Beatrice

by King, Rebecca

  Beatrice briefly explained what had happened with the carriage and watched a dark scowl settle over his face.

  “Did you see the driver?” He demanded, and tried to remember if he had seen a large black carriage head this way when he had left the church.

  If he was honest, he hadn’t seen much of anything because he had been so angry about Mrs Underwick’s malicious comments that he hadn’t bothered to take a good look around him. He had wanted to catch one last look at Beatrice before he went home so much that he could have passed ten large, black carriages and not been aware of it.

  “The driver didn’t slow down or even look back at me. He was going so fast that I only caught a glimpse of him as he passed but have no idea if he is local, or likely to be just passing through.” She sighed and looked ruefully down at her foot. “By the time I regained my balance, he had gone.”

  “You could have permanently injured yourself,” he grumbled darkly.

  She glanced at him, a little abashed at his concern. “I should have asked you, I know. I am sorry that I allowed my stupid pride to get in the way.”

  “It is all sorted now, so don’t worry about it,” he sighed. If he was honest, he wasn’t angry with her because he was so relieved that he had finally managed to get her to talk to him.

  When he glanced up, he was more than a little disconcerted to see the rooftop of her house in the distance and calculated that they had about another ten minutes together. It was a little shocking to realise just how much he regretted the fact that their journey was going to come to an end before he could find a way to get to see her again. He lapsed into thoughtful silence as he steered the horse out of the field and back onto the lane while he tried to come up with a way to extend the journey.

  “Thank you for coming back for me, Mr Addison,” she said as she tried to keep her attention on the lane before them rather than the man who seemed to be wrapped around her.

  “Please call me Ben, and you are very welcome. I am glad that I was passing.” He didn’t tell her that it wasn’t happenchance that he had been in the lane. Like some besotted, lovelorn fool, he had been trying to catch one last glimpse of her before she had gone home for the day but, luckily, this time Fate appeared to be smiling down on him and he had been able to ride to her rescue. “Let’s try to get out of this rain before the thunderstorm strikes, shall we?”

  He smiled down at her. As if to prove that Fate was indeed on his side, a large rumble of thunder swept through the sky directly above their heads. Ben glanced up at the dark clouds and knew that the rain was about to get considerably worse. He nudged the horse into a faster walk and kept his gaze trained on the end of her driveway. However, before they got half-way there, the low rumble of carriage wheels intermingled with the sound of the rain.

  She gaze locked with Ben’s and she turned to study the lane in front and behind them in search of the source of the noise.

  “Jesus,” Ben swore as a large black monstrosity sped around the corner and raced toward them. He barely had the time to manoeuvre his horse to the side of the road before the carriage raced past them at breakneck speed.

  “That’s the carriage,” Beatrice cried as she stared over his shoulder after it. “That’s the same one that nearly ran me over.”

  Ben glanced behind him and hoped it would fall over if it attempted to take the corner at the end of the lane at that speed. The reckless fool deserved to have an accident. He nudged his startled horse into a trot and gritted his teeth when Beatrice began to bounce against his already painfully aware body. To test his resolve further, her arms tightened around him as she clung on for dear life, which in turn pressed her delectable curves against him more fully. In spite of the rain, he felt beads of sweat pop out onto his brow, and kept his gaze locked firmly on the front door of her house while silently praying that he could keep control until he got her to safety.

  Lord, save me, Ben prayed and he clenched his jaw while he tried desperately to think of something else. The only outward sign of his inner struggle was the muscle that ticked slowly in his jaw. All thought of the carriage was temporarily forgotten while he tried to retain some semblance of control over the physical effect she had on him, but it was a close run thing, especially when he glanced down and saw the pink tip of her tongue slide nervously over her luscious lips.

  Beatrice almost wept with relief when Ben guided the horse into the driveway. The sight of her front door ahead of them had never felt so wonderful to her but, before she could ask him if he would like a cup of tea before he left, he quickly dismounted and helped her down. She had taken no more than a couple of steps before he immediately swept her off her feet again, and carried her to the front doorstep.

  “You don’t need to carry me,” she grumbled awkwardly.

  “You need to stay off that ankle,” he replied. “Will you be alright for a minute? I want to see if I can catch up with that carriage.” Upon receiving her nod, he turned and vaulted into the saddle, but paused long enough to point one long finger at her. “Go inside and get warm. I will come back to help you get the boot off that foot. I shouldn’t be long.”

  She opened her mouth to speak only to watch him wheel his horse around and race out of the driveway. With a sigh, she turned around and went inside.

  Ben raced down the lane as fast as he dared given the wet conditions, and scoured the lanes surrounding the property for any sign of the black carriage. He stopped once or twice to listen, but couldn’t see, or hear, the reckless road user who had nearly claimed victims for the second time that day.

  “Damn it to hell,” he growled when he had gone as far as he dared given the thunderstorm was now directly overhead. It was incredibly foolish to be outside still with the damned thing so close, and so turned and headed back to Beatrice’s house. He almost wished that the carriage would pass by again, because he knew that the cretin wouldn’t get away for a second time. Still, at least the thunderstorm, and Beatrice’s foot, gave him a perfect excuse to stay with her for a little while longer.

  Although it was a struggle for Beatrice to get inside by herself, at least she only had to manage a few feet rather than nearly a mile. Still, she was panting heavily by the time she hopped and sidled through the front door into the blessedly dry interior of the house.

  As the front door closed, a jagged streak of lightning lit the sky outside. She winced and hoped that Ben was alright, and Maud had the wisdom to remain at her friend’s house. It was something of a relief to be able to get home at last. However, now that she was here she was a little disconcerted at what she found.

  Rather than being warm and welcoming as expected, the house felt incredibly cold and empty. She shivered and, in spite of it being soaked, drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she studied the darkened interior of the hallway. Logic told her that it was dark inside the house because of the thunderstorm that raged outside. Unfortunately, that didn’t help her control the feeling that the house felt as though it was waiting for something sinister to happen.

  Don’t be a fool, there is nothing wrong. This is home, she chastised herself sternly as she shuffled and hopped her way into the sitting room to light the fire. It was difficult to kneel down to light it given that her ankle throbbed mercilessly but, if she didn’t get some warmth into the room, then her ankle was going to be the least of her problems.

  It took too long to get her shaking hands to light the spill but she eventually managed it, and sat back to enjoy the warmth of the roaring flames for several moments while she contemplated whether to try to get upstairs to change her clothes.

  Suddenly, a dull thud in the hallway broke the silence. Her heart leapt into her throat and she turned her head to stare in horror at the sitting room doorway. She wished now that she had taken a moment to light a candle out there because there were too many shadows for her liking.

  “Hello?” Beatrice called. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when silence greeted her. “Who is there?”


  Her stomach churned at the thought that she might not be alone in the house, and she silently pushed to her feet. She took a moment to carefully slide a heavy iron poker out of the pot beside the fire before she turned back around to face the hallway. Her ears were tuned to any sound of movement, but she could hear nothing except the frantic hammering of her own heart. Was she being foolish? Was her imagination running wild because of the fright she had earlier?

  When she finally made it to the hallway, she studied the doors leading to various parts of the house, and hefted the poker higher while she listened for the strange noise again.

  “Is anyone there?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Several loud thumps suddenly landed on the front door. She screamed and clutched a hand to her racing heart while she stared in horror at the door and tried to decide what to do.

  “Who is it?” She stood frozen in horror as she waited.

  “It’s Ben. Beatrice? Are you alright?”

  Beatrice quickly propped the poker against the wall, and stumbled awkwardly to the door where she yanked it open with such an overwhelming wave of relief that she almost wept.

  “Thank heavens you are here,” she murmured fervently as she waved him inside.

  “Are you alright darling? What is it? What’s wrong?” He frowned at the sight of the paleness in her cheeks and studied the empty hallway behind her in alarm.

  “I just thought that I heard something, that’s all,” she replied, and felt rather foolish for being so skittish. The sight of him so tall and strong, even if soaking wet, was so wonderfully reassuring that she had to fight to keep the tears at bay as she closed the door behind him.

  “I am sorry, I just –” She frowned down at the package he held in his hand. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know,” Ben replied and nodded to a spot just beside the door. “It was on the doorstep.”

  “Here?” She glanced at him with a frown. “Are you sure?” The words were out before she could prevent them and she smiled ruefully when he threw her a teasing look.

  “Maybe you missed it when you got here,” he suggested helpfully.

  “I could have sworn it wasn’t there when I got here a few minutes ago,” she murmured. “I would have seen it, I am sure.”

  “Maybe it was delivered between when you got home and I arrived?”

  “Yes, maybe that’s it,” she replied doubtfully. She frowned down at the package he handed her and wondered if the noise she had heard had been someone’s half-hearted attempt to knock on the door. She jumped in alarm when a particularly loud rumble of thunder reverberated around the house. “I am sorry, please come on through. I am sure it is just me being silly because of everything that has happened this afternoon.”

  She turned to lead the way into the sitting room, and only then remembered that her foot wasn’t able to hold her up. Her cry of pain remained locked in her throat when Ben immediately swept her off her feet. Within seconds she was being placed carefully on the sofa, and only then realised that she still held the package.

  “Stay here, I will go and put a pot of water on to boil,” he murmured tenderly. “When is your housekeeper due back?”

  “She has gone to a friend’s house in Tipton Hollow to sort something out for the jumble sale, and won’t come back until the storm has passed.”

  Ben nodded. “Given the look of the sky, the storm is going to be here for a while. The clouds are as black as the ace of spades for as far as the eye can see.”

  Beatrice groaned and glanced out of the window. “What about your horse?”

  “I have put him in the stable for now. At least he is out of the rain.” With that, Ben disappeared into the kitchen.

  While he was gone, Beatrice turned her attention to the mysterious package on her lap. Now that she had someone to keep her company, she felt a little silly for her earlier fear. The noise she had heard had been nothing more than someone delivering a parcel; that was all. There was nothing to be fearful of. That being the case though, why did she still felt as though something was wrong?

  While Ben clattered pots in the kitchen, she removed the packaging paper from the parcel and studied the equally dull and boring box. She scowled at it for a moment, but there was no note, and no markings on the box to indicate what was inside. She lifted the lid and gasped as she was assaulted by the most unforgettable smell she had ever encountered in her life.

  “Good Lord above,” she whispered, and wrinkled her nose up in disgust as she lifted the large flowering plant out of the box.

  “What is it?” Ben asked when he re-entered the room. He was more than a little put out that she had received a plant from someone, and felt his hackles rise as he studied the surprised delight on her face. Unfortunately, that wondrous look soon evaporated and was replaced with wary disgust when the odour that came with the unusual plant started to fill the room.

  “It is a flowering plant of some kind, although I have never seen this particular variety before,” Beatrice murmured. She placed it carefully on the table before her, not because it was heavy, but because the smell had started to make her feel a little sick.

  “Is it intended for your uncle, do you think?” Although Ben hadn’t known Matthew Northolt personally, he had heard through the grapevine that he had been a well-respected, if a little eccentric, botanist.

  “I am not sure,” she replied with a frown and peered into the gloomy depths of the box. Unfortunately, there was no note or anything to tell her who the plant might have come from. “How strange.”

  “I take it that you weren’t expecting it then?” Ben murmured as he took a seat beside her. “I hate to say it but, although it is rather beautiful, that odour is a little pungent.”

  “Pungent?” Beatrice replied aghast. “It stinks to high heaven.”

  The blatant honesty in her declaration made him smile and he opened his mouth to answer, only for the whistle of the kettle to summon him back to the kitchen. While he clattered around looking for the things he needed to make tea, Beatrice studied the box, and then turned her attention to the wrapping paper it came in.

  The label was badly smudged from rainwater, but the ‘B’ of her first name was still legible, as was the ‘N’ of her surname. Apart from that, there was nothing to say that the person who had delivered it even had the right address. Still, it seemed odd that something like this would be delivered here; to a botanist’s house, if it wasn’t meant for a botanist. It pointed to the fact that the plant had been left for her or her uncle for some reason, but why? Why hadn’t the person who had delivered it spoken to her to tell her they were leaving it?

  She turned to look at Ben when he reappeared with a heavily laden tray of tea things, and lifted the paper so he could see it.

  “It is definitely for me – look,” she pointed to the smudged writing and watched him nod.

  “I take it that you know what to do with it?” He nodded to the plant.

  Beatrice shook her head as she studied it. “I have never seen anything like this before.”

  She trailed one finger along one of the waxy-looking flowers, and watched it quiver alarmingly. It was a miracle the plant had reached her safely, because it didn’t look strong enough to endure a good gust of wind, let alone confinement in a box. “Uncle Matthew would have known what to do with it,” she whispered sadly. “I just don’t have a clue, I am afraid.”

  Ben looked at her with a frown. “I thought the beautiful garden here was down to you?”

  The beautiful, well-tended gardens at Brantley Manor were renowned throughout the area for being the most stunning for miles around. Many of the plants visible from the road were varieties that were not popular in the area, but added to the wonderfully vibrant display that often made people travel for miles just to be able to witness the spectacle.

  “It is, but this plant variety isn’t anything likely to be found in our gardens,” she sighed. “My garden,” she corrected. “It is just too delicate.”

  B
en had to agree, he couldn’t see something as fragile lasting for more than five minutes in any English country garden.

  “What is it?”

  Beatrice studied it closely. “I have no idea. I haven’t seen anything like it before.”

  Ben sighed and watched Beatrice pour the tea. “Maybe it was something he was working on. Maybe one of his associates, or friends, left it for him not knowing that he is no longer with us.”

  “Maybe,” she nodded. “I really have no idea.”

  “Is he likely to have notes about it in his study?”

  Beatrice looked at him frankly. “I really cannot say. Uncle Matthew was eccentric and really kept himself to himself. He came out for meals, and to go to church on Sunday but, other than that, he was always in his study. I never really got involved with his botany work. Whenever I ventured in there I always got shouted at because I inadvertently disturbed something Uncle Matthew deemed precious. Maud always left his tea trays on the floor outside his door. More often than not, it went cold and remained untouched, but she left it there anyway, just in case he remembered that he wanted a drink.”

  To Ben, Matthew Northolt sounded like an incredibly selfish man; or a mad genius. He couldn’t understand anyone wanting to ignore Beatrice at all, especially when she was living in their house. If he ever got to a point in his life when he had such a wonderful woman like Beatrice in his home, the last thing he would do was practically ignore her.

  He took the opportunity to study her while they drank their tea. She had started to dry out a little now that the room had started to warm up. Her damp hair had started to curl into ringlets which bounced against her face whenever she talked, or moved her head, and it merely added to the fine, porcelain beauty of her face. His fingers itched to stroke that velvet cheek to see if it really was as soft as it looked, but he kept them wrapped tightly around his tea cup instead. To sit beside her now was a stroke of good fortune. The last thing he wanted to do was push his luck, and frighten her by trying to touch her.