Gavotte

by Marina Oliver

  'You are ill, you must sleep. You must not be concerned with Clare, she is safe.'

  'No!' She shook her head vehemently, and winced at the pain this caused. 'She thinks he loves her, yet he does not. I could have told her. I loved Henry once, but he was faithless! No man is faithful!'

  Her sobs overwhelmed her, and Jason held her close as they racked her body. As the storm of weeping abated, he said to her quietly, 'Will you have some soup? 'Twill take but a few minutes to warm it up for you.'

  'No, do not leave me! Oh, Jack, why did you do it? I cannot bear to be alone, Henry. Is that man gone? He tried to take my horse!'

  Gradually her ravings grew weaker, and still held in Jason's arms she drifted back to sleep. When he was certain she was fast asleep he lowered her gently to the pillows and covered her up, then stood for some time looking down at her, a curious expression on his face. She was sleeping naturally now. Jason remained with her for another hour or so until dawn, then he rang the bell for a maid, who appeared looking somewhat surprised at this early summons.

  'Send for Mistress Grendon. There has been an accident. This lady was attacked and I brought her here. Mistress Grendon or one of the maids must sit with her.'

  Soon this was arranged and the homely housekeeper, clucking in concern, took Jason's place to watch over Isabella.

  'She was in some delirium during the night,' Jason informed her. 'She sleeps naturally now, and I think she will be lucid when she wakes, but she will not know where she is. Say nought to disturb her, or about me. Give her some food and send immediately for me.'

  The woman nodded, and Jason, content to leave Isabella in her sensible care, went off to his own room to snatch a few hours of sleep.

  *

  It was late afternoon before Isabella awoke, with her head aching abominably. She opened her eyes to find herself in a completely strange room. The curtains of the bed nearest the window were closed, and the last of the daylight was not strong, but still the light hurt her eyes. She turned her head on the pillow, and a soft voice came to her.

  'Well, my dear, are you feeling more the thing?'

  Slowly she opened her eyes again, and found a kind motherly face bending over her.

  'Why, where am I? Who are you?' she asked weakly.

  'Do not concern yourself with that now, my dear. You had a nasty accident, and were brought here. Now, would you like some broth, and an egg perhaps, and a drink of hot milk?'

  Isabella smiled slightly. Now she was reminded of it she did indeed feel hungry. She was puzzled to know where she was. What she could see of the room did not give the appearance of being an inn. It was far too well furnished, and the hangings on the bed were of an elegant brocade, lavishly embroidered.

  The woman had moved away, and Isabella heard her talking softly to someone outside the door. Soon she came back and seated herself beside Isabella.

  'The food will be coming,' she said comfortingly. 'I am the housekeeper here, and if you want anything, ask me.'

  Isabella thanked her weakly, but before she could ask any questions the tray was brought into the room by a young maid who looked curiously at Isabella as she arranged the dishes on the table beside the bed. Mistress Grendon helped Isabella to sit up, and asked if she felt able to feed herself.

  'Yes, indeed I can. I am shaky, but I can do that,' Isabella said, and drank the broth Mistress Grendon handed to her, feeling better immediately, and soon ready for the egg, and slices of chicken as well as the glass of milk.

  'You will soon be able to get up,' Mistress Grendon said approvingly as she took the glass from Isabella.

  Isabella smiled gratefully. 'I must thank you. I begin to remember. Two men, they wanted my horse and my purse. They must have attacked me.'

  'Yes, but do not tease yourself trying to remember details. You must rest again now.' Mistress Grendon drew the curtains round the bed. 'Try to sleep, and you will feel much better.'

  Softly she left the room, but Isabella was recalling the events of the previous day, and was desolate at the thought that by now Clare must have left Dover, and she had failed to rescue her. Slowly large tears welled up and spilled over. Clare would be ostracized by society, condemned to a life of near poverty with Edward. How could she be happy?

  Unwillingly Isabella pictured Clare's radiant face when she had been looking at Edward, and marvelled that her quiet little sister, who had seemed still a child to her, should feel strongly enough about a man to defy her parents, leave her family and friends, and go away with him to an unknown future. She began to pray Clare would not be disillusioned, that Edward would prove worthy of her devotion, and there would be no regrets.

  Gradually Isabella's thoughts grew calmer, and she began to wonder what had happened to Jack. Thinking of him made her recall the news of Frances' betrothal, and she wondered how happy Frances would be so suitably married to Jason. Would she be as happy as Clare? Reluctantly Isabella could not give an honest answer to that question, and weakly, the tears began to flow, leaving stains on her cheeks as she fell asleep again.

  *

  Jason, after supper, went quietly to Isabella's room and looked down at her, noting the tearstains on her cheeks. The light of his candle fell across her face and she moved, then opened her eyes. This time there was an instant recognition in them, and she stared up at him in amazement.

  'You? What in the world? Am I dreaming?'

  He set the candle down on a table beside the bed and drew up a chair before speaking.

  'How do you feel now?'

  'Oh, much better, thank you, though my head aches. But what are you doing here?'

  'It is my house.'

  'I do not understand,' she said helplessly.

  'I was riding home late last night,' he began, and she nodded, remembering why he had left London.

  'Yes. I heard you had left town in a hurry.'

  'Well, I saw two suspicious looking rascals with a led horse, and a lady's saddle. It seemed odd, and later I found you unconscious in a ditch.'

  'I remember struggling. But why had you not reached home? You left London long before we did.'

  'I stayed to sup with a friend in Canterbury, and we talked late. You must have overtaken me there. Fortunately, for had I not found you, you might have been in the ditch all night. I brought you here.'

  'I must thank you, sir. I have caused much trouble for your servants,' she said rather formally.

  He grinned, and refrained from telling her he had himself attended to her injuries, thinking she might not yet be in a strong enough state to hear that, or know he had spent the rest of the night watching over her.

  'It is nought. But what were you doing alone, so late at night, on that road, foolish one?'

  'I was not alone, at first. Jack was with me.'

  'Did you quarrel?'

  'No. Well,' she admitted slowly, 'we were quarrelling all the way, but that was not why we parted. His horse cast a shoe. I was so desperate I could not wait, and besides, his horse was faster than mine and he could have caught me up. I wonder what has happened to him? If he simply deserted me and went back to London I shall never forgive him, for 'twas all his fault for helping Clare!' she finished with vigour.

  'Why the urgency?' Jason asked calmly.

  Isabella looked up at him, and the tears came again. Impatiently she brushed them away, but her voice trembled as she answered.

  'Clare. I was following her!'

  'Tell me all,' he advised, taking one of her hands in his and holding it comfortingly. Isabella seemed about to refuse, but his steady gaze had a compelling effect on her.

  'Jack helped Clare to elope with Edward Willis,' she explained reluctantly. 'The stupid child was besotted with him, and now she is ruined! I tried to stop her, but now 'tis too late. They will have been on this morning's packet.'

  'Why should you want to stop her? I think you object to the marriage rather than the elopement?'

  'I deplore both! Edward has no prospects. He is poor, and Clare coul
d do so much better!'

  'But she loved him, and he her. Even I, a comparative stranger, could see that they were deep in love.'

  'Love!' Isabella dismissed it contemptuously. 'I do not believe in confusing love and marriage! Love never lasts, but a sensible marriage will provide more lasting contentment. And Clare could have married well. It was her duty to do so!'

  'Apart from that, why was an elopement necessary? I would not have thought your father a harsh man? Surely he would have agreed in the end?'

  'Clare was afraid of being forced into a distasteful marriage,' Isabella said slowly. 'It was nonsense, of course, for no one would have dreamed of trying to force Mr Aloysius on her – '

  'Aloysius? That repulsive object? I should hope not!' he exclaimed.

  'But there were plenty of others,' she protested quickly. 'Well born, even wealthier, and not repulsive!'

  'Like my uncle?' he queried softly, and Isabella blushed.

  'Why not?' she demanded defiantly. 'He paid her much attention.'

  'He was not amorously inclined towards her.' Jason laughed. 'He is the kindest of men, and realised she was unhappy.'

  'How can you know his motives?' Isabella asked angrily.

  'My uncle is a living proof love can last, despite what you think,' Jason informed her evenly. 'He has loved one woman for fifteen years or more, and will not be turned from that love, no, not even by Clare's beauty!'

  'Oh.' Isabella stared at him, nonplussed. 'Then why does he not marry her?' she asked impulsively. 'Oh, dear, I should not have asked that, I beg your pardon!'

  Jason smiled. 'It cannot now be long before he does,' he replied. 'It will not hurt you to know, but I beg you will not gossip about it.'

  'Of course I would not,' Isabella replied, 'but please, I do not wish to force your confidence.'

  'You do not, and it concerns you indirectly. For many years he has loved your aunt, ever since Lord Lyndon died, if not before. I know he asked her to marry him long ago, but she refused, feeling obliged to devote herself to Frances. But I am certain she loves him, and soon she will be free. I have every expectation that then they will marry.'

  'Free?' Isabella was puzzled for a moment, then she realised he must be referring to his betrothal, and suddenly aware her hand was still clasped in his, hastily withdrew it and turned her head away. 'I see. Yes, of course,' she said slowly. 'But what am I to do about Clare?'

  'There is naught you can do. She and Edward are out of reach, will no doubt be married as soon as possible, and you cannot prevent it. I think you would be wise not to try, even if you could.'

  'It is a waste!'

  'Not if they love, and I am certain they do. You will do well to persuade your parents to accept it, and as soon as Clare contacts you, write to welcome her home. That will minimise any damage the elopement will have caused them.'

  Isabella nodded slowly, and brushed away a tear.

  'I must return to London as soon as possible,' she said, 'and tell them. And also discover what has become of Jack.'

  'You are not fit to travel for a while. If you are better tomorrow I will escort you, but if not I will send a message.'

  'You have much to do!' she protested. 'I can travel with a servant if you can spare me one.'

  'There is nought that cannot wait.'

  'But you left London so hurriedly. I thought – I supposed – to prepare your house for – for your wedding!'

  He looked at her keenly, but she was turned away from him, her cheek pressed into the pillow.

  'Yes,' he murmured at last. 'But there is no haste. Now you are tired, and must sleep. I will send Mistress Grendon to you, and after you have eaten again you can sleep.'

  Abruptly he left, and Isabella had the greatest difficulty in restraining her tears until the kindly housekeeper had finished. Then, chiding herself for a weak fool she cried herself to sleep.

  *

  Chapter 10

  The next morning Isabella felt very much better, and determined to leave Jason's house that day. When Mistress Grendon appeared with her breakfast, Isabella announced she intended to get up and dress. The housekeeper looked at her and nodded.

  'I took your habit and brushed off the mud. I will bring it to you later, but now eat your breakfast.'

  But when Isabella had finished it was Jason who came in to see her.

  'Are you really fit to get up?' he asked, laying a cool hand on her brow.

  She trembled slightly. 'Of course.'

  'Well, you can dress and come downstairs, but we will wait awhile before deciding whether you are fit enough for the drive to London.'

  'I would prefer to ride, if you can lend me a horse,' Isabella suggested.

  'We will see.'

  He went out, and Isabella's clothes, newly washed and ironed, were brought to her. Mistress Grendon, insisting she was not yet fit to ride, helped her to dress in the one gown she had in the saddle bags, and then gently brushed her hair, avoiding the slight lump that still remained. Isabella was more shaken than she had expected, and was thankful for the friendly arm to lean on as she was conducted downstairs, and shown into a parlour full of bright sunlight, where Jason sat at a table studying some papers.

  'I do not wish to disturb you,' she said, glancing across at the papers as he rose and came across to meet her.

  'I always work in here, 'tis such a pleasant room,' he answered. 'I have almost finished. Will you excuse me for a few minutes more, and then I shall be ready to discuss what is to be done.'

  He made sure she was settled comfortably in an upholstered chair near the log fire that burned brightly in the wide ingle-nook fireplace, then returned to the table and drew a sheet of paper towards him. For a while he wrote steadily, and Isabella looked with great interest around the room. That it was an old house she had seen as she came down the stairs, where the huge oak beams supporting the roof of the vast central hall had been visible.

  This room was panelled, and there were several shelves of books, a few paintings mostly of the Flemish style, and some beautifully carved figures of animals. A whip and gloves were lying on an oak chest near the long window, which stood open and disclosed a view of rolling wooded hills beyond a neatly laid out flower garden.

  Even while she admired all this, Isabella's eyes kept straying back to Jason, and she studied his face, cleanly modelled, an excellent profile, but with a most determined chin she had not seemed to notice much previously.

  He looked up as if aware of her scrutiny, and his eyes twinkled. Her heart lurched. Why did he have to be so handsome, with a devastatingly attractive smile such as the one he was displaying now? And he was to marry Frances, who did not really wish for it.

  He laid down his quill, sanded and sealed his paper, and then rose with it.

  'I shall not be long. Pray excuse me.'

  A few minutes elapsed, during which Isabella was able to regain her composure, before Jason returned and sat opposite her.

  'Do you like this room?' he asked.

  'It is delightful,' she responded warmly. 'And so is what I have seen of the rest of the house.'

  'I will show you more later today, if you are fit enough,' he promised, but she shook her head.

  'I must return to London.'

  'Nonsense. You are not steady enough to walk across the room, much less ride to London.'

  'But they will be worrying by now,' she protested weakly, knowing he was right.

  'From what you told me, they will have thought you at Clare's godmother's. But I have just sent a message explaining it all. Jack can take care of himself and will no doubt reappear some day!'

  'If he does not do something desperate! Oh, I have failed in everything!' she exclaimed in remorse. 'I have been instrumental in causing this elopement, because I have constantly urged Clare that it was her duty to marry well. Poor Clare, and now she has ruined herself!'

  'Nonsense!' Jason replied bracingly. 'There is no harm done. When will you accept that? Edward Willis is a good man, as I know fro
m my brief acquaintance with him. He will care for your sister and make her an excellent husband, even though he is not so rich as you would have liked.'

  'I shall have to accept it, shall I not? 'Tis done, most like, by now. But I have probably led Jack into danger too, forcing him to come with me.'

  'Do you greatly care for him?'

  'I feel responsible for him, he is such a young idiot!' Isabella said forcefully.

  'And you will wish such a foolish youth on your cousin Frances? Was not that what you both had in mind?'

  Isabella blushed and looked down, twisting her hands together.

  'He is not a bad boy, but he is young, he will improve. In any event,' she swallowed and blinked hard, 'he cannot now marry Frances.'

  'True, but I would prefer to see him improve before he contemplates marriage with anyone. I understand his upbringing was somewhat haphazard. He is much younger than his years.'

  'You realise that, and yet you allowed the duel to take place?'

  'I never intended to do more than frighten the young cub, but I could scarce tell you that!'

  'I never thanked you for not shooting him. But you took such a risk yourself. He might not have missed you!'

  'I do not think there was much fear of his hitting me. But if he had, I had the impression you would not have been sorry.'

  'Oh, no.'

  The exclamation was startled out of Isabella, and she looked down in confusion.

  'Would you have been sorry?' Jason asked quietly. He repeated his question when she did not reply, and at last, in a subdued voice, she admitted she would have been sorry to have seen her cousin kill anyone. Jason smiled at her averted head.

  'I could wish you had specified me,' he said softly. 'With all your concern for Clare and Jack, have you none to spare for me?'

  Isabella had recovered herself. 'You do not need anyone to care – you are fully capable of getting all you want for yourself,' she responded tartly. 'Jack is not, he is but a boy.'

  'Yes, and being a sulky young cub, has most like returned to London.'

  'I trust no harm has come to him,' Isabella said distractedly. 'I must make an effort to go back today.'