‘Yes. They went to the same school, and Jack protected Tom from some of the older boys who thought it a great game to tease and hurt the little ones.’
‘Jack would have been there for two years by himself before Tom joined him.’ Cecily shuddered. ‘I cannot imagine his time there to have been pleasant for, unlike Tom, he had no older brother to shelter him.’
Nell looked stricken. ‘Poor little Jack!’
Cecily spread her fingers, breathing deeply. ‘Nell, perhaps our imaginations are running away with us in this. Many schools are perfectly reasonable.’
Nell shook her head slowly. ‘Not this one. It was called Herald’s Hall, I believe, but Tom told me the boys who attended it dubbed it Hell’s Hall. Cruelty was part of its nature.’
They paused, just looking at each other. Cecily was unsurprised to find herself trembling a little.
Poor Jack! Poor Tom!
‘We have both known the grief of losing beloved parents. Only my mama remains. Yet we have never had to feel unloved.’
‘Unloved.’ Nell’s voice shook. ‘I did feel it after Papa’s death, before I met Tom. It is—it is the most terrible feeling. I should not wish it on anyone.’
‘Tom is lucky to have found you, and to have opened his heart to love again.’
‘It frightened him.’ Her voice was almost a whisper. ‘That is why he broke with me.’
‘Of course it did.’
Jack is afraid, too.
She closed her eyes as her own fear surged within her, fear of giving Jack control of her happiness. Opening her eyes again, she looked at her friend. ‘Love means being open to hurt, and that is terrifying.’
Nell’s eyes widened. ‘Do you speak from experience, Cecily?’
Cecily paused, before replying carefully. ‘Yes and no. I know enough of the world to have seen people battle with love and fear and have experienced enough weakness of position to have exposure to a similar type of fear.’ Her feelings for Jack were too nebulous to be voiced, too raw and frightening to be scrutinised. She shook her head, turning the conversation away from herself, and back to those motherless boys.
‘We see Jack as the Earl of Hawkenden. Powerful, wealthy, cold. But we have also gained an understanding of the boy that he was.’ Could she help her friend create a bridge between the unloved boy and the Earl, as she herself had done? ‘Jack may have only ever allowed himself to love one person since their mama and their nurse went away.’
Nell nodded. ‘Tom.’
‘Tom.’ Cecily waited.
‘And Tom...’ Nell’s voice tailed off as she worked it out.
‘Tom loves someone else now.’ Cecily said the words that Nell seemed incapable of uttering.
‘Me.’
‘Yes,’ Cecily whispered. She cleared her throat. ‘So Jack is completely alone. Or so it might seem to him.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Making an effort, Jack joined in various light-hearted conversations as the horses picked their way up hill, down dale and through fields and woods. His heart remained heavy, and he looked forward to seeing Cecily again with a mix of wonder and dread. At times it had seemed as though she truly liked him, but this morning’s conversation had turned everything backwards. Once again, he had gone back round the endless wheel of hope and loss, and now was back to hoping that she could forgive him for being such a hot-headed, hurtful, ill-disciplined fool.
He dared not think of her passionate response to his kisses, and was nervous about dwelling on the affinity that had seemed to have been developing between them these past weeks. He needed to remain cool-hearted, or else risk pain when she left him, as she inevitably would.
His heart clenched somehow, as a strange tension came over him. Just when had she become so important to him? She was no-one in particular, after all—just another young lady. He shook his head, knowing that this was unconvincing even to himself. It should not matter to him what her opinion of him was. Should not. But did.
How could he rebuild that friendship that had become so essential to him? Surely there must be a way. She had shown an interest in matters of business generally, he recalled. Perhaps he could offer to involve her in reviewing the information provided by Carmichael? Yes, that might do it. His mind racing, he imagined them poring over documents, heads close together... From there, it did not take much for him to begin to indulge in more carnal thoughts—how he could contrive a private moment when he could create the opportunity for more kisses.
Again he shied away from his own thoughts, since the notion of kissing her disturbed much deeper feelings, and ones that he did not welcome in the least. Kissing Cecily was the one thing he desired most, yet it opened the door to the very fears that were causing him such anguish today.
With a sigh, he directed his attention back to the present. ‘Harting,’ he called, ‘how have you found your mount today? I have taken him out frequently myself, and always enjoy him.’
His friend replied, and all thoughts of Lady Cecily’s haunting gaze were banished—for a moment at least.
* * *
Cecily and Nell, both restless, had decided to take a turn about the gardens. Cecily was still feeling perturbed from the conversation earlier, and she guessed Nell was experiencing a similar disquiet. They strolled arm in arm around the perimeter of the house and along the few garden paths, enjoying the signs of a burgeoning spring.
In addition, though unspoken between them, was the calculation that the gentlemen should have been back already, as they would undoubtedly wish to wash and change before dinner. They could therefore reappear at any time.
Naturally, this engendered the usual feeling of a flock of butterflies flittering in Cecily’s stomach, although today the excitement was accompanied by a strong feeling of dread. Impossible to deny for very long, Cecily acknowledged the dread related to the feeling that she and Jack were somehow estranged. The memories of their conversation at the breakfast table haunted her. Desperately she wished to be at one with Jack again, for his friendship was important to her.
Friendship? Something did not ring true about her mind’s choice of word. She frowned as she walked, puzzling it out. Friendship was in a sense accurate, for during her time here she and the Earl had developed something of an affinity. But she had had friends before.
None had ever come accompanied by internal hosts of butterflies.
None had kissed her.
None had left her with such turmoil and obsession, fear and hope.
‘Cecily,’ Nell announced, bringing her back to the Hazledene gardens, ‘I am decided. I intend to speak with Tom again about their childhood. It is not something he finds easy, so I shall have to persuade him. But I should like him to think about how Jack might be similarly affected. I also understand better now how our marriage might have been seen by a brother who cares for his sibling, and I intend to open Tom’s eyes, as you have opened mine. Thank you.’
She embraced Cecily, and Cecily felt unexpected tears start in her eyes. ‘I do hope that they can heal this rift, Nell. It is difficult for everyone to see how they continually bruise each other. And they are each on the receiving end of those blows. It seems clear to me that they are both unhappy.’
And I hope that I can reach Jack, change his notions of love.
‘Until today, I thought only of Tom’s unhappiness. But now I see that Jack is unhappy, too.’
‘It is the same unhappiness. It lives in the breach between them.’
And there is another unhappiness, she added silently, knowing it instinctively. One that lives within Jack alone.
‘Yes! What a clever way to describe it, Cecily. Oh, I am so glad to have you as my friend! All will be well, I know it!’
‘I do hope so.’
Overhead, a single magpie called, before flapping its way to a nearby oak tree. At the same time a gust of chill March wind swi
rled around them. Cecily shivered, drawing her cloak more tightly about her. Wordlessly, they walked on.
* * *
The gentlemen now found themselves on the last stretch of their return journey. There, less than half a mile distant, was Hazledene.
Cecily.
What had she done all day? Had she spoken to Nell about the argument in the breakfast room? With Hazledene now in view, Jack sensed rather than saw Tom pick up the pace, and his irritation returned in full measure. ‘Keen to reach Hazledene, brother?’ Even he could hear the slight sneer in his tone, yet, once again, he felt helpless to prevent it. He could barely look at Tom without seeing his brother’s younger self—the Tom who had needed him.
Tom bristled. ‘Naturally. A good day’s riding, but I am eager for home. Perhaps a bath before dinner.’
‘And a reunion with your wife.’
Tom looked at him directly, and for the first time Jack saw a hint of bewilderment beneath his anger. ‘Nell has been indisposed, as you know, Jack. Of course I am eager to know how she is faring.’
Tom’s bewilderment was Jack’s undoing.
I am hurting him, hurting everyone around me. Everyone I—I care about.
Loathing rose within him, loathing for himself, how he was behaving, who he was.
Seemingly, he could not find it within himself to be glad that his brother had found happiness. That Tom was truly loved by Nell.
In contrast, he had been so frightened by Cecily’s hold over him that he had managed to push her away.
Emotion finally boiled over within him. ‘Then let us not keep you, brother! Hya!’ Spurring his horse, he began cantering across the field. A moment later he heard Tom’s stallion move from trot to canter, then gallop. Neck and neck they raced, carefully avoiding hazards but each unwilling to concede. Somehow it became vitally important that Jack should reach Hazledene before his brother. The other two gentlemen had dropped back, no doubt condemning the brothers as fools, and would reach the house in their own time.
A low hedgerow loomed before him. There would be a drainage ditch on either side, Jack guessed. Using all his experience, he urged his mount to jump at exactly the right moment. Landing perfectly on the other side, his ears instinctively strained to confirm that Tom had also landed safely. Reassurance came a moment later, and Jack knew he was free to push his horse for the final part of their impromptu race. He glanced back as he spurred the horse on, finding gleeful delight in Tom’s grim-faced frustration. He must maintain his advantage, slight though it was.
Through a stand of trees he went next, dipping to avoid a low tree-limb that could have caused him serious injury had he not seen it in time.
‘Branch!’ he instinctively warned, throwing the word behind him. If he were to win, it would not be because Tom failed to navigate a hazard that he had not been warned about. The light increased as he reached the far edge of the copse, and there, on a low rise before him, Hazledene was once more in view.
‘Hya!’ he urged again, and his horse responded beautifully.
This must be what it feels like to fly.
Certainly it was the fastest gallop he had enjoyed since the reckless days of his youth. Tom, more cautious, was maintaining a reasonable gallop rather than a heedless one and was beginning to fall back.
The thrill of victory would be momentary. Jack knew it, yet he continued. Everything had been threatening to overwhelm him for days—Tom, Hazledene... Cecily. For this one moment he could be free of all of it.
In an instant, everything changed. He felt the horse stumble at high speed.
Rabbit hole.
As the thought was forming, he was already flying through the air, sky and grass rolling and rotating in his line of vision. An instant of pain, of force, of impact, then nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cecily and Nell both heard the sound they had been waiting for at the same time. Horses approaching. Quickly they moved to peep over the hedge at the side of the garden, just as a rider emerged from a stand of trees near the bottom of the field. A moment later a second rider emerged. While they were too far away to see who exactly they were, Cecily had no doubt it was the Beresford brothers on their matching black stallions. Her heart lurched at their speed. She could never understand gentlemen’s pursuit of danger. They seemed to seek it out in everything from fencing and boxing to carriage racing and riding at breakneck speed.
As her heart began to pound with nervousness, she tried to reassure herself that gentlemen did not ride with the added complication of side-saddle, as ladies must. She had been told many times how much easier and safer it was for gentlemen, with their full saddle. It gave her little comfort now as she watched both riders gallop flat out up the slight incline.
Just as two further horsemen emerged from the copse, her eye was drawn back to the lead horseman. Something... The horse was stumbling, the man thrown from his seat like a child’s rag doll. She saw a sickening impact as he landed awkwardly on the ground. The horse ran on, riderless. The man did not move.
Cecily and Nell were themselves already running, through the side gate and down the hill. Cecily’s cloak billowed behind her while her bonnet threatened to loosen itself, so she put one hand to the back of her head to keep it in place as she ran.
* * *
‘Tom!’ Nell cried.
Jack! was Cecily’s answering thought. Whichever brother he was, he still had not moved.
The second rider had now reached the injured man and jumped down from his horse. Quickly, he crouched down beside him. The dark riding jackets were similar. The shape was similar.
Who?
‘Tom, Tom!’ Nell called. They were nearly there.
He turned. It was Tom, ashen-faced.
‘Oh, Tom! I thought you dead!’ Nell flung herself at him, and his arms immediately enclosed her.
‘Hush, my love. I am well, but Jack—’
Cecily had sunk to her knees beside the fallen man. ‘Jack? Jack, can you hear me?’ His chest was rising and falling as he breathed. ‘He is alive!’ Her eyes and hands were seeking and noting his injuries. A wound at the back of his head, bleeding profusely. His left shoulder, with a strange sickening lump. Dislocated. Chest, stomach, legs...nothing unusual visible, thankfully. She returned to the head wound. Gently reaching beneath him, she felt a fist-sized stone beneath that part of his head. Her heart sank. Her hand came away covered in blood and she wiped it on her dress without even thinking about it.
‘Alive? Thank the Lord!’ Tom’s voice shook. ‘I cannot—My brain has frozen, I’m afraid.’ Tom sounded as dazed as Cecily felt. Nell was weeping softly, and still clinging to Tom.
Someone needed to take charge. All Marianne’s no-nonsense training now came to her. ‘We need to get him to the house.’ Cecily’s voice was low but sounded surprisingly steady. ‘And someone needs to fetch a doctor.’
‘Yes, of course! Thank you, Lady Cecily. I could not think what must be done. I can—I shall go to the house immediately and send a groom for the doctor. Will you stay with him?’
‘I shall.’ To her own ears, it sounded like a vow.
‘Thank you. I shall bring back a pallet perhaps, or a board.’
‘A board would be better.’
‘Very well.’ Disentangling himself from his wife, he made off up the hill. Nell watched him go, fumbling for a handkerchief at the same time.
‘Nell, I shall need your assistance.’ Cecily spoke firmly, hoping that Nell’s sense would return to her now that Tom was both safe and gone.
‘I am ready, Cecily. I am sorry for—’
‘No need to be sorry.’ Taking a clean handkerchief from her reticule, Cecily folded it and pressed it against the head wound. Glancing down the slope, she saw that Mr Harting and Mr Carmichael were almost with them. Both looked suitably concerned.
‘Lord! That was quite a tumble!
Is he dead?’ Carmichael’s words were blunt, but he looked entirely discomposed so Cecily had to forgive him.
‘Not yet, but we need to get him indoors, where a doctor can see him.’
‘Tom has gone to fetch a pallet,’ Nell announced. ‘He is sending a groom for the doctor.’
‘Capital!’
‘How can we assist you, Lady Cecily?’ Mr Harting spoke calmly, dismounting.
‘Can you bring Nell to the house?’ Nell was not helping. Cecily could not think straight while her friend was still so visibly distressed. At Nell’s protests, she spoke firmly to her. ‘Someone needs to prepare his room, so I need you to speak with the servants, Nell. The Earl will, naturally, be put in the Blue Chamber, and I shall move to the nursery. I shall need to clean the wound.’
‘Hot water, towels, bandages.’ Nell, bracing her shoulders, was trying to control her emotions. Having a task to make her busy would assist her in doing so, Cecily hoped.
‘Exactly. Thank you.’
Squaring her shoulders, Nell set off, Mr Harting accompanying her. One of the Beresford horses was nearby and Carmichael rode after it, lifting the reins so the horse would not accidentally trip itself. The other stallion—Jack’s, Cecily reasoned—was running free at the very bottom of the hill. A groom would have to be sent to fetch it, once one could be spared. Carmichael began leading Tom’s horse up towards the house.
Alone with Jack, Cecily allowed herself to look at his face and remember that it was him. His skin was corpse-grey, his handsome features rendered strange by the lack of healthy colour and the utter relaxation of his face.
He could be sleeping, Cecily told herself. He is not dead.
To reassure herself, she shuffled closer, still on her knees beside him, and maintaining the pressure from her left hand to keep her handkerchief in place beneath his head wound. Setting her right hand on his chest, she felt it rise and fall gently. After a moment she took his hand, taking a little comfort from its warmth.
Captivating the Cynical Earl Page 20