A Most Rebellious Debutante

by Karen Abbott

  ‘I wish we could go and see Rocky,’ Bertie declared. ‘I think he must be quite lonely with only having his dogs and Staines for company.’

  ‘No, Bertie. Lord … I mean Rocky … said quite firmly that he doesn’t want any visitors just yet,’ Lucy reminded him. ‘We must respect his wishes.’

  Bertie had a rebellious look on his face but he brightened up once the game of hide and seek began.

  There followed a noisy half-hour of romping through the wood. Wellington, unfortunately, got the idea of the game very quickly and the only way they could continue was to tie him to a tree so that he didn’t find the one who was hiding before his human companions. He barked his disapproval and was only released when neither Bertie nor Lucy could find Arabella and Lucy began to feel a little perturbed by her niece’s absence.

  Tail wagging, Wellington shot into the bushes with Lucy and Bertie close behind. Excited barking led them to Arabella’s hiding place. She was crouched in the centre of a few straggling bushes adorned with a tangle of brambles.

  ‘It was a good place, wasn’t it?’ she demanded, as she pushed Wellington’s wet tongue away from her face.

  ‘It was indeed,’ Lucy agreed, ruefully inspecting her torn skirt.

  Bertie glanced around with gleaming eyes. ‘It’s like a secret den, isn’t it?’ he declared. ‘Can we eat our picnic in here?’

  ‘A good idea,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Let’s fetch the basket and we can have it right away.’

  Bertie’s imagination galloped ahead of him as they ate their picnic. ‘We could make it even better with more branches, couldn’t we? Then we can pretend we are pirates and hide our booty here.’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘We’ll have to squeeze through the bushes carefully, then no one will ever find it!’

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ Lucy commended him, glad that he had something other than Rocky to feed his imagination. ‘There are lots of fallen branches for us to gather, but not today. We need to get some old gloves or our hands will be torn to shreds.’

  The following afternoon, suitably protected by an odd assortment of gardeners’ gloves, they made for the wood as soon as lunch was over and, over the next few days, they flung themselves energetically into finding suitable fallen branches and dragging them to the site of their den, with Wellington barking excitedly at their heels. Once the den was completed to Bertie’s satisfaction, it became the base for their play activities. They played at hiding; being pirates; tracking each other through the wood; treasure hunting; collecting autumn fruits to later draw in the schoolroom, and ate their picnics sitting on a log they had dragged inside.

  Although Lucy was happy that the children’s thoughts had been diverted from Lord Rockhaven to their new project, her own thoughts were intermittently drawn towards the wounded man and his self-imposed exile from Society. She felt she could understand his reluctance to be the object of people’s pity and speculation, but how different his life now was from that of his youthful reckless exuberance. Not that his wildness had been attractive to her, but his freedom to be so was gone forever and she felt a vicarious sadness on his behalf.

  Any pride Lucy felt at Bertie’s self-discipline on the matter was dispelled when, a few days later, during a game of hide and seek, Bertie and Wellington disappeared. After spending some time searching for them, Lucy began to suspect that the disappearance was purposely contrived. Arabella’s growing apprehension and guilty glances in the direction of the gamekeeper’s cottage confirmed her suspicions.

  ‘He said I wasn’t to tell,’ Arabella confessed when challenged. ‘But he’ll be all right, won’t he? Rocky won’t hurt him, even though he does look a bit frightening.’

  ‘That isn’t the point,’ Lucy reproved her. ‘Rocky doesn’t want to risk anyone knowing where he is. Come on, we’d better go and see if we can catch up with Bertie before he gets there.’

  That hope was dashed when they heard the dogs begin to bark and by the time Lucy hurried on to the scene, Bertie was standing on tiptoe looking in through the cottage window.

  Lucy hurried forward and took hold of Bertie’s arm.

  ‘Come away at once, Bertie!’ she remonstrated. ‘You know very well Rocky doesn’t want any visitors here. It’s really quite naughty of you.’

  ‘But I wanted to tell him about our den. He’ll want to see it, I know he will!’

  ‘Well, he can’t. How would he get there, for one thing?’

  ‘Staines would find a way,’ Bertie confidently declared. ‘But no one is here. I’ve looked in all the windows, but he wouldn’t have left his dogs behind if he’d gone, would he? D’you think he’s in one of the other buildings?’

  ‘I don’t know, Bertie, and, no, we aren’t going to look. Now, do come away! And you, Wellington! That bowl is empty. I hope you haven’t eaten the dogs’ meal again.’

  She hustled the boy and his dog away, followed by a now tearful Arabella holding on to her skirt.

  Although there was no sign of either Lord Rockhaven or his companion, Lucy had the uncanny feeling that one or both of the two men were there but were choosing not to come into the open to be acknowledged. She couldn’t blame them. Lord Rockhaven had made known his wishes to be left alone.

  Over the next few days, Lucy’s conscience smote her at times. It was all very well her having assumed that Lord Rockhaven and his man didn’t want to be pestered by Bertie the other day, but what if they were in need of help? Could they be ill? The dogs’ dish had been empty and she had no way of knowing just how long it had been so. Bertie assured her that Wellington had only licked around the edges.

  ‘He wouldn’t steal, you know,’ he insisted.

  ‘Dogs don’t know if they are stealing or not,’ she pointed out. ‘All they know is the urge to eat any food that comes their way … and Wellington is a prime example.’

  She wished she might be able to make sure of the two men’s well-being which would set her mind at rest. But she couldn’t think how to manage it without taking the children with her. Her opportunity to make a visit on her own came unexpectedly when Marissa informed her that she was taking her two children to visit Arabella’s godmother before she returned to London for the Little Season.

  ‘We shall be gone for two or three weeks, Lucy, and, since Mama said I was not to take you into Society whilst you are with us, you must remain here. I trust you will be mindful of our good standing in the community and amuse yourself with ladylike pursuits. Without the responsibility of looking after Bertie and Arabella you will be able to practise your music and sewing. Indeed, I shall expect the tapestry you brought with you to be finished on our return. Oh, and I have instructed Cook to make up some food parcels for you to distribute to the poor in the village. It is time you became more aware that not everyone is as fortunate as ourselves. I am sure it will make you more appreciative of the obligations placed upon us by our position in Society. Use the gig whenever you wish. One of the outdoor staff will accompany you, if you give enough warning to Campden to arrange it.’

  Lucy murmured a noncommittal response, her initial disappointment at being left behind on her own apart from the servants being overtaken by the realization that she would be beholden to no one during her sister’s absence. Thank goodness Marissa’s compliant character and her lack of imagination rendered her unable to envisage Lucy’s joy at such unprecedented freedom! Not that she would behave in any fashion that might bring disgrace upon her sister’s family. That would be foolish indeed and would bring their mama’s wrath upon her head. But to be able to go out without endless questions both before and afterwards was a delight too attractive to be missed.

  Consequently, a few days later, no sooner had the family coach, followed by a more modest conveyance containing their trunks, Rupert’s valet, Marissa’s personal maid and Nurse Harvey, trundled in procession down the drive, than Lucy put on a serviceable walking dress, collected a loaded basket from Cook – and Wellington from his stable kennel – and set off briskly through the wood to the gamekeeper�
��s cottage, hoping that no one would notice that her objective was in the opposite direction from the village. Without the distractions caused by the children’s presence, she was there in less than fifteen minutes.

  Allowing Wellington to respond briefly to the indignant welcome by the chained dogs, she bade him, ‘Quiet, Wellington! Come to heel’, and knocked boldly on the door.

  When there was no response she faced the cobbled yard with its assorted outbuildings, the backs of her hands upon her slender hips. Where were they? All she wanted was to know they were all right. Should she investigate further?

  A sound behind her made her turn back towards the door. It was now pulled open and Lord Rockhaven was manoeuvring his wheelchair into the opening.

  ‘Oh!’

  His face was less than welcoming and, even though he was seated in his wheelchair, he exuded a feral presence. For a moment Lucy was rendered speechless and she simply stared at him, aware that a warm flush was rising over her face. She now felt guilty at being found upon his doorstep. She shouldn’t have come; he had made it clear he didn’t want company.

  ‘Well?’ Lord Rockhaven demanded. ‘I presume you are here for a purpose? Or were you just passing by?’ He peered past her. ‘And where are your young charges? You haven’t left them alone in the wood, have you?’

  His challenging tone roused Lucy from her confusion. ‘Good day, Lord Rockhaven. A little civility wouldn’t go amiss. I can tell you haven’t had much practice at receiving visitors … or perhaps you have frightened them away by your abrupt manner. And, no, I haven’t left the children in the wood. They are … away … at the moment. Get down, Wellington! Lord Rockhaven doesn’t want his face licked!’

  Wellington immediately sat down, his tongue hanging from his open mouth as he surveyed the confrontation.

  ‘At least he does as he’s told,’ Lord Rockhaven growled. ‘I always knew dogs had more sense than people.’

  ‘And at least I have a social conscience!’ Lucy retorted in retaliation. ‘I was worried about you. When there was no sign of you last week when we called—’

  ‘In flagrant defiance of my request that you stay away,’ Lord Rockhaven was swift to interject.

  ‘Yes … well, it was quite unintentional on my part!’ Lucy hastened to assure him sharply, lest he think she felt any sort of feminine tenderness towards him. ‘It was … well, Bertie felt concerned about you and slipped away without my knowledge.’ She could hardly bear to look at his face, so thunderous was his expression. However, not one to give up at the first hint of discouragement, she hurtled on, ‘And …er … afterwards, I … I feared you might have been … harmed … in some way. So, I came on my own today to make sure you are well … and to … er …’ She glanced down at the basket that hung on her arm.

  ‘To bring me some morsel of food, I suppose. Well, I don’t need charity!’ Lord Rockhaven snapped. ‘If I had a need of anything, I would send Staines to buy it … and I told you not to tell anyone I am here! I suppose your employer is now busybodying about the village, telling everybody she meets. Good God, woman! I know I made it seem like a game to the children but it’s no game, believe you me. My very life might be now in danger thanks to you and your meddling!’

  His hands dropped to the large wheels at the side of his chair and, with a snort of fury, he began to reverse into the cottage.

  ‘I have told no one!’ Lucy snapped back. ‘Neither have the children. Speaking of whom, they have better manners than you and would be showing some gratitude for a neighbourly visit!’

  Her words halted him. ‘Ha! A neighbourly visit, is it? Trespassing more like! Don’t think I don’t know you bring those children to play in my wood every day, vandalizing my trees.’

  ‘It isn’t your wood and we have done no vandalizing. We were building a pirates’ den there. Oh!’ Her free hand flew to cover her mouth. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean …’ She paused, suddenly aware that he was probably self-conscious of his disfigurement and might take offence at the children’s assumption that he was a pirate, even though he had gone along with the idea the day they met.

  A look of exasperation swept across Lord Rockhaven’s face and he slumped back into his chair. When he spoke, it was in a more conciliatory tone. He waved a hand towards her vaguely.

  ‘Your words do not hurt me. I’m sorry … it is I who should be apologizing. You are right: my behaviour is appalling. It’s just that it’s true I am playing no game. I have enemies and, as you see, I am at somewhat of a disadvantage if they track me down.’

  In spite of the bitterness of the last few words, Lucy was aware of stirrings deep within her; stirrings she didn’t fully understand because those parts of her body were never mentioned, but they were part of her and she wondered why this bantering conversation should affect her body in a similar way to when she had been briefly held in his arms a year earlier. It certainly wasn’t physical attraction. His scarred face was pale and thin and his one visible eye glared at her with reproof.

  Yet, she knew he hadn’t ceased to invade her thoughts since their recent encounter and, in her mind’s eye, he was brutishly handsome and still had the power to melt her insides to a molten heat. She felt the impulse to reach out and touch his cheek and smooth away the vivid scar, and run her fingers through his dark hair, which, seated as he was in the wheelchair, was tantalizingly close!

  Alarmed by the intensity of her longings, she thrust her free hand behind her and stepped back.

  Lord Rockhaven’s eyebrow rose fractionally at her sudden movement. ‘I won’t bite you,’ he said drily, as if he could read her thoughts and was amused by them.

  Her cheeks flushed. ‘I didn’t suppose you would,’ she said primly. ‘I just … didn’t want to crowd you.’ Good heavens, even in a wheelchair this man affected her more than any of the handsome bucks and dandies in London.

  No, all she felt for him was pity for his unfortunate vulnerable state. She just wanted to help him to sort himself out – to, quite literally, help him to get back on his feet. Wouldn’t anyone who had known the vigorous young man of former years feel that same? Except she knew she was lying to herself; she wanted him back on his feet so that he could hold her in his arms again and kiss the life out of her.

  With a start, she realized Lord Rockhaven was speaking and pushed her errant thoughts away, though she knew she would savour them later.

  ‘And you have told no one, you say? No one else knows I am here?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘No. Your secret is safe. I don’t understand, though. You are a lord … an earl, even. You must have influence. If you have enemies, cannot you bring a charge against them? Cannot the authorities act on your behalf? Why do you have to go into hiding? You said you have done nothing wrong, or was that just to appease the children?’

  ‘No. I spoke the truth: I have done nothing wrong, but I have no proof of what my … enemy … has done against me. I just know he will not leave it at this.’ He indicated his person and Lucy assumed he meant his disability. ‘He will try again and I don’t intend to make it easy for him, but I need time.’

  ‘Time for what?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘To get better, of course! I won’t be shot in the back again. Next time, he will have to face me man to man.’

  Lucy stared at him. ‘Someone tried to kill you deliberately? I thought you had been wounded in battle – at least, that is what everyone says – that you were both injured and that your brother … died.’

  Her voice faltered as she recollected what else Marissa had said. She felt embarrassed that her sister should have repeated slanderous gossip and her discomfort was made worse when Lord Rockhaven himself spoke aloud her inner reflection.

  ‘Huh! And no doubt these know-alls embellished the truth with innuendoes of us leaving the battle whilst it was still in progress, labelling us as deserters!’

  Lucy touched his arm in compassion for his distress. ‘People will always relish a touch of scandal. It is best to ignore their gossip and g
et on with life. It must have been a dreadful time for you, especially since you are …’ Again, her voice faltered to a standstill. What was it about this man that made her senses fly off in all directions?

  ‘A cripple? Don’t let your fine feelings stop you from saying the word, Miss—’ He broke off, as if not knowing her name was a further indication of his crippled state. His shoulders sagged momentarily, then he banged the heel of his right hand against the armrest of his wheelchair. ‘It should have been me who was killed! Con saw him take aim and leaped to push me aside, taking the bullet meant for me. He spoke his name as I stooped to lift him over my shoulder. The next bullet passed through him and got me also. I lived … but Con didn’t. I failed him. It should have been me! It was my lot in life to die young, not his!’

  ‘Huh! Because of the so-called curse?’ Lucy exclaimed, sensing that a soothing reply would inflame his morose state. ‘How ridiculous! You are an intelligent man, how can you believe such nonsense?’

  Lord Rockhaven’s face flushed at her tone. ‘What do you know about it? My ancestors have died by the nonsense! I always knew how it would end, but not the manner of it. But it should have been me. Not Con. I am the elder son.’

  ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ Lucy retorted, realizing that he felt guilty to have survived whilst his brother had not. ‘Would Conrad have felt any better if he were the survivor? I suspect not. You have lost a dearly beloved brother, but it was not your fault! Stop blaming yourself and get on with living. I am sure that is what your brother would have wanted you to do.’

  ‘You call this living?’ Lord Rockhaven demanded angrily, banging both his fists down on the arms of his wheelchair. ‘It is worse than death, I can tell you!’

  Lucy could think of nothing to say that would not sound condescending or patronizing and, after a pause, Lord Rockhaven spoke in a more even tone. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, gossiping over my threshold will get me nowhere. I have things to do.’ He waved a deprecatory hand towards her basket. ‘Take your offerings to more deserving cases.’