He grimaced and nodded. My helper was still applying the rags with cold water, but the woman lay still. I hoped she was unconscious. I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain.
A movement from the side of the house attracted our attention. “Dear God!” Richard cried, and got to his feet and started forward.
It was Steven. He staggered towards us, his arms burdened by a blanketed bundle. A man in a bedraggled footman’s uniform took the bottom part of the bundle, and together they brought it over to us. Ruth glanced up from her patient, a woman coughing up vile matter. The house continued to burn, but as Steven and the footman reached us, it started to rain.
That fine, sheeting rain, the sort you hardly notice at the time but which gets you wet just the same. I’d never been so glad to feel it on my hands before.
The bundle was carefully, silently laid in front of me and I gently drew back the blanket which covered it.
Julia Drury. She wore a night rail. The garment was torn and blackened, revealing more of her than it hid. She was unconscious—or dead. Her pretty round face was slack, almost childlike in repose, and her braided golden hair lay slackly coiled around her shoulders. Steven plumped down next to her and raised his knees, resting his head on them. He sat totally still as I examined his wife.
I felt her faint breath on my hand when I put it in front of her mouth. I placed my fingers on her wrist where the pulse still beat, then nodded to Richard. He knew what I meant.
The fire had caught her night rail. It must be why Steven wrapped her in the blanket, to stifle the flames. She had some damage to her left side, the leg in particular, the skin blistered and red. I beckoned to Ruth, but Gervase had already gone to the bucket and was wringing out a piece of cloth for me. I applied it to her leg to cool the burn and wrapped the blanket more securely about her. “We ought to get her and her maid into a place of safety as soon as possible. Take them to Hareton Hall.”
“What about Peacocks?” Richard asked.
“It’s as far to Peacocks by road as it is to Hareton. The coach can’t travel cross country as we did.”
He nodded and went off to supervise the transference.
Steven looked straight at me. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse with inhalation of smoke.
I shrugged. “We did what we could.”
He held out his hands to me, blisters and burns on them.
“Go and put them in that bucket immediately,” I said, waving my hand in the direction of the water. “Cool the burns. You’d better go in the coach with your wife.”
Steven stood, nearly stumbling as he rose, and did as I told him.
Richard returned with four strong men and two doors, wrenched from their hinges as the building they had belonged to turned to ash.
I watched them load Julia and her maid on to them and bear them off behind Hyvern House in the direction of the stables where, presumably, the coach waited to take them to Hareton Hall. Martha would take them in without question. Steven followed the little caravan slowly, still stumbling, his head hanging, his whole body drooping.
Gervase came back to us. “It’s a shambles at the back. They’ve put the things they’ve managed to salvage round there, but if the wind changes direction they’ll all be lost. There’s pictures on their sides, furniture, clothes, all any old how, just out of reach of the flames.”
I sighed, weary from my efforts and the stress of seeing such a disaster. But people were now waiting for their next task.
“There’s not much more we can do here,” Richard said. “The butler and housekeeper are capable of managing what’s left and making sure nobody else is hurt.” Was it my imagination, or was the fire abating a little? “The housekeeper’s from Thompson’s, so she’s perfectly capable, and if there’s anything else we should know, she’ll inform us later. Come, my love.” He held his hand down to me and helped me to my feet.
I shook out my skirts and looked ruefully down. Grass stains adorned the skirt of my riding habit, and although my hat was still firmly skewered on, my hair had come loose from the black velvet ribbon which had secured it behind and now lay in tangled curls over my shoulders. I’d lost my gloves somewhere, and I was sure my face must be covered in smuts from the charcoaled victims of the fire. But I could still ride, apart from the lack of gloves.
Richard put his hand in his pocket and drew out his own gloves. “A little large for you, but take these. Or would you prefer to ride home in the coach?”
I shuddered. “No indeed. I want some fresh air to get the stink out of my nostrils.” Burning flesh, greasy and cloying. I wanted it gone. “We’ll probably arrive before the coach, in any case.”
I tugged on the gloves and pulled them as tight as I could. “We can ride cross country. It will take the coach twice as long.”
“Are you sure you can ride?”
“Yes.” I met his gaze frankly. “Although I remember a time when you took me up in front of you. That was pleasurable—or would have been under different circumstances.”
At least I made him smile. “We can do that if you want to.”
Reluctantly I shook my head. “It would slow us down.”
“Very well. But when we return, you must see to yourself first. Go to your room, change and rest if you need it.”
“An order?”
His lips quirked. “An order.”
I nodded. “Martha’s quite capable of seeing to everything.” I didn’t have that kind of arrogance that made me believe I was indispensable.
“Good,” he said, and then, after a pause, in a voice that cracked with strain, “What made you do such a foolish thing, Rose?” He took both my hands.
“I don’t know. The maid told me Julia was still in there and I—well, I think seeing her, and thinking about someone else in that position—instinct took me there. I wasn’t thinking.”
Richard drew me close, and heedless of the curious stares of the servants, I leaned my head on his shoulder while he folded his arms around me. “I’m proud of your instinct, but I won’t have you put in danger. I’m sorry I was so harsh—especially in front of all these people, but I can’t lose you, you know that.”
“I know.”
He kissed me before he released me. “I think we should go now,” he said, and still holding hands, we went to where Bennett stood with the horses.
Chapter Seven
Lizzie found me in the nursery with Helen on the morning of the following day. Rain drummed heavily against the tightly closed windows so we postponed taking my daughter outside.
I sat on the rug in the centre of the room while Helen held my hands and wobbled in her efforts to sit upright. My skirts lay any old how, and she’d pulled at my lace cap, so that was askew too. Lessons occupied the other children of the house, so we had the nursery to ourselves, except for the servants.
“Charming,” came Lizzie’s voice from the door.
I smiled my welcome. “Join us?”
“Ha! After she disturbed your dignity you want her to do it to me?” She squatted to look my daughter in the eyes. Blue eyes met blue, solemn and contemplative. They stared at each other, then Helen reached up her hand, and Lizzie took it gently in hers.
“She’s cutting a new tooth,” I said, ever the proud mother.
Lizzie glanced at me smiling, and saw the coral rattle and teething ring in my hand. Then she glanced to where Potter stood, sorting some baby clothes on the table. “Is she in much distress?”
“None at all, miss,” said the nursemaid. “She had more trouble with the lower ones, but these are coming through well.”
Lizzie gently put her little finger to Helen’s mouth and my daughter duly bit it.
She winced and withdrew it. “Sharp.”
“New,” I reminded her, evoking light-hearted laughter from us both. Much needed after the stresses of the previous day.
She made sure Helen was sitting securely, and that if she did fall the only thing she would hit was the large cushion by her side, befo
re she got to her feet.
“Hard to think I might have one of those one day.”
“You’re going the right way to get one.” I stood to join her, and with a grimace she reached up and tugged my cap straight.
“So how are you today?”
I shrugged. “Fine, considering. We have the people I most want to avoid staying here under this roof, the maid I attended to died and we only have two weddings to prepare for.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Not for your wedding.”
She brightened. “No, not that. But the other things. You were so brave, Rose.”
I couldn’t let her say that. “No I wasn’t.” I sighed. “In a way, it was as well the maid died. I can’t begin to imagine the pain she must have suffered.” My daughter gurgled—she’d moved to her favourite position, on her stomach, where she tried to push herself on to her knees. Once she succeeded, we’d have to take the greatest care. “Did you want anything in particular?” I asked Lizzie, “or do you want to get good and tousled with me, playing with Helen? You might as well practice while you can.”
Reluctantly she shook her head. “Barbara Sturman is downstairs in the small parlour. She got caught in the rain and she’s soaked. I came to ask if you’d help me find her something to wear. I hope you don’t mind, but if she keeps what she has on, she’ll catch her death, and it’s her wedding next week. I’m too short for her, and you’re a shade taller, so we should find something between us.”
We couldn’t allow her to catch cold. I turned to the other maid in the room, one of Martha’s nursery maids. “Would you mind having my maid sent to my room, please, and ask someone to show Miss Sturman there, also.”
The maid curtseyed and left.
We went to my room where Miss Sturman and Nichols duly appeared. By now, Barbara was shivering, so we installed her in front of the fire. “We can find something, can’t we, Nichols?”
A maid rapped on the door with a tray of tea, so I poured dishes for all of us, including Nichols, which elicited raised eyebrows, but I had no time for such nonsense.
While I helped Barbara to take off her wet things, Nichols went into my dressing room and returned with my crimson riding habit, freshly furbished up after its adventures at Hyvern House. She’d worked miracles with it and I had no idea how she managed it. I’d thought the garment gone for good and didn’t really want to see it again, but I’d been too tired the previous evening to give her the necessary instructions to throw it away.
“This should fit you,” I said to Barbara.
Lizzie touched the garment, felt its quality. “Nichols should be able to help you to fit it. Do you think it possible?”
“Undoubtedly, my lady,” said my maid. She drew a needle and thread out of her pocket. “Although I might have to adjust the buttons. You are a little fuller in the bosom than Miss Sturman, my lady.”
I wrinkled my nose at the reminder. “You can blame Helen for that.” Although I no longer fed my baby, my breasts were left larger than before. Richard wasn’t complaining.
The habit fitted Barbara well and the colour suited her. She smiled as Nichols arrayed her in the shirt and skirt, and tied the neckcloth over the stock, spreading the skirts and admiring herself in the mirror. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”
“Would you be insulted if I said you could keep it if you wanted to?”
From her reply of “Ohhh,” I didn’t think so.
Nichols tried the jacket on her and then took it off again to adjust the placement of the buttons.
Lizzie and I sat and watched and drank our tea. When she’d done, Nichols drew back the chair of the dressing table. Barbara glanced at my stern-faced maid and gingerly sat. I watched while Nichols pulled back her hair, towelled it dry and then smoothed it with the brush. She’d found a fresh black ribbon. Barbara’s hair was darker than mine and hadn’t any chestnut glints, but neither did she have the unruly waves and curls which had been so much the bane of my life before Nichols had come to me. It was a wonderful shining mass of sheeted brown. Tom would like that, I reflected, and was surprised when I felt nothing more than pleasure that my friend would enjoy his new bride. I felt no private jealousy, and my heart lightened. Perhaps that was what made Tom make his impulsive declaration of love, that he was afraid I’d leave and things would change. Of course they’d change. We both knew that now.
“I hope you and Tom will come and see us after your marriage.”
Barbara’s face flushed with pleasure. “That would be most kind.” She would have turned, but Nichols had her hair in a firm grip and was binding the ribbon about it. She looked in the mirror and met my gaze there instead. “You’ve been very kind to Tom and me.”
“Nonsense. Tom’s a very good friend.”
“Whatever made you go out riding today, Barbara?” asked Lizzie. “Rain was obvious from first light.”
I’d been wondering that too.
Barbara bit her lip and stared into the mirror. “The truth is,” she began hesitantly, “Mama has been driving me mad this past month or two. She is so anxious that everything is right, that my wedding is not overlooked next to…”
“Mine,” Lizzie finished for her. “I shouldn’t worry, Barbara. I love all this, you know that, but I wouldn’t have overshadowed Tom’s day if I could help it. But…”
I glanced at her, and then at Barbara. “She can’t wait to be married, and this was the first date available,” I said, smiling. My sister was so in love with her Marquês.
Lizzie shrugged. “I thought I wanted companionship and position out of a marriage, but I’d have married Paul if he were a pauper.”
“Instead his family owns some of the largest wine-growing estates in Portugal,” I said. “And she’ll live in the lap of luxury.”
“It doesn’t matter as much as it used to.” I noticed my sister didn’t say that it didn’t matter at all. It wouldn’t have mattered to me, but Lizzie was far more practical than I.
Nichols finished doing Barbara’s hair and attended to the jacket. It fitted very well. My maid placed one of my cocked hats over the severely dressed hair, gave her a pair of riding gloves, and she was ready.
I glanced out of the window. “You should be all right to ride now.” The patches of blue in the sky had widened, and the clouds left bore little threat of rain. “Or we can send you home in a carriage, if you prefer.”
“Oh no, I’d much rather ride,” Barbara said. “I’ve had the most peaceful time in weeks. I only wish I’d thought of it before.”
At a nod from me, Nichols left the room to ask that Barbara’s horse and groom be brought round to the door, and within a few minutes, she was back. “They are ready, my lady, and they wait at the back door, at your convenience.” She took one last critical look at Barbara, curtseyed and left.
“I was so much in a whirl the night before my wedding that I doubted everything,” I told her. Someone had to, because I recognised her state of mind. “I doubted it was real, but there was my wedding dress, on a form in the middle of the room, daring me to put it on.” I laughed. “I did the right thing,” I assured her. “I put on the gown.”
Lizzie stayed behind while I took Barbara down to the hall at the back of the house. This was so grand it would have formed the front hall of the old manor. It was tiled in black and white, and was reached by a wooden stairway imported from Hareton Abbey, made of nicely carved mahogany. I didn’t remember its previous position, but likely it had been covered in dust where here it gleamed.
Martha was not yet so grand that she had a footman standing by every door ready to open it, just in case anyone should pass that way, so we were alone. “It was good to see you, Barbara, and I’m happy you came to no harm in the rain.”
“Thank you.” A pause, then, “Lady Strang?”
“Yes?” I turned to face her.
“Married life? Is it—is it…?”
I wasn’t sure what she wanted to know. “It’s what you make of it that matters. I
’ve seen couples start well and end unhappily because one or both of the couples didn’t take care. I’ve seen marriages that started in liking and ended in love. But for what it’s worth—I don’t think you could choose anyone better than Tom.”
She looked shocked. “What about Lord Strang?”
I chose my words carefully. “He’s not to everybody’s taste, but he’s right for me.” How else to explain that cataclysmic moment in the stables at Hareton Abbey that swept everything else away? And that was ours, not to be shared.
“I think Eustacia may be planning more trouble,” Barbara said.
I smiled again to reassure her. “The only person she will hurt is herself. If she makes Richard angry, I won’t be able to stop him this time.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how much you know of Eustacia’s adventures in London.”
She cast me a doubtful look. “She told me things I don’t know how to believe.”
Eustacia had tried to seduce Richard and been humiliated for her pains. I doubted she’d shared that with anyone. “My husband didn’t take kindly to her interference. He’s capable of great cruelty if he thinks he is being insulted, worse if the target is me. If Eustacia gives him cause, he will reciprocate. I’ve stopped him so far, but I don’t know if I can do that if she begins again.”
“I don’t think I’ll tell her that. She might see it as a challenge. Besides, I’m not as close to her as I used to be. One grows up.” Barbara smiled ruefully just as I realised what her appearance missed.
“Your riding crop. Wait… I think there’s one back here.” I crossed to the back of the hall where I saw the old oak coffer that Martha had kept in the hall when the house had been a mere comfortable manor house. When I lifted the heavy lid, I saw it contained what it always had—gloves, shawls, hats, all discarded by people on their way into the house, waiting to be claimed by their owners. I dropped to my knees and rummaged for a crop.
I heard a door open but didn’t think anything of it. Martha had probably sent a footman to us after all. I emerged triumphantly with a riding crop just in time to see my husband slip his arms around Barbara’s waist from behind and bend his head to kiss her neck. “Going out, sweetheart? Wait ten minutes and I’ll come with you. Maybe we can find some secluded arbour and I can seduce you plein air.”
Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6 Page 7