“You must be very careful with the rest. It will have to last you for a very long time.”
“I know that,” Jeremy said in a low voice, “but if you are afraid of my going to the gaming tables or anything stupid like that, you can forget it”
He picked up five sovereigns from the bed and handed them to Mariota.
Just for a moment she hesitated, feeling in her imagination that they might have been red with blood.
Then she told herself she had to be practical.
With Jeremy away there would be even less food coming into the house than there was already, and with a sick man to feed she would have to buy chickens as well as extra eggs and butter.
She knew that Mrs. Robinson would be very disagreeable if she asked for more than usual without paying for it.
As if Jeremy felt that he had now thought of everything, he went to a cupboard in his room to pull out a very worn and battered leather holdall.
It was large enough to hold all he would require until he reached London and light enough for him to be able to carry it without any difficulty to the crossroads where he would wait for the stagecoach.
He started to pack his things and Mariota, aware that he was thinking of the new clothes he would be able to buy in London, said hastily,
“I will press your cravats and clean your boots if you will give them to me. You must look as smart as you can until your new things are ready.”
The smile on Jeremy’s lips told her how much he was looking forward to being what was called ‘A Tulip of Fashion’.
Then she said,
“Did you notice the stranger’s clothes?”
“Of course I did.”
“I liked the way his cravat was tied.”
“So did I,” Jeremy agreed. “Don’t worry, Mariota, I know exactly what I am going to buy and where I am going to buy it. It will be expensive, but, as you rightly pointed out, it has to last me for a very long time,”
“It will be very exciting to see you looking like a dandy!”
“Not a dandy!” Jeremy said scornfully. “They are overdressed and conceited fools, but I would not mind being called a beau and looking very much like that gentleman you knocked out without even touching him!”
Mariota gave a little cry.
“I don’t want to – think about it. I thought I had – killed him!”
“Forget it! If you ask me, when he comes to his senses he will not wish to remember that he was thrown from his own horse!”
Mariota gave an unsteady little laugh and then she unlocked the door and ran across the passage to her own room.
She put the five sovereigns Jeremy had given her into one of the drawers of the dressing table where she remembered her mother always placed the jewellery she wore and thought once again that it was tainted money.
However, it had brought Jeremy good luck, doing no harm to anybody apart from the man in the room next door and she thought she ought to go and look at him to see how he was.
She went into the King’s room and saw that he was undressed and wearing one of her father’s nightshirts. He was lying on his back almost flat on the bed.
He was, as Mariota had thought before, handsome with a clear-cut, rather hard face and a mouth that even in repose looked, she thought, cynical and as if he was extremely authoritative.
The wound on his forehead had been bleeding slightly and had spread to the centre above his eyes. By tomorrow she knew it would be a very unpleasant dark bruise.
Because he was lying so still he looked almost as if he was carved in stone on one of the tombs which almost filled the small Church in the Park that had been built at the same time as Queen’s Ford.
They were the tombs of her ancestors and, some of them, Mariota thought, were very fine and noble-looking and in a way very much like the man lying on the bed.
‘I am sure he is of great importance,’ she thought and wondered if he would be very angry when he came back to consciousness and realised what had happened to him.
Then she had a sudden fear that he might die without opening his eyes again and it would be her fault.
Because she was so frightened at the idea she put out her hand and, moving the sheets a little, laid it over his heart.
For a moment she thought he was in fact dead, then she could feel his heart beating and it gave her a feeling of relief.
She put the sheet back over him and, going to the window through which the setting sun was still shining, she pulled the curtains until they dimmed the room.
Then, as she walked back towards the bed, it struck her that it was somehow appropriate that the man who looked so distinguished should be in the King’s room and might almost be a King himself.
As she stood beside him once again, she said in her heart,
‘Please God – make him better quickly – and let there be no lasting effects from his – fall.’
It was a prayer straight from her heart.
Then quickly, almost as if she was shy, she went from the King’s room, closing the door behind her.
*
“I don’t think there is anything seriously wrong with your patient, Miss Forde,” Dr. Dawson said as he and Mariota walked down the stairs. “At the same time one should never take any chances with a head injury and it might be something worse than just a bruise and what is undoubtedly severe concussion.”
“Do you mean his brain might be affected?” Mariota asked with a tremor in her voice.
“I hope not, I sincerely hope not,” Dr. Dawson replied, “but quite frankly, I would like a second opinion and there is a physician in Worcester for whom I have the greatest respect.”
“Then perhaps it would be best to send for him,” Mariota said in a low voice.
She was thinking as she spoke that of course the stranger would be able to pay for such an extravagance, while in the past they had found it difficult to meet the very small fees that Dr. Dawson charged for attending them when they were ill.
“And what about his collarbone?” she asked.
“Luckily it’s not broken,” the doctor replied, “but he may have cracked a bone. He certainly will have a very bruised shoulder as well as a bruised head.”
“I think you must tell Papa about him,” Mariota said. “In fact he asked to be informed as soon as you arrived and I forgot about it.”
Dr. Dawson smiled.
“I will not disturb your father any more than I can help. How is his book progressing?”
“I think he is half-way through it,” Mariota replied, “but as there have been so many Fordes and they have done so many things over the centuries, it is likely to go into several volumes.”
“It keeps your father happy and that is a better tonic than anything I can prescribe.”
Dr. Dawson laughed at his own joke and walked towards the study.
Mariota ran to the kitchen to fetch the bottle of sherry that was kept for when her father had a visitor.
It was not a bottle they had bought themselves, but had been a present with several other bottles of port from the Squire last Christmas.
After they had finished the first bottle, Lord Fordcombe had said to Jeremy,
“I think what we have left must be kept for special occasions. It always makes me extremely embarrassed not to have any refreshment to offer any friend who comes to the house, but wine is something I am well aware we cannot afford.”
Jeremy sighed.
“I quite agree with you, Papa. Equally it is a very good sherry and I have enjoyed drinking it.”
“So have I,” Lord Fordcombe agreed, “and I don’t mind telling you, Jeremy, that I often long for a glass of claret. It is most depressing to think that our cellars are empty.”
When everything had to be sold to meet the previous Lord Fordcombe’s debts, his stock of choice wines had realised a considerable sum, but it had left the spendthrift’s son and grandson very thirsty.
Mariota placed the decanter of sherry, which she noticed, was only half
full and two small glasses onto a silver salver she had fortunately cleaned only three days ago and hurried to the study.
Her father looked up and said,
“Thank you, my dear,” as she set it down beside him and added, ‘I am sure, Dawson, you will join me.”
“I shall be delighted to do so, my Lord,” Dr. Dawson replied and Mariota slipped away to wait for the doctor until he was ready to leave.
When he joined her in the hall, he said,
“I am well aware, Miss Forde, that the nursing of your unexpected guest rests on you and I am afraid I must ask you to sit up with him tonight in case he should become restless. Your father says that he and Jacob can manage to look after him in the daytime.”
Mariota did not reply, but she knew that her father would soon grow bored with having to help in the sickroom and it would be difficult for Jacob to stay there for very long when he had so many other duties to perform.
“I will manage,” she said, “and I am sure his friends or relatives will soon come looking for him.”
“I am sure they will,” Dr. Dawson said consolingly, “but since we have no way of ascertaining who they may be, there is nothing we can do in the meantime.”
When he walked down the steps to where his gig drawn by a tired horse was waiting, he added,
“I will send to Worcester for Dr. Mortimer and I will call first thing tomorrow, so please don’t worry.”
“I will try not to,” Mariota promised and waved as he drove away.
She was thinking, as she went back up the stairs, about how she could make herself comfortable on the sofa in the King’s room. She was a very light sleeper and knew she would only be able to get a little sleep besides listening for the unconscious man.
‘He is obviously going to be a great deal of trouble,’ she thought, ‘at the same time, we have nobody to blame but ourselves.’
*
Jeremy left early the next morning to catch the stagecoach that passed the crossroads at the end of the village at about six-thirty.
It would take him two long days to reach London, but he was in such high spirits that Mariota knew that even the journey would seem amusing.
He had placed his precious money very carefully in his pockets and had hidden none of it in his bag.
It sometimes happened that, while the passengers from the stagecoach were eating inside an inn, thieves would rifle the baggage.
Mariota knew too from the conversations she had heard in the past that there was always the chance of travellers being robbed at night and she impressed upon Jeremy that even to save money it would be unwise for him to share a room at an inn.
“I have thought of that,” he said. “Don’t worry, Mariota. Having obtained this money the hard way, I am not going to lose or spend a single penny of it foolishly.”
He had given her a warm hug as he kissed her goodbye and said,
“Thank you for being the most wonderful sister anyone could have. I only hope that when the stranger wakes up he will be more entertaining than he is at present!”
Mariota laughed, but when she went upstairs she thought that in a way he could be said to be entertaining her in a manner she could not explain to her family.
Because she had been so much alone while she dusted and tidied the house, she had started telling herself stories, which sometimes seemed so exciting and so interesting that she thought if she had time she ought to write them down.
‘Perhaps I might even sell them and make some money,’ she thought.
But there was so much to do that it was difficult enough to find time to mend and darn her clothes as well as her father’s and Jeremy’s, so the stories remained in her mind.
Now the unconscious man was giving her splendid inspiration for new and exciting adventures.
She only had to look at him before she blew out the candles, leaving only a tiny night-light to guide her should he waken, to find a new and thrilling tale coming from her mind.
This was perhaps because he looked so different from any other man she had ever seen before.
He was not as handsome as her father or as good-looking and attractive as Jeremy, but it was easy to imagine him as a General leading his troops into battle and being victorious against what seemed a superior enemy.
She made him an explorer who climbed the highest peaks of the Himalayas or who discovered a huge diamond mine, which brought prosperity to a great number of poor people.
Sometimes, like Marco Polo or Christopher Columbus, he discovered new worlds or else like a Greek god from Olympus he came down to bring a light and new thought to those living in darkness.
There were so many different ways in which Mariota imagined him that it was quite a shock when on the second night of her vigil in the King’s room there was a sound from the bed that she had not heard before.
As she hastily threw off the blanket and the eiderdown with which she had covered herself and lit a candle, she realised that her patient had become restless.
He was moving from side to side and murmuring and she knew that now he had the fever that Dr. Mortimer had predicted might happen before he came back to consciousness.
“Most patients with concussion talk a lot of nonsense and become exceedingly restless and sometimes even violent before they revert to being normal.”
And he added to reassure her,
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Forde. It is quite usual behaviour and, if he becomes too difficult, I have left some soothing medicine which will send him back to sleep.”
Mariota listened to the doctor’s warning and repeated it to Jacob who she felt even when she said it several times had not taken it all in.
Now she went to the bedside and, putting her hand on the stranger’s forehead, found as she had expected that it was very hot, almost burning.
As she touched him, he opened his eyes and in the candlelight she could see that he was staring at her blankly.
“Where am – I? What has – happened?”
“It’s all right,” Mariota replied soothingly. “You have had an accident, but are quite safe.”
“I am hot – too hot.”
“I know. I have a cool drink here for you.”
She reached to the bedside where there was some lemonade she had made freshly that afternoon.
She put her arm behind his head and lifted him up a little and he understood as she held the glass to his lips and drank thirstily.
“Now, please, go back to sleep,” Mariota begged. “You will soon be well again.”
He appeared for a moment to want to argue with her and then, as if it was too much effort, his eyes closed wearily and he fell asleep.
Mariota tucked in his bedclothes and went back to the sofa.
She left the candle alight in case he should wake again and, seeing the outline of his dark head against the pillow, she thought it strange that he should have blue eyes.
She had somehow expected them to be grey like her own, although she had no idea why, but his eyes had been the deep blue of a stormy sea.
With his dark hair she thought he seemed not only unusual but also very striking.
‘I wish I knew who he was,’ she thought before she closed her eyes.
*
The next day her curiosity was rewarded.
She had only just finished helping Mrs. Brindle to wash up the breakfast plates and Joseph had gone upstairs to sit beside the patient until she could go and relieve him, when there was the sound of carriage wheels outside the front door.
Quickly Mariota put up her hands to tidy her hair and pulled down the sleeves of her cotton gown, fastening them at the wrists.
Then, as the front door bell peeled noisily, she walked slowly and she hoped with dignity into the hall.
Standing on the steps was a footman wearing the same livery as the man she had held at gunpoint on the box of the carriage.
“Excuse me,” he said politely, “but I understand the Earl of Buckenham might be staying here.”
&n
bsp; “The Earl of Buckenham?” Mariota repeated.
“They tells me in the village that a gentleman were found on the roadside by Mr. Jeremy Forde and carried here on his instructions.”
“Yes, that is true,” Mariota answered.
The footman did not wait to hear any more, but ran down the steps to open the carriage door.
He said something to the occupant inside and a lady stepped out who Mariota was certain was the same woman Jeremy had robbed of her money in the little black bag with the white embroidery.
She was dressed in black and, as she came towards her, Mariota saw that she was very attractive but not very young.
“My servant tells me,” she said in a soft musical voice, “that my brother, the Earl of Buckenham, might be staying here.”
“We did not know who your brother was,” Mariota replied, “but he was injured and lying by the roadside.”
“Injured?” the lady exclaimed. “Was he shot?”
Because Mariota was prepared for this question, she raised her eyebrows in surprise and exclaimed,
“Shot? Why should you think that?”
“Because I was held up by highwaymen and, as the carriage drove away after I had been robbed, I heard a shot, but there was nothing I could do about it.”
The way she spoke told Mariota that the servants had panicked and carried her out of reach of the criminals who were threatening them, so that the lady had not realised what had occurred until her brother did not turn up at wherever they were staying.
“How very frightening for you!” Mariota said aloud. “But, please, will you not come in? I am sure you wish to see your brother, although he is not yet fully conscious.”
“Is he badly injured?”
“No, I don’t think so. Two doctors have seen him and he had concussion from falling against a stone.”
“He fell?” the lady interrupted, “but surely, if he fell he must have been shot!”
“I don’t quite know how it happened,” Mariota said, “but I understood that your brother fell from his horse and hit his head against a boulder, which has inflicted a very painful bruise on his temple.”
Wish for Love Page 4
