The Fugitive Heiress (22 page)

They had passed into an octagonal staircase hall, and half of Catheryn’s attention digressed to the magnificent stone staircase and intricately carved oak paneling. Dambroke family portraits followed the graceful curve of the stair as it swooped up and around six sides of the hall to a landing from which three doors opened. Miss Felmersham, silent now, charged through the nearest and turned left with near military precision, then turned again and proceeded up a carpeted service stair. Catheryn puffed after her. “Then Teddy is not seriously injured?”

“Early days yet, Dr. Quigley tells us.” Her words were crisp, and she had a habit of clipping them as though to be done with each one as quickly as possible. “Boy’s like a blasted cat though. Always lands on his feet. Figuratively, of course, but I do not think he landed on his head. Quigley fears concussion. More of an old woman than I am! Naught ails that lad but a cracked rib or two and a passel of bruises. Deserves them, too, to my way of thinking,” she added bluntly, pushing open the schoolroom door without ceremony.

P
ETER ASHLEY SCRAMBLED TO
his feet, letting the book he had been reading slip to the floor. “How you startled me!” he exclaimed. “This room is nearly soundproof. Welcome, Miss Westering. You can’t know how grateful I am to see you.”

Catheryn smiled as he bent to retrieve his book, but she spoke anxiously. “How is Teddy, Mr. Ashley? Miss Felmersham insists it is not so bad as we’d feared.”

“As to that, ma’am, and not knowing what you feared—”

“That he was dead, like as not,” interjected Miss Felmersham tartly.

Catheryn blushed. “There was a slight misunderstanding at first,” she admitted, “but we truly didn’t know what to think.”

“I see. Well, just let me shut this door a bit. Quigley dosed him with laudanum. Didn’t like to with possible concussion, but he said the pain would keep the boy awake otherwise, and he wanted him to sleep.” He glanced into the darkened night nursery before pulling the door to and motioning them to seats in front of the fire. Miss Felmersham sighed.

“Might as well ring for tea,” she said. “Brevity is not one of your virtues.” She gave the bell a tug. Ashley was just explaining how he had returned with his cousin from Baldock only that afternoon and had received word at his father’s house via the servants’ grapevine of Teddy’s accident, when the young footman entered with the tea tray. It occurred to Catheryn that Carlson must have given the order even before Miss Felmersham rang, in order for the tea to have arrived so quickly.

She examined the contents of the tray with approval. A chubby teapot nestled between a large plate of buttered toast and a basket of apple muffins. Thick mugs and small crocks of creamy butter and jam rattled against cutlery as the tray was deposited. Catheryn helped herself to a muffin and passed the plate to Ashley while Miss Felmersham poured out the tea.

“Thank you, John,” Ashley said to the departing footman. Then he grinned at Catheryn. “I daresay I’ve not had tea by a schoolroom fire since I left my old school.”

“Well, I never have,” stated Miss Westering between bites of buttered muffin, “never having had a schoolroom.”

“Get on with your tale, Peter,” ordered Miss Felmersham, “else we’ll be here all night. Did they find young Nat?”

“No, Miss Lucy. At least, if they did, I’ve heard nothing about it. Nat Tripler is Teddy’s friend,” he explained to Catheryn, adding with a grin, “one of the sort I mentioned before. Seems he was here when Teddy was thrown. I heard about it from young Hobbs. You met his father in London.” Catheryn nodded. “Well, he saw the accident but couldn’t tell from where he stood whether Teddy landed on his head or not. He thought young Nat might know. Nat’s father, Ben Tripler, owns the Running Bull, that inn you passed on the road, and John is sweet on Nat’s sister, Hilda, so he knows the family fairly well. I sent him to see if Nat could tell us anything, but they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the boy. Seems he’s supposed to be off helping his Uncle Harry, one of Dambroke’s tenants, with some job or other.” Catheryn’s head was beginning to spin with all the unfamiliar names, but she didn’t want to interrupt. Ashley went on. “Ben said he’d send Nat over if he could add to what we know. I think Miss Lucy’s right, though, and Teddy landed on his shoulder. It’s very badly bruised.” He grinned at the old lady. “Miss Lucy is not happy with the situation.”

“Certainly not,” she asserted. “Dambroke ought to have known what would happen when he sent that dratted boy down here to cut up all my peace!”

Catheryn restrained a chuckle and tried to sound sympathetic, for she found Miss Felmersham rather formidable and had no wish to offend her. “But his lordship could not possibly have anticipated that Teddy would try to ride Blaze,” she protested mildly. “I know he gave strict orders when he sent the horse down here that no one was to ride him.” Miss Felmersham responded with a sound very like a snort, and Ashley carefully avoided meeting Catheryn’s eye.

“Don’t I know it, ma’am?” He shrugged expressively, his voice tinged with amusement. “You should have heard poor young Hobbs! I don’t know whether he’s more afraid of facing his father or the earl! He thinks Nat dared Teddy, but isn’t sure the whole idea wasn’t Teddy’s from the outset. Hobbs told one of the undergrooms to put a lead on Blaze so they could turn him out to graze. The boy said later that Teddy offered to do it for him. The upshot is that Teddy bridled him, mounted him, and before Hobbs or anyone knew what he was about, bolted out of the stable toward the paddock. He’s a bruising rider and might have been all right but for Straley’s big yellow mongrel. The mutt ripped after them, barking like mad, and spooked Blaze. With a saddle he might have stayed put, but when the horse wheeled on the dog, horse and boy parted company.” Ashley grimaced. “I’m glad I’m telling you and not his lordship. When I anticipated this conversation I pictured it being a shade more uncomfortable than it is. I expect I’ve still got that bit to look forward to in London, however.”

Catheryn appreciated the fact that he had not questioned her arrival in place of either Dambroke or the countess but had just accepted her and been grateful. She explained the earl’s absence, and Ashley expressed great shock over Perceval’s assassination, much more than Miss Felmersham had shown. Catheryn knew he wanted to pursue politics as an eventual career, though she thought personally that, if Dambroke could spare him, Peter would be a greater success as a diplomat. He had that rare knack for making each person within his sphere of influence feel special, and she knew the countess’s ball would never have been such a success had he not constantly served as a buffer between her ladyship’s capricious whims and the servants’ outraged sensibilities. He was frowning now.

“I must return as quickly as possible. His lordship no doubt has much for me to do. I had hoped to be here to introduce Mark to you tomorrow, but now….”

“You cannot leave before morning, Peter,” Miss Felmersham declared, “but you will want to be away at first light, I daresay, so I suggest we go to bed at once.” She stood up, brushed crumbs from her dressing gown, and pushed a loose strand of hair under her cap. Catheryn volunteered to sit with Teddy, but the old lady scoffed at the idea and Ashley insisted it was unnecessary. A bed had been made up for him in the old nanny’s room and, with the doors open, he would be certain to hear the boy if he called out in the night.

Catheryn let herself be persuaded but tiptoed into the nursery before allowing Miss Felmersham to show her to her own chamber. Holding a candle to light her way and with Ashley close behind her, she looked down at the sleeping boy. He was very still and pale, his breathing harsh. Ashley whispered that, according to Quigley, these symptoms were but normal effects of the laudanum, and with that explanation she had to be satisfied.

She awoke early the following morning. Not bothering to ring for Mary, she dressed quickly in a simple round gown and found her way to the schoolroom. It gave view to the east, where the glow of sunrise outlined dark trees. She was not surprised to hear voices in the nursery and entered to find Ashley sitting on the edge of Teddy’s cot. The boy seemed restless.

“Relax, Teddy. You are quite safe. It is only the medicine making you feel queer.” His voice was gentle, soothing. Something made him turn and he saw Catheryn. “I’m glad you came. Look, Teddy. Look who’s here.”

The boy’s feverish eyes rested upon her and she thought he relaxed a little, but his voice was weak. “You came.” He closed his eyes. Ashley’s brows knit.

“He’s been drifting in and out this past hour and more. I don’t like it. Seems feverish, too, and complains of the headache. What do you think?”

Catheryn hoped her smile was reassuring, though she felt anything but confident. “It’s most likely the drug, as you said yourself, sir. My grandfather commonly took laudanum in the last years to help him sleep and was a constant victim of morning headaches. Perhaps you might ring for some strong tea with plenty of milk and sugar. If it is only the drug, it will help, and if he has concussion it won’t harm him.”

He did not question her judgment but went immediately to pull the bell in the schoolroom. Catheryn took his place on the cot. Laying a cool hand on Teddy’s forehead, she did not think him warm enough to have a fever. But then, she reminded herself, she had no idea whether fever accompanied concussion or not.

Teddy opened his eyes. “Where is Richard, Cathy?”

“In London, dear. He has been detained.”

“He will be very angry.” He sighed deeply.

“You deserve that he should be, do you not?” But she smiled gently. “Whatever possessed you to do such a foolish thing?”

“Nat. He’s the best of good fellows. Full of ginger. Said I’d fall off, that I was pigeon-hearted. Had to try then.” He moved uncomfortably. “Didn’t know it would hurt so much.”

“Teddy, did you land on your head when you fell?”

He frowned. “I dunno. Remember riding. Don’t remember falling, only waking on the ground. Told ’em yesterday.” He sounded impatient.

“They didn’t tell me.” She smoothed the tousled hair.

“Did they tell you Blaze is all right? Wasn’t hurt a bit, Mr. Ashley said he bolted but Hobbs caught him easily enough. Did they tell you?”

“I didn’t think to ask, Teddy, but I’m sure Dambroke will be glad the stupid animal is unharmed.”

Her comment drew a weak grin, which had been its purpose. “He won’t ’preciate you calling Blaze stupid, you know. But you didn’t say when he’s coming,” he added anxiously.

“I don’t know, Teddy.” She started to explain about the Prime Minister but soon realized he wasn’t listening, that he had drifted off again. She sat quietly for a moment, watching him, noting that his breathing was steady and lacked the harshness of the previous night. Relieved, she went to find Mr. Ashley. He was standing by the schoolroom window.

“The tea will be here soon,” he said, “and I’ve sent for Quigley as well. I cannot like this. Even if it is only the drug, I’ll feel better if I hear it from him, since I must report to his lordship.”

“Of course. I shall also be interested in his opinion, though Teddy spoke to me just now and seemed quite lucid. He’s anxious about what Dambroke will say about all this.”

“Then he is in good company, is he not?” Ashley’s expression seemed almost grim, but a near twinkle lurked in his eye. She looked at him suspiciously, but there was no opportunity to question his meaning, since Teddy’s tea arrived at that moment.

The boy awoke when they carried it in to him, and it revived him a bit. He still seemed drowsy but managed to stay awake until the doctor arrived. After introducing her to the grizzled old gentleman, Ashley suggested she might go along to the breakfast parlor, since Teddy would not appreciate her presence during the examination. She agreed to go only when he promised to report the doctor’s findings as soon as possible.

Catheryn went downstairs to the first floor and a chambermaid directed her to a room filled with sunshine. The fact that the walls of the breakfast parlor were bright yellow with crisp white woodwork and a white marble mantle over the fireplace only added to the effect. It was a corner room facing south and east, and it was empty. She stepped to the window and found herself overlooking a courtyard flanked on two sides by double-story wings, which she later discovered to be the chapel wing on the north and a residential wing on the south. Mr. Ashley’s apartments were there, and Miss Felmersham’s were above his and connected to the breakfast parlor by means of a passageway. Beyond the courtyard was the low roofline of the stables and carriage house, then the succession houses, sloping well-scythed lawns, and the deer park.

Catheryn loved watching the day wake up in the country, for the morning had an exhilarating freshness about it. Much of this flavor was lost in the bustle and noise of the city, particularly in London, which woke up so long before dawn, with the calls of street vendors and the rattle of milk wagons and other vehicles. She let out a long breath, drinking in the landscape. The warm courtyard evidently produced an early spring, and a circular flower bed in the center boasted red roses surrounded by circles of daisies, cornflowers, yellow pansies, and alyssum.

“Have you rung for breakfast, Miss Westering?”

Catheryn nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to discover Miss Felmersham standing only a few feet to her right at the passage door, her head cocked a little to one side. If Catheryn had thought her odd the previous evening, there was certainly nothing in her matutinal appearance to alter that opinion though, admittedly, her hair was tidier. It had been brushed severely back from her face and forced at the nape of her neck into a tight little gray bun from which not one wisp had as yet dared to escape. But her costume was little short of sartorial disaster.

From the down-at-heels boots to her tiny little waist, she was dressed for riding. Both boots and dun-colored skirt had seen better days, but they were as nothing compared to the disreputable thing that served as her upper garment. It was actually one of Dambroke’s shooting jackets, long since outgrown, which she had appropriated to her own use. One of the many bulging pockets was ripped, and several others showed distinct signs of having been mended, hastily and haphazardly, with varicolored threads. But the most outrageous detail, in Catheryn’s opinion, was the old leather belt fastened tightly around her middle over jacket and all. Extra holes had been punched in order to make the belt fit, but no one had bothered to adjust the length, and the excess leather simply dangled where it would. The whole incredible outfit was topped off by a dashing and expertly knitted red-and-white-patterned scarf knotted around her neck with its ends stuffed any which way into the front of the jacket.