Secrets and Sensibilities: A Regency Romance Mystery (The Lady Emily Capers Book 1) (17 page)

Hannah closed the door to her room with great reluctance
against Weimers’ apologetic smile. He would guard her as closely as another
footman would soon be guarding Lady Brentfield, though for altogether different
reasons. She turned to her room with a sigh and saw that she’d left the panel
to the passage open.

Thank God, she had had the strength to follow that passage
tonight. If she had not been there, she did not like to think what Lady
Brentfield might have done. David had been spared, and Hannah had the chance to
redeem herself. His injury still worried her, but surely the fact that he was
awake and had his memory was a good sign. Mr. Asheram had promised to fetch her
if Dr. Praxton had anything but good news. She should sleep.

She moved to close the panel and froze. Voices drifted out
of the passage.

“Where do you think it goes?” The excited voice could only
be Daphne’s.

“Probably to the attic, or some hermit’s cell.” The dire
prognosis would have to be Lady Emily’s.

“It’s cold. We should go back for our wrappers before we
catch the croup.” That would be Ariadne.

“I cannot believe the countess never told me about these,”
Priscilla complained. “This is far more fun than following the regular
corridors.”

“Girls!” Hannah called into the stairwell. “Come down at
once.”

There were muffled cries of consternation, but they obeyed
her, appearing out of the darkness in little circles of candlelight, looking
abashed or annoyed as was their wont. Hannah motioned them into her room. When
they were safely inside, she closed the panel soundly.

“You had no business going in there without his lordship’s
permission,” she scolded them. “Those passages can be dangerous if you don’t know
what you’re doing.”

Priscilla squealed. “You knew about them?”

“Well, I like that,” Daphne grumbled. “It’s our house party,
and you have all the fun.”

Hannah felt herself blushing. She took her candle and went
to light the lamp on the mantel. Unfortunately, the lamp was missing. She
supposed one of the girls had taken it for their exploring. She turned to them,
composing her face. “Fun has nothing to do with it. Why did you come to my room
in the first place?”

“We couldn’t sleep,” Ariadne explained. “We were too worried
about Lord Brentfield.”

Hannah smiled at her. “That was sweet, my dear. He is awake,
and Dr. Praxton has been called. He’s still in some pain, but his memory
appears to be intact. We have every reason to expect he will recover fully.”

They crowded around her, hugging her and exclaiming their
delight. It took a few minutes, but Hannah finally managed to herd them toward
the door.

“Now that you know, you should be able to sleep,” she told
them, although she doubted the truth of the words herself. “And would whichever
one of you borrowed my lamp please return it? I will need it to go to bed
myself.”

They exchanged baffled glances.

“None of us took your lamp, Miss Alexander,” Priscilla told
her.

“It wasn’t there when we came for you,” Daphne volunteered.
“I went to use it and couldn’t find it.”

Hannah frowned. She could not remember having moved it, but
perhaps Clare had taken it during her tidying of the room. Still puzzling, she
opened the door and ushered out the girls to the surprised Weimers. Glancing
down the corridor, she saw Mr. Asheram and a footman coming out of Lady
Brentfield’s room. Suddenly, Hannah felt cold.

“Do you have her?” she called. The girls jumped, looking her
askance.

Asheram started as well. “No. She’s not abed. What is it?”

“No time!” Hannah cried, heart thudding in her ears. “Follow
me!” She brushed past Weimers and ran for the east wing.

The dark passage had seemed endless, but somehow the lighted
corridors of Brentfield seemed even longer. Hannah raised her skirts and pelted
past the doorways and stairwells. A maid shrieked as Hannah flew by, and Hannah
did not apologize. She hoped Mr. Asheram and the footmen were close behind her,
but she did not turn to look.

She dashed down the east wing corridor and threw open the
door of David’s bedchamber. The feeble light from the corridor disappeared a
few feet into the room. The fire and the candle must have gone out.

“David!” she cried into the void. She stumbled forward,
hands outstretched, hoping she was traveling in a line toward the bed. “David,
answer me!”

There was a muffled moan and a creak from the bed, and fear
pierced her heart. Her hands struck the foot board, and she traced around it,
stubbing her toe on the leg of the bed.

“David Tenant, if this is a joke, I will never forgive you!
Now answer me!” Despite her best intentions, the last words came out as a sob.

Something brushed past her, and instinctively she slapped it
away. Her hand struck flesh. Someone gasped. The next minute Hannah was hit
from behind to fall sprawling across the bed, David’s body beneath her. She
flung out an arm and felt a pillow go flying.

“Miss Alexander!” Daphne called from the doorway.

“Lord Brentfield!” Mr. Asheram shouted right behind her.
“Get a lamp, Weimers, quickly.” Light flared.

Hannah struggled upright. David eyed her, panting. She knew
her own chest was heaving just as rapidly. He quirked a smile.

“Thank you once again, my dear,” he said, sucking in a
breath as if it had never tasted so sweet. “You can fall on me any time.”

Hannah wasn’t sure whether to sob her relief or laugh at his
silliness. She climbed off the bed as Mr. Asheram and the footman hurried into
the room.

“What happened?” Mr. Asheram demanded.

“It was dark,” David offered, “but unless I miss my guess, someone
just tried to smother me.”

“Lady Brentfield,” his friend muttered, while the girls
paled and the footman bristled.

Hannah found herself staring at the open door of the
passage. “Someone was here. I think I hit her. She certainly hit me.” She rubbed
her shoulder. “She must have escaped into the passage.”

“After her,” Asheram commanded the footman, waving toward
the passage.

“No.” David grimaced as if the effort of talking was too
much. “They might fall through, Ash. I’m the only one who knows those passages
well.”

Hannah swallowed. “No, I know them, too.”

“No,” he said again, and this time he didn’t flinch. “I
won’t permit it. Ash, you can’t let her go in there.”

Asheram was clearly torn. “Neither can we let her ladyship
wander about the house alone.”

“She can’t go far,” David reminded him. “We closed all the
entrances except . . .”

“The one in Miss Alexander’s bedchamber,” Asheram finished.
He nodded to the footman, who pelted off down the corridor once more. “The rest
of you, stay here,” he ordered the girls and Hannah.

Hannah was most content to do exactly that. The girls,
however, crowded around the bed, exclaiming over the excitement. David closed
his eyes again, and she didn’t think he was all that tired. She herded them
toward the group of chairs by the fireplace and cautioned them to lower their
voices. Before she could return to David’s side, Dr. Praxton arrived. As he did
not feel comfortable examining David with so avid an audience, she had no
choice but to usher them all out into the corridor to wait.

“So, she really was guilty,” Lady Emily declared. “I told
you so.”

“Well, you needn’t crow,” Priscilla retorted. “What kind of
Season am I going to have now? You can imagine what the gossips will say about
the countess. And my mother and father haven’t the funds to see me through a
Season. No one will want to align themselves with our family. I’ll die a
shriveled old maid!” Her voice had risen to a wail, and the rest of the girls
looked alarmed.

“Nonsense,” Hannah told her sternly, although a part of her
wondered whether the jaded Londoners would not react exactly the way Priscilla
had described. “No one can blame you for what happened.”

The other girls chorused their agreement. Priscilla looked
only slightly mollified.

Dr. Praxton came into the corridor then to confirm that
David was out of danger, at least from the injury. “He still needs to be
watched for a day or so, and try to keep him in bed until Easter, if you can.
But I see no reason why he cannot recover fully.”

Relief flooded Hannah. The girls beamed at him. As they
stood talking for a moment, Mr. Asheram hurried down the corridor.

“Ah, Dr. Praxton, I’d hoped I’d catch you. Would you come
with me? There’s been an accident.”

Dr. Praxton rolled his eyes. “Another one? The members of this
household certainly have a tendency to get hurt. First that strange incident
with the former Lord Brentfield and his son, then his lordship, and now this.
Who is it this time?”

“Lady Brentfield,” Mr. Asheram said.

Priscilla started, and Hannah caught her arm.

“I would prefer,” Mr. Asheram added, “that you all wait
here. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.” He hurriedly led the doctor away.

Priscilla bit her lip, even as Hannah wondered whether the
woman could have fallen through one of the passages. She shuddered at the kind
of injuries that might result.

“Let’s go join his lordship,” Hannah suggested to the
troubled girls. They found David sitting up gingerly in bed. The covers had
fallen to his waist, and his nightshirt was open to his belly. The girls stared
in fascination at the hairs on his chest, the flat plane of his stomach. Hannah
found herself just as mesmerized. He caught them ogling him and pulled up the
covers with a grin.

They chatted about nothing for some time, until Hannah could
tell that David was tiring. He kept covering his mouth as he yawned, and his
head seemed to be too heavy for his neck. She was glad when Mr. Asheram
appeared in the doorway and motioned her out.

“Lady Brentfield has been taken away,” he murmured in the
corridor.

Hannah frowned. “Why? What happened?”

“She broke through the ceiling.” When Hannah covered her
mouth to keep back a cry of horror, he hurried on. “Luckily, she fell into one
of the unused bedchambers and most of her body landed on a bed. She appears to
have a broken leg and any number of scrapes and scratches. However, Dr. Praxton
believes her mind has snapped. She smiles at everyone and talks about the ball
her mother is planning for her come out. He has put it down to depression
following her husband’s death. I think that would be the kindest thing to call
it, for everyone’s sake.”

Remembering Priscilla’s fears for her future, Hannah nodded.
“Is there no hope for her, then?”

“Perhaps, but she will need someone to care for her,
constantly. Dr. Praxton fears she may injure herself. We are sending for
Priscilla’s parents. They will know what must be done.”

Hannah nodded again. “She brought this on herself, but I
don’t like to think of anyone drifting away like that. What happens now? The
girls and I should not stay on.” Much as it hurt to admit that, she knew it to
be true. They could hardly have a house party under the circumstances. The idea
of returning to the Barnsley School was never less inviting. How could she
leave David?

“Priscilla should stay until her parents arrive,” Mr.
Asheram told her. “But you’re right that it would be easier if the other girls
returned to the school.”

And they could not return alone. She knew that. Her duty lay
in getting them safely back to Miss Martingale. Hannah straightened. “We’ll
leave tomorrow, after the girls have had a chance to sleep.”

“Thank you. I’ll see they return to their rooms. Perhaps
you’d like a moment alone with David.”

She offered him a smile in thanks. A moment later, and the
girls had filed out with fond good nights. Hannah approached the bed.

David yawned, not bothering to cover it this time, and
motioned her to sit beside him. “Alone at last,” he quipped.

She smiled at him, and when his look turned serious, she
knew her feelings were showing on her face. There were so many things she
longed to say to him, but she had to stick to her duty or she would never
leave. “Mr. Asheram told you about Lady Brentfield?”

“Just a little. He’s explaining it to the girls as he takes
them to their rooms. Are you all right?”

“I will survive,” she replied. “Priscilla’s parents will be
here soon. I’ll be taking the other girls back to the Barnsley School
tomorrow.”

He frowned. “You’ll be what?”

She sat straighter. “I must, David. I’m their chaperone.”

He reached for her hand. “And you’re my love. I need you
more than they do.”

The pouty look melted into one of tenderness. He brought her
hand to his lips and kissed it. The gentle warmth seemed to fill Hannah. She
pulled away before it could be her downfall. “But I have a responsibility to
them. I’ll return when I can.”

“
When
you can? I’m not a patient man, Hannah. I want
you to marry me. I need you to marry me. I don’t want to have to travel all the
way to another city to see you.”

She reached out and touched his cheek. “And I want to marry
you. But the girls cannot stay on after what happened to Lady Brentfield.”

“I don’t see why not. I’m the earl, aren’t I? If I say they
can stay, they can.”

She shook her head. “I think Asheram is right that it would
be better for them to go. I cannot stay here alone without a chaperone, and I
have a responsibility to the girls.”

“You also have a responsibility to your betrothed. What if I
have a relapse after you leave?”

“Don’t say that!” she cried, afraid to even think it.
“You’re going to be fine. Dr. Praxton said so.”

“Doctors have been known to be wrong,” he argued. He leaned
back against the pillow and narrowed his eyes. “In fact, I feel the pain
returning now. You’re growing dim. Hannah?” His head lolled to one side, eyes
fluttering shut.