A Season of Romance

by Wendy Soliman

  This was hardly an auspicious start to his campaign but he would have her to himself for at least an hour. They took the direct route across the huge expanse of grass. The hem of her gown was already mired but she seemed oblivious to this.

  'I see you frowning at my gown, my lord. It matters not to me if it becomes dirty from my walk. There are more important things in life than worrying about a bit of honest mud.'

  Her tone was clipped, things had definitely changed between them and he was at a loss to know why she was behaving as if she cordially disliked him.

  'You have sufficient servants to take care of such matters, no doubt. Emily has similar views as you and when at home in the country rakes about the place like a hoyden.' This comment made her look at him with more interest.

  'And how do you feel about that? Do you take her to task for not conforming to the expected behaviour of a lady?'

  'I don't give a damn what she does at Sawsbury. As long as she behaves in public I'm content.'

  'Why is it, sir, that you may use appalling language in my presence and yet frown at my dirty skirts? I'm certain you would not dream of behaving so with someone from your own class.'

  The worry that had been weighing him down lifted as he finally understood what bee had got into her bonnet. He halted, forcing her to do the same. The fact that they were in full view of the house and any outside men who might be in the grounds mattered not.

  'Sweetheart, don't you see? I can be myself with you in a way I couldn't possibly be with a silly debutante from an aristocratic family. I apologise if my occasional lapse of language offends you, but…'

  She no longer looked at him coldly but there was sadness in her eyes. 'Simon, I cannot marry you. Not just because my name is blackened, that by marrying me you might well ruin Emily's chances of a suitable marriage, but because I don't want to marry anyone at the moment.

  'In fact, I must tell you that when I do decide to wed it will definitely not be to a gentleman from the ton but from my own strata of society. I don't want my children to be forced to behave in a certain way in order to be accepted. I don't want my beloved parents to be looked down on and only tolerated by those they meet.'

  'And if I give you my word that none of those things would happen, won't you reconsider?'

  She shook her head, but there were tears glistening in her eyes. 'I like you very much, and it's breaking my heart to send you away but it's the best thing for both of us. And certainly it will be far better for Emily not to be associated with me.'

  His momentary elation was crushed beneath her slippers. He could hardly reveal that he'd fallen in love with her even if that meant she might change her mind. He had no intention of doing anything to cause her a moment's further distress.

  'If you will permit me, I should still like to wait and speak to your father. I give you my word as a gentleman that I'll not importune you with my company.' He bowed formally and walked away leaving his happiness behind.

  His world had been stood on its head in the past two weeks and he needed time to adjust. He wished fervently that he'd never come to London, that he had not met Bella at all. He must accept that his engagement was now severed and that he was free to find himself another bride.

  The thought of marrying anyone else filled him with horror. He was the last in his line so had no option but to marry at some point and provide an heir. This would not take place for some years but in the interim he must find a way of repaying Burgoyne for his generosity.

  Thank God he was free of debt because once word had spread around Town that he was no longer marrying an heiress his credit would have been gone and the family ruined.

  *

  Bella watched him go and even knowing that she had done the right thing didn't make it any easier. He was as wretched as she about the whole business, but the only one to blame was herself. Whatever she'd said to the contrary to her mother, she would marry one particular aristocrat in a heartbeat if things were different.

  The thought of marrying anyone else whether from her own class or not was something she couldn't contemplate at the moment – if ever. In that moment she understood why she was so devastated to send him away. She was in love with him despite his many faults and no one else would do.

  Angrily she brushed away her tears, picked up her skirts, and ran pell-mell towards the folly where she knew she could be alone to come to terms with what she'd lost. She ran the whole distance determined to prove to herself that at least she could do something properly.

  Perspiration was trickling down her face, her lovely gown was quite ruined, she could scarcely breathe her heart was pounding so fast, but for those mad minutes she'd been free of pain as all she'd been able to do was concentrate on reaching her goal.

  The folly was equipped for visitors as it had comfortable seating inside and fresh water for both horses and humans. She tipped some into the basin and plunged her face into it. When she lifted it she was cooler but her hair had come loose and this too was soaking wet.

  She flicked out the remaining pins and ran her fingers through it hoping to remove the worst of the tangles. There was a mirror somewhere if she recalled correctly, but she'd no need to look in it to see she was a disgrace.

  She could not possibly return in daylight. Although she considered herself an independent and courageous person, even she could not face being seen returning through the grounds as she was. There was no option but to remain in the folly until dark and pray that no one sent out a search party for her as that would be even more humiliating than being seen in her disarray.

  The water had been standing in the pitcher for far too long to be safe to drink so she would have to remain thirsty and hungry, as well as dirty and wet, for the next few hours. Some small consolation was the fact that both her gown and her hair would have dried by the time she ventured forth. To facilitate this process she made the bold decision to step out of her dress so she could drape it over the back of one of the chairs. Her hair would also dry more quickly if left loose.

  There were rugs in the chest under the window and she removed them. With these wrapped around her she could curl up on the large bed in the centre of the space and sleep the time away. She wondered why there was a bed in such a place. She glanced upwards and for the first time noticed there was a mirror on the ceiling. How extraordinary!

  She looked like a dishevelled dryad with her red hair spread out around her and her arms and legs bare. Her mouth curved at the thought of what the tabbies would say if they saw her now. She was little better than a light-skirt in their opinion and this would just confirm their view.

  It was comfortable snuggled beneath the covers and, notwithstanding the appalling circumstances she found herself in, she was able to drift off to sleep quite easily. When she woke she was disorientated, couldn't work out where she was for a moment.

  Good grief! It was quite dark and she'd forgotten to put the tinderbox and candles by the bed so she could see what she was doing. She could hardly stumble about in pitch darkness in these unfamiliar surroundings so she might as well remain here until dawn.

  Hopefully her mama would think her in bed and no one would come in search of her before she was able to return safely to her own apartment. She was very hungry, but that was no more than she deserved. A bigger worry was her thirst, for having exerted so much energy running yesterday she was sorely in need of a drink.

  With a sigh she pulled the covers over her head for a second time in the hope that she could drift off to sleep. If she was fortunate her dry throat and empty stomach would not keep her awake. Maybe it would be light enough to escape when she opened her eyes again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hawksford Manor was almost as large as Sawsbury Hall which meant one was able to remain invisible if one wanted to. Simon appeared at five o'clock for dinner in his evening rig to be told that no formal meal was to be served that night as both Bella and her mother were taking trays in their apartments.

  'Serve me in the libra
ry. I'll have a bottle of claret if there is any.'

  The butler nodded. 'Yes, my lord, the master keeps an excellent cellar. Do you have any preference for your dinner?'

  'No, send whatever is available. Coffee and cognac afterwards, but no desserts.'

  After returning from the stables he'd spent the remainder of the afternoon in the library and had been mightily impressed by the row upon row of leather-bound volumes. Many of them, on inspection, still had uncut pages so had never been read. No doubt they'd come with the purchase of the property.

  He consumed the wine and food and then made serious inroads into the decanter of excellent brandy. Drowning his sorrows with alcohol was hardly a sensible move and if he retired in his cups he would wake with a headache. There were windows at the far end of the library and he carried his candle there to see if he could open it and climb out into the grounds without the necessity of finding a footman to unlock a door.

  He pushed it up, the rattle of the sashes loud in the darkness. He hoped no one thought he was a burglar coming in, rather than a guest climbing out. He swung his legs over the sill and let go.

  He'd expected to drop no more than a few feet but to his horror he fell double that distance. There was no time to adjust and his right ankle gave way beneath him when he hit the ground. He bit back his yell of agony and was unable to move for several minutes until the pain subsided.

  Devil take it! He feared he'd broken it as the pain was so intense. Even the slightest movement made his head spin. He inched his way backwards on his elbows until he reached the wall. Hopefully he could use this to brace himself and get into a sitting position.

  What a damn fool thing to do – if he'd not been half-drunk he would have thought to check how far it was to the ground before he'd jumped out. The library was at the rear of the building, somewhere he'd not ventured on his earlier walk so he'd not been aware that the ground dropped away so catastrophically on this side.

  He smiled ruefully. At least he was sober now which was the reason he'd wanted to come out into the fresh air in the first place. He doubted if he'd be able to rouse anyone even if he shouted. Unless he could hoist himself to his feet and hop the entire length of the house he was obliged to remain where he was until light.

  His ankle hurt like the very devil and already damp was seeping through the double thickness of his coat-tails and evening trousers. He shivered and all desire to smile evaporated. This situation was far from amusing. He had two choices and neither of them appealed to him. He could remain where he was until light and risk catching a congestion of the lungs, or somehow make his way to the front door and possibly cause irreversible damage to the injured limb.

  After sitting and weighing up his options he decided he might as well try shouting a few times – he had nothing to lose if nobody came and everything to gain if they did. As expected the house remained closed despite his best efforts which left him with the two unpalatable choices.

  Then to his astonishment he heard Bella calling his name. Her voice was faint but just discernible as sound carried wonderfully at night. 'Simon, Simon, is that you shouting for help? Where are you? I've no lantern and there's no moon so I cannot see you.'

  'I'm on the ground below the library window,' he yelled. 'I've broken my ankle and cannot move.'

  The reply was clearer. 'I'm on the terrace now but am going to wake the house before I come to you. I won't be able to get you inside on my own.'

  Now he knew rescue was imminent he began to think how he could explain his predicament without seeming a complete nincompoop. He wasn't exactly sure how long he'd been sitting there but he knew he was damn cold and his rear end had gone quite numb.

  He didn't know if it was a good thing or not that the pain in his ankle had diminished somewhat since he'd fallen. There was the sound of running steps approaching and the flicker of a swaying lantern. Bella appeared from around the corner and close behind her were a positive army of servants carrying what looked like a trestle and a bundle of rugs.

  'I won't ask how you come to be here, my lord. That can wait until later.' She held the lantern close to his face and then moved it down to his feet. This was the first time he'd seen the injury himself. He was shocked when he saw the peculiar angle of his right foot.

  'As you can see you've broken your ankle. I've brought the necessary splints and bandages to secure it whilst you're moved. The doctor has been sent for and by the time we've got you inside he should be here.'

  She sounded brisk, impersonal even, and her calmness made him love her more. Any other young lady would be collapsed in a heap of tears and recriminations, not dealing with matters so efficiently.

  She knelt beside him and only then did he recognise his valet, Mason, was beside her. 'I'm going to cut off your boot, my lord, then straighten your foot. His man handed him a strip of leather to bite on.

  Simon braced himself. The agony just from having his boot removed was even worse than he'd anticipated. Then a merciful blackness enveloped him and he knew no more.

  *

  'Quickly, Mason, he's unconscious. I'll hold his leg whilst you do what you must.' He'd assured her it wasn't the first time he'd been asked to set a break and she trusted him not to make matters worse. They could hardly transport Simon safely until the break was splinted and that wouldn't be possible with his foot facing in the wrong direction.

  She averted her gaze whilst the limb was straightened. Splints were tied on either side of Simon's leg and then he was ready to be transferred to the waiting trestle. Four willing footmen, in various states of disarray, carefully lifted the patient onto the board.

  'There's a small apartment on the ground floor once used by an ancient relative of the previous owner, I've had that prepared for Lord Sawsbury.'

  The French doors that led into the drawing room were now wide open which meant they didn't have to carry the unconscious man the length of the house and back again in order to access these rooms. The house was now ablaze with light. The housekeeper, immaculate as always, curtsied as they entered.

  'Miss Burgoyne, everything is ready for his lordship. His trunk has been transferred and the bed freshly made up.'

  'Is the fire lit? Are there bricks in the bed?'

  'Yes, miss, both have been done.'

  Bella wanted to remain to assist in any way she could but this was impossible. His man and two of the footmen must undress Simon and put on his warm nightshirt and place him in his temporary bed.

  The housekeeper touched her arm. 'Miss Burgoyne, it will take some time to make his lordship comfortable. Perhaps you would like to change into something warmer yourself.'

  For a moment Bella didn't understand then stared down at her crumpled, dirty gown. 'I'll do so immediately.'

  She took the secondary stairs, those used by guests staying in the chambers above, and raced to her own rooms. She was surprised but delighted to find Annie waiting for her. The girl's eyes were red.

  'Heavens, whatever is wrong? I'm sure his lordship is in no danger.'

  'Oh, miss, when I found your bed hadn't been slept in I was beside myself.' The girl turned scarlet, hesitated, and then continued. 'I thought perhaps you were sleeping elsewhere tonight but I should have raised the alarm. I'm ever so sorry…'

  'There's no need to apologise, I'm glad you didn't set up a search for me. I walked to the folly and then fell asleep. When I woke I thought it too dark to come back. Then I heard his lordship calling out.'

  'Thank the good Lord that you did so, miss, because…'

  'That's quite enough. I wish to return downstairs immediately.'

  Her maid deftly removed the ruined gown and dropped a fresh one over her head. Then Annie restored Bella's hair to its normal tidy appearance and she was ready to depart. The entire procedure had taken less than twenty minutes.

  She returned by the same route and arrived at the apartment with the physician. Although they had resided here for three years they had never had recourse to call on his services befor
e. He was a young man and she hoped this made it more likely he was skilled in modern practices and wouldn't wish to bleed or purge the patient.

  When she explained what had transpired he nodded and said tersely. 'I hope your interference didn't make matters worse.' Hardly a polite response but it gave her confidence he knew what he was about.

  He strode into the bedchamber leaving her pacing anxiously in the adjoining sitting room for what seemed like several hours, but was in fact only one.

  The housekeeper appeared carrying a welcome tray of coffee and sandwiches. 'I thought you might be in need of refreshment, miss.'

  'I'd forgotten how hungry and thirsty I was – thank you so much. By the way, what is the name of the doctor you called?'

  'Doctor Sampson, miss, he bought the practice a year ago and is well thought of in these parts.'

  Despite the fact she was tormented by worry she demolished the food and drank the entire pot of coffee. When eventually the bedchamber door opened and the doctor emerged she was feeling much restored.

  He forestalled her question by speaking first. 'Lord Sawsbury was lucky to have been found so quickly. Also, I'm glad to report that rather than damaging the patient the treatment he received from his valet will make his recovery much speedier.'

  'I'm relieved to hear you say so, Doctor Sampson. How long will it be before his lordship can be moved somewhere more appropriate?'

  'He must remain where he is for three weeks if his ankle is to set properly and not leave him lame. I'm confident he will not suffer any ill effects from his being outside and he'll make a full recovery in time.'

  'Thank you. I take it that you'll be visiting every day.' This wasn't a question but a statement.

  'I shall. I understand from his lordship that you intend to be married soon, but that will have to be postponed. However, I'm sanguine he'll be fully recovered by June so I should reset the day for then.'

  She opened her mouth to deny they were betrothed but it was none of the doctor's business. 'I bid you good night, sir, thank you again for your prompt and efficient attendance.'