by Lucy Adams
Every single eye was on her in a moment and Sebastian could not help but smile at the way she blushed.
“Lady Madeline?” Lord Lexington murmured, rubbing his chin with one long finger. “She is daughter to the Earl of Hamilton, no?”
“Yes, she is,” Lady Callander replied, her cheeks still a little flushed. “I will confess to you that she and I have had much of the same feeling as regards gentlemen pursuing her simply because of her fortune and title, and whilst she appeared to be entirely against Lord Chesterfield initially, she did want me to converse with him so that I might give my opinion of him to her.”
Sebastian lifted one eyebrow, a little surprised that Lady Madeline had asked such a thing of Lady Callander, only to realize that given her wisdom, her quiet grace and her gentle consideration, she was the perfect person to do such a thing. Little wonder that Lady Madeline had gone to her! There was something about Lady Callander that made those about her want to go to her, to speak to her, to open their vulnerable hearts to her, and perhaps in this case, it would prove to be to the League’s advantage.
“Might we ask what your opinion was?”
Lady Callander let out a small breath, squaring her shoulders as she did so. “I do not want to insult anyone, if they are well acquainted with Lord Chesterfield, but I will be truthful and state that I found him quite changeable indeed.” Her lips flattened for a moment. “He appears flirtatious, jolly and quite likeable, but when he spoke to me — after he had finished speaking to this other gentleman — he was rude and obnoxious. Thus, I told Lady Madeline my honest opinion and she has since decided against him.”
Sebastian frowned hard, feeling himself a little regretful at such a decision. Whilst he well understood it, it meant that the League would not be able to use the relationship to their advantage.
“Might I ask,” Lady Watt asked, “if Lady Madeline has informed Lord Chesterfield of such a thing as yet?”
“No, she has not,” Lady Callander answered, looking at her. “Although I am sure she will give him quite a set down when the time comes.”
A quiet ripple of laughter ran around the group and Lady Callander’s cheeks flushed red again.
“Then might we not request Lady Madeline’s assistance?” Lady Watt suggested, looking around the group. “She may not be best pleased to do so, but it might provide us with the information that we require.”
Silence filled the room for a long time, as each of those present considered this. Sebastian recognized that there was a danger in such a suggestion, for to speak to Lady Madeline openly, they would have to inform her of what they now suspected. This might lead to a good many questions about why they had such an involvement in that particular matter, or how they had come to know of Lord Chesterfield’s involvement. Lady Madeline, given that she was well known to be rather outspoken for a lady of quality, would not hesitate to demand certain answers to things!
“I could speak to her, certainly,” Lady Callander said, shattering the silence, although there was a slight hesitation to her words. “I am not certain, however, that she will simply do so without some sort of explanation.”
“That is my concern also,” Sebastian agreed, quickly, seeing the flash of relief in Lady Callander’s eyes. “We do not want to involve her too deeply.”
Lord Watt took in a long breath and nodded slowly. “Do you think, Lady Callander, that you could speak to Lady Madeline and beg of her to entertain Lord Chesterfield’s intentions for a little longer?”
Lady Callander held Lord Watt’s gaze. “I think I could, yes,” she said, softly. “But I will have to give her some sort of explanation as to why.”
“Then do so,” Lord Watt said, calmly. “We trust your discernment, Lady Callander.”
“I greatly appreciate your considerations,” Lady Callander replied. “I —”
She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sebastian rose to open it, a little wary just in case it was something or someone untoward.
It was no-one more than the butler.
“I do apologize,” the butler said, coming into the room and making directly for Lady Callander. “Lady Callander, an urgent note came for you.”
Lady Callander took it at once with a murmur of thanks, popping open the seal. She read it quickly, and then rose at once. Her eyes fixed straight to his, and Sebastian felt his breath catch, his worry rising almost at once.
“It is from the nurse I hired to take care of Miss Sarah,” she said, softly. “The doctor has been. He thinks she is worse.” Her skirts rustled as she turned to glance at Lord Watt. “I must go to her at once.”
“But of course.” Lord Watt looked at Sebastian, who nodded in understanding, coming to the door with Lady Callander.
“I will come with you,” he said, quietly, as Lady Callander looked up at him, her beautiful eyes whispering with concern. “If, that is, you would wish for my company?”
She nodded, her lips pressed together. “I thank you,” she said, turning back for just a moment to bob a curtsy, before hurrying out of the door. Sebastian went with her at once, growing more and more anxious with every moment. If Miss Sarah was to die, then whatever she had been so afraid of would die with her. Lord Hazelton’s death might never be solved. It all might become a terrible muddle with no clear way out.
“I fear our prayers are yet to be answered, Lady Callander,” he murmured, as they hurried to the front door. “What are we do to?”
She glanced up at him, a small, sad smile on her face. “We should pray a little more,” she said, with a heavy sigh. “For what else is there for us to do?”
It was very late indeed before Sebastian felt himself able to close his eyes and rest. Miss Sarah had been tossing and turning in the depths of a fever for a good many hours and Lady Callander, being quite exhausted, had been sent to bed by both himself and by the nurse, with a promise that he would remain by Miss Sarah’s side and alert her should things change. He had not done anything particular to help, for the nurse appeared to know precisely what she was doing, but it had been a comfort to Lady Callander for him to be within her house at Miss Sarah’s bed, and so he had been glad to stay.
He could not say what it was that woke him. The house was quiet and the nurse was dozing next to Miss Sarah. For a moment, he thought that Miss Sarah had stopped breathing, his hands grasping the arms of the chair as he pushed his stiff frame out from the chair, only to see her take in a deep breath. Was it the fact that she was no longer in the depths of delirium that had woken him? Sebastian let out a long breath, dropping his head for a moment and letting his sore neck stretch out a little more. It had been awkward to fall asleep where he sat but for the sake of Lady Callander, as well as for Miss Sarah, he had been contented to do so.
A small creak caught his ears and he froze where he stood, his heart pounding furiously as he waited to hear what might come next. Something within him was telling him that there was something wrong. Something that he could not quite fathom nor fully understand, but something that he fully intended to listen to.
His feet made very little sound as he moved to the window, looking out at the dimly lit scene before him. There was nothing there, nothing to be seen — but he knew that the two gentlemen from the League would be watching and waiting outside the house.
So where had that noise come from?
Chapter Nine
“My lady.”
Bridgette let out a small shriek, only for her mouth to be covered by something large, just as a gentleman’s face came into view. Even in the dim candlelight, she knew it to be Lord Millerton.
“There is someone within the house,” he said, lifting his hand from her mouth. “I am sure of it.”
Her eyes flared wide and she stared at him, her heart beginning to pound. “But there are two gentlemen from the League outside, are there not?”
He nodded. “There are, yes,” he answered, his expression grave. “Which makes me all the more concerned.”
Bridgette felt her stomach t
urn over, looking up into Lord Millerton’s face and realizing what he meant. If there was someone within the house, then they must have managed to either slip past the gentlemen of the League outside or have overcome them in some way.
“Come.” Lord Millerton held out his hand to her and she took it at once, allowing him to pull her from her bed. She was still fully dressed, having simply sunk into her bed out of sheer exhaustion and knowing that she might have to rise again at any moment. “We must return to Miss Sarah.”
“Miss Sarah?” she repeated, as he hurried her towards the door. “You do not think that…..?” She dropped her voice and did not finish her sentence as he opened the door, looking out cautiously.
Lord Millerton glanced back at her, then put his finger to his lips. Nodding, she did nothing other than follow him, her heart thundering furiously as she scurried along the hallway. The guest bedchamber was not more than a few feet from her own but it felt like she was walking a great distance, her legs suddenly aching and a trickle of sweat running down her back.
And then, she heard something. She could not say what it was, but there came a soft, swishing sort of sound, which was then followed by a tiny creak. Thereafter, there came nothing but silence, as though the person knew that they had made such a sound and were forcing themselves to stand quite still for a moment or two. She discovered that she also had stopped walking and it was only when Lord Millerton gave her hand a gentle tug that she forced herself to continue.
A gentle knock at the door had the key turning in the lock, the squeak making her wince. When the door was pushed back to reveal the nurse standing there with a candle and Miss Sarah sound asleep in her bed still, Bridgette felt a rush of relief crash over her and hurried inside.
Lord Millerton closed the door tightly but did not lock it.
“What are you doing?” she asked, keeping her voice low but finding herself rather alarmed at the prospect of the intruder being able to easily open the door.
“We must,” he said, simply, looking at her with such a steady gaze that Bridgette found herself already trusting him, despite her own anxiety. “How else is the intruder to come in?”
The nurse gasped, one hand to her mouth. “You want him to come in here?”
Lord Millerton nodded and then went about the room, quickly extinguishing the candles in the room save for the one by Miss Sarah’s bed. “Of course. We must catch the person in question. I will be waiting close to the door and you both must seat yourselves near to Miss Sarah, although try to hide yourselves in shadow as best you can.”
Bridgette blinked rapidly, feeling herself already a little afraid as to what might occur. “You think the intruder is looking for Miss Sarah?” she asked, as Lord Millerton nodded. “But how would they know that she was present here?”
Lord Millerton opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, his brows knotting together. “Did you say anything about her presence here to anyone?”
“No!” Bridgette protested, only to be immediately shushed by the nurse. “No,” she said again, a good deal more quietly this time. “I have not said a word to anyone, I —”
She stopped short, her eyes widening. Lord Millerton lifted one eyebrow and looked at her steadily, making her stomach drop to the floor.
“You did say something?”
“I — I did not say anything specific,” she stammered, as he came a little closer to her. “Only to Lady Madeline. I said that there was someone ill within my household and that I was not certain they would recover, or something such as that.” Her stomach twisted hard. “I did not think there would come any consequences for such a remark. It is to Lady Madeline, after all, and she —”
“She might well have repeated it to someone on an entirely innocuous basis, only for them to either pass it on or repeat it to another,” Lord Millerton murmured, reaching out to press her hand. “I do not think Lady Madeline has anything to do with this matter, I admit, although I might be —”
A quiet creak dropped the rest of the sentence from Lord Millerton’s lips and he held up one hand, making the room quite silent.
“The door,” he whispered, looking at her as the candlelight flickered shadows across his face. “They are in the next room.”
Bridgette’s heart began to beat at a furious pace as she moved towards a chair, sitting next to the nurse who, given the way she trembled, was quite terrified. Bridgette clutched at her hand, even though the lady was of much lower class than she, finding that they both needed the company of each other at this present moment. The candle was set to one side of the room, the light doing very little to chase away the darkness. She did not see where Lord Millerton went, her heart in her throat as they sat in silence, waiting.
“Miss Sarah is a little recovered?” she whispered, as the nurse pressed her hand. “She is no longer in the depths of fever?”
“No, she is not,” the nurse whispered back, each word sharp and anxious. “That is a blessing, at least.”
Bridgette nodded, trying her best to calm her breathing down but feeling her chest tighten as a few faint sounds came from the door of the room. Someone was turning the handle, someone was pushing the door open. She closed her eyes, as though it would somehow help her to contain the fear that she felt running through her, her heart beating so loudly she was afraid the intruder would hear it and know she was present.
A tiny sound came from the door as it was pushed back and Bridgette gripped the nurse’s hand, forcing herself to remain as calm as she could.
Lord Millerton is here, she told herself, over and over again. He knows what he is doing.
There came the sound of gentle footfalls, moving so slowly, so carefully, and Bridgette knew it would take the intruder a short time for their vision to adjust to the dim light rather than the sheer blackness. What she did not expect was for the person to pick up the candle, her mouth going dry as she saw the light grow ever closer.
Instinctively, she put her head back and closed her eyes, squeezing the nurse’s fingers and praying that she was doing the same. If the intruder came a little nearer, they would see only two ladies asleep, evidently having been taking care of Miss Sarah and now quite weary from their task. The way the light shifted beneath her lowered lids left her panicking, fearing that at any moment, she might feel a stabbing pain, a rush of warm blood and hearing nothing but screams of terror.
“Ha!”
Her eyes flew open and she saw Lord Millerton hanging onto the person who had entered. The candle went flying to the floor as the two men battled, with grunts coming from both of them. Bridgette rushed forward, picking up the candle at once which, miraculously, had not yet gone out.
“The door!” Lord Millerton shouted, only to let out a groan as the other man thumped his hand hard into his stomach.
The nurse and Bridgette moved at once, skirting around the fighting gentlemen and pushing the door shut tightly. Bridgette turned the key, pulled it from the lock and placed it in the depths of her pocket, breathing hard. What was she to do? Ought she remain here, standing guard at the door?
Lord Millerton grunted loudly, then there came another thump or two, with a thud that seemed to rise up and fill the room. Staring straight ahead, her candle still in her hand, Bridgette waited to see what would happen next, wondering if the intruder would make for another attack, only for Lord Millerton to let out a loud groan and straighten entirely.
“It is quite all right,” he croaked, turning around as Bridgette took a tentative step forward. “He will not be making any more attempts to escape.”
Bridgette let out her breath slowly, feeling it rattle out of her, her hand shaking as it held out the candle towards Lord Millerton. She gasped at the dark bruises on his cheek, one eye already beginning to swell and blood trickling from his nose. He sniffed, frowned, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it hard to his nose.
“The candles, Lady Callander?” he said, as the sound of a muffled groan came from the bed. Hurrying to do as she
was bidden, Bridgette saw the nurse rushing back towards the bed, reaching for Miss Sarah’s hand and holding it tightly in two of her own .
“Is she awake?” Bridgette asked, lighting all the candles that had, only a few minutes ago, been extinguished by Lord Millerton. “She is not ill again, is she?”
The nurse shook her head. “She is not returning to her fever, no,” she said softly, as though she did not want to wake the lady. “I believe she was trying to pull herself from the depths of sleep but did not quite manage to do so.” The nurse sank down into a chair, one hand brushing across her forehead. “Thank goodness she is quite safe.”
Bridgette nodded, turning back to Lord Millerton and seeing how he looked down at the now prone man on the floor. “Do you think he came to harm Miss Sarah?”
Lord Millerton looked up at her. “Yes,” he said, bluntly. “Whatever it was specifically that you said to Lady Madeline, she must have said to another. That person, whoever it was, sent this man to search your house, to make certain that Miss Sarah was not the sick person you had spoken of.”
“And if he discovered her?” Bridgette asked, her voice a little tremulous. “What then?”
Grimacing, Lord Millerton bent down and pulled something from the man. “Then I fear it would have been her end,” he said quietly, the gleam of the sharp blade making Bridgette catch her breath, her eyes wide and her heart filled with the horror of it all. Guilt flooded her and she closed her eyes, feeling tears begin to prick in the corners of her eyes.
“I should not have said a word,” she whispered, opening her eyes but seeing nothing but the fuzzy lights of the candles, her vision blurred by tears. “I did not mean to —”
“You did not mean any harm, of course,” Lord Millerton said, quickly, coming over to her. “But I will agree with you when you state that you should not have said a word to anyone. That is quite true.” He gave her a small smile, his fingers warm on hers. “But this fellow may prove to be very useful indeed.”
