Elizabeth Mansfield (11 page)

"Ordinary?" Lady Schofield gave a disdainful snort. "How can they be ordinary when you are so completely impaired?"

"Come now, Lady Schofield," Jeremy snapped, "surely you must admire Lady Beringer's remarkable improvement today! Why not stress how far she's come, instead of dwelling on how far she still must go?"

"Thank you, sir," Cassie said, throwing him a look of heartfelt gratitude. Then she looked round the table at the others. "But to help me get on, perhaps you can teach me your names."

"But surely you've learned some of them already," Lady Schofield suggested.

"Well, there are a couple of names I've managed to learn. I know I am Lady Beringer, also called Cassie and Mama. And the woman in the doorway, watching over me so carefully, is Mrs. Upsom. And you, ma'am... I've just heard you called Lady Schofield."

"But, Cassie, you shouldn't call me that. I am your
sister."
She choked on the last word and had to pull a handkerchief from her sleeve to dry her tears. "You've
always
called me Eva."

Cassie reached over and patted her hand. "I'll gladly call you Eva."

Charles, realizing that they were approaching the delicate problem of identity, rose to his feet. "Since I am Lord Inglesby, your host," he said, throwing everyone a warning look to remind them of the rules that they would now have to observe, "let me make the other introductions. Next to your sister, Eva, is Cicely, your daughter. And at her right is my friend, Lord Lucas."

Jeremy rose and bowed. "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said with a smile.

"Again?" Cassie said in rueful realization that they must have met before.

"Again. But it is always a pleasure to meet you," he reassured her, "no matter how often."

Hickham, from his station at the buffet, cleared his throat. "Don't ferget me, m'lord. I'm Hickham, ma'am, ready t'do yer biddin', whatever it may be."

"Thank you, Hickham," Cassie said. Then, looking at each face, she reviewed in her mind the name for each one.

Jeremy seated himself and looked about. "It seems we've forgotten to eat," he said in a tone that he hoped was pleasant and "ordinary." "Would you like a hot cup of tea, ma'am?"

Thus breakfast was resumed. It proceeded smoothly, with Cassie shyly entering into the conversation from time to time and addressing each one with the appropriate name. The mood was almost cheerful when they rose from the table at the end of the meal. Only Eva had a troubled frown. 'This process of relearning seems to me most tedious and lengthy," she said to her sister as they moved into the hallway. "I think we should take you home."

Cassie paled. "Home?"

Cicely, who had preceded them, wheeled about and clapped her hands gleefully. "Yes! Oh, yes, that would be wonderful!"

"No!" The word came from Cassie's throat in a terrified whisper. She took a backward step, and bumped into someone who'd been following. She started and looked round nervously. She'd bumped into the man with the kind eyes. "I'm sorry, Lord Lucas," she mumbled.

Jeremy grasped her arm and squeezed it with emboldening support. Turning to Eva, but keeping his hand on Cassie's arm, he asked, "Why do you think it would be helpful for Lady Beringer to go home?"

"At home she will be on familiar ground, surrounded by her own things," Eva explained with finality as she headed for the stairs.

"But what if they won't
be
familiar?" Cassie asked, her knees trembling. The hand on her arm slid down until it found hers and grasped it in a strong grip, as if in response to her unspoken need.
He understands,
she thought gratefully.
Lord Lucas understands.
That grip of his hand gave her courage. "I have no recollection of what you call home," she called after Eva bravely. "The room upstairs is the only home I know."

Eva paused on the bottom stair. "Nonsense," she said firmly. "You will surely remember your own home when you see it."

"How can you think so, when I can't even remember
you!
Or my own
daughter?"

"But, my dear, we can't remain here indefinitely, imposing on Lord Inglesby's hospitality," Eva pointed out to her. "Why, he isn't even a relation."

Jeremy, feeling Cassie's hand trembling in his, held it more tightly. "It is no imposition at all. You are, all three, welcome to stay as long as you like," he said. Then he realized he'd blundered. "I'm sure that's how Lord Inglesby feels," he added quickly. "Isn't that so,
Jeremy?
"

"Of course," Charlie said with booming sincerity, coming to the foot of the stairway and looked up at Eva. "My home is yours to use as you would your own."

Jeremy, still clutching Cassie's hand, led her to the foot of the stairs. "I know how you must feel, Lady Schofield. But I think you must let your sister become more familiar with her present surroundings before you present her with new ones."

Eva glanced down at Cicely for support, but the girl could only shake her head in confusion. With a surrendering sigh, Eva peered down at her sister. "Is that what you wish, Cassie? To remain here a bit longer?"

"Yes, please," Cassie said, breathing out in relief.

Eva shrugged and marched to the stairs. "Very well, I shall say no more for the time being," she muttered worriedly as she climbed up out of their view.

Cicely, clinging to the banister, did what she usually did when under stress—she burst into tears. Jeremy made a motion with his head, suggesting to Charlie to remove the weepy child from the vicinity.

Charlie nodded. "Come, Cicely, my dear," he said, taking her firmly by the elbow and leading her toward the front door. "It's too lovely a day to mope indoors. Come outside with me, and let me show you the apple orchard. It's all in bloom."

As soon as they were alone, Cassie looked up at her rescuer with eyes that shone. "I think I can guess what you were to me in the past, Lord Lucas," she said sofdy.

"Can you?" He smiled down at her indulgently. "And who do you think I was?"

She lifted his hand to her face and rubbed her bruised cheek lightly against the back of it. "My very best friend."

Chapter 14

Eva paced about her bedroom in a state of extreme distress. It was upsetting to be looked upon by one's own sister as a threatening stranger.
Why doesn't Cassie understand,
she asked herself,
that I want only what is best for her?

When she'd suggested to Cassie that Crestwoods would be a better place in which to recover than this, the house of a stranger, she truly believed she was in the right. Yet Cassie had reacted as if she'd suggested taking her off to prison!

It was ironic, Eva thought, that the one person to whom Cassie seemed to cling in her memory-less state was Jeremy Tate. She appeared to be quite taken with him. If only she'd been so taken with him before, when she was in her right mind. Perhaps then she would have
assisted
Eva in mending matters between Jeremy and Cicely, instead of insisting that they never see each other again.

But they
were
seeing each other again! Eva thought in surprise. Why had this not occurred to her before? Perhaps she'd been too stunned by Cassie's accident to think clearly. But the fact was that here they were, Jeremy and Cicely, forced into each other's company every day, and she'd not until this very moment realized the advantages!

Eva sank down on her bed, her head awhirl and a little green growth of optimism budding in her chest. Perhaps some good might come from this nightmare, after all. How ironic that the accident was bringing about the very situation that Cassie, were she in her right mind, would have made every effort to prevent But now she couldn't prevent it.

Jeremy and Cicely, together every day! Eva clapped her hands to her bosom, her heart warming at the very thought.

Such proximity was bound to rekindle the flames of their romance! A match between those two was what Eva wanted above all things. That, and Cassie's recovery, were all she needed to be perfectly happy.

Her next thought, however, withered her new-blooming optimism. It occurred to her that Cicely and Jeremy had already been together for a fortnight, and she hadn't seen a single sign of any rebirth of romance between them. Cicely hardly ever said a word to the man, and he, on his part, never showed any feelings beyond mere politeness. Proximity did not seem to have worked so far.

But that was probably Cicely's fault. Her mood had been mopish and withdrawn, certainly not a manner designed to encourage a man to resume his courtship. Not that Eva blamed the girl; she had good reason to mope. It was terribly upsetting not to be remembered by one's own mother. But now that Eva had become aware of the advantages of this situation, things would change. She would see to it herself. All she had to do was encourage Cicely to be more cheerful, to wear more fetching attire and to be a little more engaging in her manner. That would surely be enough encouragement for an eager suitor. With any luck at all, they would become properly betrothed, and with Cassie's blessing, too! Cassie was already learning what a good, kind fellow Jeremy was, and she would certainly acknowledge it when her memory returned.
And her memory will return,
Eva told herself, the bud of optimism bursting into flower in her breast. She was, for the first time since the accident, absolutely certain of that.

She went to the window, threw open the casements and took a deep breath of the fragrant spring air. She hadn't noticed before, but now she could see that it was a positively glorious day.

Eva's optimism might have suffered a decided blow if her windows had faced the opposite side of the house, for from that vantage point she would have seen Cicely strolling across the field to the orchard. Though the girl looked as pretty as her aunt could wish (for a lively breeze was tousling her hair, flapping away at her flounced skirts and bringing a bright spot of color to her cheeks), the man walking alongside her was not Jeremy, but Charles. And Cicely was laughing up at Charles in a way that would have made Eva stiffen, for it was beyond question a flirtatious giggle. And the conversation, if Eva could have heard it, would have disturbed her even more.

"You? A matchmaker?" Cicely was asking, gurgling deep in her throat in amusement.

"Why not?" Charles replied. "If the only way I can convince you that you'd truly enjoy the attentions of a young man your own age is to provide you with one myself, then I will provide one."

"And where will you find one? I don't see any in the vicinity."

"I have the perfect candidate. My nephew, Clive. In my sister's last letter, she wrote that he'd been sent down from Oxford and was doing nothing but idling about the house complaining of boredom. I shall write and tell her to send him here."

"Don't bother," Cicely said, flipping her hand in disdain and striding off ahead of her escort. "I have no interest in a youth so frivolous that he was sent down from school, and so callow that he is bored with his life."

Charles watched her walk away from him. Her long-legged stride made the flounces of her skirts dance, and the graceful swing of her arms, the sway of her slim hips and the way the long strands of her hair blew about in the breeze, all combined to create a charming picture. "Youthful femininity in motion," he muttered with reluctant admiration.

"What did you say?" she called back to him.

"I said you are striding off in the wrong direction. The orchard is over the hill that way."

She came back to him and held out her hand. "Very well, my lord. Lead the way."

The gesture was open and innocent, but as he took her hand in his, he was uncomfortably aware of holding it. Nevertheless, he kept hold until he'd led her over the rise. As soon as the orchard came in view, however, he dropped her hand. "There!" he said with a sweep of his arm. "Just as I promised'—a cloud of blooms."

"It's lovely!" she exclaimed ecstatically, gazing at the view below them, where dozens of trees (whose gnarled trunks and uniquely twisted branches made a picturesque contrast to their neat alignment) were each haloed by a cloud of pink-and-white blossoms. "Let's walk under them and look up through the blossoms at the sky!"

Her skirts billowing behind her, she ran eagerly down the hill. But at the bottom, at the edge of the orchard, she paused. "Oh, confound it, the path's all mud. My slippers will be ruined if I cross."

It was quite true. A furrow of tilled soil, about six feet wide, ran along the entire edge of the orchard, and more than two weeks of steady rain had turned it into a river of mud. Charles caught up with her, looked up and down the furrow and shrugged. "Well," he said consolingly, "you've seen the orchard. We may as well go back. No need to ruin your slippers just to look up at the sky through the blossoms."

She glared at him. "You, Lord Lucas, haven't an iota of romance in you."

His eyebrows rose in offense. "Oh, haven't I?" And before she could guess what he was about, he gathered her up in his arms and, stomping through the mud in his meticulous riding boots, carried her across. 'There," he laughed, setting her down. "Was that romantic enough for you?"

"Oh, Charlie!" She stared at him wide-eyed, her hands at her mouth, her cheeks flaming. "Look at your poor
boots!
"

"Good heavens, girl, what of that?" he scoffed. "Something must be sacrificed for romance. Sir Walter Raleigh muddied a whole cloak!" He reached out and took her hand. "Come. Let's get under a tree and give you your look at the sky."

But she did not budge. Though he tugged at her arm, she remained rooted to the spot, continuing to stare at him in a bemused fashion, as if she'd never seen him before.

"Cicely, what—?" he began, dropping her hand and grasping her shoulders to shake her into consciousness. But he never finished, for the next thing he knew she was in his arms, and he was kissing her soft, pliant mouth with a completely inappropriate intensity, an intensity he usually reserved for much more experienced ladies.