by Jo Goodman
When he was still better than twenty feet from Lily, he slowed the brisk pace he’d set and forced calm. It was not merely for himself that he did this, but for Lily. What reputation she had been able to establish with his retainers—and by all accounts it seemed to be a respected one—would be forever changed if it was suspected she was the recipient of some special feeling from him. Because his own reputation was sterling in regard to dalliances with those in his employ, and because he was the master of Granville Hall, Sherry knew he would be acquitted of wrongdoing, while seductress might be the kindest name she could expect.
When the circle of servants parted for Sherry, he saw that it was Mr. Penn, the groundskeeper, who was kneeling beside Lily. She was still sprawled awkwardly on the ground, her face devoid of color but not lacking for expression. What Sherry spied there was at least as much chagrin as pain. Mr. Penn released Lily’s hand when Sherry hunkered down beside him. Sherry did not pick it up.
“Can you tell if anything is broken?” he asked, credibly composed now.
“My right ankle hurts abominably, but I think it is a sprain.” When he glanced at her foot she rotated it slowly for him. “I do not believe I could do that if it were broken.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t believe you could.”
“No one has allowed me to move.”
He nodded, understanding the servants’ reserve. “That is because you have dislocated your left shoulder. That is, if it is not broken.”
Lily twisted her head to look down at herself. She grimaced with the pain this small movement caused her. “I thought it was bruised. I’m afraid I somersaulted rather awkwardly when I landed. I think my shoulder took the brunt of the fall.”
“That you rolled at all is most likely why you have a sprained ankle instead of a broken one. Let’s have a look at the shoulder, shall we?” He explored the line of her collarbone and the ball and socket joint of her shoulder. “Kennerly.” Sherry waved the head groom forward. The man had more experience than anyone with broken and shattered bones, albeit with four-legged creatures. “Tell me what you think.”
The groom dropped to his knees and made his own assessment. His examination was less gentle than Sherry’s and also more thorough, but his judgment was the same. “It’s popped the socket,” Kennerly said, sitting back. “No break, so that’s a bit of luck.”
“Then you won’t have to put me down, Mr. Kennerly,” Lily said. “I’d hoped you’d be more relieved.”
Neither Sherry nor Kennerly responded to her wry humor. They merely exchanged dark glances, communicating what was to be done without a word passing between them.
Sherry slipped his hands under Lily’s shoulders, raising her just enough for the groom to get the grip he needed. “I hope you will scream as loudly as you like.”
Lily did not have time to ask him what he meant. Kennerly wrenched her shoulder and arm so hard that she nearly lost consciousness from the pain of it. She had no sense of herself screaming, but the vision of Dash and Midge clamping their hands over their ears was proof that she had.
“Sorry, Miss,” Kennerly said. “It had to be done.”
Her shoulder throbbed, but she was no longer being skewered by needles of pain. “I’m sure it did,” she said, her voice still reed thin. “May I sit up now?”
“That’d be his lordship’s decision.”
“Are you able?” Sherry asked.
“I think it will make it easier to catch my breath.”
Sherry gestured to everyone to step back. “Did you lose your breath in the fall?” he asked.
She nodded. “And again when Mr. Kennerly offered his cure.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw two footmen approaching carrying a litter between them. “I won’t need that. I am certain I will be able to walk.”
“That is only because you haven’t tried.” Sherry instructed the footmen to place the litter on the grass beside Lily, then he and Kennerly gingerly lifted her just enough for the litter to be pushed under her. The onlookers dispersed to return to their duties, and Sherry and the boys accompanied Lily back to the house, taking up positions on both sides of the litter to make certain she didn’t fall off.
“Who is going to tell me how this happened?” Sherry asked. “Midge?”
For once the youngest of the trio remained silent and stared at the ground.
“It’s for me to tell,” Dash said. He ran his fingers through his pale hair and glanced sideways at Sheridan. “We were in the tree, lookin’ out for ’er ladyship. Like a regular crow’s nest it is up there and wi’ us bein’ pirates and all, well—”
“You are not pirates,” Sherry said in crushing accents.
“Right, but we were playin’ at it, and my ship was the ’Alf Moon, and Pinch ’ad the—”
Sherry remained unamused. “I understand the game. I want to hear that portion of the story that pertains to Miss Rose falling out of the tree.”
Dash’s feet were beginning to drag. “Miss Rose came lookin’ for us to wash up so we could put on a good face for Lady Rivendale. Pinch and Midge, they climbed down wi’ nary a problem, but I was never a till frisker wot could do the roof work. My ’ead gets muzzy, and it’s like the ground is comin’ up to—”
“Vertigo,” Sherry said. “It’s called vertigo.”
Dash nodded. “That’s the same wot Miss Rose called it. Can’t say if it’s what caused ’er to fall, though.” He quickened his pace and looked over at Lily. “Was it, Miss Rose?”
She smiled weakly. “No. Climbing a tree in a dress is what caused me to fall.” Her grip around the poles of the litter tightened when the lead footman stumbled.
Sherry bit off the sharp rebuke he had for the clumsy footman and merely said, “Careful, man. We cannot manage two on the litter.”
Lily’s attention wasn’t for her bearers. She was watching Dash’s lower lip tremble as he fought tears. Sheridan had had occasion to discipline the boys before, but he had never been angry with them. There was no mistaking that he was angry now. His stride was deliberate, his jaw set, and it was evident that he was still restraining himself. He was angry with her as well, perhaps more so, but Lily suspected that her narrow brush with serious injury or even death was forcing him to find another target for it. The boys were convenient and, in a very small way, culpable. Pinch and Midge, she noticed, were looking every bit as morose as their compatriot.
When they reached the house, Sherry sent the boys to their rooms with instructions to decide what their punishment should be. Lily’s heart went out to them. They hadn’t the least idea of what might be reasonable or fair. She tried to catch Sherry’s eye and implore him to mete out his own correction, but he was careful not to attend to her too closely. He ordered the footmen to carry her to her room, sent one of the maids to look after her, then dispatched a servant to bring the doctor from the village.
It was Lily’s opinion that fetching the doctor was rather more than was needed, but she kept this to herself as Sheridan appeared unwilling to entertain any ideas but his own. She noticed that he stood back while the maid and the housekeeper fussed over her and often glanced toward the door as though anticipating a visitor. At first she thought it was the physician he was in expectation of seeing, then she realized his vigilance was for Lady Rivendale.
Only a few days ago, Lily might have inquired after her ladyship as she had never been unduly cautious of her remarks to Sheridan in front of the servants. It was being borne home to her anew how last night’s intimacy had altered communication between them. They were self-conscious of their changed circumstances and, in not wanting to bring attention to themselves, were perhaps doing just that. Still, Lily thought she should follow Sheridan’s lead in this regard, and though she chafed at not being able to speak as freely as before, she accepted it as the consequence of sharing his bed.
Like the boys would surely do, she and Sheridan had crafted a punishment for themselves that was neither reasonable nor fair. She was actually relieved when he left her
in the care of others and did not return upon the arrival of the physician, though she felt vaguely guilty for being so.
It was Dr. Clarkson’s judgment following his examination that Lily’s injury was a sprain, and she was directed to keep her ankle elevated and given a small amount of laudanum for the pain. One of the footmen remembered a pair of crutches he’d seen tucked away in the lamp room and brought them to her. The maid who had first attended her found a stool suitable for raising her foot, and the housekeeper brought a pillow to lay under her heel.
Lily was overwhelmed by the attention the servants paid her. Governesses, she had reason to know, were neither up nor down, but more in the way of betweenstairs. It could, in fact, be an awkward position, one that engaged the resentment of the household staff and the indifference of the employer. It was what she had expected upon agreeing to accept the position at Granville Hall, yet she seemed to have engendered neither resentment nor indifference.
That this was the case, Lily suspected, had very little to do with her and almost everything to do with the scoundrels. With no conscious effort on their part, Pinch, Dash, and Midge had come to be accepted by everyone. Their antics were tolerated, their incessant questions answered. In equal measures they were coddled and disciplined, fussed over and shooed away. They had been taken into the heart and hearth of Granville Hall, and as the one charged with their care, Lily had been taken in as well.
Lying back on the bed, Lily could feel the laudanum begin to dull the throbbing in her foot and all her other senses besides. She yawned widely and curled on her side, slipping one arm under her pillow. It occurred to her that she should seek out the boys and help them arrive at a just punishment, but the lethargy that made her yawn a second time also stole her will.
Burrowing deeply under the covers, Lily knew only a profound sense of contentment as she closed her eyes.
Sherry escorted his godmother from the music salon to the dining room on his arm. At her request, he had played several Mozart pieces on the pianoforte. To his own ears his fingers had lacked the lightness of touch that was sometimes remarked upon when he was pressed to play in London. It was not surprising that he had stumbled over some of the more difficult passages; since returning to Granville, he had entertained himself at the keys only late at night when restlessness compelled him to leave his bed. What was unexpected was that he had not felt the restlessness so keenly—until Lily.
“You are very quiet, Sherry,” Lady Rivendale said as she was seated at the table. “I cannot help thinking that you have not been attending to me.”
There was no point in dissembling. “Indeed, Aunt, I have not heard a word. Forgive me.” Sherry refused the chair the footman offered. He stood beside it instead, looking toward the door where the butler stood. “I expected the children to be here, Wolfe. Why are they not?”
“I will find out at once.” With a discreet wave of his hand, Mr. Wolfe dispatched one of the maids.
Lady Rivendale looked across the beautifully set table, then up at her godson. “You are scowling,” she told him. “I hope you will find another expression before you sit, as that one is perfectly disagreeable.”
“I do not scowl.”
“You have never been kept waiting before.”
Grunting softly, Sherry took measure of his features and discovered they were indeed set disagreeably. He was not so out of sorts that he could not find humor in it. The line of his jaw relaxed, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile rich with self-mockery. “It was not so very long ago that the scoundrels accused me of having but one expression.”
“And I know it very well. Absolutely maddening, the way you can be so self-possessed and secretive. The scowl, though, is not an improvement.”
His grin widened. “Your point is taken.”
Her ladyship glanced toward the door. “I freely admit I was not in favor of the children dining with us, so it surprises me that I am—” She broke off as the maid returned, flushed in the face and out of breath.
Sherry gave no outward sign that he was concerned by the maid’s excitement. His voice was mild, even detached, as he asked, “What have you discovered?”
“The scoundrels, m’lord,” the maid said, bobbing her head. “They’re not in their rooms. I found this in Master Dash’s bedchamber. I thought it might be important.” She quickly stepped forward and placed a folded paper in Sherry’s upturned palm. “I think that’s your name there, m’lord. Is it?”
“Yes. Did you inquire of Miss Rose?”
She shook her head. “I looked in her room, but she was sleeping and the boys weren’t there.”
“You did well.” He unfolded the missive and read, aware that everyone in the dining room would be gauging his reaction. He recognized Dash’s hand. The script was painstakingly neat, and there had been a good effort made at spelling. Sherry read it silently, then read the whole of it aloud for his audience.
“You did well.” He unfolded the missive and read, aware that everyone in the dining room would be gauging his reaction. He recognized Dash’s hand. The script was painstakingly neat, and there had been a good effort made at spelling. Sherry read it silently, then read the whole of it aloud for his audience.
My Lord Sheridan,
We are heartily sorry for the trouble we cozed you and for the hurt we cozed Miss Rose. We would like to make a most sincere promice that it won’t appen again but Pinch thinks it will anyway. Midge and me dont like it much but Pinch is mostly right. Midge says if you had a dunjun it would be a good punishment. Since you dont we will bannish ourselfs and go to Lundon.
Your servants
Dash Pinch Smijun
Also a fish wot eats boys would be good too.
No one spoke following the reading, although the maid sniffled twice.
“What is to be done?” Lady Rivendale asked. “You will go after them, of course.”
Sherry regarded his godmother with some surprise. “Did I not say they were scoundrels? What is to be done? Nothing. At least not until you and I have had our dinner.”
“Sherry! That is not at all amusing.”
“It was not meant to be.” He sat and indicated to the butler that the first course could be served. “If they’ve set off for London—which I find difficult to believe—they will certainly not get so far that they can’t be caught on horseback.”
“If? Did you not just tell us it was their destination?”
Sherry unfolded his napkin in his lap while the maid ladled clear beef broth into his bowl. He waited until Lady Rivendale was served before he lifted his spoon. “I read what they wrote,” he said. “I never said I believed it. Dash may have penned the missive, but banishment was certainly not his idea.”
“The fish?”
“Yes. That’s Dash. I have to believe that Pinch is the one who suggested banishment.”
Her ladyship sipped delicately from her spoon. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Really, Sherry, it is all too dizzying. Have they taken themselves off to London or not?”
“Pinch is a clever fellow, Aunt, and no one’s fool. I have good reason to suspect that he has talked the others into hiding at Granville.”
“In the house, you mean?”
“Precisely. Right under our noses, if I’m not mistaken.”
Lady Rivendale’s expression was considering, then her lips quirked. “Extraordinary.”
“Yes.”
She regarded the empty places at the table. “They will not be easy to find.”
“I know, but Cybelline and I played a good game of hide-and-seek when we were children. I think I can remember most of the best places, although I cannot hope to flush them out alone. Finding them will require a thorough search and the assistance of the servants.”
“And when they are caught, Sherry? What then? I hope you do not mean to make them choose their own punishment. They are not very good at it, are they?”
He sighed. “No, they’re not.” Sherry knew he had come far too late to that reali
zation, though he was fairly certain now that Lily had comprehended there was a danger. He had seen her trying to catch his eye, and he had stubbornly ignored her. How would she have advised him? he wondered.
Chagrined, Sherry chuckled under his breath. There could be little doubt that she would inform him of all the ways he might have done things differently.
“Something amuses?” Lady Rivendale asked.
“It is nothing I can explain, but I have concluded that I must needs seek out Miss Rose’s counsel.”
She frowned. “Are you certain that is wise? A governess who climbs trees, even to mount a rescue of one of her pupils, cannot possess sound judgment.” When Sherry did not respond to the bait she dangled, her ladyship went on. “I cannot think why they were allowed to behave in such a ramshackle manner in the first place.”
“I don’t believe they were allowed.”
“Then she does not have their respect. That they can be so willfully disobedient does not speak well of them or the one who has their charge. Shouldn’t the children have been at their studies, Sherry?”
“I’m afraid you will have to take me to task there, Aunt. I declared a holiday in honor of your visit. The children would have been in the schoolroom otherwise.”
“Oh.” Lady Rivendale pressed her serviette to her mouth, dabbing lightly, as the soup was removed. She was presented with the platter of roast lamb and indicated that she would have some. “It cannot be good for you to indulge them.”
“Probably not, but then I have only your own example to guide me.” He gave her a significant look, one eyebrow raised the merest fraction, and saw she had the grace to blush. “Let us agree to say no more on the matter until you have met the lads, then I will attend to your views again. Does that suit?”
“Of course. You know it is not my way to be disagreeable.”
Sherry murmured something against the rim of his glass that might be construed as assent, then took a mouthful of wine to forestall a reply. By the time he set the glass down, he observed Lady Rivendale was mollified and nothing further needed to be said. “What of the baron?” he asked. “He did not surprise you at Sir Arthur’s after I took my leave, did he?”
