by Mary Balogh
Now, meeting Charlotte again, and finding her so little altered—older, of course, and more assured, but still curiously untouched—had come as a shock. Something that he had thought dead had stirred in him in spite of her insistence that one could not turn back the clock. If anything, that very insistence had proved a challenge—and he never could resist a challenge. But now, when it really mattered, he had handled the whole affair with a clumsiness that touched upon his pride almost as much as it cut him to the heart.
He flung himself down in an armchair beside the dying fire to wait the morning. He had already informed the duke of his intention to leave Lambourn Manor. Freddie had tried to talk him out of it, but he could not wait to be gone, to put the whole wretched affair behind him. If Charlotte had not acted so precipitately, he might have been able to convince her of his love—for only when it was too late did he fully realize the overwhelming nature of his feelings.
Even now, the idea of her wasting herself on that amiable ass, Ballard, who would bore her within a week, filled him with rage. She was too fine, too intelligent, for such a fate, and the blame was his.
He awoke, cramped from sleeping in the chair, to find daylight streaming in at the window, and a manservant bringing in hot water for his shave.
“What time is it?”
“Gone nine, Colonel.”
“Damnation!” He was out of the chair and reaching for his clothes.
“I’m sorry if you was kept waitin’, Colonel sir, only what with young Lord Oliver gettin’ up to one of his pranks on account of the snow, there’s been such goin’s on as you wouldn’t credit!”
The servant showed every intention of being garrulous. Luke was about to silence him in his best parade-ground manner when Charlotte’s name came up.
“… and Miss Charlotte in such a taking… the little lad bein’ her perticler favorite…”
“Stop, man. No, forget the shave. Just tell me calmly from the beginning.”
Luke, used to dressing swiftly and without fuss, listened as the manservant explained how the young lad, seeing the snow, had escaped the vigilant eye of Miss Taylor, the governess, to go racing outside without so much as waiting for his breakfast.
“She was properly put out, o’ course, but knowin’ as boys will be boys, she didn’t worry till he’d been gone a fair while. Then she went a’lookin’ for ‘im. One of the gardener’s boys said as he’d seen him harin’ off across the lawns towards the lake, with the two dogs in hot pursuit, an’ that started all the fuss—well, proper treacherous, that lake can be, if it ain’t frozen ‘ard, like, though ‘is little lordship knew that well enough…”
Luke pulled on his top boots and coat and hurried downstairs. He found the front door wide open, and heard the sound of voices beyond. A good four inches of snow had fallen, and a few flakes were still drifting down on the ever-widening group of people, including the duke and Charlotte, who had had gathered on the drive, all intent upon talking at once. He watched Charlotte, wrapped in a warm cloak and close-fitting bonnet edged with sable, turn, her eyes widening with fleeting surprise which swiftly turned to pleading as they met his.
The duke, too, turned at his approach. “Ah, Colonel. The very man to advise us. My young scapegrace of a son has put us all in a pucker…”
“Yes, I have heard, your grace,” Luke said, cutting short the duke’s attempt to explain. “I am at your disposal. Would you care to tell me what is being done?”
The duke said that he was organizing a search, made up of small groups, to cover a wide area, particularly around the lake. “Noll is a very adventurous child. Yesterday it was slides on the drive. Today, I fear the lake may prove to be a greater lure, for all that he has been warned often enough about keeping well clear of the lake until it has been pronounced safe for skating, so I cannot think he would be so foolish…”
The confidence of the words was belied by a note of uncertainty in the duke’s voice.
“I’m sure you are right,” Luke said calmly. “However, if you would permit me to put what little experience I have gained at your disposal…”
“My dear Colonel, any advice you can offer will be most gratefully accepted. Anything which might lead to the safe return of my son…” Here the duke’s voice wavered again. “Annis is still asleep, thank God.”
“Then let us strive to ensure that all cause for anxiety is at an end by the time she wakes,” said Luke, making his voice deliberately brisk. “Perhaps someone could be sent to the stables for my servant, John Jackson? Tell him what has happened and he’ll know the kind of things we need—some sturdy planks of wood, a length or two of rope, blankets. It may well save precious time to have them in readiness.”
While the duke gave his orders, Charlotte came across to say in a low voice, “Thank you, Luke. You cannot know what this means to Edward… and to me. Noll is such a fearless little boy. He sometimes forgets…” Luke was staring out toward the lake, but hearing the tremor in her voice, he turned to look down at her. She met the look squarely. “I am only too aware that you must be eager to shake the dust of Lambourn from your feet…”
“Stuff and nonsense,” he said abruptly. And then, more kindly, “Try not to worry, my dear. Small boys are amazingly danger-proof, you know. I daresay he is even now absorbed in some ploy, quite unaware of the hue and cry he has created.”
“I do hope so.” She wondered if he was aware of having used that small endearment. Probably not. And this was not the moment to dwell on such trifling considerations.
A stocky man clad in stout breeches and a leather jerkin was striding toward them, followed by a small gaggle of estate workers bearing an assortment of equipment, which was shared between two groups, one led by the duke and one by Luke.
“Excellent,” Luke said. “When we reach the lake, I suggest that your grace takes the left bank and we will take the right. That way we can make a systematic search.” He smiled reassuringly. “And try not to worry, sir—your son is probably absorbed in some game and has quite forgotten all sense of time.”
“Yes, of course.” The duke’s voice was overhearty. “That’s young Oliver—never does anything by halves, y’know. Charlotte, you had much better go back indoors now. You’ll take your death, waiting round out here.”
“Indeed, I shall do no such thing, Edward. I mean to go with Colonel Valentine.” She saw that he seemed on the verge of arguing, and continued swiftly, “I am warmly clad and wearing my pattens. If you find Noll he’ll be fine, but he barely knows Colonel Valentine, and if he should be hurt or frightened—oh, I’m sure he won’t be, but even so, he may need the reassuring presence of someone he loves.”
“I suppose you’re right, m’dear. But I don’t want youi safety on m’conscience as well as…” His voice trailed away.
“Oh, Edward, do get along and don’t talk such fustian. I am well able to take care of myself.”
“And I shall make doubly sure that Miss Wynford comes to no harm,” said Luke, a faint gleam in his eyes.
The lake seemed deserted as they approached, a huge white ampitheater surrounded by snow-capped trees and wrapped in its own awesome desolate beauty. But, as far as it was possible to see, there were no cracks in the smooth surface where a small boy might have come to grief.
The two parties separated, and soon the voices of the duke’s party faded. Charlotte could feel panic mounting in her as their cries brought no response. Oliver couldn’t have vanished into thin air. Perhaps he hadn’t come to the lake at all.
And then, out of nowhere, there came a series of excited yelps, and a large black body came hurtling out of the undergrowth and flung itself at Charlotte.
“Hector.” She knelt, heedless of the snow, and calmed the excited animal. “Easy, now.” He began to whimper and tug at her cloak. Charlotte looked up at Luke in mingled hope and fear. She scrambled to her feet. “Come on, boy—show us where Oliver is.”
They found the child lying at full stretch, half on the ice, his feet hooked ar
ound a tree root on the bank, his fingers tenaciously wrapped around the paws the second dog, who had obviously strayed onto the ice at a weak point and fallen in. Charlotte’s heart lurched, for at first glance Oliver seemed barely conscious. But when he heard voices, he roused to croak through chattering teeth, “I have Ajax… s-safe, Aunt L-Lottie… but I can’t lift him…”
One of the estate men rushed forward, but was stopped by Luke’s curt, “Don’t! If we try to move the boy, the ice will give and he could go under.” He summoned his man, who in turn called for ‘some rope and bound two of the planks of wood together. A further length of rope was looped loosely around Oliver’s body before a third plank was carefully slid beneath him.
“Just a precaution. I doubt we’ll get the child to loose his hold on the dog, though it could well be dead by now,” Luke explained to Charlotte in a low voice. “So we’ll need to move them both together.”
John Jackson laid the extra planks alongside Oliver from the bank to the hole in the ice, and at a sign from Luke, he lay at full stretch, with a couple of stout workmen holding onto his legs, ready to take the dog’s weight as Luke carefully moved Oliver back from the brink, and eased his icy fingers from the dog’s paws.
“Blankets, quickly!” demanded Charlotte, spreading a doubled one out to receive her nephew, who was as cold as death.
“One moment.” Luke knelt to remove Oliver’s stiff, wet garments. “The blankets will have little effect if you leave these on. He’ll do better without them.”
She tucked Oliver’s poor frozen hands into her sable muff, and wrapped the blankets around him, piling extra ones on top. Someone had been sent to tell the duke, and by the time he arrived Charlotte was kneeling on the snow with Oliver in her arms, well co-cooned, though his teeth still chattered uncontrollably. “Is Ajax s-saved t-too, Aunt Lottie?”
“Yes, darling. He is here beside you.” She glanced across to where someone had wrapped Ajax in a blanket. She had no way of knowing whether the dog was alive or dead as Hector prowled around him, whining softly, and at this moment, sad though it was, she couldn’t really care.
The duke, down on his knees beside her, had eyes only for his son. “Is he… ?”
“He’s safe, Edward,” Charlotte said, as calmly as she was able, for her own teeth were beginning to chatter now that the first shock was over and there was time to think what might have happened.
“Here.” Luke thrust a flask unceremoniously beneath her nose. “Take a good swig of this, Charlotte—and I think, perhaps, a few drops trickled into the youngster’s mouth, don’t you, sir?” He glanced briefly at the duke, who was gathering his son into his arms. “To counteract the cold?”
The duke appeared not to hear.
“Edward?” Charlotte’s voice rasped a little against the fiery brandy.
“What, m’dear? Oh, yes, yes, whatever you say, Colonel…”
“And it might be as well to send someone now for the doctor,” Luke added gently. “The sooner he sees young Oliver, the better.”
“Of course.” The duke brushed the sleeve of his coat across his eyes, then cleared his throat to address his senior stable lad. “Rob, be so good as to go for Dr. Glaister, if you please. Tell him… tell him it’s a matter of some urgency.”
“Yes, your grace.”
“Would you like me to carry Oliver, sir?” Luke offered.
“No, no, Colonel. Appreciate your concern and all that, but—” He climbed to his feet in ungainly fashion, his son clutched to him. “You’ve played your part, a part indeed for which I can never adequately repay you.”
“Oh, let us have no talk of that,” Luke said abruptly. “Just get young Oliver home and into his bed. He’ll soon perk up, you’ll see.”
The duke strode away, followed by a keeper carrying the inert body of the dog, with Hector sniffing and whining at his heels, and the rest of the party bringing up the rear. Soon only Luke and Charlotte remained.
“Come. You can’t stay here,” Luke said, watching her standing with her cloak wrapped tightly around her, watching her brother-in-law disappearing into the trees. “At this rate, you’ll take a chill, too—and how will they all manage without you?” When this appeared to have little effect, he spoke more sharply. “Charlotte. Come along. Your sister will certainly have need of you.”
She came to with a shudder. “Yes, of course… I… Oh, Luke!” He gathered her into his arms and held her, rocking her gently. She struggled to lift her head. “Will he really be all right?”
It would have been so easy to utter platitudes, but Charlotte deserved better of him. “I really cannot say, my dear. We have no way of knowing how long he’d been there.”
“Poor baby. He looked so—so small and lost—so b-blue with cold.”
“Don’t! Oh, my dearest girl!” Luke couldn’t bear the anguish in her eyes. He bent to kiss her cold lips, and she did not resist as their mouths met and clung, seeking warmth and comfort from one another, until gradually the initial purpose was forgotten and their mouths took on an urgency and possession of their own. Oliver, the extreme cold—everything was forgotten but their need for one another.
“No, no. This is madness,” she whispered, breaking free at last. “It must be the shock—the brandy.”
“It’s nothing of the kind, and well you know it.”
“No, you are wrong. How can you even suggest that I would contemplate… that we might… ? It is impossible. I am not free. I must go now—at once.”
“It is no more impossible than the notion that you consider yourself bound by a ridiculous announcement made in the heat of the moment. If you had only allowed me a few minutes to explain.” He attempted to pull her close again, but she evaded his grasp and began to walk, stumbling a little because her feet were frozen.
“It isn’t ridiculous. It was a decision I should have taken ages ago. I am very fond of Pel, and I know that he will do everything in his power to make me happy.”
“We’ve been through all that,” he said harshly, suiting his impatient stride to hers, taking her arm to steady her step. “But, for all that you think me fickle, you shall hear me out.”
Flakes of snow were drifting down, landing on her eyelids like frozen tears as she raised her head briefly to meet his glance. She blinked and brushed them away, then lowered her head so that he should not see the real tears that hovered as they walked on.
“I cannot stop you. But it will make no difference.”
“What you saw last night—what you thought you saw—was no more than a cruel trick of fate, though without maligning the character of the lady concerned, it is impossible for me to go into detail. Despise me if you will, but at least believe that I would never knowingly have subjected you to such humiliation.”
Charlotte knew this to be true. It must have been all too easy for someone like Lady Alice, seeing herself and Luke together, to put two and two together and come up with four. And she had made no secret of the fact that she considered Luke to be her catch. But the damage was done.
“I don’t blame you, Luke,” she managed in a stifled voice. “I understand exactly how it must have happened, but perhaps it is all for the best.”
He opened his mouth to refute such a piece of nonsense, but the strategist in him decided that this was neither the time nor the place.
———
Dr. Glaister arrived shortly after they returned to the house to find Edward pacing the hall, waiting for him. It took but a moment to glean the facts before proceeding to the nursery wing. Annis had already been roused by Edward, and was with her son, bearing up well, but very much in need of Charlotte’s support, so that all other considerations must be laid aside.
Nurse had ordered the fire to be built’up so that the room was already growing warm, and had drawn a screen between the bed and the door to avoid the risk of drafts. Several hot bricks wrapped in flannel had been brought and placed around Oliver, who was lying beneath a pile of blankets, still looking alarmingly white agains
t the pillows, and shivering violently from time to time.
“You’ve done well, Nurse,” the doctor congratulated the stout elderly woman who had raised all the Denham children with a mixture of firmness and love.
“Thank you, sir. But credit where credit’s due—that Colonel Valentine gave me a tip or two. Very sensible gentleman, if I may say so.”
“Well, now,” the doctor said quietly, looking grave as he completed his examination and drew them behind the screen, out of Oliver’s hearing. “I’ve no need to tell your grace that the little fellow is in poor shape just now—”
Annis uttered a muffled cry and clung to Charlotte.
“However,” he added hastily, “it’s early days. Lord Oliver is a sturdy little boy, and if we can get his blood temperature back up, and his lungs are not adversely affected, we should soon see a decided improvement.”
“And if he should suffer an inflammation of the lungs?” Annis whispered.
“We will do all we can to contain it, your grace.” Dr. Glaister smiled reassuringly. “I have administered a mild paregoric, and will return later in the day to see how his young lordship does, but if you are in the least anxiety, send for me at once.” He turned to leave. “As for your friend, Colonel Valentine, I’d say you owe him a debt of gratitude. His prompt action may well have saved your son’s life.”
———
Annis was a little easier in her mind after Dr. Glaister’s visit, but she could not be persuaded to leave Oliver’s side.
“Charlotte, will you say all that is proper for me to our guests? They will understand, I know, and you are far better at arranging for their comfort than I ever was.”
The news had gone before her, however. Lady Grayshott was already instructing her maid to pack.
“There is no need, Maud,” Charlotte insisted. “Annis said to be sure to tell you that you are very welcome to stay as long as you wish.”
“I’m sure we are, my dear.” Her ladyship smiled. “And it is just like Annis to say so. You may assure her that we have had a perfectly splendid time, but you cannot deny that guests, however welcome, are very much de trop at such an anxious time. I believe the Egertons are of the same mind.”
