by Regina Darcy
But, Francis recognised, it had been easier to remain in the inn and wallow in his pain and misery – which was something he had not seen until this very moment, after reading the letter. Staying here was no longer something he could do. It was time to prepare to return to the house.
“Stevenson?”
The manservant reappeared at the door in a moment, ever ready to take on whatever Francis requested.
“I am to return to the townhouse,” Francis said, decisively, pressing down hard with his hands in an attempt to raise himself up a little more in the bed. “I will need to have my things prepared, as well as the doctor summoned in order to help me manage my pain and become used to walking on my crippled leg.”
If Stevenson was surprised, he did not show it. His face remained entirely impassive as he nodded, his hands held tightly behind his back.
“At once, my lord,” he stated, quietly, inclining his head. “Should you like me to fetch the doctor for later this afternoon or shall he come first thing tomorrow?”
Francis, filled with a fresh, new determination to recover himself and attempt, at the very least, to return to his life as it had been, cleared his throat gruffly, trying to cover his pain. “I shall require him this afternoon, if he is able to attend me.” A little embarrassed, he looked away from his manservant, suddenly aware of just how difficult his behaviour must have been of late, and in just how much of a disarray his appearance currently was.
“I will need to bathe, dress and rise also.”
Again, there was not even a flicker of surprise on Stevenson’s face.
“But of course, my lord,” he said, stoically. “If you recall, the doctor himself suggested that warm baths might help aid your injury.”
Francis, who could not recall such a thing, nodded.
“I should be glad of it,” he said, wondering if it truly would help but thinking to himself that it would be best, at the very least, to try. “As soon as is possible, although I fear I shall require your help to rise from my bed.”
Stevenson cleared his throat, and bowed his head. “Of course, Lord Stanway. If it is not too bold to say, then may I be permitted to state that there is nothing I would not do in order to assist you, my lord.”
Francis nodded, aware that his manservant was, in his own way, trying to relieve Francis of any embarrassment.
“Thank you,” he replied, gruffly. “I do appreciate it. The sooner I can return home, then the sooner I might finally be able to disperse this darkness that has caught me for so long.” He waited until the door closed behind his manservant before he drew in a shaking breath, having not wanted to show any sort of emotion in front of his staff.
The prospect of returning home, of attending balls and soirees and the like, was not something that he found easy to contemplate. There would be a good many whispers and rumours and everywhere he went, there would be people staring at him and at his injured leg. He was not the man he had been before – but perhaps he did not need to pretend to be so. This letter writer had encouraged him, had filled him with fresh hope that he might return to his life and take on what had once been his. It would take a good deal of strength and even more courage for him to do so and, had he been encouraged back to his townhouse yesterday, then he would have refused outright – but now, there was a good deal more determination within him. He could return to that life again, even with his leg and his horrifying, terrible memories of war. Even if Lady Stanway did not accept him, even if she was still determined to hold a grudge against him for the choices he had made, he would determine his own steps and, in doing so, find a way to slowly rebuild his life.
“Although you have lost faith, your fate is not yet set. A God-fearing man always finds the way back to his home and heart. Let my words give you comfort and hope, but above all let them guide you home.”
“I have a duty,” he muttered to himself, quietly. “A duty to my blood line.”
The thought of marriage was not one that Francis had entertained over the last few years. Instead, he had felt pulled towards fighting for his king and country and so had spent his time and efforts in doing just that. Now, however, he realised that unless he wed and produced an heir, the title would pass to one of his distant relatives, and that was not something he particularly wanted. Now more than ever, he felt the desire to do as he should, to behave as a gentleman must in marrying a lady of quality and producing the necessary children so that the title could then continue on within his own bloodline.
That said, what lady would want to tie themselves to someone such as he, when, at the moment, he could barely walk? A grimace crossed his face as he closed his eyes tightly against the swell of pain that came whenever he tried to move. Could he really expect any young lady to look towards marriage with someone such as he. No lady would ever see past his title now. He sighed.
Doubts began to clamour at his mind, sweat forming on his brow as he looked towards the future. Francis could feel himself being pulled back down into the dark depths of his mind, shadows grasping at his sanity. With an effort, he pulled open the letter again and forced his eyes to settle upon the words. Reading it slowly, Francis felt the words penetrate the darkness, bringing with it a fresh shaft of light. Slowly, it began to turn the darkness away, encouraging him and giving him the hope he needed to continue.
“Bless you,” Francis whispered, folding up the letter and putting it carefully into his breast pocket. His eyes closed as he settled back against his pillows, a fresh determination filling him again.
“Bless you, whoever you are.”
A soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He might be entirely unaware as to whom this letter writer was but at least, in returning home, he might be able to identify her. Then, he could thank her in person, telling her just how much her words had meant to him, just how they brought life back to his soul. That was one thing he could look to with expectation and hope, even if he had to endure great pain in order to do it.
The door opened and Francis’ thoughts were interrupted.
“They will now begin to prepare your bath, my lord,” his manservant said, inclining his head as two men carried in a small copper tub into the room. “Should you like to rise in order to wait for them?”
Francis gritted his teeth. He knew that this was going to cause him a good deal of pain but he also knew he had to endure it regardless.
“Yes, I should like that very much,” he said, firmly, praying that he would not cry out aloud as he was helped from the bed. “This is to be the first step in my attempt to return home.” His features twisted as he tried to sit up a little more, hating the sight of his twisted and scarred leg as the manservant drew the sheets back.
“If you are quite prepared, my lord.”
His manservant stood ready to support him. Taking in a long breath, Francis set his jaw and prepared himself to stand upright. This, he knew, would be agony but in his mind, he clung to the words contained within the letter. They gave him the strength he required, the courage to face the pain unflinchingly. He had to do this if he was to return home.
“I am ready,” he stated, before swinging himself around on the edge of the bed and reaching forward for his manservant.
FOUR
Caroline lifted her head as Lady Stanway walked into the room. She was surprised when a young lady followed her thereafter. Caroline rose quickly from her chair, setting her needlework aside so that she might greet the young woman properly.
It was three weeks to the day since she had begun to act as a companion to Lady Stanway and, as far as she was aware, things had been going rather well. Now, however, Caroline wondered if she was to be dismissed given the unexpected company. The young lady did not look like a visitor. Actually she appeared to be narrowing her eyes just a fraction as she gazed in Caroline’s direction.
“Ah, Caroline, good,” Lady Stanway said briskly, her coiffure wobbling slightly as she directed her attention back to the young woman.
“May I present Miss Amy Ruthford.”
Caroline curtsied quickly, dropping her gaze to the floor as she did so. Rising quickly, she was surprised to see that Miss Ruthford had not dropped into a curtsy in return but rather had simply inclined her head. A little taken aback, Caroline allowed herself to study the young woman as Lady Stanway drew Miss Ruthford’s attention again.
The woman was tall and rather slim, with an elegant manner and all the bearing of gentility. With bright blue eyes and dark hair, an oval face, dark eyelashes and a gentle smile on her lips, she was more than handsome, Caroline concluded, suddenly aware of how dowdy she must look in comparison. She was not wearing one of her best gowns. As she and Lady Stanway had not had any intention of going out today, she had simply tied her hair back into a basic chignon instead of making any particular effort. Had she known that there would be a guest, then of course, she would have spent a good deal more time on her appearance!
“Miss Ruthford is my niece,” Lady Stanway explained, not looking particularly pleased by this connection, for she did not so much as smile in Miss Ruthford’s direction but rather gestured to her as though she were not of much importance.
“I see,” Caroline murmured, suddenly relieved that she was not to be ousted from her position in Lady Stanway’s household. She managed a small smile in Miss Ruthford’s direction, fully aware that the young lady still did not appear to be glad to meet her.
“It is very good to meet you, Miss Ruthford. Are you staying here with Lady Stanway?”
There was a moment or two of silence before Miss Ruthford replied, but Caroline did not allow her gaze to drop from the young lady. She had no issues when it came to conversing with ladies of any age and, to her surprise, found herself growing somewhat irritated with the lack of immediate response from Miss Ruthford.
“I am,” Miss Ruthford eventually replied, her light blue eyes landing deftly on Caroline’s. “My dear aunt has decided to take pity on me and support me during this Season. My mother is unwell.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Caroline replied, quickly. “And –”
“I doubt you will require a companion for the next few months, Aunt,” Miss Ruthford interrupted, turning suddenly to Lady Stanway and ignoring Caroline completely. “Now that I am here, surely you have no need of such a person.”
A flush of colour rose in Caroline’s face almost at once and she looked away, immediately feeling ashamed of her presence in Lady Stanway’s home.
Miss Ruthford was quite correct. There would be no need for a companion if she was present. Yet again, Caroline felt herself entirely useless, not fit for any particular purpose and so easily replacable.
She took a deep breath and smoothed down the front of her dress. She would have to return home and do her best to show some sort of eagerness and excitement over Beatrice’s upcoming wedding. Apparently there was a good deal to organise and Beatrice had therefore, set the wedding to take place in another month’s time. It was difficult to be at home when such talk was going on. The preparations left Caroline feeling out of place. Now, however, it seemed that she was to have very little choice.
“I thank you, Amy,” Lady Stanway replied, firmly, “but I believe that I can decide such things for myself.” She looked back at Caroline, one eyebrow arching slowly. “You shall remain as you are, Miss Winters.”
“Oh.” Caroline looked back at the older lady, feeling suddenly awash with relief. “I should be glad to do so, Lady Stanway, just as long as you require it.”
“I shall require your company a great deal,” Lady Stanway replied, decisively. “Your conversation, at the very least, will be much more interesting than the inane chatter I shall have to endure with all the debutantes and their mothers.” She gave Caroline a look of despair, which Caroline could not help but smile at. “No, have no fear, Miss Winters. I shall require you still, no matter what my niece thinks.”
Caroline opened her mouth to state that yet again that she would be glad to remain on for as long as she was required, only for Miss Ruthford to sigh heavily and seat herself down quickly, asking Lady Stanway if she might ring for tea. Caroline chose to sit down also, surprised at the blunt, almost callous way that Miss Ruthford spoke. Perhaps that was the reason for her presence here. Mayhap Lady Stanway was to aid her niece in curbing her sharp tongue so that she might be able to encourage the attentions of suitable gentlemen.
“Good gracious, that was very quick indeed,” Lady Stanway commented, as a small knock came to the door. “They must have been preparing the tea tray in advance!”
Caroline looked towards the door, only for her mouth to fall open as a tall, broad shouldered gentleman walked into the room, leaning heavily on a cane. Despite his impediment, the man positively oozed determination and steely resolve. Lady Stanway did not say a word as the gentleman inclined his head towards her and, as Caroline dared a glance at her, she saw that Lady Stanway had gone quite grey.
Confused, she returned her gaze back towards the gentleman, more than a little confused as to who he might be and why his presence appeared to be having such a profound effect on Lady Stanway. None of them had risen to greet the gentleman, and Caroline felt herself go hot all over as his hazel eyes, a mixture of browns and greens, settled on her for a long moment. He was, Caroline considered, dropping her gaze from his, handsome in an intriguing way. Light brown hair brushed across his forehead, his eyes were bright and intelligent. A strong jaw, broad shoulders and a long back gave him the appearance of strength although she did not miss the whiteness of his hand as he leaned on the cane. He was obviously in some pain. Despite this it was clear that this was not a man to be thwarted…no this was a man likely admired by his peers and coveted by debutants and matrons.
“So,” Lady Stanway began, her voice weak and breathless. “You have returned.”
All at once, Caroline knew precisely who the gentleman was. Her eyes flared with surprise, her heart quickening as she took him in again with fresh eyes, her mind filled with understanding. Could this be the long lost Lord Stanway? The gentleman who had been missing from England for some time, the gentleman she had thought was lying at death’s door when she had first written to him some weeks ago. It seemed that, not only had he recovered, but that he had now decided to return to his townhouse and, in doing so, back to society. She could not quite believe it, her cheeks colouring as she wondered whether or not he knew that it had been she who had written to him.
“I have returned, my lady,” Lord Stanway said, bowing as best he could in Lady Stanway’s direction. “I know that you may not be particularly pleased to see me here but I have had no other choice but to return.”
Caroline held her breath, not quite certain what Lady Stanway would say and certainly quite uncertain as to what she herself was meant to do. Should she rise to her feet and curtsy, as she would with any other gentleman? Or should she wait for Lady Stanway to compose herself somewhat and take her lead from her?
The question was made moot as Miss Ruthford suddenly got to her feet, falling into a beautiful curtsy as Lord Stanway turned his head towards her.
“I have heard a good deal about you, Lord Stanway,” she said, throwing a sharp glance towards her aunt who was still seated in a chair, her hands still tight on the arms of her chair. “I am Lady Stanway’s niece.” She inclined her head again.
“This is Miss Amy Ruthford,” Lady Stanway mumbled, waving a hand in her niece’s direction. “I think you have met before, on one previous occasion.”
Caroline dared a glance at Miss Ruthford, not at all surprised to see a gentle smile curving the young woman’s lips, whilst she batted her eyes in Lord Stanway’s direction. The gentleman might be injured but he was very handsome, and an Earl who held a strong title and a decent fortune. She attempted to keep her thoughts with regards to Miss Ruthford’s conduct from showing in her facial expression for fear that she would make herself unwelcome in the present company – but inwardly, Caroline found herself growing irritated at the young
lady’s conduct. She was obviously entirely shameless. Hers was not the behaviour of a well-bred young woman!
“I am afraid, Miss Ruthford, that I do not recall our first meeting,” Lord Stanway said, somewhat bluntly. “There has been a good deal for me to contend with since I first left England and you shall have to forgive me for my shortcomings.”
Miss Ruthford looked a trifle crestfallen, although this expression was quickly dampened with a small, quick smile.
“Oh but of course,” she cooed, waving a hand as though it did not matter in the least. “I quite understand. I am glad to have reacquainted myself with you now, at least.”
Lord Stanway nodded and smiled, although Caroline saw that it did not reach his eyes. Mayhaps he was feeling a trifle unsettled about returning home, being entirely unsure of his stepmother’s reception.
“And this is Miss Caroline Winters,” Lady Stanway finished, throwing Caroline a quick glance. “My companion.”
A flush of heat climbed up Caroline’s spine as she dropped into a curtsy, feeling almost embarrassed to be referred to in such a way. It was as though she was declaring to the whole world that she had settled on her status as a spinster and therefore, did not need a good deal of consideration.
You are being quite foolish, she told herself sternly, as she rose from her curtsy. There is no need to pretend to Lord Stanway that you are something other than his stepmother’s companion.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Winters,” Lord Stanway replied, bowing his head. “I do apologise to both yourself and to you, Miss Ruthford, for being unable to accord you the proper salutation. As you can see….” He trailed off, his gaze down at the floor by his leg for a moment. “I have been injured in war.”
Caroline nodded, not quite sure what she should do and certainly quite at a loss as to what to say. The same problems as before assailed her, for as Lord Stanway stood uncertainly before his stepmother, and as the room began to fill with silence, Caroline found herself struggling to find something to say that might pierce the quiet completely. But no words where forthcomings.