Pride of the Courtneys (18 page)

The others followed her to the drawing-room and Bassett and I were alone
again.

I could see Bassett was angry with his mother for her lack of compassion
for the homeless villagers.

He turned to me. Taking me gently by the shoulders, he looked me straight
in the eyes.

‘Louella, take care of the villagers for me.’ His voice hardened. ‘Mother
is useless in a crisis like this.’

‘Yes, Bassett, I will. Don’t worry, we’ll see they have all they need.’

He smiled, but the worry never left his eyes. He brushed my forehead with
his lips.

‘Thank you, dearest,’ he murmured, and before I could be sure of what he
said, he had gone from the house and away down to the village to send the
people up to Courtney Hall.

I went in search of Mary and Jonathan. There was a great deal we had to
do to prepare food and beds for our guests.

Cook, bless her kind heart, was a marvel at making what provisions she
had go a long way. She at once began to bake and cook, and soon trays of
pastries, cakes and bowls of warm soup and the like were covering all
parts of her vast kitchen.

Mary and I began to arrange the sleeping quarters. We decided to put the
women and young children in the ballroom, and the men and older boys in
the dining-room and library. The older folk would be given the bedrooms as
far as possible with more comfort. Most of the villagers would be told to
bring as much bedding as possible, for we had no spares other than the
spare beds.

Soon the first families began to arrive and I went to the hall to greet
them and to try to make them sure of their welcome.

Lady Courtney had disappeared. I expected she meant to stay out of the
way, but I had no time to worry about her feelings.

Mrs Cartwright and her four children and Mrs Wain and her two came first.

‘Ever so good of the master, it is, ma’am, to ’ave us. But then, you’s
kind folk.’

I took some of the heavy load of blankets and led the way.

‘Think nothing of it, Mrs Cartwright,’ I told her from behind an armful
of blankets. ‘We can’t possibly leave you all down there in the village.’

We entered the ballroom, now transformed from the awe-inspiring grandeur
of shimmering chandeliers and cold marble floors, to a warm inviting
dormitory. Welcoming fires burnt in three huge grates down one side of the
room and on the other the thick brocade curtains had been drawn across the
long windows shutting out the wild, fearsome weather.

Mrs Cartwright was soon followed by more of her fellow villagers. Young
and old alike—calm and resigned to whatever Fate held for them, grateful
for the shelter we offered them.

The old people were almost too awestruck to enter the luxurious bedrooms
and each vowed they would not dare to sleep on the bed.

Comforting them, supplying them with food, cradling whimpering babies, I
was soon very tired and thankful at last to return to my own bedroom and
fling myself on the bed.

But I could not rest long, for Mary soon fetched me to go to little
Albert Whittaker, a baby of ten months, whose mother, a young girl of
twenty, was beside herself with worry over him.

The child was running a high fever and I knew Charles was the only person
who could help us.

‘Stay with Mrs Whittaker, Mary. I’ll fetch Dr Corby.’

‘I’ve just seen him with old Tom in the Blue Room, madam,’ Mary said.

But when I reached the bedroom I found old Tom alone, peacefully dozing
in a chair by the fire.

Hurriedly, I ran in search of Charles. He was not in his own rooms in the
east wing. I approached the main stairs and heard his voice in the hall
below. I was about to call out to him, when I realised he was talking to
Evelyn. So instead I went down the stairs and in so doing could not help
but hear their conversation.

‘Charles,’ Evelyn was saying, ‘ I must go home. There is something I must
fetch.’

Her eyes were wide with fear.

Charles gripped her shoulders almost cruelly.

‘Don’t be so foolish, Evelyn. The house may be swept away any moment. It
is already flooded. How do you expect to get there?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know,’ she answered wildly, ‘but I must go—I
must.’

‘Why?’

‘I—can’t tell you.’

‘I’ll go, if it is so important,’ he sighed. ‘What is it you want
fetching?’

Evelyn’s glance dropped to the floor and she turned away as Charles
loosened his grip.

‘No,’ she whispered, clearly still distressed. ‘It’s not that important.
You must not go.’

And she left the hall.

Charles ran his hands through his hair.

‘Whatever has got into her? I’ve never seen her like this.’

‘Charles,’ I said urgently, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but young Mabel
Whittaker’s baby, Albert, seems very ill—can you come and look at him?’

Charles’ love and concern for his patients pushed all thoughts of family
problems aside immediately and he followed me swiftly to the child.

Albert’s eyes were large, dark circles in his hot little face. He lay on
the bed wrapped in a shawl, his breathing a rasping, painful sound. He was
quiet, but his eyes, even though so young, showed fear and pain.

Charles was gentle and examined the child with the minimum of fuss.

‘Pneumonia,’ he said softly to me. ‘Don’t alarm the mother—we must do all
we can.’

The next few hours were a turmoil of following Charles’ instructions in
nursing the sick baby. Charles persuaded the distraught mother to rest and
leave the care of her child to us. Her trust in Dr Corby was implicit and
soon she was asleep in the next room. But there was no rest for Charles or
me that night. He said the fever would reach a climax around two o’clock
in the morning.

I hardly remember what we did except watch and wait and be there to ease
the poor mite’s breathing as best we could.

Bassett arrived home about midnight and Georgiana, still helping the
villagers settle for the night, told him of our vigil. He came to the
bedroom where we watched over little Albert.

He stood for a long time looking down at the baby whose tiny finger
clasped mine tightly.

‘Will he be all right, Charles?’ he asked softly.

Charles, his fair hair ruffled, his brow wet in the heat of the room
which was necessary for the child in such a fever, replied,

‘We shall know by two in the morning, if not before.’

Bassett nodded.

‘I’ll look in again then.’

I thought he seemed about to speak to me and I looked up at him. His face
was in shadow from the low light on the table, so I could not see him
clearly—just the clear-cut outline of his firm jaw, the wide brow and
arrogant nose.

But he said no more and went quietly from the room and I turned my
attention back to little Albert.

Charles and I did not speak much. We were both tired, and all our efforts
were concentrated upon caring for the child.

The minutes dragged, but two o’clock came at last and passed.

About half-an-hour later than Charles had anticipated the baby’s fever
broke and we passed the crisis safely. We both heaved a thankful prayer of
relief and though no doubt Charles was used to such efforts as a doctor,
for me it was the first time I had helped to save a life, for Charles said
we had certainly done just that between us.

A little later Bassett returned, still fully clothed, and I knew he was
too worried and restless to sleep.

‘There is no more Louella can do,’ Charles said to Bassett. ‘I’ll stay
with the child. See she gets some rest, Bassett.’

Now that the crisis was over, the exhaustion seemed to sweep over me and
I could hardly find the strength to walk to my room. Bassett, his arm
round me, helped from the room, leaving Charles still sitting by the
child’s bedside.

I stumbled along beside him and suddenly felt his strong arms lift me and
carry me the rest of the way to my room. I remembered him laying me gently
on the bed and then I knew no more as I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

The next thing I knew was Georgiana tiptoeing through the door and
smiling into my weary eyes late the next morning.

She placed a breakfast tray before me.

‘Poor Louella,’ she said, ‘you seem to be bearing all the visitors’
troubles.’

I sighed.

‘How is Albert?’

‘Still sleeping. Charles says he will pull through, but it was a close
thing a few hours ago.’

I nibbled the toast, not really hungry—I was still too tired.

Georgiana sat on the bed and said, a little too casually.

‘Did you see Evelyn last night? She’s not in her room and her bed looks
as though it’s not been slept in.’

I looked up at her, startled.

‘Only when I fetched Charles to the baby.’

‘I don’t want to worry Charles, just now, he’s so tired,’ Georgiana
frowned, ‘ but I have the uneasy feeling she may have been stupid enough
to try and go home—I know she wanted to.’

‘Oh no,’ I sat up quickly nearly spilling the tray, and grasped
Georgiana’s arm.

‘Of course, now I remember. That’s what she and Charles were arguing
about when I fetched him. Go and tell Charles at once. She may be in
danger.’

‘But I don’t know for certain she’s gone.’

‘Of course she has, if she’s missing,’ I said impatiently. ‘She was so
determined to go home.’

But Bassett was the one whose help Georgiana sought. She wanted, at
first, to protect her husband from worry. Bassett set out immediately with
two of the villagers to go to the Corbys’ house to see if Evelyn was
there, for a thorough search through Courtney Hall revealed that she had
certainly disappeared somewhere.

But as they were gone a long time, Charles could be kept ignorant no
longer. By this time I had risen and went with Georgiana to tell him.

Charles was very angry to think that Evelyn had not only disobeyed him,
but had caused others to place themselves in danger by going to look for
her.

‘The foolish girl,’ he said marching up and down. ‘How could she? The
house is already flooded—I told her.’

A cold fear began to spread through me. I could see that Charles feared
for Evelyn’s safety, but I, I realised with shock, feared for Bassett now
that he had gone to that very house to look for her.

Georgiana too seemed to sense our mounting fear for she took Charles’
hand and held out her other hand to me.

‘Come,’ she said firmly, ‘we shall go to the front door to watch for
their return.’

The howling wind tore at our clothes as we opened the huge door. Black
clouds scudded overhead threatening more rain to add to the already
overflowing river.

Bassett’s horse rounded the sweep of the drive and he rode straight up to
the front door. He had been gone some three hours in search of Evelyn and
now he returned alone, without even the searchers who had gone with him.

I think we all knew he had grave news from the look on his face as he
entered the hall. We waited, as Millicent and Lady Courtney joined us, to
hear what he had to say.

‘Charles,’ Bassett’s tone was deep. ‘I have bad news. Evelyn reached
home, but was swept away on her return to the Hall. We have found her
body—the villagers are bringing her here.’

Georgiana put her arms round her husband and tried to comfort him. He
swallowed hard and nodded to Bassett.

‘Thank you for going in search of her,’ he said hoarsely.

‘I fear there is more to tell you, Charles. I’m sorry, at such a time,
but I must.’

Bassett took from beneath his mud-bespattered cloak a parcel of cloth.

He unfolded this blue cloth and there across the palm of his hand lay the
shimmering Courtney dagger.

Bassett’s voice was low and solemn and his eyes turned apologetically to
Charles’ stunned face.

‘This was found beneath Evelyn’s cloak, wrapped in this cloth. She was
bringing it back to Courtney Hall.’

‘Then …?’ Charles dragged his eyes, mesmerised, from the dagger to meet
Bassett’s gaze. ‘Then Evelyn—took it?’ he whispered and added, with a
trace of anger even through his grief, ‘ and let Louella

take the blame?’
Before anyone could answer, a sob escaped Millicent’s lips and

the stricken look on her face caught Bassett’s,
indeed everyone’s

attention.
‘What is it, Millicent?’ he said.
She flung herself forward and clung to Bassett’s arm.
‘Bassett, Bassett, forgive me. Had I known all this would happen …’ and
she began to weep uncontrollably.

‘Did you have something to do with this,
Millicent?’ His tone was none too gentle, but his arm was about her
shoulders.

She nodded miserably and her whisper was barely
audible to the rest of us.

‘I planned it—with Evelyn.’
‘Why?’ Bassett asked incredulously.
‘Bassett,’ her eyes looked up into his appealingly, ‘ need you ask?’
Suddenly, he became aware of us all watching and waiting.
‘I think we had better discuss this in my study, Millicent.’
And with his arm still about her, they left us and disappeared.
No one knew what passed behind the closed door of Bassett’s study, but
Millicent appeared almost an hour later, dry-eyed but subdued and almost a
changed person.
They joined us in the drawing-room. Lady Courtney watched them enter and
immediately Bassett’s eyes met hers. The look which passed between them
told me all I needed to know.
Lady Courtney, if not a prime mover in the theft of the dagger and the
subsequent blame upon me, had not been entirely ignorant of the true
facts, I was certain.
But Bassett evidently understood her motives, as, indeed, did I

now, and from the expression in his eyes, I knew he
pitied her.
But Lady Courtney pursed her lips and looked away, as if she despised his
pity.

The matter was not referred to again except between
Charles and me. The poor man, stricken with natural grief for the sister
who had sacrificed so much to ensure his career, had the additional
sadness of knowing that she had participated in the plot of theft which
had overshadowed all our lives for so long.