lady Bentley, I am Dr Stansted, at your service. I am here to take care of his lordship.”
“Thank you, sir. I am most concerned about his condition; he has been unconscious since we left Colchester. I pray the journey has not proved too much for him.”
“I shall do my best, my lady. Lord Bentley has a strong constitution. If anyone can recover from such a head injury he can.”
She hoped he was correct with his prognosis. She stepped to one side to allow the two men holding a trestle to approach. They were obviously intending to carry the patient back to the house. Despite the parlous situation, her lips twitched at the thought of her husband’s reaction should he wake up and find himself so rudely transported.
When things were less fraught she would enjoy exploring the building and its ancient surrounds, but now she must concentrate on the present. Once through the archway, she crossed a
cobbled courtyard in order to reach the front door proper. This main portal was dated 1620.
Goodness!
Blakely Hall was indeed an ancient structure. An august gentleman in black greeted her with a bow.
“You are welcome to Blakely Hall, my lady. I could wish the circumstances were happier. I am Sydney, the butler. Allow me to introduce you to the rest of the staff.”
Instead of a double row of servants waiting to greet her, there was a mere handful. The tall thin woman in navy bombazine was obviously the housekeeper. This lady curtsied, but did not smile. Four footmen and a handful of housemaids were not sufficient to run a house of this size.
She nodded at the staff and paused in front of the housekeeper, keeping her expression haughty as she waited for the woman to introduce herself.
“Jones at your service, my lady. If you will follow me I will conduct you to your apartment.”
“Where are my children? I wish to see them immediately. Show me to the drawing-room. I shall wait there.”
The woman bristled. “I shall have them fetched right away. The drawing room is this way, my lady.”
Ignoring the woman, Eleanor turned to speak to Sally who was hovering nervously behind her. “I rely on you to prepare my chambers. Demand that one of the inside staff assist you if you are not satisfied with their cleanliness.”
A magnificent staircase dominated the great hall but she did not have time to examine it in detail. The room she was taken to faced east, the mullioned windows looking out over the moat and across to a formal parterre garden. The grounds were immaculate, the sheep and deer keeping the grass short. There might be too few inside staff, but Lord Bentley had not cut back on outside men.
Whilst she waited she examined an extraordinary, carved stone chimney piece. She ran her fingers over the angelic figures that held up a coat of arms. She must suppose this was the family crest, she would ask when…when she could. Presumably Lord Bentley was safely established in his own apartment and being attended to by the doctor. No doubt Dr Stansted would speak to her before he left.
Eventually the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted her pacing. She had already removed her bonnet and gloves and checked that her hair was neatly arranged. She was still wearing the gown she had been married in. Sally had sponged and pressed it for her and it did not look too creased.
Placing herself in the centre of the room she rubbed her palms on her handkerchief before returning it to her to her reticule. A sharp rap on the door split the silence. She dropped her bag. The double doors were pushed open and a prune-faced woman of indeterminate years, her hair scraped back in the exact same style she herself had adopted until yesterday, all but pushed three silent children through the door.
To Eleanor’s astonishment, the nanny did not introduce herself. She merely dipped in a minimal curtsy and retreated, closing the door with a decided snap.
Not good. Not good at all.
“My dears, shall we be seated on the sofa by the window together? I am your new mama. I shall be living here with you in future and intend to devote all my time to making your lives happier.”
The oldest girl, Lucy, her dark hair cruelly braided, took the hands of the younger children and edged a little closer. The boy, Alexander, was still dressed in frills and flounces, his hair to his shoulders. If she hadn’t known his gender she would have thought him a girl. The middle child, Elizabeth, was the image of her father, her eyes flashed with the same fire.
“Lucy, have you eaten your midday meal? I am famished, I was too excited about meeting you all to eat any breakfast. If I ring for refreshments what shall I ask for? Tell me your favourites and they shall be requested.”
The children exchanged disbelieving glances. “We do not eat in the middle of the day, ma’am. Nanny says it’s good for us to do without until teatime.”
“Well, Lucy my dear, I’m in charge of your welfare now. I think children should eat when they are hungry. Now, tell me where is the bell strap hidden?”
Elizabeth ran to the fireplace and pointed to the silken tassel hanging from the ceiling. “This is it, my lady. Shall I pull it for you?”
“Please, my love, do so at once.” Eleanor reached down and lifted Alexander on to the seat beside her. “Now, young man, my first task shall be to have suitable garments made up for you. How can you possibly ride a pony dressed like that?”
The boy lost his worried frown and smiled. “I should like that, Mama. I can’t climb trees neither.”
“I should think not, indeed. But that is for later. First, we must decide what we are to order before someone arrives in answer to the summons.”
The butler came himself in response to the bell. “Can I be of assistance, my lady?”
Excitement rippled along the row of children.
“We require sustenance at once. We would like apple pie and cream, cheese and chutney and fresh bread and butter, plus a selection of whatever cakes have been baked today. Oh, yes, and fresh lemonade to drink. I believe there is a hothouse, also bring a basket of whatever fruit is available.”
She had expected him to frown but instead his austere expression softened and he almost smiled. “I shall tell Cook to prepare it straight away, my lady. Do you wish your meal served in the breakfast parlour?”
“Is that a small and friendly room, suitable for family eating?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes my lady. I shall have the food sent along immediately.”
“Come, children, you can show me some of the ground floor on the way.”
Lucy lifted down her little brother. “Which way would you like to go? We can go through the main hall or out that open door there—it leads to a smaller drawing-room and music room.”
“I must learn to find my way about this huge house as soon as possible. Take me in whichever direction you wish. I shall have to memorize them all.”
Elizabeth made the decision for them. “I want to show Lady Eleanor the piano; it’s out of tune, and I would so like to play it one day.”
“And so you shall, I shall teach you myself as soon as the piano tuner has visited.”
The children were desperate for her attention, vying with each other to point out peculiar carvings, family portraits and anything else they thought might be of interest. The pianoforte was indeed sadly out of tune; she doubted it had been played for several years. With all three milling around her talking non-stop, she had difficulty making note of their direction. She doubted she would be able to find her way back to the drawing room without assistance.
“Here we are—the breakfast parlour. We do not eat here. We have all our meals in the nursery, but I believe that Papa uses it when—” Lucy stopped mid-sentence. “Where is he? Didn’t he come with you today? You haven’t told us when you got married. Have you known him a long time?”
“Too many questions on an empty stomach. I shall answer them as soon as we have eaten.”
She followed her guides into the chamber at the precise moment a trio of maids arrived with laden trays. Cook had surpassed herself; there was enough food to feed ten children and several adults as well.
“Sit down quietly, children, and we shall say grace together. Then we shall help ourselves to what we want. Alexander, I shall serve you for I doubt you can reach the centre of the table.”
Eventually, they were all replete. Eleanor surveyed the mountain of food that remained untouched. “There’s enough here to pack up a picnic tea and take it down to the lake. Who would like to come with me?”
One would have thought the children had never been on a picnic before as they danced around her. Laughing, she waved her hand and called for hush. “Before we can go out, there are several things I have to do. The first is to speak to Nanny and see if there is anything more suitable for Alexander to change into. Girls, do you have less elaborate garments you could wear?”
“Nanny said we should change into our best to meet you, ma’am. Perhaps she will allow us to put on something we can run around in.�
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“Elizabeth, my dear, if I wish you to change then Nanny must find you something to put on. Shall we go upstairs and speak to her?”
She pushed her chair back and walked across to ring the bell. Sydney appeared so promptly he must have been waiting for her call. She explained to him that she wanted the food and the lemonade put into a picnic basket for later. Following him to the door, she spoke quietly so the children could not overhear.
“Sydney, is Dr Stansted still here?”
“Yes, my lady, he is with Mr Foster. Lord Bentley’s man was desirous of speaking with you but I said you were not to be interrupted when the children were with you.”
A sick feeling flooded through her. “I see. I should like a footman to take me to Lord Bentley’s apartment. I shall go and speak to Foster immediately.”
The children would have to go up to the nursery ahead of her. If the news was as bad as she feared, they should not hear it until had time to prepare them. It would not do to alarm them prematurely.
Chapter Eight
Edward watched the carriage until it was out of sight. He couldn’t begin his enquiries until his rage was under control. Why had Bentley taken the woman he had attempted to assault? It made no sense.
The red mist slowly cleared and his mind began to function normally. Whatever the reason, Eleanor had left Bridgeton Abbey was to his advantage. Her reputation had been damaged yesterday but today what was left would have gone entirely. His sister would be a social outcast; even the most determined fortune hunter would shy away from a match with Bentley’s leavings.
He smiled. He would leave the matter for a few hours and then demand to see Eleanor. When she failed to appear, he could initiate a search and her disgraceful behaviour would become common knowledge. Tomorrow was soon enough to discover Bentley’s whereabouts and reclaim her. His eyes glittered. This time he could thrash her without remorse. Even his soft-hearted wife would have to accept that it was his right and duty to punish someone who had bought the family name into disrepute.
Fenella J Miller Page 6
