The Village Spinster (9 page)

“Oh, yes, you can.” Clarissa made a wide gesture with her hands. “You can well imagine the unseemly things that occur when Mr. Traling comes to see me at ten o’clock in the morning.”

“The hour has very little to do with it,” Kinsford insisted. “That sort of thing can go on at any time of day."

“By ‘that sort of thing,’ are we referring to an illicit liaison, Lord Kinsford?” Clarissa asked, grinning at him.

He seemed suddenly to realize the ludicrousness of such a suggestion. Gruffly, because he was not at all satisfied with the direction of the conversation, he said, “I’m not suggesting there is anything of that nature happening here, Miss Driscoll. It’s the appearance of impropriety which must be attended to. You know what a small village is.”

“Yes, I do, and that is why I have Lorelia Snolgrass. If she’s very seldom here, I can hardly curtail my cousin’s visits until she returns, can I?”

“Your cousin? Mr. Traling is your cousin?”

“Of a sort. He is not a first cousin, if that is all that will satisfy you.”

“Where does he live, Mr. Traling? How often does he come here?”

“You cannot seriously expect me to satisfy your curiosity on such matters, Lord Kinsford. Perhaps one day you will encounter Mr. Traling, and you can discuss them with him. He’s a very open, straightforward young man. I dare say he would be pleased to fill you in on all the relevant information.”

“It’s not a matter of idle curiosity, Miss Driscoll.” The earl took another bite of the molasses biscuit before continuing with great earnestness. “My sister’s upbringing is of major concern to me. It would not do at all to have her stigmatized by her attendance in your house.”

“I’m not aware of any stigma attached to visiting me. In fact, you seem to be the only person in the whole county who has ever thought to question my virtue.” Clarissa managed a plaintive sigh. “I suppose right now they are saying, ‘Well, what is he doing at her house this hour of the night? The sister is sick, no effective chaperone there.
That sort of thing
could be going on at this very moment.’ But you would not wish me to send you away, for fear of such talk, would you?”

“No one is saying any such thing,” he retorted. “They know I’m here to visit my sister, and that she is very ill. It’s only natural that I would come to see her.”

“Perhaps. But your mother didn’t come with you. Nor did your brother. And there are only a sick girl and a maid in the house to give the appearance of propriety. All I’m saying is that it is a matter of perspective. Frankly, I can’t think that anyone is interested enough in my affairs to concern themselves with what is going on in my cottage.”

He snorted. “You aren’t naive enough to believe that.”

“You haven’t the slightest idea how naive I am, sir.”

He regarded her speculatively for a moment. Clarissa saw him take in her cap, her face (no longer in the first bloom of youth), and her figure hidden under an India shawl. And she imagined he would remember that she had not even had on shoes when he visited her the previous morning. Eccentric, yes, but doubtless not the village loose woman. He tapped impatient fingers on the shining table. Before he could speak, there was a knock at the door and soon Meg was ushering William into the small dining parlor.

“Evening, Miss Driscoll. I thought I might find you here, Kinsford. Good biscuits, aren’t they? Meg is a gem.” He took a third chair with very little prompting and helped himself to the molasses treats. “Meant to be by earlier but a friend from school stopped on his way through. How’s Aria?”

They explained the situation and Will pursed his lips. “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”

“I think so,” Clarissa assured him. “She’s sleeping now.”

The earl rose abruptly and said, “We should leave Miss Driscoll in peace, William. Having Aria is taking up a great deal of her time."

Obediently, his brother rose, but before he left the house, William managed to whisper to Clarissa, “I have something special for you. I’ll bring it by first thing in the morning.”

Oh, wonderful, Clarissa thought as she gathered the shawl more closely about her and went in search of her book. Heaven knew what William would consider an auspicious gift under the circumstances. Clarissa could scarcely contain her curiosity.

Chapter Eight

Clarissa slept restlessly. Her small bedchamber, one of two at the front of the house on the first floor, felt airless and cramped. Climbing out of bed, she slipped her feet into comfortable, worn slippers and drew a woolen wrap about herself. At the window overlooking the street she could see no light in the whole town. Doubtless it was the middle of a moonless night.

Off to the right lay the fields of one of the more prosperous farms in the neighborhood. To the left lay several houses on the main street which crossed her lane. Nothing stirred. Obviously it was not a sound from without that had wakened her. And the house itself was quiet. Even the small fire in the grate was totally out now. But it wasn’t cold, either, that had awakened her, for the room was not particularly chill.

Still, she could not contemplate returning to her bed. Something tugged at her, refusing her peace. Aria had been resting quietly when she came upstairs, but that was no guarantee that she remained well. Clarissa hastily lit a candle and moved silently through the hall and down the stairs to the ground floor. The sitting-room door was closed, to keep the warmth of the fire within the room as long as possible.

She opened the door noiselessly, not wanting to awaken her patient. Her eyes went directly to the sofa and found it empty. Clarissa’s heart lurched in her chest. The candle shook slightly in her hand. It was not a large room, though the largest in the cottage. Even given the inky shadows of the corners of the room, Clarissa could tell at a glance that Lady Aria was not there.

Back in the hall Clarissa checked to see that the front door was closed and bolted, as was their habit at night. Lady Aria could not have gone out that way. The dining parlor across the hall was as empty as the sitting room, though Meg had set dishes out for Clarissa’s breakfast.

The kitchen, just beyond the dining parlor, had a door to the outside, and Clarissa hastened to check whether it was locked like the front door. But in the kitchen itself, standing at the larder in her bare feet, was Lady Aria. Clarissa wasn’t sure that the girl was fully awake, and she had heard it was unwise to abruptly awaken a person who was walking in her sleep. So she whispered Lady Aria’s name from the doorway and the girl immediately looked up. She had no candle and the room, save for the flickering gleam of Clarissa’s, was in darkness.

“They don’t feed us enough at school,” Lady Aria said distinctly and defiantly. “I’m quite hungry, and it’s because the stew this evening was very skimpy on the meat. I’m getting myself a little something to eat.”

Lady Aria hadn’t been at school for the last year, owing to her extreme dislike of the place. Clarissa decided to go along with the girl rather than attempt to disabuse her of her notion of where she was. “I’m quite famished myself,” she said. “Let’s see what we can find, shall we?”

There was a bit of cold mutton, some baked plum pudding and a bit of stewed rhubarb which Clarissa heaped onto a serving platter and carried to the dining parlor. Lady Aria followed her obediently and sat down, prepared to be served whatever was available. Clarissa took utensils and plates from the sideboard and dished up as much as she felt Lady Aria could possibly handle after having had so little for the past two days. There were several candles on the table and she lit them, illuminating a very strange scene indeed.

This was certainly disorientation, and yet, as before, it seemed to come from the situation. This time Aria’s empty stomach had recalled other such occasions and confused the two. She was now eating with simple pleasure and looked across at Clarissa with a dawning comprehension. “What time is it, Miss Driscoll?” she asked, a trifle hesitantly.

“I don’t know precisely. I haven’t actually seen a clock, but I suspect it’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought.” Lady Aria shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Do you often eat in the middle of the night?”

“No, my dear, but you were particularly hungry and so we’re having a bit of a meal to see us through the night.” Clarissa cocked her head at the girl. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

“I had an accident.” Lady Aria frowned. “I get a little confused sometimes. Things don’t quite fit together.” Her face crumpled and a tear drifted down her cheek. “There’s something wrong with my head, isn’t there?”

“I doubt very much if it’s anything permanent, Lady Aria,” Clarissa reassured her, reaching across the small table to squeeze the young woman’s hand. “You’ve had a bad blow to the head, and a fever. It’s going to take a while for your body to accommodate all that. Try not to worry yourself about it. Dr. Lawrence is keeping an eye on you, and he’s very capable.”

The tears in Aria’s eyes shone in the candlelight. “But what if it doesn’t go away? What if I’m always ... wrong in the head?”

Clarissa wanted to dismiss the thought, but felt that Aria deserved a proper answer. “I can’t think of anyone whose family would more easily accept such a situation. They love you and have the means to sustain you in whatever condition you should find yourself. But, my dear, it simply isn’t going to be a problem, I feel certain. Look how your appetite has improved!”

Though this spoke to nothing in particular, Lady Aria seemed cheered. “Yes,” she agreed, “I do seem to have a remarkable appetite. I must be improving.” The moisture in her eyes gradually diminished as she helped herself to the plum pudding and the stewed rhubarb. “I’m so glad there weren’t any vegetables,” she said, an impish grin lighting her face.

Clarissa felt as reassured by the grin as she had been shaken by the earlier events. It might, however, be wise to mention these mental aberrations to the doctor, since he hadn’t been witness to any of them. They could be nothing, or they could be very important. She would have to tell the earl, too, to keep him fully apprised of the situation.

When Lady Aria had finished her impromptu meal, she unconsciously rubbed her injured shoulder. “It’s time you were back in bed,” Clarissa insisted, standing up and coming around to the girl’s side. “If you think a bed upstairs would be more commodious than the sofa, we could take you up there.”

Aria covered a yawn with her hand. “No, thank you. I’ll be asleep in no time on the sofa.” She winced as she rose from the chair but managed to walk, rather gingerly, back to the sitting room. Without any further discussion, she climbed onto the sofa, pulled the covers up about her shoulders, and proceeded to fall asleep.

Clarissa tucked the covers under her and watched the deep, even breathing of her patient. The girl’s forehead was no warmer than earlier in the evening, so there was no recurrence of high fever. Clarissa returned to the dining parlor to return the remaining food to the larder. Then, almost reluctantly, she retired upstairs to her bed.

William rose early the next morning. He had determined that it would be best to take care of an urgent matter before his brother discovered what was going on. Though Will had been annoyed with Upton for bringing the dog to him, he had felt he must indeed take charge of the little terrier, since it had been he who had first suggested the plan of heisting the small beast. Not that they had intended keeping it, and in fact it had been returned to its master once already.

“Only it was the shabbiest thing,” Upton had protested as he tied the dog by a strong rope in the stables of Kinsford Hall. “The master said he had no intention of teaching the little brute any manners, and within four-and-twenty hours the terrier had bitten two more boys. It’s the flapping gowns,” Upton declared. “I swear if a bishop were to rush by him with his robes flapping, the dog would take a chunk out of his leg.”

“But what am I to do with him?” Will asked. “Can’t very well have him biting everybody about the place.”

“That’s what I’m
telling
you,” Upton insisted. “He don’t just bite everybody. Only the ones in flapping robes who are rushing by. Promise you it’s the truth. We had ever such an easy ride here with him on my lap. Kept licking me. Disgusting.”

“Kinsford isn’t half fond of terriers,” Will mused. “I suppose I could leave him in the barn, but that would be taking a chance of his nipping at the horses. Dashed inconvenient!”

Upton disregarded this problem. “He isn’t likely to attack the horses. Then again, who knows. I’d keep him in the house if it were me. Perhaps your mother would like a lap dog.”

The two young men regarded the terrier happily scratching at his shoulder. Though small and golden, the dog did not look quite like a comfortable house pet. He was scruffy and tended to be excitable, even when not inclined to bite anyone. It was his barking that brought the head groom out to investigate.

“What have we here?” asked Perkins. “Can’t have an animal in the stables, Master William. It’s likely to upset the horses.”

“It’s only overnight,” Will had assured him. “No need to mention it to Kinsford.”

And there the matter had rested. But Will had hit on a brilliant solution the previous evening and he was up betimes to carry it out: for Perkins was not one to keep mum any longer than the promised period of time, and Will wanted the dog gone before Kinsford put in his morning appearance at the stables. In his own mind, Will had justified the kidnapping by believing quite firmly that anyone who didn’t care properly for a dog (which included, in his opinion, making sure that the dog didn’t injure anyone) did not deserve to have one.

True, Will had not been able to gain Miss Driscoll’s permission on the previous evening because his brother had been with her, but he felt certain she would be delighted to have the animal. Why, she hadn’t even a cat! And it was no use saying that the dog would cost her anything, for he himself would see that she was supplied with scraps from the Hall. Obviously it was the most perfect of schemes, and he had no hesitation in taking the dog along with him. After all, wouldn’t the little beast simply steal her heart?