The Countess’s eyes flickered for a moment and Novella started, thinking she was about to wake up – but she did not.
Novella sat there for as long as she could – she heard the dinner gong sound but stayed where she was. About an hour later, Lily brought her some cold meat and bread on a tray.
“Your stepfather was enquiring as to where you were, my Lady, but Mrs. Armitage told him that she was sick of nursing and that a proper nurse had to be engaged else she was going to walk out. He was furious but he could not say anything. I bet you’re glad you weren’t there to see it.”
“Yes, I am, Lily. My stepfather is most ill-humoured this evening and I wanted to keep Mama company.”
“I’ll be leaving you then, my Lady. Will you be wanting any more supper?”
“No thank you, I shall be retiring shortly as I am quite exhausted myself.”
After the maid had closed the door, Novella ate her meagre meal, then sat by her mother’s bedside until sleep overtook her.
*
Novella remained thus, in the armchair, for the whole night and woke with a start when Lily came in at half-past six to clean the grate and relight the fire.
“Goodness,” she yawned, stretching her arms and legs. “I am so stiff.”
Rising from the armchair, Novella wandered downstairs. She did not wish to encounter her stepfather, so she slipped down the back stairs to the kitchen.
Mrs. Armitage was nowhere to be seen so Novella helped herself to a large slice of bread and butter. Wandering around, she found a tray of tea, ready to go up to the dining room.
‘It will not matter if I take my tea here,’ she thought, pouring out a cup.
As she stood in the kitchen with the morning light pouring in the back window, she could see the ruined Tower.
She smiled to herself as she thought of the extra money her father had secreted away for her.
‘Not much longer – soon you will look as magnificent as before,’ she whispered, as if the Tower were alive and could hear her.
Finishing her bread and tea, she returned back upstairs.
‘I should write the letter to Doctor von Haydn,’ she told herself, walking towards her father’s study.
She always felt a sense of relief as soon as she closed the door behind her, and allowed herself to be enveloped by the welcoming smell of books and leather.
Even though she felt tired and her bones ached from sitting in the chair all night, she had to pull herself together to write the letter.
It was only half written when there came a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” she called, hiding the half-written note in a drawer.
“It’s Mrs. Armitage, my Lady.”
Without waiting to be invited in, Mrs. Armitage pushed open the door and stood in front of Novella, a sour look on her face.
“There is a gentleman here to see you, my Lady – Sir Edward Moreton.”
‘Oh, Heavens!’ thought Novella, catching sight of her reflection in a glass bookcase door. ‘I do not have time to make myself presentable, Sir Edward will have to take me as he finds me.’
Walking towards the drawing room, Novella wondered what business could have brought him to the Hall. It was then that she remembered that she had said she would write and let him know if she would be visiting him the next day.
‘It had quite gone out of my mind,’ she thought, as she hesitated outside the door.
As she entered the room, she suddenly felt quite awkward and wished that she had taken time to run upstairs and splash her face or maybe change her dress.
“Ah, Lady Novella. I trust I have not inconvenienced you by arriving at such an early hour.”
‘I must look a fright,’ reckoned Novella, trying to avoid Sir Edward’s intense gaze.
It was then, when she looked up at him, that she noticed that his eyes were the most unusual shade of greeny-grey. In fact, she stared at them for so long that she was not listening to what he was saying to her.
“Lady Novella?” he repeated, peering at the rumpled vision in front of him.
“Oh, I am sorry, Sir Edward, what was it you were saying?”
“I said that since we last met I have done nothing but think about what you said about wanting to see Salamander again, so I have come to make sure that you realised that my invitation to my stables was genuine. I think we said Wednesday? That is tomorrow, would you be kind enough to say yes? Please, Lady Novella, I feel I have to make amends to you.”
The way he looked at her – so deep and meaningful – made Novella’s heart skip a beat.
‘I cannot possibly fraternise with a man who is a friend of my stepfather and who bought Papa’s horses without a second thought – to accept would be disloyal – ’ she considered.
But before she could stop herself, she heard herself saying,
“I would love to, thank you, Sir Edward.”
“In that case, I shall expect you after luncheon. Good day, Lady Novella.”
He put on his hat, took Novella’s hand and kissed it, all the while looking deep into her eyes.
Novella felt a shiver deep down inside as his lips touched her fingers – it was as if she had been jolted into life by a huge bolt of lightning. The feeling was something like the thrill she experienced when taking a jump with Salamander. But no, it was more than that –
Pulling her hand back as if she had been burnt, Novella was shocked to feel her heart beating quite so fast.
‘Why does he make me feel like this?’ she thought, as they stood there in silence.
“Let me show you to the door,” offered Novella hurriedly. She was anxious to regain her composure, even though she felt inwardly in a turmoil.
‘It is just that I am excited at seeing Salamander – yes, that will be it,’ she said to herself as they walked towards the door.
“Until Wednesday afternoon, then?”
“Yes, until Wednesday – ”
Turning sharply, she hurried back down the hallway. Her first thought was to go upstairs to wash and change.
‘I need to lie down for a while, that will make me feel better,’ she told herself.
But had she stopped on the doorstep and turned around, she would have seen Sir Edward craning his neck all the way down the drive in an attempt to catch one last glimpse of her –
CHAPTER SIX
The rest of the day passed in a something of a haze for Novella. Almost as soon as Sir Edward had left, she walked upstairs to wash and change and instead found herself falling asleep – completely clothed – on her bed.
‘The letter to Doctor von Haydn!’ she cried upon waking, suddenly remembering that she had still to finish and send it.
Running back to her father’s study, she withdrew the letter from the desk drawer and completed it as soon as she could. Although she did not have time to go to the Post Office herself, she wandered out to the stables to see if Ned would take it for her.
“My Lady, how is her Ladyship?” asked Charles, as soon as he saw her approaching.
“Still very much the same. Actually, I have an errand for Ned, would you be able to spare him a while?”
“Of course, my Lady. What would you have him do for you?”
Novella handed Charles the letter.
“It is very important – it is for the specialist from London who knows much about chest complaints. I am hoping that he will be able to find out what ails Mama.”
“Then Ned shall go at once, my Lady! Here you are, boy, Bluebell can go back into the field. Take Folly, she’s been champing at the bit all afternoon to get out for a gallop.”
“Still as lively as ever, is she?”
“To be sure, my Lady. Sir Edward missed a trick when he passed over ’er! She’s still got plenty of life in ’er for an old one.”
Novella smiled to herself.
“Very good, Charles. Please ask Ned to make all haste to the village, that letter is urgent. The sooner Doctor von Haydn gets here, the better.”
&nb
sp; *
Novella knew that she could not avoid having dinner with her stepfather alone for a second evening, so she steeled herself for another unpleasant experience.
Such had her dislike of him grown, that it pained her to be in the same room as him for any length of time.
She entered the dining room with her heart banging against her ribs, so she was relieved to see that Lord Buckton had yet to appear.
‘I hope he is with Mama,’ she thought, as she sat down.
Lily immediately brought her an empty plate.
“Lord Buckton has asked for you to wait for him before starting,” she said, as she moved away from the table.
So, Novella sat with folded hands in her lap for some twenty minutes.
Her stomach was just beginning to let out low grumbles of hunger when the door of the dining room swung open and in walked Lord Buckton.
He did not impart a single word of greeting, merely inclining his head slightly before sitting down with a grunt at the table.
“Shall I serve now, my Lord?” asked Lily nervously.
It was plain to see that the servants were all terrified of the man for Lily’s hand shook as she placed a helping of caviar on toast in front of him.
“Give me another portion, you stupid girl,” he snapped, looking with disdain at the modest amount that had been set before him.
“Lord Buckton may have mine,” said Novella, “I have no taste for caviar.”
“Too good for you, is it? he answered, as he pushed one half of the toast into his mouth.
“Not at all. It is just not to my liking.”
“I wonder, Lady Novella, what is to your liking, apart from horses? And horses, fine as they may be, will not bring offers of marriage flocking in.”
“I have no wish to marry yet awhile, I have only just returned to Crownley Hall,” retorted Novella, as calmly as she could.
“And the longer you hang around your mother’s skirts, the more unlikely it is that you will find a suitor. I shall make some enquiries as to suitable young gentlemen the next time I visit London.”
Novella was quite aware of where this conversation was leading.
“And I suppose you have some relative somewhere, who would be right for me?” she suggested sarcastically.
“Does the prospect of being part of my family displease you, madam?” he replied, glaring at her.
Novella decided that it was best if she tried to change the topic of conversation.
“How was Mama when you called in on her?”
“Much the same,” came the indifferent answer.
“I do so hope that the specialist will be able to help her.”
“I beg your pardon? I had thought that I had forbidden you to send for him.”
“Mama needs to see someone.”
“If I say she is fine, then she is fine. A specialist would be a waste of money and we have precious little enough of that to go spending on quacks and witchdoctors!”
“Doctor von Haydn is a well-respected professional and I see that we have money enough for expensive appetisers – ”
“Enough!” her stepfather shouted, spittle from his mouth landing inches away from her plate. “If you have money to throw around, then, as I have told you before, you should give it to me. There are certain pressing debts which I have to pay, so you will kindly make funds available to me.”
Novella looked down at her plate – she was tired of the same conversation each time she sat down to dinner with her stepfather, but on this occasion, she did not answer him.
‘It is always about money!’ she thought to herself.
She glanced over to where Lily was standing terrified. Novella could see that the poor girl did not know whether or not to take their plates away.
“Lily, you may clear the table.”
The maid hurriedly gathered up their plates – almost as if she was afraid of Lord Buckton throwing something at her – and then brought the main course of roasted pheasant with cress.
As Novella ate, she could see her stepfather growing angrier.
“I repeat, if you have money from an unknown source with which to pay this doctor, then I wish to know of it.”
Still Novella declined to reply.
It was the final straw for Lord Buckton. Smashing down his forkful of pheasant with a noisy clatter, he yelled,
“You will answer me! Where does this money come from? I order you to tell me.”
And then he banged his hand down on the table so hard that Novella’s glass jumped into the air before crashing at her feet in a thousand pieces.
“Oh, Lummy!” cried Lily, rushing over to the broken glass.
“Go and fetch a dustpan and brush, Lily,” ordered Novella, quietly.
“Sir, you have made it abundantly clear that you cannot or will not pay for Mama’s care and as it is in my power to do, I shall not hesitate in meeting the expense from my own pocket. My money is mine to do with what I will.”
And with that, she swept out of the dining room, her stepfather shouting at her all the way whilst poor Lily vanished in search of something to sweep up the mess.
*
After breakfast the next morning, which Novella ate from a tray in her mother’s room, she sat eagerly looking out of the window in the hope that Doctor von Haydn would appear on the horizon.
She had told him in her letter not to waste time on a reply but to proceed directly to the Hall as soon as he could.
“Novella, dear, are you there?”
Turning sharply away from the window, Novella hurried to her mother’s side.
The Countess looked paler than ever and her eyes were sunken. She appeared to be having great difficulty in breathing.
“What is it, Mama?”
“I would dearly like to have a drink of barley-water, is there some on the sideboard?”
“No, I will have to go down to the kitchen to fetch some, Mama.”
Novella did not waste a moment longer, she ran downstairs and into the kitchen. Lily was shocked to see her below stairs.
“My Lady?” she cried, her arms buried in the large sink as she was washing the breakfast plates.
“It is all right, Lily, I have just come for some barley-water. Where does Mrs. Armitage keep it?”
“There is a batch in the larder, my Lady. She made some first thing this morning.”
It had been quite some time since Novella had last been in the larder and as she opened the door, the smell of yeast wafted up.
“Ah, here it is,” she said, alighting upon a brown, earthenware jug with a muslin cover.
By the time she returned upstairs, the Countess had drifted off to sleep. Novella poured a glass of the cloudy liquid from the jug and placed it by her mother’s bedside.
‘Once Mrs. Armitage returns, I shall go and make my riding habit ready,’ she said to herself not without a small note of satisfaction.
For today was the day she would see her beloved Salamander once more!
While she waited for Mrs. Armitage to relieve her, she returned once more to the window. It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining. The blossom was just about beginning to burst upon the cherry trees at the end of the garden.
The pretty blossom filled Novella’s heart with hope for the future.
*
It was just after luncheon and Novella was about to go to the stables to pick up Bluebell for the ride over to Sir Edward’s house, when Lily came rushing out with her cap askew.
“My Lady, my Lady! There is a Mr. Gross in the hall for you – he says he has come to look at the West wing.”
Novella did not waste any time, she hurried inside to meet Mr. Gross.
“I am sorry I did not send word, my Lady, but I was in the neighbourhood and thought to call and make a start, if it is convenient.”
“Well, I am about to go out, but let me take you to see the West wing.”
Novella led him along the corridor to the ruined set of rooms that made up the West wing.
“As you can see, it is has been allowed to fall into a terrible state.”
As Novella left, she reminded Mr. Gross that should her stepfather intervene, then he should say that she was bearing the cost.
However as Novella was about to leave the West wing, her stepfather came thundering in. Seeing Lord Buckton approaching, Mr. Gross shooed his men out of the side door and followed suit.
“What is all this? Who are these men?” shouted her stepfather.
“I cannot allow the Hall to fall down around my ears and as you have refused to meet the expense, I am paying for the work myself, out of my own pocket,” responded Novella stoutly.
And with that, she turned to go.
But Lord Buckton was not going to allow matters to rest there – he rushed up to Novella and grabbed her by the wrist.
“You will tell me where all this money is coming from, my Lady, or you will live to regret it.”
“Please! Stop! You are hurting me,” cried Novella, trying to free herself.
But Lord Buckton, although elderly, was still a strong man – he clung onto her wrist, twisting the delicate flesh until it turned white.
“You will tell me who is giving you this money, for I cannot believe that you have some vast fund of your own.”
By now tears were springing up in Novella’s eyes. Try as she might, she could not free herself from his vice-like grip.
“Let me go, I beg of you!” she pleaded.
“Then, tell me.”
Thankfully, just at that moment, Mrs. Armitage appeared. She took one look at Novella attempting to twist herself free from Lord Buckton and a look of horror crossed her face.
“My Lord, your carriage is waiting for you. You will miss your appointment.”
Lord Buckton paused for a moment and then freed his grip on Novella’s wrist.
“We will speak of this again later,” he snarled, spittle issuing forth from his lips.
Almost in a swoon, Novella staggered towards the hallway. Viewing her harassed expression in the mirror, she straightened her hat and took several deep breaths.
She stood there for some moments, before she gathered herself together and proceeded towards Charles, Ned and Bluebell.
Love Is the Reason For Living Page 7