Blackhaven Brides (Books 5–8)

by Lancaster, Mary

  Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy. She was afraid to breathe, to say or do the wrong thing. But she could not prevent her hand clasping his.

  “I will not leave unless you bid me.” The words came out hoarse, almost broken.

  Abruptly, she was half-pushed, half-dragged off the path and into the trees until she felt the roughness of bark at her back and the hardness of his body pinning her there. His eyes blazed down into hers.

  “You should not say such things to me,” he whispered.

  “You should not do such things to me,” she returned shakily.

  A warm smile flickered across his face. “No, I shouldn’t.” But he remained thrillingly pressed against her, forcing her to awareness of his muscled thighs, his hips, and the hardness that grew between. Delicious weakness held her still. Desire raged through her.

  Slowly, his forehead dropped to hers and rested. “I wish…”

  “What?” she asked desperately, and as suddenly as he’d seized her, she was freed.

  “One day I might tell you that, too,” he flung at her as he broke back on the path. “Until then, you should avoid being alone with me because it seems I can’t keep my hands off you. Rosa! This way!”

  Her trembling knees were reluctant to hold her up as she trailed after him to meet Rosa, struggling to work out what had just occurred.

  *

  At luncheon the following day, Miss Benedict happily revealed that she had received notes of acceptance to her dinner from both Lady Tamar and Mrs. Grant. And that Lady Tamar would gladly bring her younger sisters—news which made Rosa clap her hands, her face lit up with delighted expectation.

  As they returned to the schoolroom, Caroline said lightly, “You’re looking forward to seeing the Braithwaite girls again.”

  Rosa nodded.

  “You enjoy their company,” Caroline observed, “as they enjoy yours. I’m glad you have found ways to communicate with them so that you can join in.”

  Rosa’s smile faded. She looked away.

  “You can’t always join in?” Caroline asked gently.

  Rosa shook her head. A single tear squeezed out of the corner of one eye and trickled down her face.

  “Rosa.” Caroline put her arm around the child, hugging her to her side. “No one thinks less of you for it. Your family loves you. I love you. Your friends will love you whether or not you speak. I just wonder if you wouldn’t have more fun if you could bring yourself to say the odd word here and there. We grow too comfortable sometimes, with the way things are, but we can always make them better. Like your father and your aunt giving up solitude for company.”

  Rosa smiled wanly. For a moment, she clung to Caroline, and then broke free, and ran to the schoolroom.

  Later that afternoon, while Rosa was lost in her painting of a bowl of fruit, Caroline was drawn to the window by the clop of hooves on the drive. Dr. Lampton, Blackhaven’s preferred physician, dismounted, and, leaving his horse with Williams, walked up the steps to the house.

  Anxiety flooded Caroline. Was Marjorie taken ill? Was Javan? She thought his appetite had been a little better this last week or so, but she’d no real idea what his injuries entailed.

  More than half an hour later, Dr. Lampton still hadn’t ridden away, and Caroline had to force herself not to pace and thus disturb Rosa’s concentration with her own worry. Ginny the maid stuck her head around the door.

  “Master asks that you bring Miss Rosa to the drawing room, Miss.”

  Rosa heard that at once, hastily shoving her painting to one side.

  “That’s very good,” Caroline observed. “We’ll take a look at the light when we return.”

  Javan Benedict was discovered in the drawing room with Dr. Lampton who, since his wife’s death, had developed a rather forbidding aspect to go with his already cynical humor. He did at least relieve his scowl as they entered, presumably for Rosa’s benefit, after she pulled up short at the sight of the unexpected stranger with her father.

  Caroline’s anxious gaze could find nothing ill or even out of the ordinary about Javan. Dr. Lampton gave her a slight bow but came to shake Rosa’s hand when her father introduced them.

  “How do you do, Miss Rosa?” he said gravely. “Your father tells me you haven’t spoken a word in two years and would like to see if I can fix whatever is wrong, so that you can speak to him again. Is this a good idea?”

  Rosa gave a little shrug, which he appeared to take as assent.

  “So, do you feel ill? In pain? Unhappy?”

  To each of his questions, Rosa shook her head.

  Dr. Lampton then asked permission to examine her mouth and throat, then turned her toward the light from the window.

  “Will you let him examine you, too?” Caroline asked.

  “He already has. And Marjorie. I got a special price for a family group. He’d probably throw you in for free if you’d like a quick—”

  “Thank you, I am never ill,” she interrupted. “Please don’t be flippant. Did he find you…well?”

  “I believe so. He gave me some ointment and a vile tasting tonic, and some exercises to strengthen my leg. He seemed to be a sensible man so I let him talk to Marjorie and Rosa.”

  Caroline, who hadn’t expected to learn even those few details from him, cast him a quick glance, but his attention was all on Rosa. While he examined her, Dr. Lampton asked her a lot of questions, even fished a notebook from his bag and a pencil and asked her to write down answers that required more than a nod or a headshake. It was, however, doubtful she would write anything new. Javan had already questioned her in this way and learned very little from her short, evasive answers.

  While Rosa wrote, Dr. Lampton walked across to Javan and Caroline.

  “She’s frightened,” he said abruptly. “And is either afraid to speak of it, or simply doesn’t wish to remember. Therefore, she doesn’t speak at all so that she can never speak about that. I suspect she’ll speak again when she’s ready, for her understanding seems to be quite superior for a child of her years, and I can find no physical damage. If you want to encourage her to speak…my advice would be to confront her—while she feels safe in your protection—with a dilute form of whatever frightened her in the first place.”

  “I don’t know what that was,” Javan said miserably. “I was not in the country when she first stopped speaking.”

  Dr. Lampton shrugged. “Then give her time. For what it’s worth, I believe you are doing the right things.” His gaze flickered over Caroline.

  “And my sister?” Javan asked with difficulty. “Can you suggest anything other than bleeding her?”

  “Bleeding her will only weaken her,” Dr. Lampton snapped. “I would not suggest it at all. I have found a regular infusion of St. John’s wort to help in many such cases. Lavender also. And persuade her to take more exercise or she will atrophy.”

  The doctor took a breath, perhaps realizing he had sounded too short. “Forgive my blunt manners.”

  “I prefer them to any other,” Javan replied.

  “I do not belittle your sister’s condition,” Lampton said. “In fact, you were right to consult me on all three cases, and if you are agreeable, I would like to see you all again in one month. Or earlier, if you feel the need. Good day.”

  He collected his notebook from Rosa with a surprisingly kind smile and took his leave. Rosa and her father both gazed after him.

  “I’m glad you consulted him,” Caroline said.

  “Well, now that we have, let us see who can winkle Marjorie out for a walk with Tiny. My money is on Rosa.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  On the afternoon of the dinner party, Caroline changed quickly into her brown dress, and discovered Marjorie in the dining room, supervising the table setting.

  “Might I help with anything, Miss Benedict?” she enquired.

  Marjorie glanced up in clear relief, and then squeaked at sight of her. “No, no, the other gown, Miss Grey! The pretty one. Hurry.”

  Only wh
en Caroline had changed again was she put to work, arranging table decorations and candles, while Marjorie gazed out of the window, anxiously watching the darkening of the sky.

  “Oh dear, I think a storm is coming,” she mourned. “They will not wish to come here in a storm, in case they cannot get home…”

  However, despite the fast-worsening weather, the Grants arrived in good time and were shown into the drawing room.

  “How wonderful,” Marjorie exclaimed. “We were afraid you would not risk it in this wretched weather.”

  “Oh, we’d never do anything in Blackhaven if we let the weather dictate,” Mrs. Grant said cheerfully. “And it is so kind of you to invite us.”

  While Marjorie was still introducing Richard, Rosa insinuated herself in front of Mrs. Grant, gazing up at her.

  “Rosa,” her father said, placing his hand on her shoulder to pull her back.

  But Mrs. Grant only smiled. “You’re wondering where your friends are, aren’t you? They’ll be here, soon. Serena—Lady Tamar—is never punctual, and time is somewhat stretchable to Lord Tamar!”

  The Grants were both sociable people and excellent company. Richard and Mrs. Grant turned out to have many London acquaintances in common. In fact, Richard claimed to have worshipped her from afar for years without ever speaking to her, although Mrs. Grant took that with a laughing pinch of salt.

  Before dinner had to be put back, the castle entourage arrived. By then, the weather had grown truly filthy, although Serena optimistically maintained the sky would be clear again by nine o’clock.

  They ate dinner to the accompaniment of the howling wind, rattling window panes and the battering of rain on glass, but it was a merry meal. Javan, as he occasionally did, exerted himself to be entertaining, and made sure no one was left out of the conversation, for it was an informal table. Caroline was seated strategically between Richard and Rosa, on the fringes of both the adult and children’s groups, and yet not truly part of either. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the fun of the children’s conversation as well as the witty repartee of the adults, to which she only contributed when addressed directly.

  Javan never spoke to her personally, although he laughed once at her jest with Serena. He seemed slightly taken aback when it was revealed Grant, too, had once been part of Wellington’s army. But he did not disclose his own career, and neither Marjorie nor Richard tried to make him. For the first time, Caroline began to think seriously that there was more to his secretiveness than just preserving Rosa from the unkind gossip that might be associated with Colonel Benedict.

  “You are right, of course,” Richard murmured beside her.

  “About what in particular?” she asked lightly.

  “The gossip will begin anyway, with Swayle in town. When I was in Blackhaven yesterday, I discovered he has already started foul rumors. To be honest, I’m surprised to see our guests, for he is very plausible.”

  “Our guests pay little attention to gossip,” Caroline returned, “having been at various times, the subjects of it themselves. Besides, they are too good natured.”

  “Everyone in Blackhaven is not,” Richard said with a little grimness. “They cannot be. This is too bad, just when he’s pulling himself out of—” He broke off abruptly.

  Caroline waited, gazing at her plate while her fingers played idly with the stem of her wine glass. But he did not elucidate, and she would not ask. Eventually, she picked up her glass and under the cover of drinking from it, cast a quick glance up the table to Javan.

  “There it is again,” Richard murmured, even lower.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Concern. And yet you never encroach. If I wasn’t the cynic I was born to be, I’d almost imagine you cared for him from afar and were content to do so.”

  Stricken, she stared at him. For an instant, he gazed back, then swore under his breath and laughed aloud. “Smile, Miss Grey,” he said between his teeth. “For the benefit of all. I have the lie of the land now and shall act accordingly.”

  She smiled blindly, in case anyone was looking at her. “You mean to have me dismissed?” she whispered. Would Javan do that? For her own good? He must know better than Richard how she felt. And of course, she should not stay here feeling as she did for her employer, only…only she could not bear to leave him. Or Rosa. Surely there was a powerful, still-growing bond between all three of them…

  “How would I do that?” Richard said reasonably. “I told you I have the lie of the land, and I won’t hurt either of you.”

  Confused, she turned away to speak to Rosa and the other children who, at that moment, made more sense.

  After dinner, the ladies repaired to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port. The girls were allowed to escape up to the schoolroom to play, although Maria, almost grown-up, opted to stay with the adults.

  “The weather is atrocious,” Marjorie said anxiously. “If anything, it’s worse. I hate to think of you going home in that, in the dark. I wonder…” Her eyes glazed as she sank into thought.

  “It is wild,” Serena said from the window.

  “We have space here, do we not, Miss Grey?” Marjorie said abruptly. “There are two guest bedchambers currently unused, although the young ladies…”

  “The two younger ones could fit easily into Rosa’s huge bed with her,” Caroline said. “And we could make up the couch for Lady Maria.”

  “Oh no, it would put you to far too much trouble,” Serena objected.

  “Not at all,” Marjorie assured. “I’ll just see that the beds are made up and fires lit…”

  “Let me do that, ma’am,” Caroline said quietly, and Marjorie smiled gratefully, sinking back down into her chair while Caroline went down to the kitchen.

  Two maids were easily pried away from washing up to help make up beds, and Williams went to fetch wood and coal for the fires.

  When she finally returned to the drawing room, it was to find the gentleman had rejoined them, and Miss Benedict was about to pour tea. Quietly, Caroline took the cups and saucers from Marjorie and took them to the ladies and gentlemen.

  “Efficient as ever,” Javan murmured, when she served him last. “I suppose all our guests now have warm, clean beds to go to?”

  “Well, the warming pans are still to go in,” Caroline said apologetically, “but yes, they should be ready by the time everyone retires.”

  His lips quirked. “Thank you.”

  She searched his eyes quickly. “I hope you do not mind. It seemed the best solution”

  “It is. Quite right.” He rested his hip on the arm of an empty chair. Caroline was conscious of an urge to stay with him, to sit in that chair and feel the brush of his coat, his elbow whenever he moved, to simply soak up his nearness. Instead, she walked to the other side of the room and sat by Miss Benedict, where it was safe.

  *

  With all the girls staying in Rosa’s chamber, her father could not sit with her as he usually did. From bewilderment at her unprecedented company, she went to panic and ran to her father in the drawing room as though to prove to herself he was still there. After that, since Caroline was in and out organizing the girls, the fun of this novelty began to sink in.

  By popular demand, Caroline read to them all in bed, and when she stood up to go, the Braithwaite girls all embraced her, declaring how much they missed her and how lucky Rosa was. Touched, Caroline hugged them back, ending with Rosa.

  “Shall I stay until you’re all asleep?” she asked, with a quelling look at her old pupils to prevent them ridiculing the idea.

  Rosa hesitated, then shook her head and released Caroline to prod Helen in the back and make her squeal.

  Without giving a reason, Caroline announced that the night light would remain lit, then left them alone. She read until they quieted down, and then undressed for bed. Despite the noise of the storm, she fell asleep almost immediately.

  She woke in darkness to the shuffle of footsteps on the other side of the passage door. Her first thought was
that it was the girls up to mischief. She shot out of bed, blundering toward the door and throwing it open before she realized she couldn’t see who was in the passage without a light. Whoever was out there didn’t carry one, but she could still hear the slow, shuffle of feet.

  Her fingers were infuriatingly clumsy and slow with the flint, but at last the candle was lit. Seizing it, she hurried out the door just in time to see a male figure vanish around the corner of the passage toward the stairs.

  Javan? Was he sleepwalking again? It had been stormy the last time he had done this… What if he went outside again? What if he fell downstairs? Even if he merely embarrassed himself in front of his guests, he would be mortified.

  Caroline flung her wrapper around herself, and hastened along the passage, her candle light bobbing and flickering in front of her.

  Javan stood with his back to the stairs, quite still, gazing straight ahead. She was afraid to speak to him or to touch him, in case he jerked backward and fell, for he was quite clearly sleepwalking again. Then, without warning, he moved away from her—or perhaps from the light, for he lifted one hand as though shading his eyes. He walked swiftly across the landing, Caroline at his heels.

  Her candlelight flickered over the library door, and with relief, she recognized a safe place to wake him. If she could make him go in.

  However, as soon as she opened the door, he turned toward the faint noise, as if his dreaming urge to escape was attuned to the sound. He walked straight past her into the room.

  Hastily, she followed and closed the door, then set the candle down on the table.

  “Sir,” she said quietly, standing directly in front of him. “Sir, you must wake up.”

  At the first sound of her voice, he took a decisive step away from her, and yet he paused, looking back toward her, frowning in the dim light, his mouth twisted with some strange mixture of despair and hope.

  “I told them,” he said, in peculiar agony. “I told them.”

  “Sir, Javan, please wake up!”

  He blinked several times and swayed. She caught his elbows and his arms swung around her as though holding himself up.