by Jenny Hambly
Lord Atherton was watching Rutley closely and Rosalind kept her eyes trained just as closely on Lord Atherton, her eyes straining as the fire burned low. Time seemed to slow, the world outside seemed far away, then she heard a muffled sound coming from beyond the room and saw Lord Atherton’s eyes swivel towards her, he gave her a brief nod. She dived to the ground as he pushed the table forcefully into Lord Rutley, sending him tumbling backwards in his chair. His henchman hesitated for an instant and it proved his undoing. In that moment, Lord Atherton had retrieved the knife from his boot and threw it unerringly across the room. It hit him in the thigh and he dropped the gun as he clutched at the knife. Lord Atherton sprang across the room just as the candelabra went out. The room was plunged into darkness as the door was thrown open and someone barrelled into the room. In the ensuing confusion Rosalind felt about for a candle and held it to the embers of the fire. She held it up just as the shutters were thrown open, letting a little of the fading daylight through the ivy-covered window. Sir Philip stood in his stockinged feet taking in the scene before him. Lord Atherton had overpowered his man who now lay unconscious at his feet but of Lord Rutley there was no sign.
“After him, Philip,” he grunted, as he retrieved the rope that had bound Rosalind earlier and tied up the unconscious man.
An extensive search of the house and grounds revealed nothing; the bird had flown. The other hired thug ordered to watch the approach to the house had stood no chance against a hardened campaigner used to guerrilla warfare, like Sir Philip. He had left his horse tied to a tree some distance from the house and approached it in ever decreasing circles until he had spotted his prey. The snap of a twig had alerted him but too late, as he had turned he had received a thundering right hook from a hand that felt like a sledgehammer and had been knocked out cold.
When they eventually came round the men were questioned but it came as no surprise that as hired thugs they knew nothing more about Lord Rutley’s future plans. Lord Atherton deemed that there was nothing much to be gained from informing the local magistrate, particularly as he was Sir Peter Grey and he didn’t want to have any more to do with the family than absolutely necessary, for if Letitia got wind of the story it would be all over the county before long.
It was decided that they would be given a taste of their own medicine, Sir Philip would drive them in the cart to some isolated spot and then release them. The threat of incarceration or worse if they returned would be enough to ensure their compliance.
“I don’t like the idea that Rutley is still on the loose,” grumbled Sir Philip.
“I think his game is played out,” countered Lord Atherton. “I will be very surprised if we hear from him again. He has nothing left to do but get himself out of the country.”
Lady Rosalind rode Sir Philip’s mount home. Dusk was falling, the silence only broken by the birdsong that filled the air as they said goodbye to the day. A day that filled the thoughts of both riders.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” murmured Rosalind. “Again.”
Lord Atherton offered her a wry smile. “We seem to make a habit of rescuing each other.”
Rosalind returned a rather wan smile. “I am sorry I overturned your curricle. I hope Lord Preeve has sustained no lasting injury.”
“He’ll be laid up for a few weeks with that leg but that’s all. As for the curricle, it would have taken a very experienced driver to avert that disaster even if it had not been tampered with. I am only thankful that you have met with no serious injury.”
Rosalind looked thoughtful. “I know you think it over,” she said slowly. “But I truly think he is mad. He told his thug to shoot anyone that followed you and the way he spoke to me,” she shuddered, “was not gentlemanly.”
“If he laid a finger on you, I will hunt him down and make him wish he was never born,” Lord Atherton growled through gritted teeth.
“No, no,” Rosalind hastily assured him, surprised by the vehemence of his response. “He just taunted me in a horribly insulting way. I don’t think he has a soul.”
Lord Atherton’s lips quirked in humour. “I don’t think he took your last message to heart, that’s for certain. What was it I read in the paper now? ‘For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?’ Mrs Prowett certainly chose an apt quote.”
Rosalind laughed at the thought of her old friend. “So you guessed then.”
“Yes, a redoubtable woman, Mrs Prowett. I seem to be surrounded by them!”
Rosalind was glad when the house finally hove into view, she ached all over and her head had begun to thump again. She gladly allowed Lord Atherton to lift her down from her horse and raised no demur when his mother bustled out of the house, hugged them both fiercely and insisted she was put immediately to bed.
“No, no, I am quite able to walk,” she protested blushingly, when Lord Atherton lifted her into his arms as if she were light as a feather and strode towards the house but was overruled by Lady Atherton.
“That’s the way, George,” she said approvingly. “Just you lie still, my dear, and we’ll soon have you more comfortable.”
Lady Atherton tucked her in herself, drawing the curtains and ordering a fire to be lit. “I know it’s not cold, my dear,” she said, “but everything always seems so much more cheerful and cosy with a fire, doesn’t it?”
Rosalind was glad to sink back against her feather-soft pillows, idly watch the flickering flames and letting her thoughts meander over the day’s events. If they wandered back rather frequently to the part Lord Atherton had played in them, it was hardly surprising after all.
The relief with which their safe return was met with was only matched by the rampant curiosity of the family. Lady Atherton convinced her reluctant son that things had reached such a pass they should be shared with everyone. Whilst she agreed that it was doubtful Lord Rutley still posed any danger, she felt everyone should be put on their guard, just in case he was deranged enough to still want to damage the family in some way.
The story was met with varying responses at the dinner table. Belle, whilst admiring Rosalind hugely was desperately disappointed to have had no part in such an exciting adventure. Lord Hayward could only be thankful that she hadn’t known of it as he could not place any reliance on her not having ridden off hot foot to help in the rescue.
“I would not wish you to place yourself in such a perilous and uncomfortable situation, my love,” he protested gently. “I am convinced you would not have enjoyed it nearly as much as you think.”
“Perilous, pooh,” she laughed. “Anyway, I am sure you would have come to my rescue, dear Nat.”
Although Lord Hayward could not help but feel gratified by the innocent trust she placed in him, Lord Atherton frowned at his sister. “Do not underestimate the danger Lady Rosalind was placed in today, Belle, I cannot think you would have found it any great fun to be overturned in a curricle, thrown in the back of a filthy cart with your hands bound and to find yourself, still bound, alone in the company of an unscrupulous gentleman.”
“I hardly think we can any longer attribute the term ‘gentleman’ to Rutley,” interjected Lady Denby scathingly.
“No, indeed not,” agreed Sir Thomas sternly. “And I must question your wisdom, George, in deciding not to deliver those two rascals into the hands of the local magistrate and report Rutley’s doings. Sir Peter Grey isn’t it? A sensible enough man, I believe.”
As Sir Thomas was magistrate of his own parish these sentiments were understandable and not easy to counter.
“Yes, I have nothing against Sir Peter, a sensible man as you say,” agreed Lord Atherton politely, although the slight thinning of his lips signalled he was not quite happy to have his decisions questioned. “However, the same cannot be said of either his wife or his daughter. I stand now in my father’s shoes and he, I know, would not have wished his family’s name bandied around the neighbourhood as an object of conjecture and gossip and although we disagr
eed on many things, I am as one with him on this.”
Hearing her son finally accepting the mantle of head of the house brought tears to Lady Atherton’s eyes. She smiled mistily at him. “Quite right, my dear, quite right.”
“However,” he continued, “if any of you feel uncomfortable with the situation, particularly you, Harriet, with the boys to consider, I will understand if you wish to bring your visit to an end.”
This brought a chorus of disapproval, in one respect the family were united; such a thing was not to be thought of. The Atherton clan closed ranks; no one was prepared to leave until they were convinced any danger had passed.
“However,” added Lord Hayward in an unusually grave tone, “there has been a lack of openness in you, George, that I do not pretend to understand. If anything else does occur, you might consider that Sir Thomas and I are also here and quite able and willing to offer our assistance. In fact I insist you keep us informed at all points.”
Belle looked at her husband with surprise and admiration. “Well said, Nat. I had not thought of it before, but I agree it was quite selfish of George to keep the adventure all to himself.”
Her brother merely rolled his eyes and addressed himself to his dinner.
Deeming it best to stay within the grounds for the next few days, new amusements were looked for. On visiting Rosalind’s bedchamber the following morning to see how she went on, Belle was surprised to find her already up, the resilience of youth having rapidly overcome the discomforts of the previous day.
She gave her new friend a swift hug. “You poor thing, tell me all about it!”
Rosalind shook her head and gave her an apologetic smile. “If you don’t mind I’d rather not. I’d rather keep busy and not think about it.”
Belle accepted this without any obvious signs of disappointment. “Well busy you shall be then,” she smiled. “We can work on those accomplishments you would like to acquire as we are to be house bound for a few days. I know you can ride, but can you dance?”
Rosalind shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted. “I have never even been to an assembly.”
Belle clapped her hands. “We will start there then. It will be such fun! It is a fortunate circumstance that Sir Philip is here, you know, for he is regarded as one of the most accomplished dancers and is a most amusing partner. He will be happy to lead and I can accompany you on the pianoforte,” she said, confidently disposing of that gentleman’s time.
“You sat still long enough to learn to play then,” Rosalind smiled, buoyed up by Belle’s high spirits.
Belle laughed. “Well I had do something during the winter, we get torrential downpours here you know!”
Her words proved prophetic as the next afternoon it came on to rain. Belle wasted no time but let Sir Philip know what a treat he had in store. Even a hardened campaigner like himself, armed with an intimate knowledge of the young lady concerned, was not proof against her cajoling ways. He was obliging enough to agree to the scheme and although Rosalind felt awkward at first to have a man in such close proximity, Sir Philip’s good humour as she stepped on his feet more than once soon put her at her ease. Her natural aptitude for all things physical and love of a challenge, presently took over and it was not long before she had mastered the rudimentaries of the dance.
“Very good, Lady Rosalind,” he praised her as they got through a whole dance without her bruising his toes further. “Now it is customary to converse whilst performing the dance, so although I realise the way I tie my cravat is quite mesmerising, if you could endeavour to raise your gaze we shall try it.”
Rosalind raised a laughing countenance to his. “I was concentrating on my steps!”
“Even so,” he murmured, nodding to Belle to begin again. “How are you enjoying your stay in the country, ma’am?” he enquired, all formality as he led her into a graceful turn.
“Oh, vastly diverting, sir,” she replied, joining in the game and putting on what she imagined would pass for society manners. “One never knows what might happen next.”
His lips quirked in amusement. “How refreshing. You are not perhaps missing the amusements of town?”
“Oh no, a select party of friends is such a relief after all the sad crushes of recent weeks,” she assured him blandly, blithely ignoring the fact that she had never been to any society crushes, sad or otherwise.
“How true,” he concurred. “Although I am sure your many admirers would not readily agree.”
Rosalind, by now thoroughly enjoying herself, dimpled roguishly at him. “Ah, but it becomes so tiresome trying to keep them all accommodated, for if I agree to dance with one, I leave another downcast and disappointed.”
“A circumstance you must find very gratifying,” her partner stated, his shoulders beginning to shake.
“I am not so heartless, sir,” Rosalind protested. “Unlike you, for I believe you are a shocking flirt and have left a string of broken hearts behind you.”
At this point he gave up trying to contain his amusement and let out a bark of laughter. It was thus, Lord Atherton found them.
“I am glad to see you are all enjoying yourselves, the lesson went well I presume,” he stated dryly, sounding slightly prosy even to his own ears.
“Oh Lord, yes,” agreed Sir Philip, wiping his streaming eyes. “Lady Rosalind will be an accomplished dancer and flirt in no time at all! Keep her here, George, for if she is ever let loose on the town, she will be a match and more for any of the incomparables!”
“I was only playing at flirting,” Rosalind protested, not quite comfortable with this description.
Lord Atherton had a suddenly arrested look on his face. “You have no need to play at it, my dear, it comes quite naturally to your sex, I believe.”
Rosalind was quick to hear the slight sneer in his words and flushed up to the roots of her hair. “I will go and see if Lady Atherton requires me to do anything for her,” she said, hastily marching towards the door.
“A good idea,” agreed Lord Atherton, holding it open for her, “that is what I brought you here for after all.”
Rosalind dropped him a curtsy subservient enough to have come from the lowliest maid whilst sending him a searingly hot glance of resentment.
Sir Philip and Belle exchanged a knowing look.
“Feeling a trifle out of sorts, George?” enquired Sir Philip, gently.
“Not at all dear fellow,” Lord Atherton replied blandly. “Come and play a game of billiards with me.”
Belle raised no objection to being so summarily deserted, but let her fingers play idly over the keys, a distracted but not unsatisfied smile on her face.
Chapter 10
Lord Atherton had remained closeted with his steward, Mr Kingston, for most of the morning. By the end of their interview his head was buzzing with the alien ideas of crop rotation, high yielding crops, the importance of nitrogen in the soil and role of legumes and clover in achieving this and much more. He was just considering a ride to shake his crotchets out when Sedgewick announced he had a visitor; Lord Gifford, Marquis of Stafford had come to call. A tall, rather spare man, with a restless energy and a pair of astute, twinkling blue eyes entered the room. Lord Atherton rose hastily from behind his desk to greet him.
“Lord Gifford, this is an honour,” he said, bowing.
“Nonsense, my dear boy,” smiled the older man, taking the chair on the other side of the desk and accepting a glass of claret. “I have had no opportunity to pay a visit since your poor father’s death, he was a good friend and will be missed but I am glad to see you at home taking an interest in your affairs.”
Lord Atherton grimaced slightly. “I have a lot to learn, sir,” he admitted ruefully.
“Of course you do,” he laughed, “but Kingston is a good man and will show you the way all right and tight.”
“How are your mines and quarries running, sir?” he enquired politely.
They were Lord Gifford’s favourite topic and he did not hesitate to ex
pound upon them.
“We have increased our small canal network to carry the loads from the mines to the quarries and wharves and it has increased productivity greatly. Unfortunately, one of the underground subsidiary passages in Wormbridge wood has recently collapsed, only a minor inconvenience and I will soon put it right. You have no interest in investing, I suppose?”
Lord Atherton smiled. “Not at the moment, sir, we have some interest in the Grand Junction and it has begun to pay good dividends but I must admit I am more than a little interested in the steam engine. I remember going to see the Catch Me Who Can in Bloomsbury, created by Richard Trevithick when I was a lad. And although it came to nothing, it was the fault of the rails not the locomotive, I am sure it is the future. Have you any steam engines at the mines, sir? I would be very interested in seeing them if you have.”
Lord Gifford smiled at his enthusiasm. “We use them on our inclined plane and to pump water out of the mine. You are welcome to a guided tour anytime, my lad. It is refreshing to meet a young man with more in his head than whoring and gambling, you are your father’s son after all.”
“I am beginning to understand the balls he juggled more every day,” Lord Atherton admitted wryly. “I hope to take you up on that offer very soon, sir, if I may?”
“I will look forward to it, come in the afternoon and then dine. You will stay the night, of course.”
A knock on the door interrupted them and then a fair head in a very fetching lace cap peeped around the edge. “Oh, it is you, Miles.” Lady Atherton smiled, coming into the room. “I am sorry to interrupt but I did not want you to run away without saying hello.”
Lord Gifford rose to his feet and came forward to take both her hands in his. “My dear Sophia, I don’t know how it is but you look younger every time I see you, damned if you don’t!”