How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) (27 page)

Having given Susanna this task to keep her busy, Diana searched for Jonty. Unfortunately, as she was informing him of the tragedy, his wife came up behind them and demanded to know what they were whispering about.

From then on, there was no chance of keeping the accident from being known by all the guests. Within moments, Elizabeth’s overwrought and utterly unnecessary shrieks could have been heard from every room in the manor house.

* * *

The injured girl was laid on a settee by the fire and examined by the family doctor. She still had not regained consciousness. Her mother wept; her elder brother was near frantic. Lady Plumtre raced around the kitchen creating more havoc and providing no assistance.

But Diana remained calm and capable, making tea and listening attentively to the doctor, then relaying everything to the girl’s mother in uncomplicated terms. Comforting everyone.

Nathaniel watched it all unfold, feeling useless and accusing himself of having inspired the girl to attempt her daredevil antics. No one else had pointed a finger of blame in his direction, but they did not have to. He had felt it keenly himself from the moment her foot slipped on the wet steps.

Reckless Sherry. Had he not been so eager to impress Diana by climbing a tree, the thought of such activity would probably never have formed in the girl’s head. But young Daisy had followed him around, looked up to him, and constantly tried to assure him that she was fearless.

He had laughed and teased. Encouraged her mischief, when he should have known better.

Lady Plumtre was the first to turn and look for him as these same thoughts apparently occurred to her. “I suppose ’tis no wonder you were there when she fell, Captain,” she said. “She was showing off for you, no doubt.”

Before he could respond, Diana said firmly, “The captain was trying to stop her. She wouldn’t listen. It is not his fault that she fell.”

Nathaniel stood. “I should have caught her. I was too damn slow.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Diana exclaimed. “She would have leaped whether you were there or not.”

He shook his head.

“You have been nothing but trouble for this family,” said Lady Plumtre, her eyes now fully dry and gleaming with their customary hot spite. “Now this. A young girl’s life snatched away from her because of you. I hope you are content, Captain.”

George dashed in, having belatedly heard the news. “What happened?” He drew himself to a fast halt when he saw Nathaniel. “
You
, sir?” He had seen his sister-in-law pointing her accusing finger and, without knowing anything about the circumstances, seemed ready to believe the worst. And to act upon it.

“I ought to call you out,” he blustered. “I should indeed. Where are my dueling pistols?” Turning in circles and nervously clutching the front of his waistcoat, George looked for some invisible valet with that nonexistent box of pistols.

Diana began to explain to him that the captain had not caused this accident or done anything untoward, but George was overexcited and seemed anxious to impress somebody.

When she looked for Nathaniel again, he was gone.

“There he goes. Sneaking off like a criminal,” said Elizabeth smugly.

Her nerves frayed, Diana could not bear another moment of her cousin’s meanness or her selfish disregard for others.

“Elizabeth,” she murmured quietly, “have a thought for someone other than yourself. Think of Daisy, of her mother. This is no time for accusations.”

Her cousin’s voice rose another pitch. “How dare you presume to tell me what I should think? Daisy is
my
sister-in-law. Not yours.”

Jonty abruptly turned to his wife and snapped, “Be silent, Lizzie, for pity’s sake. Diana is right. This is not about you. For once something is not about you.”

Elizabeth’s face drained of all color. She swayed, her mouth falling open, but she was rendered speechless.

While George continued to rant and rave about “calling the villain out,” he made no move to go anywhere but instead sat on the nearest chair and poured himself a glass of wine.

Diana ran out to find Nathaniel passing through the hall, going out into the night.

“Nathaniel! Don’t listen Elizabeth. No one blames you for this. Of course they don’t!”

He stopped, his head bowed, looking unusually dejected. “I blame
myself
, Diana.”

“No! That is quite ridiculous.”

“There is a certain amount of truth in what your cousin said. I’ve caused you trouble, Diana. I should have stayed away from you when I found you here, but I couldn’t.” He shook his head, his lips tight. “I couldn’t! Now your mama has more reason to despise me. Not that she required any.”

“I don’t care.” She had thought this was about Daisy, but he seemed to have more on his mind.

“I do,” he replied firmly. “I’ve been care
less
too often.” He stared at her, his eyes full of sadness and disappointment in himself. “Please let me know how she fares. If there is anything I can do…”

Diana whispered, “Yes.”

“I’ve got to go… I… Good-bye.”

In the next breath he was gone.

She stood in the hall, a breeze through the open door playing with her skirt. She had gotten a little blood on her lovely new gown, she realized.

There was no time to go after him because she ought to be with Daisy, keeping the others calm.

But why had he said “good-bye” that way? As if this was the end.

Jonty and his mother appointed Diana to sit with Daisy. They thought her the best person for the role, the most capable, the kindest. Although overwhelmed by the extent of their trust in her, Diana did not mind the task. It gave her time to get her thoughts straight and kept her out of Elizabeth’s way. The invalid had regained consciousness, but she was not yet herself and did not want many visitors. She enjoyed nothing as much as Diana sitting by her bed and reading to her. The days and nights passed quietly in this fashion.

Nathaniel had called on Mrs. Plumtre the day after the tragedy and brought with him the best physician in Bath—a specialist in head injuries—to examine Daisy. The man dutifully looked his patient over, conferred with Dr. Smith, and pronounced her “a very lucky young lady.” He had no doubt she would recover fully, given time.

Mrs. Plumtre had assured Nathaniel that no one laid any blame at his feet. “But I do not think the fellow believed me,” she told Diana. “He looked so distraught, poor man.”

He visited every day for a week, bringing flowers and gifts for the patient, but he kept his distance from Diana. The patient, meanwhile, being a young lady of generally stout health and even stouter defiance against lying in bed, soon rallied.

One day, just as Daisy was improved enough to complain about her egg not being boiled the way she liked it, there was interesting news.

Susanna ran into the room to announce that George was engaged to Mrs. Caroline Sayles.

This was, of course, horrifying for Elizabeth—worse even than the accident that had rendered her sister-in-law unconscious. What made it even more unbearable was that her husband had known about the imminent engagement for some days and had kept it from her. Even her mother-in-law had known about George’s growing affection for the brassy-haired lady and been sworn to secrecy. Jonty explained that anxiety regarding Captain Sherringham’s possible claim upon the lady had necessitated this discretion.

“George didn’t want to step on the good captain’s toes, of course,” Jonty told Diana. “I thought there might still be some…attachment, and Mrs. Sayles herself seemed to think there might be. But Sherry said he would let the lady make her own choice. He did not stand in George’s way.”

She was puzzled by this, because Nathaniel had told her unequivocally that there was nothing between him and Caroline Sayles. Someone somewhere must have formed a misunderstanding.

They learned that this romance had begun on the night of the concert. While Nathaniel had been concerned about how his “kidnapping” of Diana might cause trouble, George and Caroline had found their own scandal.

“Elizabeth is furious,” Susanna whispered. “She thought that when the captain left Bath he’d take Mrs. Sayles with him.” She giggled. “Now she will never be rid of her.”

Diana’s heart leaped two beats. “The captain left Bath?”

“Oh yes, he’s gone. Quite gone. We shall all be quite bored without him, shan’t we?”

Once again he’d left, she thought angrily. One curt good-bye while he was walking away from her and that was all the care he gave, even after she’d opened up so much for him, tried to prove herself daring and bold, instead of being the meek girl he once thought her. Even when he visited Daisy in her sick bed, he made no attempt to see Diana alone. He barely looked at her. Wretched man.

What else could she have expected from that scoundrel?

Her little rebellion was over and in a few weeks she would return to Hawcombe Prior, her own departure from Wollaford delayed now only by her nursing duties at Daisy’s bedside.

She kept a stoic face while the two girls lamented the captain’s departure, but inside she ached. During her stay at Bath, Diana had learned so much about herself, had even learned to like the woman inside, to forgive her for the sinful thoughts that sometimes crept in. Had learned to loosen her stays and worry less. Had learned to speak up for herself and what she wanted.

Now, as her time there drew to a close, she discovered something else. That pain she felt was not indigestion or colic or anything amiss with her spleen.

It was love.

* * *

“Nate, you might have told us you were buying the Pig in a Poke!” his sister exclaimed when he arrived back in Hawcombe Prior on a sunny morning in early July.

“I bought it for the brewery,” he explained. “But I’ve decided to take up residence there too.”

His father was delighted, Rebecca no less so. Not everyone, of course, was quite so pleased to see him back again. And back to stay.

While he supervised the raising of a new sign above his tavern, Sam Hardacre rode by with his cart and gave a reluctant greeting. Nathaniel waved for him to stop.

“Have you asked Lucy to marry you yet?” he demanded of the ruddy-faced carpenter, coming directly to the point.

The man’s face gathered like a fist. “She ain’t interested in me. Not now she’s moving on to bigger and better places.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “There is no better place.” He should know, he mused, having traveled so much and having seen so many other towns and villages.

“She won’t stay for a humble fellow like me.”

“Then don’t be so humble! If I were you, I’d take the bull by the horns and snap that young lady up. Don’t let the chance pass you by.” He had seen Lucy watching Sam, waiting for him to notice her so she could pretend to look elsewhere. She was a girl who had yet to reconcile her mind to what her heart wanted. He had some familiarity with that.

“You sound like a man with regrets, Cap’n.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but I mean to change all that before it’s too late.” He leaned against the side of the cart and looked up at Sam. “If you want some advice on how to win that girl of yours, you might want to read one of those novels. It seems that’s where the ladies get their ideas these days.”

Sam thought for a breath and then said, “I’d rather learn from a man of experience, Cap’n.” He grinned. “If you’ll teach me.”

Nathaniel rather liked that idea. No one had ever asked him to teach them anything. He straightened up, knuckles resting on his hips, and said with all due solemnity, “Very well, young Master Hardacre. You come by my father’s house for dinner this evening, and we’ll see what we have to work with.”

Something caught his eye across the common. Sarah Wainwright was fluttering about, looking as if she’d lost something.

“Seems Sir Morty is off wandering again,” Sam observed. “That damnable pig gets around. If you ask me, he needs a lusty sow to help him stop that restlessness.”

Nathaniel trotted over to help, as usual unable to ignore a lady’s distress. He followed the indignant screams and a trail of damage into Mrs. Makepiece’s walled vegetable garden. Somehow Sir Mortimer Grubbins—the prizewinning Oxford Sandy and Black pig who was the unofficial mayor of Hawcombe Prior and Sarah’s pet—had found his way through Mrs. Makepiece’s passage while she cleaned her floor with the front door open. Now, having trotted directly through her kitchen and out her back door, the pig romped happily among her neat lines of cabbages, onions, and carrots in the garden behind her house. The lady chased him in circles, swiping at the beast with her straw bonnet, but he seemed to think it all a jolly game, his trotters cantering back and forth, gleefully making more and more mess.

There was no time for the lady to react against Nathaniel when she saw who had come to her aid with Sarah. Desperate to be rid of the rampaging beast, and with her own energy and dignity depleted, she could only let him help.

Fortunately for Nathaniel, he was not wearing his best suit of clothes. Within a few minutes the pig was safely corralled and on his way back to Willow Tree Farm. Sarah apologized profusely to the lady, and as they came back out through the front of the house, Mrs. Makepiece managed to reply that there was not
too
much damage.

“You will make recompense, Sarah, of course,” Nathaniel said to his step-niece.

“Yes, of course!”

The grim lady muttered, “I’m sure I’ll survive.” She was breathless, disheveled, and not quite able to look Nathaniel in the eye. She had avoided him since his return. He wondered how much she knew about Diana’s time in Bath, how much Lady Plumtre would have told her out of spite.

On his way out, he noticed a water stain on the wooden floor and looked up to where a damp patch was visible on the ceiling between the low beams. It was turning yellow with age, the plaster cracked.

When he pointed it out to the lady, she explained dourly, “That spot leaks whenever it rains. Has done so for some time.”

“Why did you not ask my father or brother-in-law to have it fixed?” She was, after all, one of his father’s tenants.

“I… We can manage, Captain.”

“Madam, if that patch spreads, it could bring down the plaster. The water could be rotting into the wood now.”

She stared up at the ceiling and wrung her hands in a tight knot.

“It will only get worse,” he added. “Must be coming in somewhere through the wall and soaking the beams between floors.” Nathaniel made up his mind. “I’ll bring a ladder this afternoon and see if I can mend it. And I’ll help you tidy that garden too.”

He gave the lady no time to argue. Brisk, efficient, and determined, he took the bull by the horns, just as he’d advised Sam Hardacre.

In the past he had fought against the woman, always pulling in the other direction like in a tug of war. What could she do, he wondered, if he stopped pulling and helped her? Beat him with a shoe? Or her straw bonnet, as if he were Sir Mortimer Grubbins, that other beastly pest?

Apparently she chose to do neither. He had cunningly outplayed the woman. With kindness.

* * *

When Diana received a letter from Justina she took it quickly to her bedchamber, thrilled to have news from home. She missed her friends in Hawcombe Prior and was surprised her mother had not yet commanded her to come home.

My Dear Diana,

What has become of you, I wonder, in the world of Bath? I know I told you not to write and to save it all for when you returned, but I grow anxious to hear of your terrible adventures. Which had better be many and wicked to make up for these weeks we have suffered without you.

Things here are much the same. Well, almost. The tavern has a new landlord. A most interesting fellow and a bachelor. I do not know that you will think much of him though.

You will never guess what has become of Lucy Brydges! She has decided not to go to Basingstoke and juggle a parade of suitors after all, but to marry Sam Hardacre and stay here in the village. When the moment came to leave us all behind, she was not as brave as she thought, nor so ready for life without her friends.

I write therefore to inform you of the wedding arrangements. Lucy has no time to put pen to paper because she has so many other plans to make, but she desires very much that you return to enjoy the celebrations.

I am told that there will be cake, and more importantly, the Book Club Belles are all to have new bonnets.

My Wainwright will send the carriage for you.

I can think of little else to persuade you of how much you are needed here, except to say that whatever holds you in Bath cannot be as dear to you as those of us who wait for your return.

* * *

One week later, Diana stepped out of the Wainwrights’ carriage, walked through her mother’s gate, and stopped in shock when she found Nathaniel Sherringham in his shirtsleeves, applying a new coat of paint to the open front door.

Her mother came out into the hall at the same moment, a cup of tea in her hand, offering it to him.

“Diana!” she cried. “Good Lord!”

He almost dropped his brush and spun around, flicking paint across his linen shirt. “Di…Miss Makepiece.”

Her mother recovered first. Not waiting for Nathaniel to take the cup from her hand, she set it on the narrow hall table and stepped by him to take one handle of her daughter’s trunk. “Well, you might have written to let me know you were on your way, for pity’s sake!”

“I wanted to surprise you, Mama.” She glanced sideways at Nathaniel as she followed her mother into the cool house, but he turned away and got on with his work.

“You certainly did that. I thought Elizabeth would keep you there until September at least.”

As they walked into the kitchen, Diana stopped her mother with one hand on her shoulder. “Are you pleased to have me back, Mama?”

“Of course, Diana.”

They set down the trunk and embraced. Diana breathed deeply of her mother’s scent and all that was familiar. “I missed you, Mama.”

“Well, goodness, I should hope so. Now sit down and I’ll pour you some tea while you tell me all that happened.”

“I think, Mama, you have a few things to tell me first.”

Her mother’s eyes were wide and innocent as she reached for a clean cup and saucer. “I do?”

Diana’s pulse was scattered. “Why is Captain Sherringham here?” she whispered.

“Oh, it is nothing,” her mother replied nonchalantly. “He’s been doing a few odd jobs about the house. Making himself useful. Seems to think he can slide into my good graces.”

“But what is he doing here in Hawcombe Prior?” She had thought him gone forever. Justina’s letter had not warned her about his return. That sly woman!

“He has purchased the tavern, would you believe? Took it over from Bridges. I cannot think why a man like that would wish to settle here. I should have imagined that London or some other large, noisy place suited him better.”

The tavern! Of course. That was why he had come back. He was the bachelor Justina thought she would not find interesting. Diana smothered a chuckle.

Suddenly her mother took her hands and stepped back to inspect her properly. “You look different, Diana. Confident. Your eyes are shining as I have not seen them since you were a little girl.”

She smiled. “I
am
different, Mama.”

“And better, I hope?”

“Oh yes, Mama. I feel like a new woman.”

“Then it was worth it to lose you for a while.” Her mother kissed her gently on the cheek. “But I felt the loss of your company, my dear, very much.”