Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen)

by Vandagriff, G. G.

  “I would even say she is reckless of her reputation.”

  “Certainly. I do not deny it. But it does not worry me. When we marry, we will travel, and what is thought of her in London society will never concern us overmuch.”

  “I might say, I envy you your happiness.”

  * * *

  Later, as Buck lay in bed staring at the shadows of tree branches cast by the full moon on his walls, he wondered what Westringham would have said if he had known the details of his childhood. It had been so many years now that the tragedy of the Kernow-Charles was nearly forgotten. He was glad that he had a new name—Deal—to make of it what he could. None of Rosalind’s starts would damage it in any way that was significant to him.

  { 28 }

  KNOWING THAT SHE WAS AGAIN IN DISGRACE, Fanny drank the morning chocolate delivered by Becky, dressed in a brown round gown that would draw no positive or negative comment, and had Becky devise a simple, spinsterish hairdo. Donning a bonnet, she slipped down the service stairs to the outside. In her hand was Caro’s script.

  It was a cloudy day with a brisk wind. The surf was angry, promising a storm from the direction of the Atlantic. But before it arrived, she was determined to have a walk. Fanny proceeded through the garden, where workers were busy tying up the roses. She held fast to her bonnet.

  If Buck was riding today, he would most likely become drenched. Even if he were in his open curricle, he would get horribly wet. And surely he must arrive today! Fanny’s worries teased her. She was as yet too new to this business of being in love to trust the state. Something had intervened, she was sure of it. But she could not imagine that if he really loved her, there would be anything of sufficient importance to keep him away.

  Warmsby was still about. Had he attacked Buck, and perhaps killed him? How could the earl ever believe she would marry him after such an act? Fanny put the play down in the rose arbor and began shredding her handkerchief in her worry. Now that she had thought of it, this seemed the only answer.

  Castigating herself for her overactive imagination, Fanny walked to the edge of the cliffs and gazed at the angry sea. In her mind, she replayed every moment of her golden hour with Buck and his confession that he loved her. Her natural proclivity to be untrusting fought against the memory of his vows and his kiss. She must get hold of herself.

  Retracing her steps, she returned to the relatively sheltered rose arbor, and for the next hour, she tried to concentrate on memorizing her lines. It was such a clever play and, were it not for her worries, she would be happy to be performing. She knew Caro had taken some artistic license with Elise’s story, but all the real bits were there. It was good to remember that her sister had not always been the established duchess and mother that she was now. There had been a time when Elise was confused, had chosen unwisely, and had arrived at the state she enjoyed now only after many misadventures.

  Gradually, she became aware of her sister’s voice calling to her on the wind.

  Rising, she walked in the direction of the house. When Elise came into view, Fanny was alarmed to see that she was in some distress. She ran.

  “What is amiss?”

  Elise put her hand to her bonnet before it blew off and bit her lips. Fanny was alarmed as she could tell Elise was trying hard to stifle tears. “It’s Sophie! I’ve just had a letter from Anna! Thank heavens I dashed off a note to the Palace telling of our plans and sent the address.”

  “What? What is wrong?”

  “She is down with an inflammation of the lungs. She was too long in the rain and took a chill!” Elise thrust the document into Fanny’s hands. “I am dreadfully worried. She does not have the healthy constitution that you or I possess. Ever since that childhood fever, she has not been strong.”

  Swiftly reading, Fanny said, “We must leave immediately. It will take us days to get to Derbyshire from here. And a letter will not arrive there much sooner. Come, Elise!”

  “I just came to tell you that Peter and I will be leaving. Of course, you must stay. I know you have been studying for the play.”

  “Do you think that matters when Sophie is so sick? Sophie means more to me than anyone in the world!” At this point, Fanny realized through her panic, a deathly sick Sophie meant more to her even than Buck. Besides, he was late.

  Elise regarded her in surprise. “I did not realize that.”

  “After you left home, we had to band together. Mother got so much worse. If it were not for Sophie, there were many times when I would have struck out on my own for Derbyshire, even if it meant sleeping rough. But Sophie has always been delicate, and I had to stay to protect her. It was an awful time.” Fanny bit her lip, head bowed. “We both owe you more than we can say for taking us away. I am sorry if I seem to have forgotten that. Forgive me, and let me join you.”

  “Of course I forgive you, Fanny. And of course you must go to Sophie.”

  Her sister moved in a daze. Ruisdell was waiting inside the door. “Just pack what is necessary, my dears. We will not be attending teas or balls. I’ll have the carriage brought around. We must get away. We can expect a heavy storm.”

  Fanny raced up the stairs, where she found Becky already at work. “No, Becky, not that dress. Just two or three day dresses. I am certain we will not even dress for dinner. If we do, then I have dresses at the Palace that will do.”

  While she was packing, Caro entered. “Oh, Fanny, I am so sorry about Sophie. I have never met her, but I am certain she is exceedingly dear to you. I hope the storm will not delay you overlong.”

  Fanny said, “I am sorry about Gabrielle. But you must see that my sister needs me right now. We are very close. I have missed her in London, but she was studying music with a wonderful master. She is a violinist.”

  “We will postpone the play, of course. There was no definite schedule. You must come back when all is settled.”

  “Then I will take the manuscript to study in the carriage. I will need something to divert my mind from what my sister may be suffering.”

  “Oh, are you certain?”

  “Yes. And please forgive me for the problem last night with the duke’s uncle. What I said was unforgivable to a man who sacrificed as much as he did. Please make my apologies.”

  “We are used to his belligerence. We are far closer to you in opinion, believe me. But it does upset him to hear anything against the aristocracy. I think he lives in fear that we will have a revolution like the one in France.”

  Fanny slammed her portmanteau closed. “Well, I think we are safe from that.” She went to her hostess and shook her hand. “Thank you so much for your wonderful hospitality. Cornwall is lovely. And just one more thing. I hope it will not be an imposition on you, but I asked my fiancé, the Marquis of Deal, to join me here. I expect him any day. Could you please explain to him why and where I have gone? I would be most appreciative.”

  Caro gave her a slow smile. “Of course I will. You need have no worries on that score.”

  * * *

  The storm announced itself with a splendid crack of lightning as soon as they slammed the carriage door. It was a bona fide downpour, with winds blowing the rain almost sideways. Fanny clutched her carriage rug around her. She was sorry for the horses and sorry for the delay, but she loved storms. They reminded her of hiding in the boot closet under the stairs with Sophie and playing checkers and, later, chess by lantern light. Hard as she tried, her mother never found them.

  Fanny brooded about her sister. The illness was bound to put a strain on her heart, which had never been the same since her bout with rheumatic fever when she was eight years old. A disease such as this could carry her sister off before they even had a chance to reach Ruisdell Palace.

  Fanny willed the carriage to fly. So great was her concern for Sophie’s life that thoughts of Buck were far away.

  { 29 }

  BUCK DECIDED TO RIDE HIS STALLION, MERCURY, to Cornwall rather than taking his curricle. He could make far better time that way. He enjoyed riding into the
West Country and knew he needed to get there swiftly. Undoubtedly, Rosalind was questioning the strength of his ardor, knowing nothing about the duel that had delayed him.

  His first day’s goal was ambitious. He wanted to ride straight through Southampton to the New Forest. Concentrating on making the best time possible, he remembered his first drive in his phaeton with Rosalind. She had encouraged him to go faster and had broken out laughing when the rain started to fall. There were so many facets to her character, it would take him years to plumb them all.

  Her loving response to his tale he had never shared with another soul had plunged him into a love that healed wounds he did not realize he still carried. Rosalind had her own bête noir and could fathom the decision he had made at the early age of twelve. Buck began to see how loving Rosalind would make him a fuller person—caring for another more than caring for himself. Contentment lay on him as though someone had placed a warm mantle over his shoulders.

  Reading the sky, as he had learned to do his first years at sea, Buck could tell that a storm was approaching from the west. Fortunately, he had packed the oilskins that had served him as a sailor. The rain caught up with him at Winchester, where he halted Mercury at the King’s Arms. Leaving instructions with the ostlers for the stallion to be curried and watered, he went inside the inn for a late luncheon cum dinner.

  He loved the atmosphere of a good inn. It wrapped around one with good English familiarity, smelling of victuals and the local brew. As he sat eating two meat pasties and roasted chicken in the public room, he noticed that he was the object of scrutiny. A seedy looking individual with a red bandanna tied in a belcher knot, further adorned with what looked to be a catskin waistcoat, repeatedly eyed him over the top of his pint. Thinking the man to be a thief, Buck blatantly displayed the pistol tucked into his waistband as he stood to don his oilskins. After paying his shot, he left the inn to claim Mercury. The suspicious person followed him outside, leaning against the wall of the inn, watching Buck as he mounted. He was fairly certain that his observer was not particularly wedded to the law. Calling himself fanciful, he mounted Mercury and headed for the southwest road as the rain sluiced down over his oilskins. The sound reminded him of his years at sea.

  Mercury loved to gallop, and Buck loved speed. He liked seeing the countryside emerge as cities petered out into towns, and towns to pasture. In all the years he had sailed, he had never lost his love of the sight and fragrance of the English countryside. With no family to return to, he had spent his leaves exploring the country on horseback. He loved best the wildness of Yorkshire and the ruggedness of the West Country coastline, particularly Cornwall. He hoped the Duke and Duchess of Beverley would not mind his company.

  His thoughts returned again to Rosalind. Suddenly, he saw his continued distance from her over the last days from her point of view. He would be willing to wager that she had never opened her heart to anyone before. An image of her lying in some vast bed, curled into a ball and trying to hold on to his words of love, wondering where he was, began to haunt him. He pushed Mercury harder. He concentrated on Rosalind’s face, wishing his thoughts would take wing and calm her, telling her everything he wanted to say.

  He rode south through Southampton. It was just beyond the port when he was entering the sparsely populated New Forest that Buck heard the first shot whiz through the loose oilskin above his legs. What the devil? Someone was trying to kill him!

  Urging Mercury into the dripping trees, he began a zigzag maneuver while removing his gun from his waistband. He ventured a look behind him. A spot of red came into view among the trees. The man with the bandanna.

  His mind, primarily occupied with avoiding being shot, easily settled on Warmsby as the criminal here. The earl had undoubtedly hired another unsavory individual to snuff out Buck’s life in revenge for his banishment. With Buck gone, Warmsby would be free to return to England.

  Fortunately, the New Forest had become one of his favorite places on his solitary rambles. It was filled with small villages, but the landscape was shrouded with deep forest. He began to ride erratically at the topmost speed that he dared, knowing that sooner or later, he would run into a village. He was not about to fall victim to an assassin just when his life had taken an upward turn.

  Dark was falling when he finally reached the Spotted Owl in the small village of Emery Down. He was quite certain that he had shaken off his would-be killer. Before leaving Mercury in the hands of the ostlers, he stroked his mount’s sweating neck, and murmured his thanks in the stallion’s ear for a job well done. Tossing the ostler a shilling, he secured a promise that his horse would be brushed down, watered, and fed the best oats, laced with molasses.

  Entering the inn with its spotless interior, he smelled steak and kidney pie. He secured the best suite and repaired to a private parlor, where he ordered the steak and kidney pie, a pint of the local brew, and a fresh peach cobbler to follow. His race through the woods had made him hungry.

  While eating his supper, Buck began to relax by degrees. If Warmsby’s hired assassin was no better than the one who had made the first attempt on his life the night before the duel, he doubted he had much to worry about. Warmsby did not have the funds to hire anyone with a great deal of skill.

  When his meal was finished, he sat smoking a cigar, feeling his limbs relax and exhaustion from the long day's ride urge him to his bed. Stubbing out his cigar, he walked out into the common room just in time to see a gentleman and lady of quality speaking to the innkeeper. They appeared to be in some distress.

  Buck walked over to the pair. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he inquired. Holding out his hand to the well-set-up gentleman, he introduced himself. “Marquis of Deal.”

  A statuesque lady rather the worse for the storm answered him. “Oh, I do not believe so. This is our favorite inn in the New Forest. We are on our way home from London to Cornwall. But our customary room is occupied and Joseph—she indicated the innkeeper—says he only has one single room available.”

  “My lady, you look as though you could do with a good night’s rest. Take my room. I believe it is the best the inn has to offer. I do not mind sleeping in a single room, providing I can be furnished with a bath!”

  The innkeeper’s face was wreathed in smiles as he promised that his belongings would be moved and a hot bath would be available in his lordship’s new room immediately.

  “Thank you, Deal, for my wife’s sake. This journey has been a bit of a trial.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Viscount Aylsworth. We are most obliged.”

  “You are going to Cornwall, you say?” Buck asked. “Do you know the Duke and Duchess of Beverley, by chance?”

  “Oh, yes. Our estates share a boundary,” the viscountess said. “Are they friends of yours?”

  “We have never met, but I am on the way to visit my fiancée, who is a guest of the Beverleys. Perhaps we shall see you in Cornwall. In the meantime, you are welcome to the room.”

  “I cannot possibly thank you enough,” the lady said.

  “It is of no moment,” he said. “I shall sleep well as long as I have a bed.”

  * * *

  In what seemed to be the wee hours of the morning, Buck awakened at the sound of his door latch. Before he was fully awake, the door was eased open, but he could see nothing in the darkness.

  “Who is it?”

  His question was immediately followed by a gunshot. Buck was slammed against the headboard as the shot pierced his gut. Cursing, he reached for the gun under his pillow as he rolled onto the floor. Another shot was fired into the headboard. Buck’s vision was clouding with what might be death when he fired. Just as he lost consciousness, he heard the attacker fall.

  { 30 }

  BY THE TIME THE LONG JOURNEY WAS BLESSEDLY at an end, Fanny had finished needlepointing a seat cover for Elise’s dining room chairs and had given Elise and Peter every account of her adventures with Sophie. These included many that took place in the tree house that Elise’s first love
, Joshua, had constructed in the forest between their homes. Since Joshua had been the duke’s adjutant during the war, Elise evidently felt free to share their exploits as well.

  “We mostly used the tree house for a stage,” Fanny said. “We hung a little curtain on one of the branches and used it for a changing room, for of course we had to play all the parts—in costume. Sophie would write the plays, and of course, I was always the star role.”

  Fanny was far more in charity with her sister and her husband by the time the carriage finally arrived at the end of its five-day drive. She descended from the carriage first, running to the front door of the palace with scarcely a word for the butler. Hastening through the great hall with its marble columns and statuary, she climbed the circular staircase to the third floor and Sophie’s room.

  Sitting with her sister was her companion, Anna, wringing out a cloth in a basin of water.

  “Oh, tell me, Anna, how is she?”

  “I am afraid the news is not encouraging,” Anna said. Her expressive face looked pinched with worry. “She has had this fever now for a week. She scarcely opens her eyes, and today she has become delirious. She has been asking for you.”

  Guilt assailed Fanny. If she had not behaved so reprehensibly, she would have been in London—far closer to the Ruisdell Palace than Cornwall.

  “What does the doctor say?”

  “I am afraid he has no opinion of me. From the beginning, he has wanted to bleed her. Perhaps I was wrong, but I forbade it. I think Sophie needs all her strength to fight this. I do not agree with the idea that bleeding releases dangerous humors. It only weakens the patient.”

  “I think it is fustian as well, Anna. Thank you for standing firm. And thank you so much for watching over her this way. It must have been a strain to be the only one who could look after her.”