The Dangerous Lord Darrington

Chapter Four

Lady Arabella did not believe in the modern notion of nuncheon and it was usually close to noon before she left her apartments to break her fast. By that time Beth had normally been up for hours and busy with her household duties, but after a night keeping watch in the sickroom she had slept the early morning away and was roused by her maid coming to tell her that Dr Compton had arrived to see his patient.

The hour was therefore quite advanced by the time Beth made her way to the breakfast table. Lord Darrington was already there and appeared to be upon the very best of terms with his hostess. They were bandying names unfamiliar to Beth as she came in and she heard her grandmother sigh.

‘Of course I never go to town now and most of my old friends have passed on, so I am no longer in touch with the world.’

‘Nonsense, Grandmama,’ said Beth bracingly. ‘Sophia and I read the London papers to you every day!’

‘Including the Intelligencer?’ murmured Guy.

Beth avoided his laughing eyes.

‘But that is hardly the same,’ stated Lady Arabella. ‘I was telling Darrington he should go to town more.’

‘London holds no charms for me,’ said the earl apologetically. He was dressed once more in his fine wool riding jacket and tightly fitting buckskins, but all traces of mud and dirt had been removed.

‘I am pleased Mrs Robinson managed to clean your clothes for you,’ said Beth as he rose and held out a chair for her.

‘Yes. They were delivered up to me earlier this morning. Please thank your housekeeper for me. However, I shall be happier once Holt has arrived with my baggage. I would prefer to wear something a little more formal—and my own!—before I sit down to dinner again.’

Beth refused to respond to his charming smile.

‘There is not the least need for you to put yourself to the inconvenience of staying another night—’

‘That is enough, Elizabeth.’ Lady Arabella’s voice cut across the table. ‘I have invited Lord Darrington to stay with us for as long as he wishes.’

‘But our household cannot be what the earl is accustomed to,’ objected Beth.

Lady Arabella silenced her with the wave of her hand and turned again to the earl.

‘My granddaughter appears to think we are not good enough for you, Darrington. I do not know why. The Wakefords can trace their line back before the Conqueror and my own family rose to prominence in the time of good King Hal. Your own title, I believe, was not created until the time of Charles the Second.’

The earl nodded. ‘That is correct, ma’am. I am a veritable up start.’

‘That is not what I meant at all,’ protested Beth, flustered. ‘I was … concerned for your comfort, sir.’

His sceptical look brought the colour flooding to her cheeks and she was pleased when Sophie arrived to create a diversion. Her young sister was prettily polite to their guest and enquired solicitously after his friend’s health.

‘I have not yet seen him this morning, Miss Wakeford, but I believe he is comfortable.’ The earl looked an enquiry at Beth, who nodded. He continued, ‘I am much in Mrs Forrester’s debt. She attended Mr Davies throughout the night.’

‘Ah, then that accounts for her crotchets this morning,’ remarked Lady Arabella with no little satisfaction.

Normally Beth would have laughed off such a comment, but the fact that the earl was present to hear it made her feel out of reason cross. She turned to her sister.

‘Sophie my love, will you have time to help me today? We need to gather more comfrey leaves.’

‘More?’ said Lady Arabella. ‘But you went out collecting comfrey only last week. Surely you have enough?’

‘Rudge tells me the old mare requires another poultice, ma’am,’ Beth explained patiently.

‘Then let him go and gather the leaves,’ retorted her grandmother. ‘He is, after all, the groom—or he could send the stable boy.’

‘Really I do not mind going,’ said Sophie quickly. ‘I know exactly where to find the best comfrey plants and shall collect a whole basketful. Then we shall have leaves to dry as well as fresh ones to use now.’ She smiled across the table at Lady Arabella. ‘You need have no fear, Grandmama. I shall be back in time to read the papers to you while you are resting before dinner.’

‘You have both forgotten our guest may need entertaining.’

The earl shook his head. ‘Not at all, my lady. I am very happy to amuse myself.’

‘Lord Darrington is, of course, welcome to join us on our expedition,’ Beth offered politely but Guy did not miss the look of relief that crossed her features when he declined.

He said, ‘I expect the carriage to arrive from Highridge at any moment and I propose to take a stroll along the drive to look out for it.’

‘Then if you will excuse us, we will collect our baskets and be off. Come, Sophie.’

The two young ladies disappeared, Lady Arabella made her way to the morning room, declaring that she was going to write her letters, and Guy was left alone. After assuring himself that Davey was still asleep, he made his way to the entrance and descended the steep stone steps to the drive. It was a bright, sunny morning with just a hint of autumn in the air and it was hard to believe that only the night before he had followed the farmhands as they carried Davey’s body through the rain, up these same steps and into the house. He looked around him with interest at the old building. The original refectory with its gabled roof now housed the main entrance and great hall. Beside the steps was an ancient arched doorway, leading to the undercroft. Intrigued, Guy tried the door, but it was locked. Wandering on, he soon spotted the stable block and made his way across to it. He noted with approval the tidy yard and quickly strode across the swept cobbles and through the high-arched entrance to the stables. Inside he found an iron-haired groom inspecting Davey’s bay mare. The man touched his cap when he saw Guy approaching.

‘Rudge, isn’t it?’ Guy addressed him pleasantly and nodded towards the mare. ‘No injuries, I hope?’

‘No, sir, she’s in fine fettle. As is your hunter, my lord. We brushed ‘em down, fed and watered ‘em as we would our own. They was a bit shaken, but they’re both as good as new, now.’

‘Well, that’s good news.’ Guy smiled. ‘I would not want to add to your work when you already have one lame horse to worry about.’

‘Sir?’

‘Your mistress said this morning there was an old mare needed a poultice.’

Slowly the groom shook his head. ‘Not in these stables, my lord. I check them all every morning and I’d know if there was summat wrong.’

Guy frowned for a moment, then shrugged.

‘No matter, mayhap I misunderstood her.’ He heard the rattle of an approaching carriage. ‘Ah, that should be Mr Davies’s man—and my groom. I hope you will be able to accommodate Holt in your stables, Rudge? He is a useful man, and of course he will defer to you,’ he added quickly, making a mental note to talk to Holt before he set him to work.

Guy made his way back to the front drive in time to see his travelling chariot sweep into view. Holt was riding on the back seat and jumped down nimbly even before the carriage had stopped. A few words sufficed to send him hurrying off to the stables and Guy was then free to observe Peters, Mr Davies’s diminutive but very efficient valet, and the various trunks and bags that he had brought to the Priory.

In a very short time Peters had made himself at home in the sickroom, unpacking the bags and even finding time to shave his master in readiness for Dr Compton’s next visit. However, Guy would not allow the valet to remove Mr Davies’s borrowed nightshirt until the doctor had pronounced the patient well enough to be moved. Davey himself, sleepy from laudanum and irritable from discomfort, swore roundly and wished them at the very devil, his outburst bringing a rare smile to his servant’s rather austere countenance.

‘It is good to see that you are recovering, sir,’ he murmured as he walked out of the room with the shaving apparatus.

‘Damn your eyes, why did you have to send for him?’ grumbled Davey. His fair hair was ruffled and his boyish face was uncharacteristically glum.

‘Because he is the best person to look after you,’ returned Guy, unperturbed. He perched himself on the edge of the bed. ‘But tell me truthfully, how do you feel?’

‘Like the very devil! I don’t think there is a part of me that doesn’t hurt. Can’t laugh or cough without a stabbing pain in my ribs, my wrist feels as if it’s sprained and my leg—’ He glanced up and Guy saw the anxiety lurking in his guileless blue eyes. ‘Is it …?’

‘Broken, nothing more serious. The doctor has set it and thinks it should heal perfectly, if you will be patient.’

‘And where are we? I don’t recognise this house, nor the servants.’

‘Malpass Priory, near Fentonby. It is the home of Lady Arabella Wakeford. Do you know her?’

Davey frowned. ‘No. I’ve heard the name, though.’

‘So have I.’ Guy frowned. ‘Cannot quite recall where I have seen it. They are a very old family, I understand.’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘The Wakefords were ennobled long before the Wylders gained their earldom.’

‘Well, their house is certainly old enough,’ remarked Davey, staring at the gracefully arching window with its leaded lights. ‘But thankfully they have had the wisdom to renew the mattress on this old bed! Have they put you up, too? Are you comfortable?’

‘The room is comfortable enough.’

Davey did not miss the hesitation in Guy’s tone and he said bluntly, ‘Are we inconveniencing the family?’

‘I am not sure.’ Guy rubbed his chin. ‘The old lady seems happy enough to have us here and they were quick enough to take you in last night, but I have the distinct impression her granddaughter doesn’t want me here.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I am unjust. It may be that she is uneasy having gentlemen in the house. The old lady lives here alone, you see, with her two granddaughters—there was a grandson, but I understand he died at sea some eighteen months ago.’

‘That will be it, then,’ said Davey sagely. ‘The women are afraid of being ravaged by the Dangerous Lord Darrington! Don’t worry—I’ll soon make it known that you are house-trained and only seduce women who throw themselves at you.’

‘Thank you, my friend, but I would prefer you to say no such thing.’ Guy noted his friend’s pallor and rose. ‘All this talking has tired you. Rest now until the doctor arrives. I could send for your own doctor from Helmsley if you prefer, but Compton seems able enough.’

‘No, no, I don’t want anyone else fussing over me.’ Davey waved his hand. ‘Go away, now, and let me sleep. And tell Peters to keep out of my sight until after the sawbones has been to see me!’

Encouraged by his friend’s return to spirits, Guy went out. He intended to go back to his own room and check his bag to see what changes of clothes his man had sent for him, but the sound of voices coming from the great hall drew him instead to descend the stairs.

He observed a tall, fashionably dressed gentleman standing before the fireplace. He had removed his Holland hat of brushed beaver to display a heavily powdered wig tied back into a queue with a green ribbon. He wore brown breeches and highly polished topboots, and the gloves and cane that lay on the bench beside his hat suggested he had arrived on horseback.

As Guy reached the bottom stair the man became aware of his presence and swung round towards him. He subjected Guy to a searching scrutiny before giving a little bow.

‘You must be Lord Darrington,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Allow me to present myself. Miles Radworth, at your service.’

Ah, thought Guy. The fiancé. That might explain the underlying reserve.

‘Kepwith has been telling me of the accident,’ continued Mr Radworth. ‘I trust your friend has sustained no serious injury?’

‘A few cracked ribs and a broken leg, but nothing more, we hope. We are awaiting the doctor now.’

‘Excellent, excellent. Let us hope he has good news for you. You will be wanting to get your friend back to his own house, I don’t doubt.’

Guy met Radworth’s smile with one equally bland.

‘All in good time,’ he responded. ‘Lady Arabella has been most hospitable. We are very comfortable here.’

‘Ah. I’m glad to hear it,’ came the insincere reply.

A rustle of skirts made both men look towards the door.

‘Miles! I did not expect you here today.’

Beth Forrester came in, pausing to remove her straw bonnet, and at that moment the sun shone in through the high window in the gable wall, bathing her in a golden glow. Guy could not but appreciate the effect: her red curls flamed about her head, accentuating the whiteness of her skin and the deep, liquid depths of her brown eyes. With the grey redingote hanging open from her shoulders and her white skirts billowing as she moved, Guy was suddenly reminded of an oil painting he had seen once, by one of the old Italian masters: an angel descending to the earth. As if to confirm his impression the glinting sun created a halo around her flaming head as she tossed aside her bonnet and held out her hands to Miles Radworth.

‘I had not planned to come,’ he said, lifting her fingers to his lips, ‘but when word reached me that there had been an accident—’

‘But not to me.’ She smiled up at him, her fingers squeezing his briefly before she disengaged herself and moved away. ‘You have met Lord Darrington?’

‘We introduced ourselves,’ murmured Guy. ‘Was your search successful, ma’am? Did you find the leaves you required?’

‘Yes, two full baskets! I gave them to Sophie to take to the still room rather than trail them through the house.’

‘Comfrey leaves, was it not?’ he asked. ‘To make a compress for your lame horse?’

She shot a quick look at him.

‘Why, yes, comfrey has many uses. We shall dry some, of course. The weather is turning now and the leaves are dying back, so this was our last opportunity to gather them.’ She turned to Miles Radworth again. ‘So you rode over to assure yourself that all was well here? That was kind.’

He bowed. ‘I was hoping you might invite me to stay for dinner, even though Lady Arabella might look a little askance at my informal dress.’

Guy wondered if he imagined the heartbeat’s hesitation before her reply.

‘But of course, Miles, that would be delightful. You know us too well to stand on ceremony, so you will not be offended when I say that I shall be obliged to leave you to entertain yourself for a while. I am expecting Dr Compton here at any moment to attend Mr Davies.’

‘I have no wish to add to your burdens,’ Radworth replied quickly. ‘Perhaps there is something I can do, read the newspaper to Lady Arabella, for example. You know you may trust me to do that.’

She smiled at him. ‘Yes, of course I do, Miles, but Sophie has offered to read to Grandmama, so there really is nothing for you to do.’

‘You insist upon treating me as a guest,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Come November …’

‘Come November everything will be different,’ she responded quietly. ‘For today, however, perhaps you could show the earl the library, Miles? You are almost as familiar with the rare books and artefacts in there as I am.’

‘Thank you, but I had planned to accompany Mrs Forrester and Dr Compton to the sickroom,’ put in Guy, mildly irritated by the thought that others should organise his time.

‘Is that quite necessary?’

Radworth’s question was posed lightly, but Guy found his hackles rising.

‘Perhaps not, but perfectly understandable,’ Beth interposed smoothly. ‘I have no doubt Lord Darrington is anxious for his friend. In fact, we will go upstairs now, my lord, if you wish, and make sure all is in readiness. Doctor Compton is no stranger here and will make his own way up when he arrives. So, Miles, I pray you will make yourself comfortable in the library and I will join you again as soon as I can.’

Thus dismissed, Radworth nodded and walked away. Neither Guy nor Beth moved until the library door had closed behind him.

‘As a matter of fact, I have just come down from Davies’s room,’ said Guy. ‘He was looking tired so I promised he would not be disturbed again until the doctor’s arrival.’

She raised her brows at him. ‘But you did not think to say so before I sent Miles away?’

‘I did not think Radworth desired more of my company.’

‘He is anxious that you should not impose upon me.’

‘You are very quick to defend him.’

Her chin went up a little. ‘Of course. We are betrothed. Besides, he has been very kind to us. A true friend.’

Guy met her eyes, trying to interpret her look, halfdefensive, half-defiant.

‘And you will marry him in November.’

‘Yes.’

Even to Beth’s own ears the word sounded stark and cold. It should not be, for she was very happy about her forthcoming marriage, was she not? It was merely that she could not look forward to that happy day until she had resolved the problem that weighed upon her spirits.

‘Then Davies and I must be very much in your way,’ said the earl.

She wanted to disclaim, but honesty tied her tongue and it was with relief that she heard the doctor’s hearty voice at the entrance. Moments later Dr Compton was striding across the hall.

‘Good day to ‘ee, Mrs Forrester, and to you, my lord. Glad to see you haven’t been laid up after your soaking yesterday! And how is my patient, awake by now, I hope! Passed a reasonable night, did he? Good, good. Well, then, take me to him!’

* * *

Beth soon realised that she was not needed in the sickroom. Mr Davies’s valet was eager to attend his master, so she left him taking instruction from the doctor, with the earl standing by, ready to lend a hand if necessary. Doctor Compton cheerfully dismissed Beth, promising to find her and give her his report before he left.

She went downstairs, but after staring at the library door for a few moments she decided against joining Miles and instead made her way down to the lower floor.

Beth emerged a short time later, shaking the dust from her skirts before hurrying back to the great hall where she spotted the butler coming out of the library.

‘Kepwith, is Dr Compton still upstairs?’

‘Yes, madam.’ He gave a little cough. ‘I am to fetch refreshments for Mr Radworth, madam. He informs me he is staying to dinner.’

‘That is correct. Perhaps you would see to it that another cover is laid, if you please.’

The butler bowed, hesitated, then said anxiously, ‘Is that wise, ma’am? In the circumstances …’ His meaning was not lost upon Beth.

‘Perhaps not,’ she said quietly, ‘but it cannot be helped.’

‘But if he should become restless, madam, and cry out again—’

She put up her hand to stop him. ‘Tilly will make sure that does not happen again. There is no reason our guests should find anything amiss, Kepwith, as long as we keep our heads.’ She looked up to see the doctor and Lord Darrington coming down the stairs. ‘Very good, Kepwith, that will be all. Well, Doctor, how is Mr Davies?’

‘Progressing, Mrs Forrester, progressing, but I would as lief he was kept very still today. Lord Darrington suggested carrying him in his own travelling chariot, loaded with cushions, but even so I would not wish to move him yet. We shall see how he goes on after another night or so. I shall return again tomorrow, madam. Until then Davies’s man is on hand now and he seems a competent fellow. He will look after his master.’

He began to move towards the door.

‘But what should I give him for fever?’

Doctor Compton stopped. ‘Put your mind at rest, madam, the fever has passed now.’

‘Of course, but if he should wake up …’

‘A few sips of water, perhaps, or have some lemonade on hand, if you wish.’

‘Nothing stronger?’ Beth persisted. ‘He may be in pain and I have used up the laudanum you left us. I’m afraid I spilled some of it on the floor this morning.’

The doctor smiled at her. ‘Why this sudden anxiety, Mrs Forrester? This is most unlike you.’

She spread her hands. ‘I am concerned that Mr Davies should be comfortable.’

‘Well, make him up a saline draught, if you wish, it will do no harm. And if he is in pain—which I do not at all anticipate as long as he is kept quiet—I have more laudanum in my saddlebag, I’ll give it to your butler. Now, I must get on. Come along then, Kepwith, if you please! I have two more patients to call upon today.’

Beth watched the butler escort him to the door, then turned to find the earl waiting for her in the great hall.

‘You may be easy, Mrs Forrester. Peters is a good man and will know how to look after his master, I am sure.’

‘Yes, of course. I m-merely wanted to ensure Mr Davies does not have a disturbed night.’ She added lightly, ‘Poor Mr Radworth will think I have forgotten him! Shall we go into the library, my lord?’

He declined gracefully. ‘I wish to check all is well with my groom.’

‘As you wish, my lord. You may recall we dine early at Malpass. Shall I send a man to help you dress in, say, an hour?’

He shook his head. ‘Peters can do all I require—you look incredulous, Mrs Forrester. I told you I am not at all high in the instep.’

She was disarmed by his smile and as she gazed into his cool grey eyes she found herself thinking that it was no wonder he broke so many hearts. The click of heels on the marble floor recalled her; a footman was making his way to the library, a tray bearing a decanter and glasses balanced on one hand.

‘Oh, heavens. Miles!’ Her hands flew to her mouth and with a quick glance of apology towards the earl she hurried off.

Chapter Five

When Beth went upstairs to change for dinner she decided not to wear the grey silk laid out in readiness, but asked her maid to fetch her new lavender silk gown with the white muslin petticoat.

‘Ah, dressing up for Lord Darrington, are we?’ giggled Tilly.