So Enchanting (22 page)
Chapter Twenty-two
Amelie looked up at Fanny, Hayden’s head in her lap. “You’ll have to change your dress before he wakes up, Fanny,” she said. “Hayden is obviously more sensitive than the rest of the common herd.”
Fanny, still supporting Lord Sheffield, regarded her narrowly. “While I understand that certain sentiments raise the consequence of another in our eyes,” she said, “I draw the line at being grouped with the bovine community. Pray remember yourself, Amelie. And I see no reason why I should change my garments in order to attend Lord Sheffield.”
The resurrection of the pontifical tones Fanny had once used when Amelie was in the schoolroom made her flush with resentment. She was not a child. She had always ceded to Fanny’s opinions and looked to her for counsel as someone wise and worldly. But in reality Fanny was not so much older than her, and having been in Little Firkin as long as Amelie, Fanny’s knowledge of the world would have to be somewhat curtailed.
Amelie regarded her with the bittersweet sensation of stepping across a line that could never be recrossed, one separating her childhood from adulthood. It was difficult to be at odds with one you loved, to realize she was not the paragon you’d always imagined her to be. But it was time Amelie established herself as Fanny’s equal, and one who would not hesitate to go her own way. As long as it was the same way as Hayden’s.
“I’m asking you, for Hayden’s sake, to change out of that dress before he awakes.”
Fanny hesitated.
“And do
not
look at him so,” Amelie said, straightening his limbs. “It’s not his fault you’re covered in blood. And I’m certain most decent, civilized people would be appalled at such a spectacle as you are at present. It’s not as if it were a spot of gravy. ”
not
look at him so,” Amelie said, straightening his limbs. “It’s not his fault you’re covered in blood. And I’m certain most decent, civilized people would be appalled at such a spectacle as you are at present. It’s not as if it were a spot of gravy. ”
She couldn’t help but cast an accusing glance at Lord Sheffield, who’d shed all the trouble-causing blood. He was still leaning heavily on Fanny, a situation neither seemed in any hurry to remedy, Fanny because she was stubborn, and Lord Sheffield because he obviously delighted in making others uncomfortable. Well, he had his work cut out for him with Fan. She’d be driven three feet into the ground beneath his weight before she’d give a hint of discomfort.
Amelie supposed she was being ungrateful. Lord Sheffield
had
saved her from being squashed by the urn. But that had been trumped by bleeding all over Fanny, thus causing Hayden to faint. When Hayden awoke, he would likely feel something of a weak sister. And he wasn’t!
had
saved her from being squashed by the urn. But that had been trumped by bleeding all over Fanny, thus causing Hayden to faint. When Hayden awoke, he would likely feel something of a weak sister. And he wasn’t!
She’d been quite thrilled at the heroic way he’d raced to the balcony to do battle with her phantom enemy. And lots of fine people couldn’t abide the sight of blood. In fact, she wished she were so afflicted. It only bespoke a lofty nature. She sniffed.
“Please, Fan. I’ll wait here with Hayden. And Lord Sheffield.”
“Best do as she says,” Grey agreed. “She won’t stop until she’s had her way. She has been under your influence for too long. You’ve only yourself to blame.”
“Oh, all right.” Fanny agreed. “Violet, bring a chair over here. Ploddy, help me get Lord Sheffield into it.”
Violet dragged a wrought-iron chair screeching and bumping over the flagstones. “There,” she said, puffing. “Now I’ll gets the garden cart and we can haul him—”
“I am not sitting in a garden cart to be lugged about like an enormous cabbage,” Lord Sheffield said, making no visible effort to transfer his weight from Fanny’s shoulders. “Or a turnip. Or a marrow.”
Violet’s face puckered with contempt as she shoved the chair behind him. “We don’t use the cart to haul marrows. We use it for dung.”
For a second, no one said a word; no one moved. Then Fanny burst out laughing.
Amelie stared at her in shock. Lord Sheffield was about to collapse from a head wound, Hayden was still unconscious, Fanny was covered with blood, and she was
laughing
. And Lord Sheffield, taking one look down into Fanny’s upturned face, began laughing, too.
laughing
. And Lord Sheffield, taking one look down into Fanny’s upturned face, began laughing, too.
The exertion proved too much. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped in Fanny’s arms, abruptly ending Fanny’s hilarity. Ploddy grabbed Lord Sheffield about the waist and together he and Fanny lowered him into the chair.
“Knock on the noggin like that,” Violet said, putting her hands on her hips. “He ain’t going nowheres today. Likely should stay abed tomorrow, too.”
“You know something about medicine?” Fanny asked interestedly.
Violet snorted. “I’m Grammy Beadle’s granddaughter, ain’t I? Course I do. Any self-respecting witch knows a bit of physicking. Don’t you?”
“No,” Fanny answered. “But then, I’m not a witch.”
“Her ought to, then.” Violet jerked her chin in Amelie’s direction.
“She’s not a witch, either.”
Violet snorted again, one of her favorite conversational rejoinders, as Hayden began stirring.
“Fanny, please,” Amelie said, “before he sees you and we have two men once again unconscious on our terrace.”
“Well,” said Fanny, “since you put it that way. It does seem a little outré, even for a witch’s house.”
Without further comment, she piled the tea things from the table onto the terrace, whisked the lace tablecloth off, and tied it neatly around her waist. One could still see the red stain under the openwork pattern, but at least it wasn’t so obvious.
“There. This will do for now. I promise to change into other garments as soon as we’ve seen to the fallen. Now, wake the boy up, Amelie, so he can help us walk Lord Sheffield into the house.”
“Throw a cup o’ water on ’im,” Violet suggested.
“Smell of cat piss’ll wake ’im up without soaking ’is clothes,” Ploddy added.
“And where we gonna get cat piss, you disgusting old wart?” Violet demanded. “Mrs. Walcott won’t abide the things anywhere near the house, let alone in’t. Throw water on him. It’s a warm day. His clothes’ll dry.”
“No!” Amelie said forcefully. “No one is going to throw anything on him, whether from a well or a cat.”
“Didn’t say nuthin’ about throwin’ it on ’im,” Ploddy grumbled. “Use it in place of smellin’ salts—”
“That will be enough,” Fanny said. “Amelie, wake him or I will.”
Amelie bent over Hayden and softly blew into his face. “Lord Hayden. Lord Hayden? Please wake up.”
She heard Ploddy make some sort of vulgar sound, and Violet muttered, “I’ll fill a cup, just in case.”
“Wake up, Hayden,” she whispered. “The nasty bloody lady is gone.”
She heard the sound of fluttering wings and looked up to see a bird—a plump rock dove, it looked like—land on a flagstone terrace halfway between Fanny and her. The bird cocked its head inquiringly. Pretty thing. “Look,” she told Hayden. “Even the dove is wondering what you’re about.”
“Amelie?” he said, his eyelids opening.
He was so handsome. So perfect. She secured his hand tightly in hers, giving it a squeeze. She didn’t care who was watching.
Fie on decorum!
She
loved
him.
Fie on decorum!
She
loved
him.
“What happened? Oh. Oh!” He scrambled upright, his face red. “I am mortified. But ever since I was a child—”
Unfortunately, in rising he’d faced Fanny. His gaze fell unwillingly to the red-and-white pattern on her skirt. He teetered once, then slowly, but exceedingly gracefully, slid back to the ground.
“Oh, for the . . .” Fanny muttered, shaking her head. She looked around and found Violet hovering hopefully beside the water carafe. “Violet, get the garden cart.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“What a wonderful day,” Hayden said, drawing Amelie’s hand more closely into the crook of his arm. They strolled along the footpath bisecting the small kitchen garden next to the house.
“Except for your nearly being hit by an urn, of course,” he hastily added, sobering. If anything happened to Amelie . . . he couldn’t bear to think of it. Thank God, from the look of things the urn falling had been an accident.
He’d not only been quick to look around the house, but afterward he’d questioned Ploddy, Violet, and Miss Oglethorpe. None of them had seen anyone else, and they had all been in different areas of the house. Amelie certainly did not seem frightened or anxious. Brave girl.
“Yes,” she said. “A most unfortunate accident. But it is a lovely day.”
“Bloody hell, that hurts!” a male voice bellowed from an open window above.
“It’s a shame about Lord Sheffield, of course,” she amended guiltily.
“Of course,” he concurred, trying to appear subdued lest Amelie think him unfeeling. But everyone, including his uncle, agreed that though he’d received a nasty knock on the noggin, Grey had sustained only temporary damage. A day or so abed and he’d be right as rain.
In the meantime, Hayden had every excuse to hover close by his beloved Amelie. A wonderful day, indeed.
Overhead, dozens of swallows slipped through the air, somersaulting and diving in breathtaking displays of aerial artistry. A tabby cat the size of a small dog, lean and raggedy and missing most of one ear, lounged in the sun on the path ahead of them.
“I suspect there lies the author of Grey’s headache,” Hayden said.
“I wager you’re right,” Amelie said. “That’s the carriage tom. Generally he stays off the balcony, because, well, Fanny chases him off.”
There it was, then. A big old cat, playing where he knew better, and something startled him and he jumped, knocking into an urn and . . . Yes, an all-around satisfactory explanation.
“Do you really own a motorcar?” Amelie asked.
“Yes. A Milord Phaeton,” he told her. “You will love motoring.”
“I went with my father once, when we lived in London, before . . .” A shadow dimmed her radiance. “Before we moved here.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Oh, yes! All the noise!” She laughed.
“I must add ‘thrilling’ to my list of things you like,” he said, his gaze on her.
“You have a list of things I like?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t believe you. Where is this list?” she demanded pertly.
He looked down into her lovely, upturned face and was overwhelmed by a desire to kiss her again. Instead, he contented himself with squeezing the hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm. A man did not importune the woman he loved. With his free hand, he touched his chest. “Here. In my heart.”
She dipped her head, adorably shy. He considered teasing her but resisted, pulling her gently back into step beside him.
After a moment, she asked, “Have you seen
Macbeth
performed onstage?”
Macbeth
performed onstage?”
He nodded. “With Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth.”
“Oh!” she enthused. “And I suspect you have seen the Eiffel Tower?”
“Indeed, I have had the opportunity.”
“What is it like?” Her face shone, avid and entranced. “How did you feel when you saw it?”
At the time, he hadn’t actually
felt
anything about the structure, his senses being otherwise engaged with an armful of the fair coquette who’d accompanied him, but he couldn’t tell Amelie that. What
had
he thought? Surely he must have had some impression of the greatest engin—
Ah, yes.
“It is the greatest engineering feat since the pharaohs built the pyramids.”
felt
anything about the structure, his senses being otherwise engaged with an armful of the fair coquette who’d accompanied him, but he couldn’t tell Amelie that. What
had
he thought? Surely he must have had some impression of the greatest engin—
Ah, yes.
“It is the greatest engineering feat since the pharaohs built the pyramids.”
Amelie nodded, as if this were just what she would have thought herself. She would, of course. They were so perfectly in tune with each other. “I’ve seen pictures. And read about it. But it’s not the same as seeing a thing for oneself, is it?”
“You’ll see it someday,” he promised. He wanted to say more but he hadn’t the right. He would have to speak to . . . well, he supposed he had to speak to his father to ask his permission to propose first. How convenient!
Still, it was agony wanting to ask her to marry him and not being able to. But this was Amelie, and everything must be done in perfect accordance with the rules of decorum, and those rules insisted that he speak to her guardian before asking her. She deserved no less.
He smiled at the thought. Who amongst his cronies would ever believe Hayden Collier could become such a stickler?
“I know I will,” she said in an odd tone, and then abruptly added, “Do you think your father will invite me to live with him, under the circumstances?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “We shall have to wait until he returns. But I shall certainly advise it.”
She smiled so warmly at him that his heart felt as though it were flipping over in his chest. “I should like that,” she said.
He smiled at her pretty puckered brow. Poor lamb, she needn’t worry over whether his father invited her to his home. She would live with him, as his wife.
“You’ve seen so much of the world, Hayden, and I so little.” She sounded doubtful, as though she were wondering whether they could ever truly suit.
He couldn’t have that.
“Yes, but you’ve seen magic,” he reminded her, and it said much about the state of his heart that he actually meant it. “And I haven’t.”
“You have,” she said, turning to regard him seriously. “The Eiffel Tower, motorcars . . . those are examples of true magic, the type of magic that transforms the world, not pictures falling from a wall.”
With more animation, she went on. “Did you know that with something called the roentgen ray it is possible to see the structure inside the human living body without, er, opening it up?” She blushed. “I’m sorry. Of course you would. You’d be up on all these things.”
Oh, dear.
He’d never heard of the roentgen ray. “Ah, well . . .” He couldn’t lie to her, but he could prevaricate. “Why would one want to do such a thing? It seems a little, well, vulgar, doesn’t it?”
He’d never heard of the roentgen ray. “Ah, well . . .” He couldn’t lie to her, but he could prevaricate. “Why would one want to do such a thing? It seems a little, well, vulgar, doesn’t it?”
Her brow furrowed. “I suppose,” she said. Luckily, she abandoned the topic, as they’d reached the big old tom. Amelie bent down and made a little chucking sound.
“Ought you to try to coax it to you, Amelie?” he asked worriedly. “It looks feral.”
Amelie smiled. “I suspect it is, but I don’t worry.”
“Why not?”
“As I told you, animals respond to me. They would never hurt me. We have a sort of bond.”
“You must have quite a menagerie of pets,” he said.
“No. None,” she said sadly. “Fanny . . . well, I don’t think she actively dislikes them, but she can’t abide being near them. She says they make her sneeze.”
From the bedroom above came the sound of voices rising in a heated conversation. The cat swiveled its one good ear toward the sound and commenced purring. From underneath the shade of some bright green lettuces trundled a hedgehog, another in close pursuit. Very close pursuit. The one behind caught up to the smaller one and was—
Oh, my.
Oh, my.
Hastily, Hayden gripped Amelie’s elbow and spun her around, heading back toward the house. She didn’t seem to take anything amiss. Hayden glanced over his shoulder. Who would have thought hedgehogs would be such randy little blighters?
“Have you seen the cinematograph?” Amelie asked.
Hayden nodded. Here, at last, was a topic with which he was well acquainted, the topic of entertainment. “Oh, yes. Moving pictures. They’re all the rage.”
She gazed at him as though he were a god stepped down from Olympus to reveal the secrets of paradise. “Have you drunk a Coca-Cola? Have you ridden in the London underground electric rail cars? Have you been to the Waldorf-Astoria in New York City?”
He laughed at her eagerness. She was utterly charming, so fresh, so spontaneous, so curious about everything, so, well, so
inexperienced
. He frowned. She might be inexperienced, but she was certainly better informed than he was. Of course, what else was there to do here if one didn’t fish or hunt? “No, no, and no.”
inexperienced
. He frowned. She might be inexperienced, but she was certainly better informed than he was. Of course, what else was there to do here if one didn’t fish or hunt? “No, no, and no.”
She halted, regarding him in surprise. “Why ever not? If I were you and had your opportunities available to me, I would take full advantage of them to experience everything the world has to offer.” She sounded, if not precisely critical, dismayed.
Hayden was unused to such a reaction. Generally, people were apt to praise him.
But for what? he wondered. Humor, urbanity, but mostly grooming. Not that grooming wasn’t important, but perhaps he shouldn’t be satisfied to be defined by the cut of his coat. Amelie deserved the best of him. In all things.
Yes. He would read up on the roentgen ray. Though what it could possibly be any good—“Diagnostics,” he announced, startling Amelie.
“Pardon me?”
“The roentgen rays. They could be used to locate breaks in the bone, the degree and severity of them.”
“Oh, Hayden, that
is
clever,” she said, her admiration shining in her face.
is
clever,” she said, her admiration shining in her face.
He preened a bit. He’d always had an interest in medicine. Maybe he would take it up as a hobby or something, or be an academician, since one might find practicing medicine difficult if one were to keel over every time some bleeding blighter popped into the surgery.
He’d think about it later.
Right now, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy being with Amelie.
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