The Village Spinster (7 page)

When another knock came at the door, she was strongly disposed to tell Meg to ignore it. She was not in the mood to handle any more Barringtons. But it was only a neighbor bringing calves’ foot jelly for the invalid, someone who wished only to be helpful. When the woman had gone, Clarissa wandered to the sitting room and found Aria indeed sound asleep.

The girl looked quite beautiful lying there with her hand tucked up under her cheek. The swelling on her head had come down considerably. No danger now of having to shave an area to rub in Dr. Lawrence’s lotion. Clarissa tucked the covers gently around the resting child and decided she’d best take her constitutional now before anyone else arrived.

Giving strict instructions to Meg that no one was to disturb the girl while she slept, Clarissa donned her blue pelisse and cottage bonnet. If she’d had to give up riding when the manor was sold, she had discovered the pleasures of walking to compensate. On a bright spring day such as this she could walk for hours.

Chapter Six

Steven Traling was three-and-twenty, and usually full of boyish enthusiasm and spirits. His brown eyes frequently danced and his black hair did not always fall perfectly into the prevailing Brutus style. He was not above average height and he rode well, if not brilliantly. It was his habit to come to Pennwick every two weeks or so, but as he had not had a chance to be private with Miss Driscoll the previous day, he returned to Pennwick. He was riding his horse along the main street (if such the rutted lane could be called) of the village when he spied Miss Driscoll striding off across the fields at the end of town.

He thought her a magnificent figure of a woman. Though he was aware that she walked constantly for her own amusement (he had had to wait on numerous occasions for her return), he had not actually watched her stride across a field with that air of certainty with which she did everything. Unlike his wife, who was a beautiful but timid woman.

Mr. Traling rode his horse to the end of the lane, dismounted and tied him to a tree. He was able to overtake Miss Driscoll in a matter of minutes, despite her ambitious pace. “Good morning, Miss Driscoll,” he called with engaging formality when he was close enough.

Surprised, Clarissa swung around to confront him. “Mr. Traling. What are you doing in Pennwick today?”

“Yesterday was hardly a satisfactory visit, was it?” he asked. “Never saw so many people in such a small space in my life. Hope the girl’s mending all right.”

“She seems to be. She’s staying with me for a few days, as it would have been risky to transfer her to the Hall in her condition.”

Traling grinned. “I imagine the family loved that!”

“Not in the least,” Clarissa admitted. “But they had little choice.” She returned to her former pace and he matched his stride with hers. “How did you manage to elude your in-laws two days in a row?”

“It wasn’t easy. Mrs. Wilton decided to take Jane shopping for swaddling gowns or some such thing, but Mr. Wilton wished me to accompany him to the Pump Room. Odious place. Bath is so full of quizzes and they simply cannot wait to get their hands on a bit of gossip. I told Mr. Wilton the newest rumor was that Wellington was emigrating to the United States and it made him so mad he refused to go.”

Clarissa couldn’t restrain a gurgle of laughter. “Wellington in America! You have the most fertile imagination, Steven.”

“I wish he would go!” the young man declared. “Perhaps my papa-in-law would join him there.”

“And you would end up in America as well,” she pointed out.

“Oh, I’m not so sure. I could probably convince Jane that she didn’t want to go. Then they would be there and we would be here, a much more suitable arrangement than the current one.”

They had reached a path which led through a small coppice of copper beeches. Clarissa turned onto the path and headed west on the second leg of the triangle she sometimes made on her walks. Mr. Traling kept pace with her, frowning slightly as he considered his situation. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t put so much store in the baby,” he remarked. “Poor Jane can’t make a move without her mother saying, ‘You mustn’t tire yourself, Jane,’ or her father saying, ‘Let’s make sure this is a healthy lad, Jane.’ What if it’s not the son they expect? Or what if it’s sickly and dies? You know that can happen.”

“Jane is their only child. Of course they’re concerned.”

“Oh, it’s more than that. You know it is.”

Clarissa sighed. “Yes. They’re just naturally overbearing people who insist on controlling everything that concerns their daughter. You knew that when you married her, Steven.”

She only called him by his Christian name when there was no one else around. Right now they were in the middle of Priory Lane, fresh greenery springing out on either side, with a sweep of fields all about them. Far away to the north could be seen some of the spires of Bath itself; straight ahead lay Stanton Prior. At the hedgerow they would turn back toward the village of Pennwick.

Grudgingly, he admitted that he had known what his in-laws were when he married. “But, you know,” he said, kicking a stone out of his path, “Jane didn’t seem so cowed by them then. I think I depended more on her being a stronger person.”

Clarissa regarded him with assessing eyes. “Perhaps you expected that
you
would be a stronger person, Steven. Or thought you would have more power when you were actually married.”

“And so I should have,” he agreed, with asperity. “Under the marriage settlement I was to have control of her fortune. How was I to know that her father still controlled the source of funds? I’m not an attorney. And God knows I couldn’t have afforded one to go over the settlement. It
sounded
perfectly all right.”

“You’ll come about. Just be patient. Once the baby is born and Jane settles into motherhood, she may very well side with you in having a home of your own—at some distance from your in-laws.”

“Faint hope.”

As Mr. Traling was seldom this despondent, in fact was almost never anything less than charming and cheerful, Clarissa was about to test him further on the cause of his black humor, when they were interrupted by a rider on the road. This was unfortunate, because Clarissa never went about with Mr. Traling. Though he came to her house once a fortnight or so, they never went into the village or about the neighborhood. It was a simple matter of prudence. There was wont to be talk in a small village. Clarissa was not one to explain herself or her actions, but neither was she in the habit of provoking her neighbors to talk about her. The rider, on closer approach, turned out to be William.

“Miss Driscoll! Mr. Traling.” William tipped his hat to them. “Glad you could get out walking. I was afraid having Aria in the house would just about lock you in.”

“She’s sleeping now, and Meg is there to take care of any of her needs.” Clarissa frowned. “I’ve just remembered the doctor, though. I should like to be there when he calls.”

“Not likely to miss him in the morning. Sees the more urgent cases then.”

“Goodness. How do you know that?”

“Well, he told me yesterday when I went to get him, don’t you know? Good sort of man. Very comfortable.” William dismounted from his horse and led it as they walked. He didn’t notice the look of exasperation Mr. Traling gave him. “Must be rather unnerving to be a doctor. Don’t know what you’ll find when you get to the scene of an accident, and everyone there expecting you to make everything right again.”

Clarissa agreed with him, and Mr. Traling grunted. The rest of the way back to Clarissa’s cottage, the three of them discussed the potential hazards of being a doctor as they walked. William had obviously given the matter a certain amount of thought overnight. “Have you ever noticed,” he asked, “that doctors are the sort of people who are never surprised? I imagine they’ve seen everything. And another thing: not the sort of profession younger sons go into, is it? I mean, there’s the church and the law and the military. Do all those things, but never medicine. I wonder why that is? Gets one’s hands too dirty?”

“I believe that must be it,” Mr. Traling said, taking part in the conversation for the first time. “Had you been considering becoming a doctor, William?”

“Me?” The young man considered him with astonishment. “I don’t even know how to wrap one of those things around a horse’s knees when they’re swollen. And I’m as like as not to pass out at the sight of blood.”

“I merely wondered at your interest,” Mr. Traling explained. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you were planning on entering
any
profession.”

William stared thoughtfully down the village lane to the fields beyond. “Do you think I should, Miss Driscoll?” he asked suddenly. “Study for a profession, I mean. Not become a doctor. Somehow I can’t think Kinsford would approve of that. And I’ve never done very well at school, you know. More a matter of not applying myself than not having the native ability, I’ve always assumed, but who is to know?”

Clarissa, already in sufficient trouble with the earl, bowed out of this discussion. “I’m sure I haven’t the least notion what would be best for you, William. This is the sort of thing you have to think about and talk over with your brother and your mother.”

“My mother!” Now William regarded her with astonishment. “What would my mother have to say to such a scheme? She wouldn’t understand in the least what I was about.”

“I’m not at all sure I do either,” Clarissa confessed. “Don’t you enjoy being a gentleman of leisure?”

“Yes, well, of course I do. I shouldn’t like at all to have to be at someone’s beck and call, you know. But Kinsford went into the military when he was little older than I am, and perhaps I should do the same.”

“There’s not a great call for military personnel just now,” Mr. Traling informed him. “What with old Boney out of the way and all. Pretty quiet on that front.”

William nodded. “Suppose it is, at that. Well, it was only a thought. Mr. Traling, I’ll ride with you to the Bath Road. I have an errand at the Whittaker farm.”

Mr. Traling, who had hoped for a few words alone with Miss Driscoll, reluctantly agreed. He was not, apparently, destined to have further private time with her. She was impatient now to check on her young charge, he could tell. So he and William swung up on their horses and made their farewells. Clarissa, with a furrowed brow, watched them leave.

There was something very odd about the way William had acted, but she could not put her finger on it. He was, after all, a rather exuberant young man and one never quite knew where his thoughts would take him. But a profession! Lord have mercy on us, she thought, as, shaking her head, she entered the cottage.

Lady Aria was awake, and rather feverish. She shifted restlessly on the sofa, saying little but looking flushed and in pain. When questioned, she admitted that it was her head that ached. The wounded area remained swollen, but not nearly so much so as the previous day. Still, Clarissa determined that they should indeed rub in some lotion, as the doctor had suggested.

Meg left to make up the solution of sal ammoniac, vinegar, and whisky in water. Clarissa sat down with her charge, taking the warm hand in both of hers. “Poor dear. You must be miserable. But I have just been with your brother William and will divert you with his latest start."

Her patient turned interested but pained eyes to her and Clarissa continued, “He is considering whether he should take up a profession!”

Lady Aria giggled. “Will? How absurd he is. Whatever put that start in his mind?”

“I think it must have been his dealings with Dr. Lawrence yesterday.”

“Will wants to be a doctor?” she asked, incredulous.

“Oh, no. Apparently that is far too lowly a profession for a gentleman. Something like the military seems more to his taste.”

“He would look splendid in a uniform, but I cannot believe he would like it at all—the orders and the miserable conditions.”

“Mr. Traling thought there was not a great deal of demand for military officers just now,” Clarissa said.

Lady Aria turned her head fretfully on the pillow. “I suppose not, and I’m glad. I should hate for Will to go off and become a soldier.”

Clarissa wished to keep her patient awake long enough to apply the lotion, so she asked, “Do you think William needs some form of occupation? Being down from school he may well be at loose ends.”

Lady Aria’s shrug sent a different sort of pain through her body and she gasped. Clarissa continued to stroke her hand. In a moment the added discomfort ceased and Aria attempted to answer Miss Driscoll’s question. “He’s always found plenty to do before this: hunting, fishing, riding, driving, going to the races, training his dogs. It’s probably just some notion he’s taken because Alexander has been plaguing him.”

“We should talk about Lord Kinsford,” Clarissa began. But at that moment Meg brought in the lotion and Lady Aria grimaced when Clarissa applied it liberally through her hair. It was a painful process and when she was finished, she patted the girl’s good shoulder and said, “Why don’t you try to get some sleep now, my dear? You’ll feel better if you do.”

Without a word Aria sank into a light, uneasy sleep and Clarissa tucked the covers about her carefully before leaving the room. Meg had a nuncheon laid out for her on the table in the dining parlor. After her walk, Clarissa had a good appetite, but she was distracted by her concern for the girl. What if Lady Aria had indeed sustained damage to her head, to her brain? She seemed perfectly coherent, though feverish and sleepy. Would they be able to tell at this point? Her shoulder was a minor matter. It would heal quickly. But her head... The more she pondered the matter, the more Clarissa grew eager for the doctor’s visit.

When Dr. Lawrence arrived, however, he was accompanied by Lord Kinsford. Clarissa suspected that Lord Kinsford had skulked about at the edge of the village awaiting the doctor’s arrival, only to “happen” to fall in with him there and gain admittance along with him to his sister’s sickroom. As though Clarissa had intended to deny him access to his sister for the duration of her stay! Clarissa shrugged off the episode. Lady Aria was her first concern.