Cecilia Or Flight From A Shadow

by Catherine Bowness

  He stepped back, shut the door and a moment later they began to move. Phyllis, in spite of her brother’s warning, trembled violently when, a few minutes later, the equipage engaged in a series of manoeuvres before setting off in the opposite direction at a steady pace.

  By the time they reached the inn she had fallen asleep with her head on her mother’s shoulder and even Mrs Moss had dropped into a fitful doze, slumped across Cecilia. She, her bruises aching beneath the heavy weight, was relieved when she discerned the welcoming lights of the inn and the carriage turned sharply into the courtyard.

  Mrs Moss jerked awake and began cursing again, which woke Phyllis, who recommenced weeping, so that, when Lord Waldron opened the door, he beheld three females, wrapped in fur rugs, displaying varying levels of distress.

  “Oh, dear,” he said. “Was it a very uncomfortable journey? I asked the coachman to drive slowly so that you would not be too much thrown about.”

  “Well, I wish he had gone faster,” Mrs Moss said, apparently determined to be contrary. “We seem to have been travelling for ever.”

  “Both Mama and Phyllis are disoriented on account of having woken suddenly,” Cecilia explained. “I am persuaded they will feel better once they have gone inside.”

  “You look as though you are in a good deal of pain,” he said to Cecilia.

  “There is nothing the matter with me,” she replied impatiently, “that hot water and a change into dry clothes will not put right. Unfortunately, my clothes – indeed, all our clothes, for everything was in the same trunk – will not be at all dry on account of having spent some considerable time lying in the snow. Would you object if we came inside wrapped in these rugs?”

  “Not in the least. Would you like me to carry you?”

  “Good gracious, no! We can all perfectly well walk, although I daresay Mama would appreciate your arm since she is convinced she has broken her ankle.”

  Waldron smiled and, holding out his hands, assisted Phyllis to alight before handing her to a servant who was hovering at his elbow. Having watched her making her way towards the inn door, he turned his attention to Mrs Moss and, encouraging her to lean upon him, led her inside in the wake of her younger daughter.

  He was coming back for Cecilia when he met her as she was crossing the courtyard. She had put on her shoes but was carrying her wet stockings.

  “I hope you will allow me to provide rooms for you tonight,” he said, offering his arm. “Pray do not feel that you must wash the dishes or cook dinner or anything of that nature. I would like you to put your feet in a mustard bath until your clothes have dried, when I would be honoured if you would join me for dinner.”

  “You are exceedingly kind, my lord,” she murmured, choking back tears at this further evidence of his good nature.

  “I do not think I am, particularly,” he countered. “I am simply human and dislike seeing my fellow creatures suffering. I have already sent for a doctor because, although I would like him to look at all of you, I own I am exceedingly worried about your coachman, who was still unconscious when he was put in the other coach. Your brother has been sitting with him. Ah, here they are now!”

  As he spoke, the other vehicle turned in, came to a halt and disgorged Endymion.

  “Any sign of life yet?” Waldron asked.

  “No, but I don’t believe there is any less. Do you think he will come to his senses once he is warm?”

  “I’ve very little idea. I asked Miss Godmanton to send for a doctor before I left, but I daresay it will be some time before he arrives as he may have some way to come. Your mother and sister are already inside. I understand all your clothes are wet but, as soon as you can lay your hands on some dry ones, I hope you will dine with me.”

  “Mine aren’t. Unlike my womenfolk, I shut my trunk properly so that it did not burst open as it fell.”

  “Ours flew open twice, one of them after you had closed it,” Cecilia reminded him tartly. “I suspect there is something amiss with the clasps.”

  “You probably stuffed it too full,” he countered, teasing.

  But Cecilia, after the series of discomforts she had endured, not least having been forced to listen to her mother and sister complaining for a protracted period, was in no mood to be amused.

  “We have only one trunk between three of us while you have one of your own, so I do not think it is to be wondered at if ours was more tightly packed.”

  “No, probably not,” he agreed pacifically. He could see that she was at the end of her tether and was too attached to her to want to upset her, but he could not resist making one further quip. “In any event, your clothes will dry more quickly than mine because most of them are fairly diaphanous.”

  “They are not!”

  “Come along, the pair of you, this is not the moment to squabble,” the Earl interrupted, amused.

  They had by this time arrived at the door of the inn which, when opened, revealed Phyllis and Mrs Moss standing miserably in the hall.

  “Go upstairs, all of you,” the Earl said, still in parental mode.

  “I’m sure I don’t know how I am to walk upstairs with a broken ankle,” Mrs Moss objected.

  “Do you want me to carry you, Mama?” Endymion asked.

  There was a brief silence while Cecilia, who did not altogether believe in the broken ankle, attempted to prevent her lips from twitching with amusement, and the Earl looked from the young man, who, although tall and well-muscled, appeared unlikely to be equal to the task of carrying his mother up the stairs.

  “I suppose I might be able to manage if I go on my knees,” Mrs Moss muttered, taking refuge in martyrdom.

  “We could support you between us,” Waldron said.

  “Nonsense!” Cecilia exclaimed, thoroughly irritated. “If Mama holds the banister on one side, she can lean on me on the other. Do you two see to the baggage and Mario and so on. Where are our rooms, my lord?”

  “I have no idea,” he replied, turning with relief to the middle-aged female who had appeared from the back. “But I daresay this good lady will be able to take you there.”

  Cecilia took her mother’s arm and led her to the stairs without more ado. Mrs Moss, groaning and leaning heavily upon her daughter, allowed herself to be propelled upwards. Phyllis, still tearful, followed.

  The rooms were in the process of being prepared: fires had been lit, curtains drawn, covers turned down and hot water, although it had not yet arrived, promised.

  “We can’t afford to pay for so many rooms,” Mrs Moss said bluntly, surveying the large chamber into which they were shown and which the housekeeper assured them was the first of three. She had managed to walk down the corridor, limping pitifully and leaning heavily upon her elder daughter.

  “His lordship has offered to foot the bill for tonight,” Cecilia told her stiffly.

  She was not eager to accept so much largesse and was afraid that the previous comfortable and peaceful night she had passed on her own might already have softened her to a degree where it would be difficult to refuse whatever he offered. She had so little desire to spend another night, either on the floor or pressed up against her mother and sister in a bed that was too small for three, that she was afraid she was in danger of accepting all sorts of favours from a man who, if he did have nefarious intentions, kept them so well concealed that it was only too easy to convince herself that he did not have them.

  “There! What did I say?” the matron exclaimed, her eyes dwelling fondly on her younger daughter.

  “I don’t recall you predicting he would provide us with rooms of our own in the very next hostelry,” Cecilia snapped.

  “I don’t want to sleep on my own!” Phyllis exclaimed, bursting into renewed sobs.

  “Oh, pray don’t be absurd!” her mother snapped, losing patience. “Why do you suppose his lordship has ordered three rooms?”

  Phyllis, by now sobbing uncontrollably, made no attempt to answer a question whose underlying meaning, Cecilia suspected, she did n
ot understand.

  Cecilia said, “I imagine he wanted us to be comfortable after our adventure down the mountainside. Come, Mama, will you have this one? Let me help you take off your wet clothes and then you shall sit by the fire while I hang them up to dry.”

  “Will you share with me, Cissy?” Phyllis asked, sniffing dolefully and beginning to wring her hands.

  “Yes, of course I will,” she said, concealing her disappointment at not being permitted to sleep alone, “and we will tell his lordship we only need two – or we can give one to Dym, although I daresay he already has one. Dry your eyes and I will come and help you to undress after we have seen to Mama.”

  Phyllis nodded, comforted.

  “It would be a better arrangement if you were to share with me, Cecilia,” Mrs Moss said, still bent on leaving Phyllis available for his lordship’s pleasure.

  “No, Mama; I will keep Phyllis company because she has asked me to; she has been very much distressed by today’s adventure and, quite understandably, does not wish to be alone. And,” she added firmly, “it will surely be agreeable for you not to be troubled by either of us.”

  As she was speaking, Cecilia was unbuttoning her mother’s gown and lifting it off. She untied her laces and removed her corset before observing that the chemise beneath did not seem to be as damp as might have been expected. She pulled a blanket off the bed, wrapped it around the matron and sat her down, almost forcibly, in a comfortable chair. Then she knelt before her and removed her shoes and stockings.

  “There, Mama, sit there while Phyllis and I choose which of the other rooms we will have.”

  “You will send the doctor in as soon as he arrives, won’t you?” Mrs Moss asked plaintively, abandoning – at least for the time being – her attempt to throw Phyllis and the Earl together.

  “Yes, of course, and I will ask for some hot tea to be sent up as well.”

  “I don’t think tea will answer,” her mother said. “In the circumstances, I believe brandy would be more appropriate.”

  “Very well. Come along, Phyllis.”

  Having chosen the larger of the two remaining rooms, Cecilia rang the bell, told the maid they would not require the third one, enquired about the progress of the hot water and requested brandy and tea be sent to her mother’s room.

  “I want you to take off all your wet clothes,” she told Phyllis, beginning to unbutton her gown.

  “But I haven’t any others to wear,” the girl argued although she submitted to her sister’s ministrations.

  “Somebody will bring up our trunk directly,” Cecilia said. “In any event, it really doesn’t matter whether you have anything else to wear or not for you cannot sit in a wet gown all evening.”

  “I like that fur,” Phyllis said, looking longingly at the rug, which Cecilia had dropped upon the floor.

  “Then you shall continue to use it,” her sister said, bundling her into it and pushing her into a chair.

  “Are you not wet too, dearest Cissy?”

  “Yes; and, see, I am taking off my dress too.”

  “Would you like me to unbutton it?” Phyllis enquired. Although she was for the most part childishly self-centred, there was one person whose welfare she did from time to time consider: her elder sister’s.

  “No; I have done it; but thank you for offering.”

  Chapter 21

  Helen and Miss Godmanton were halfway through their dinner when they heard the front door opening. They had been listening anxiously for what seemed an age, whilst striving to pay attention to their hosts’ conversation.

  The welcome sound was followed by the noise of several people talking at once, an indication that it was indeed Lord Waldron - and that he was accompanied by the vociferous Moss family.

  “Pray excuse me for a moment,” Helen said, rising. “I think, I hope, that that may be my cousin. Will you bear with me while I ascertain if it is indeed he?”

  “Of course, of course,” Lord Merdle agreed at once, although she thought he looked a trifle put out.

  Helen nodded at Miss Godmanton by way of instruction to remain where she was and went out, shutting the door behind her.

  There were a number of people in the hall, including, so far as she could see, the entire Moss family, all dishevelled and the female members apparently dressed in nothing but fur rugs. She was relieved to see that they were all upon their feet and that none was discernibly bleeding. In the midst of them was her cousin, calling for rooms to be made ready, fires to be lit, dinner to be prepared and a doctor to be sent for – if this had not already been done.

  “Horatio!” she cried, making for him, but encountering on the way the heart-stopping form of Mr Moss.

  “He is quite safe and has rescued us all, although I am afraid the coachman is badly injured. It is he for whom the doctor is sought,” Mr Moss explained.

  “Oh!” she cried, turning a fiery red. “You are not hurt, sir?”

  “I? Oh no, I’m made of unbreakable material,” he responded. “But, in spite of all my efforts, it was your cousin who rescued us – and we are eternally grateful to him!”

  “Oh, I am so glad!”

  “I am too! But for his intervention, we’d still be at the bottom of a mountain, most probably well on the way to freezing to death.”

  Waldron, who had done ordering what he considered necessary, sent the fur-clad women up the stairs to their rooms and been informed that a doctor was on the way, was at last free to pay attention to his cousin.

  “Helen! I am so sorry to have left you for so long, but you can see that my efforts have been rewarded and everyone is accounted for. Mr Moss here probably didn’t need my intervention at all; he was doing quite well by himself, but I like to think that providing a warm vehicle to bring everyone back quickly was helpful.”

  “You flatter my poor attempt, my lord,” Endymion said with a surprising degree of humility. “I don’t think my childish version of a sled would ever have succeeded in reaching the road – and, even if it had, I cannot conceive how we would have proceeded from there. It is no short distance from where we fell to this inn. We owe our lives to you, sir.”

  Helen had been listening to these two versions of high-flown tribute and wondering at the degree of mutual approval that both men were demonstrating. Struck by the coup de foudre wrought by Mr Moss’s looks the previous evening, she had neither expected her cousin to approve of a man who was clearly an adventurer, nor had she expected the adventurer to express simple gratitude to a man who possessed everything he himself presumably sought – and possibly envied.

  “Nonsense!” the Earl replied easily. “Your sister would have fetched help and you probably didn’t need it anyway, but, if I have been of any assistance, pray do not refine upon it. It is all in a day’s work – part of my job!”

  “Now you’re talking balderdash!” Endymion said, laughing. “You cannot make me believe that it is part of an English diplomat’s job to rescue his foolhardy countrymen from the bottom of a mountain!”

  “Not quite the bottom!” Waldron corrected.

  “What happened to you?” Helen asked, looking up into the young man’s face with something approaching wonder. They were standing very close and she was conscious of his height, the glow of his skin, the tousled appearance of his curls and the faint steam which had begun to rise from his clothes.

  “Our carriage fell off the road,” he said. “I rather think it fell apart while we were driving along and plunged down the mountain on that account rather than skidding and then disintegrating, but I may be wrong. It is difficult to be certain of the exact sequence of events.”

  “It must have been excessively frightening,” she said, still looking up at him in wonder.

  “It was – terrifying. We landed in a sort of gully, which was fortunate because otherwise I daresay we would have fallen further into the ravine – which would have made it well-nigh impossible for even such an intrepid hero as your cousin to reach us.”

  “Helen,”
the Earl said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed how exceedingly damp Mr Moss is, but I think he should go upstairs and change his apparel before he catches his death of cold. It would be a pity if I had gone to the trouble of bringing him back only to lose him to an inflammation of the lung.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. I am sorry, Mr Moss. I would not detain you for the world in the circumstances.”

  “Would you not? I rather think I might like it if you did,” he said, fixing his devastating eyes upon her.

  “You can exchange compliments and retail your adventures later,” the Earl said, not unamused. “Have you dined, Helen?”

  “We are in the middle of doing so,” she admitted, looking a little conscious as Endymion, with an ironic little bow, took his leave and went up the stairs, two at a time.

  “How far have you got? Is it too late for us to join you?”

  “I think it is, a little, but, in any event, Miss Godmanton and I are dining with two gentlemen who arrived here shortly after you left.”

  “Indeed? How in the world did you come to pick up two gentlemen? And have you left Miss Godmanton alone with them while you have been talking to us?”

  “Oh, I don’t think she objects in the least. In the last couple of days, I own I have been surprised at her manner with gentlemen – she has been positively ‘coming’!”

  “You refer, I take it, to the way she monopolised Mr Moss last night?”

  “Oh, did you notice that? As a matter of fact, I think the boot was on the other leg: he monopolised her.”

  “Indeed? Was that your impression? Don’t fly out at me, but even I can see that Mr Moss is a very Adonis; unfortunately, I don’t think he has two pennies to rub together so that I am fairly certain he is on the look-out for a fortune.”

  “He won’t find one in Miss Godmanton’s possession!”

  “No, nor in yours, but I am not convinced he knows that, although I tried to warn his sister last night.”