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‘Why the devil does the world have to take such an interest in my affairs?’
‘Oh, come, James! You must know that you’ve been regarded as one of London’s most eligible bachelors ever since you were old enough to enter society. Lady Barbara is only one of a large number of girls whose names have been linked with yours in the past year or two. Three others are also in that newspaper—Mary Abernauld, Sarah Carteret and the Paston chit. You are acquiring a reputation, James.’
‘Really, ma’am, I thought you had better sense. You more than anyone must know what it is like. I have only to dance once with a girl, or happen to be more than once in the same room with her, or even raise my hat to her in the street, for the gossips’ tongues to start wagging. I hardly knew the Carteret girl. Our so-called affair was only ever in the girl’s imagination, fed by her mother’s ambition. I never remotely considered asking her to marry me.’
She shook her head. ‘You have never to my knowledge remotely considered asking anyone to marry you.’ She put the Gazette back on the table with a sigh. ‘Three of London’s most desirable young women—four with the Paston girl—all well born, all well bred and all passably good-looking. And now they are all about to marry someone else.’ She gave a frustrated tap on the floor with her stick. ‘You’ve known Barbara Furness a long time. I had such high hopes of her.’
‘She was John’s friend, not mine.’
‘But John is dead and you are alive. You could well have made a match of it. Now you’ve lost her to Rothmuir, who must be fifty if he’s a day! What stopped you? Is there some truth in what they are all saying? That you think no woman is good enough for you?’
James was offended. He said curtly, ‘You must know me better than that! Of course that’s not true!’ He turned away from her and gazed out of the window.
Lady Aldhurst said more gently, ‘Then what is it, James?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve been introduced to innumerable girls since I came out of the army. They all seem such polished articles. They’ve been trained to smile, but not too much, to converse, but not too wittily, to play an instrument, but not too brilliantly. They have been to the best dressmakers, the best milliners, and they have without exception been taught every trick of proper deportment. So much effort in pursuit of a suitable match…’
He paused and turned round to look at her. ‘The trouble is, ma’am, there is so little to distinguish one from another.’ He corrected himself. ‘No, Barbara Furness is different. She is a minx, but she at least makes me laugh…John loved her, and since he died I have very occasionally wondered whether she and I could tolerate one another enough to make a marriage work.’
‘Well then—why not Lady Barbara?’
‘The feeling didn’t last. She is beautiful enough, and she amuses me, but I want more than that from a wife. I’d rather not marry at all than feel nothing more than amusement or a somewhat lukewarm regard for the woman I intend to share the rest of my life with.’
‘But you must marry, James! You owe it to the family. You’re the last of us now that John has gone. You must have some sons. Or do you intend to let the line die out altogether?’
There was a long silence during which James continued to watch the carriages and horses, the vendors and servants passing in a constant stream up and down Brook Street. At last he said with a touch of bitterness, ‘You’re right, of course. I owe it to the family. When John died I “owed it to the family” to give up the Army career I loved. After my father died I “owed it to the family” to spend months rescuing our estates—Charterton, Aldhurst, Baldock and the rest—after he had neglected them for years.’
‘You haven’t mentioned the most important. You haven’t mentioned Roade.’
‘I haven’t been to Roade. I dislike the place,’ he said curtly.
‘Your grandfather and I loved it, James.’
After another pause he turned round and said grimly, ‘And now I suppose you think I owe it to the family to secure its survival.’
‘Quite right! You’ve waited far too long as it is. You need to marry.’
‘You know, ma’am, I was fool enough to hope that one day I would find someone special—the sort of woman who would mean as much to me as you meant to my grandfather. But I’m beginning to think she doesn’t exist.’
For a moment Lady Aldhurst looked her age. But before James could utter another word she had pulled herself together, and was at her most astringent as she said, ‘That is, of course, a pity, and I am sorry for it. But I’ve waited long enough to see you settled. It’s time you found someone to marry even if she isn’t your ideal. The Season will be on us in a month. There’s bound to be a suitable bride among this year’s crop of débutantes. You must make up your mind to choose one!’
He smiled ruefully. ‘They are all so…so young, ma’am.’
‘Most debutantes are, James,’ said his grandmother drily. She regarded him for a moment, then said in a softened tone, ‘There’s always a chance that one of them will suit you better than you think. Here’s one who might be different.’ She picked the paper up again, and read out, ‘“Sir Henry Calverley, one of the government’s most senior diplomats, is returning shortly to London in order to take part in this year’s London Season. It is understood that he wishes to present his daughter, Miss Antonia Calverley, at the Court of St James. Miss Calverley should prove an interesting addition to London society. She left England when she was a child and has since then been her father’s constant companion, helping him in his work and mixing with some of the most distinguished families in Europe.” Now there’s a girl who could interest you. You cannot say she will be your average debutante.’
‘No,’ he said moodily. ‘She’s probably full of stories about life in the highest circles. And, if she is so used to managing matters for her father, she will probably expect to manage a husband as well. That doesn’t sound like the one for me!’
Lady Aldhurst looked at her grandson thoughtfully for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind. ‘I can see how open-minded you are in your search for a wife, James,’ she said drily, ‘but before you start, I think you should pay a visit to Hatherton. You haven’t been there for ages, and Mrs Culver and the rest of the servants would be very happy to see you. And you can take a look at Roade House while you are there. Talk to your people. It wouldn’t do any harm to you or your reputation to get out of London for a week or two—a month even. There would still be time for you to be back here before the Season gets fully under way.’
‘I suppose you think I really ought to stay at Roade.’
‘I would not dream of suggesting anything of the sort! The place has been shut up for so many years that it would take an army to make it fit for anyone to spend even a night there, let alone a week or two. No, you must stay at Hatherton. And, while Mrs Culver and the rest are making their usual fuss of you, you can visit Roade and see what needs to be done to it. It is, after all, your chief place of residence, and when you do marry I hope you and your wife and children will live there.’
She shook her head at him, and then put out her hand. ‘Go, James. A visit to Hatherton and Roade might give you a purpose in life, help you to see your future in a more positive light.’
Chapter Two
James had hesitated. Then he had recalled the many happy times he had enjoyed at Hatherton Grange. It was a relatively unpretentious country house, but Aldhursts had lived in it for three hundred years before his great-grandfather had built Roade House on higher ground a mile or so away. After his grandfather had died his grandmother had left Roade to move down to Hatherton and had made it her own. Its servants and tenants were all fiercely loyal to her, and many of them were old friends of James, too. He and his brother John had been brought to live with her there after she had discovered that her two small grandchildren had been left behind at Roade, while their parents travelled abroad.
At Hatherton he and John had learned to ride and shoot under the strict supervision of Tom Gage, his grandmother’s gamekeeper and chief groom. Mrs Culver, her housekeeper, had bound up their injuries, looked after them during childhood illnesses, and scolded them after their many escapades. And his grandmother had given them the love his parents had denied them. Hatherton had always held a special place in his affections. It should be a good place to come to terms with the life ahead of him.
So he had looked at his grandmother and nodded. ‘Very well,’ he had said. ‘I’ll go.’
But when he had set out from London that day he hadn’t expected to be sharing the house with a mysterious stranger, let alone a young woman! Where had she come from? The road to his grandmother’s house was an unfrequented lane; their nearest neighbours were four miles away, and the Portsmouth Road was several miles to the west. And how had she come by that ugly bruise on her head? The rope burns on her wrists?
He turned to look at her and saw that her eyes were open. ‘You’re still here.’ Her voice was a thread of sound. He came over to the bed and sat down.
‘Are you warm?’
She frowned. ‘Too warm. Water? Please?’
Mrs Culver had left a pitcher on the chest by the bed. He poured a little water into the glass beside it, raised her slightly and held it to her lips. But she had taken no more than a sip when her eyes closed.
‘Who are you?’ he asked softly.
He thought that she hadn’t heard him, but then, ‘I’m An…’ she began. She stopped and a small frown wrinkled her brow. After a moment she tried again. ‘I’m An…’ There was another pause, longer this time. ‘I know who you are,’ she said at last. ‘You said I was safe here.’ He nodded and she gave a small sigh. ‘I’m An…’
‘Anne who?’
Her head moved restlessly on the pillow. ‘I don’t…’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He put his hand reassuringly over hers. ‘You can tell me later. And you are safe here, I promise.’
‘I know. Your name is James Aldhurst. This is your grandmother’s house.’ Her eyes opened. ‘Where is she?’
‘She isn’t here. She’s in London.’
She closed her eyes again and seemed to fall asleep. Thankfully, he tucked the covers round her and relaxed. After a while one of the maids came in to see if he needed anything. She offered to sit with the girl for a while too, but James refused. The frantic appeal in the girl’s eyes, the way she had clung to him, had touched him, and he intended to be there when she woke again.
The girl slept quietly for an hour or two, but after a while began to mutter and turn her head restlessly on the pillow again. James had to replace the covers as she tried to push them from her, but she protested, ‘No, don’t! I’m too…hot. Too hot. Thirsty…’ When he lifted her again and gave her a sip of water his heart sank as he realised that she was burning with heat. She was muttering incoherently, but he caught the word London several times. Then she opened her eyes and said quite clearly, ‘I must go to London! Now!’
‘You can’t go anywhere at the moment. You’ve hurt your head. You must rest.’
She resisted his efforts to put her back on the pillow and cried, ‘But there isn’t time, I tell you. You mustn’t stop me. Let me go, let me go!’ Eyes bright with fever and cheeks flushed with two spots of brilliant colour, she pushed his hand away with unexpected force and struggled to sit up. When he put an arm out to hold her back she grew even more agitated and shouted, ‘You can’t stop me! I won’t let you keep me here!’ Thrusting the covers back, she scrambled to get out of the bed, but before her foot even touched the ground she gave a cry and if James had not caught her she would have fallen to the floor. He could feel the heat of her body through the fine linen of the nightgown. She was burning up with fever.
James put her back in the bed as quickly and as gently as he could and covered her up. Then he went to the door and shouted for a servant to send for Mrs Culver, who came hurrying into the bedroom in a surprisingly short time. ‘I hadn’t gone to bed—I thought something like this would happen,’ she said briskly. ‘Now, Master James, I’d like you to hold the young woman while I give her a sip of the draught Dr Liston sent. That’s the way.’
The girl stirred as he raised her, but made no protest as Mrs Culver administered the sedative and James laid her back against the pillows. She was quiet again. Mrs Culver straightened the covers, and said firmly, ‘And now I want you to leave her with me till morning, my lord. This is a sick woman and she needs proper nursing.
She’ll be well looked after, never fear. One of the maids will join me in a minute. If she wakes and asks for you, I’ll send for you. Meanwhile, you’d do better to have some rest yourself.’
James went to his room reassured. Years before, whenever he and John had been sick, they had only ever wanted Cully to nurse them. She was the best possible person to look after his mysterious and unexpected protégée.
To his surprise James slept for a few hours, but woke soon after dawn. He had not been disturbed during the night, and hoped this was a good sign, but he nevertheless threw on his dressing robe and hurried along to the green bedroom. The maid was fast asleep in a chair on the other side of the room, but Mrs Culver was leaning over the bed, bathing her patient’s face.
‘How is she, Cully?’ he asked as he came softly into the room.
‘She hasn’t stirred all night, and seems to be breathing quite naturally. The fever has gone down.’
‘That’s good news! You must be tired. Let me take over.’
‘I never need much sleep, Master James. And I think…’ She paused as the maid stirred and woke up. Then, with a critical look at James’s state of undress, she raised her voice and said, ‘I think I can say the patient is doing well, my lord. It’s kind of you to be concerned. I’m sure it would be quite in order for you to visit her later in the day—after breakfast, perhaps?’ She turned to the maid. ‘Rose, go to the kitchen and tell cook to have his lordship’s breakfast ready in half an hour. And if Mrs Gage is in the kitchen, ask her to come up here.’ The girl turned to go. ‘And, Rose! Remember to hold your tongue about this young woman!’ Rose nodded and left.
Ater she had gone Mrs Culver said severely, ‘My lord, I have to say that coming along here at this hour before you are properly dressed was very unwise. The sudden arrival of this young woman has given the servants enough to talk about already. It won’t do to give them any more.’
James brushed this aside and asked, ‘Why do you wish to see Mrs Gage?’
‘She’s a good nurse and knows how to keep a still tongue in her head. If you agreed, she could sit with the young woman during the day.’
‘Surely I could do that!’
Mrs Culver said in an exasperated tone, ‘What have I just been saying? You mustn’t do it, Master James! But there! I might as well talk to a five-bar gate! You haven’t changed, and I don’t suppose you will. You’re just the same as you always were, forever rescuing something or other.’ She cast a look at the girl on the bed and said, ‘But this isn’t cat or a dog or a bird or one of those wild animals you took under your wing! It’s a grown woman, and you have to be more circumspect. People will gossip if you seem to be taking her into your care! She will have to go elsewhere as soon as she can be moved. To the parish, if necessary.’
‘No, Cully! I refuse to leave her to the mercy of the parish.’
Frowning, Mrs Culver looked at him sharply and said, ‘Just what is this person to you, my lord?’
James looked at the sleeping figure. ‘I had never seen her before last night, if that is what you mean. I don’t know who or what she is, or where she comes from. But you’re wrong if you think she is some kind of vagrant, Cully. She’s a lady, I’ll swear. And she’s in some sort of trouble—or even danger. Until she can tell us more about herself she will have my—our protection.’
Mrs Culver was still not convinced, but said resignedly, ‘I hope your grandmother never hears about this, Master James. But for the moment you’d better get dressed and ready for breakfast. Doctor Liston will be here soon. He said he’d call in early this morning. Perhaps the young woman will be able to talk to us after he has been.’ She gave a nod and added firmly, ‘And then, when we know where she belongs, she can be sent back there the moment she is well enough.’
James had thought he would visit the girl as soon as he had finished his breakfast, but when he went upstairs he found he would have to wait. Doctor Liston was with her. It seemed like hours before the door of the room opened and the surgeon came out.
‘Good morning, Lord Aldhurst.’
‘How is she, Liston?’
‘I’m pleased to say that I think she is out of danger, though she’s still weak. She should be kept warm, given plenty of liquids and left undisturbed. I doubt the fever will return, but if it does you should send for me. Good day to you, my lord. Unless I hear from you sooner, I’ll call at the same time tomorrow again.’
James looked in on the girl several times during the day, but found her asleep with Mrs Gage or one of the maids in attendance. They told him that she occasionally roused herself enough to sip a little water, but fell asleep again almost immediately. ‘It’s the best thing, Master James,’ said Mrs Culver, when he expressed concern about this prolonged rest. ‘As the doctor said, it’s what that girl needs most.’
When he came to see her the next morning Dr Liston was just coming out of the room.
‘How is she this morning, Liston? Not worse?’
The surgeon looked at him somewhat strangely. ‘No, no! Her constitution is a strong one. She seems to have survived her exposure to the elements remarkably well. The head wound is healing nicely…’ He paused. ‘Her vision does not seem to be affected, and she speaks sensibly enough. But…’
‘But what?’
The doctor hesitated, then put his hand on the door. ‘Perhaps you should talk to her. She might remember you.’ He held the door open for James.
Mrs Gage was at the head of the bed, plumping up the pillows behind the girl. She gave them a last pat and then curtsied and withdrew. Sitting propped up against them the girl looked weary, but the hectic flush had died down, leaving her pale again, as white as the bandage she now wore round her head. Her eyes were open and clear as she looked across the room at him,
but their expression of bewildered anxiety gave James a strong urge to hold her, to comfort her as he would a child, until that dreadful, lost look was chased away. But with Cully’s warnings in mind he mastered the impulse and kept his voice normal as he came towards her.
‘Good morning,’ he said, sitting down by the bed. ‘How are you?’
She hadn’t taken her eyes off him. ‘I recognise you. You’re James Aldhurst,’ she said. ‘And this is your grandmother’s house.’ She paused and looked at him anxiously. ‘Is that right?’
He nodded. ‘Absolutely right,’ he said.
She gave a sigh of relief. ‘At least I’ve remembered that much.’ She looked at him gravely. ‘Good morning, James Aldhurst.’
‘Good morning. I’m glad you remembered my name. Now tell me yours.’
‘Didn’t I…didn’t I tell you?’
‘No, not quite.’
‘What do you mean? What did I say?’
James wondered why the girl was so reluctant to tell him who she was. He said slowly, ‘You can trust me with all of it, you know. You’ve only told me your first name. Anne.’
Her look of eagerness vanished. ‘Anne…’ she said, and for a moment she frowned in intense concentration. Then she shook her head and the lost look returned. ‘I…I can’t,’ she said. ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t remember.’ Her voice rose as she repeated, ‘Anne…Anne…Anne what?’ She looked at him, her eyes full of anxiety. ‘I can remember who you are, but I don’t remember who I am! I…I seem to have lost my memory!’
James took her hand in his and said gently, ‘No, you haven’t. You remembered me, and you remembered where you are, didn’t you? You’re just still confused after that bang on the head. You’ll remember the rest soon enough. Worrying about it would be the worst thing you could do. Let it come naturally. It will come back all the sooner, you’ll see.’ He smiled at her encouragingly.
Her fingers grasped his, and she gave him a twisted smile in return. ‘Yes, yes. It will, I’m sure it will. Forgive me. I’m not usually as poor-spirited as this. It must be that bang on the head.’
‘You see? You’ve remembered something about yourself already! You’re certainly not poor-spirited. That’s a quite a relief! I’m not fond of poor-spirited girls.’
She made an attempt to smile, but it failed. ‘What happened? I don’t even know how I got here.’
‘We brought you in after we found you lying unconscious on the drive to this house. I think you must have been there for some time. There was a storm and you were very wet.’
‘A storm? I don’t remember that at all,’ she said wearily, turning her head away.
Doctor Liston came over. ‘Lord Aldhurst, I think my patient needs to rest again.’ He caught Mrs Gage’s eye. ‘Can you find something for the young lady, Mrs Gage—a little thin soup or gruel, something like that?’
‘I’ll see to it right away, sir,’ said Mrs Gage. She went out.
The surgeon turned to the girl on the bed and said kindly, ‘I’ll call again tomorrow to see how you are, but there’s not much more I can do. Temporary loss of memory is not at all unusual in a case like yours. You must not distress yourself, ma’am. I think you can depend on Lord Aldhurst to find somewhere for you to stay until your memory returns.’
‘She will stay here, Liston,’ said James decisively.
Doctor Liston looked surprised. ‘It’s good of Lady Aldhurst—’
‘My grandmother is not here. But I am sure she would agree with me that Miss…Miss Anne must stay at Hatherton for the time being.’
The surgeon looked doubtful, but said, ‘Very well, my lord. I shall come again tomorrow. Er…when are you expecting Lady Aldhurst to arrive?’
‘I am not expecting her,’ said James as he ushered the surgeon out of the room. ‘Lady Aldhurst is in London and as far as I know is planning to stay there.’
‘But in that case, surely the young lady—’
‘Set your mind at rest. The young lady will be perfectly safe here, with or without my grandmother’s presence. I don’t make a habit of seducing defenceless invalids.’
The surgeon was shocked out of his professional manner. ‘Really, sir!’ he exclaimed. ‘Nothing was further from my mind! But convention would suggest…The Rector would possibly know of somewhere more suitable…’ He looked at James’s expression. ‘Or if you wish, I could ask Mrs Liston if she would offer the young lady a room.’
‘No, Liston. The young lady is my responsibility. I found her, and I shall look after her. Mrs Liston would not thank you for bringing someone who might be in danger into the house.’
‘Danger?’
‘You saw the girl’s wrists. She has been kept somewhere against her will. Whoever tied her up may well want her back, and I suspect they may not be too scrupulous about their methods.’
‘I see…Well…in that case it may be best to leave her in your care after all, Lord Aldhurst.’
‘Quite.’
Doctor Liston was obviously shaken. ‘I shall…er…I shall call again tomorrow—unless you think I shouldn’t?’
‘Please do,’ said James.
He went back into the bedroom. The girl had taken the bandages off her wrist and was examining the scars.
‘You heard,’ said James.
‘Yes. The door wasn’t quite shut. I seem to be causing you a great deal of trouble.’ She looked at him. ‘You should have listened to Dr Liston.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘I mean it. What would your grandmother say if she arrived to find an uninvited stranger in her house? A nameless stranger at that!’