‘Carstairs,’ called Fenton over his shoulders. ‘Did Dickie have anything at his waist?’
‘Oh, you mean that-’ he pointed to a length of linen lying on the dresser with a tumbling of golden guineas and some large bank notes escaping from the folds. ‘It was under his shirt, fastened about his waist.’
Sir Ranalph looked at the guineas, then at his brother, his good nature departed from his expression. ‘Was this visit to you about gambling Wilbert? I swear I’ll kill you if it was.’
‘Yes.’ His brother moved towards him and he held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. ‘But not in the way you think. I’ll explain what I can, but not here and not tonight.’ The two brothers left the room, Mr Wilbert Fenton’s face inscrutable.
‘If only we’d known,’ said Honoria to her mama in wonder, ‘That all we had to do was order him to wake up, we might have done so earlier.’
Their eyes met, and at this stressful period, even such a weak joke was met with hilarity.
Her mother grasped her hand. ‘Now will you go home, my dear girl? Leave Benedict with me and I will take care of him. You need rest.’
Honoria looked into her mother’s strained face and knew she did not need to worry for her as well as her son. ‘Well, I will, Mama, but only after you sit in the chair and sleep for an hour yourself. I can see to Dickie and keep him comfortable till then. You know the corner is turned.’
‘What he said was so strange that I almost feared that his brain was affected. But his uncle understood him, didn’t he?’
Honoria led her to the chair by the window and put her shawl over her legs, ‘Assuredly, he did.’
‘And I can get your father to take you back to Grosvenor Square. He is very much in my way-’ But her words were slurred and her eyes closed as the break in the tension of the last day washed through her. ‘Only an hour!’ she said, and fell asleep.
Honoria smiled and turned back to deal with her now restless brother.
Genevieve had control of herself by the end of the hackney ride to Grosvenor Square and was able to meet the gentlemen in better form. Mr Allison did not ask for news, he had received a quick note from Sir Ranalph, but simply met the ladies in the hall and offered them some dinner.
‘I need to retire to my chamber,’ said Lady Sumner, ‘Might you cause some cake and wine to be sent there? That will suffice me, I think.’ She gave a wan smile, but turned at the foot of the stairs when Serena followed her. ‘No, no. Please, sir. See that Serena eats. She would not have anything at Lord Carstairs’ lodgings.’
Mr Allison bowed. He turned to Serena. ‘Will you come into the drawing room?’
She looked at him frankly. ‘Might I not, Mr Allison? I have not the strength for conversation tonight. I know I must eat, but can I do that somewhere else? Just something simple.’
‘Can I bear you company in the blue room? I’ll have a tray brought up.’
He nodded to Blake, who dispatched a footman by the wave of a hand, then held open the door of the blue salon.
‘Is there any change?’ he asked, after the door was closed.
Serena shook her head, beyond words.
He led her to a chair by her elbow and gently pushed her into it. ‘He is a strong young man. I saw him try his paces in Jackson’s. He’ll pull through.’
Serena nodded with a faint smile.
‘Lady Sumner seems very upset.’
‘Yes. That’s the only reason that I left. Mama required me to take care of her or I should never have come home.’
Allison smiled down at her. ‘Lord Carstairs’ rooms must have been a sad crush.’
This expression, indicative of a very well attended social occasion, made her laugh.
‘Yes, he had to send off for chairs to another set of rooms owned by someone he called Rumpy.’
‘Viscount Fitzpatrick. He gained the nickname in school when a horse he backed had missed winning, not by a head but by a rump.’
‘He came in ‘to see how it was all going’ quite as though I should entertain him on the pianoforte. He was the most absurd young man!’
‘Good gracious! Does Fluff Carstairs have a pianoforte? I would never have expected it.’
‘Of course not! You know what I mean. Why is his lordship called Fluff?’
‘I believe he has the unfortunate middle name of Florian. Oh, and one of his minor titles is Baron of Loughborough.’
‘Oh!’ she had lost interest as her exhaustion took over.
He smiled at her. Booth arrived with the tray and a maid ran ahead to place a small side table by Serena’s chair.
‘I’ll leave you to dine,’ Mr Allison said, as the servants departed.
‘Please don’t. Bear me company, if you think your other guests will not object.’
‘Gus and Darnley? They are playing a game of billiards so intense that I doubt if they have noticed I have gone.’ He took a chair opposite her.
‘You see? It is for that that I wish you to stay. You stop me thinking of Benedict every second. I know that to dwell on him will not make me useful to Mama, but I just seem to be unable to stop. He looked so-’ she shook her head as though to dislodge the image and Allison would have given his arm to dislodge the pain in her eyes. ‘But tell me why the billiard game between Mr Scribster and Lieutenant Prescott is so intense.’
‘Well, it began in Lisbon.’ He smiled at her again. ‘I cannot tell you the tale if you do not eat.’
‘You are treating me like I would treat my sister Angelica, bribing her to eat her peas with stories.’ Mr Allison’s lips closed firmly and she laughed. ‘Very well. What happened in Lisbon?’ She picked up her fork and Allison smiled.
‘You realise I am breaking my code as a gentleman relating this story?’ he began. ‘Because it concerns a wager. When Gus and I arrived in Lisbon, fresh from the fray, we discovered that Darnley, who had been billeted there for two months as secretary to Lord Duncan, had a reputation as a first class billiard player.’ Serena raised her eyebrows and continued her meal. ‘Of course, Gus’s reputation for billiards is legendary, and if it had not been for the injury to his arm that he laid on a trifle thickly, even Darnley would not have been stupid enough to play him for a wager.’
‘I cannot be sorry for the lieutenant when he wished to take advantage of a hero wounded in battle whilst he was far from the fighting.’
‘Well, to be honest, Gus had recovered from the last of the three balls that had felled him in battle two months earlier. This last particular injury had occurred when he fell off his horse after a night in a Lisbon tavern!’
Serena almost choked on her sliver of onion tartlet.
‘I told you this was no tale for a lady-’
By the time she had heard the scurrilous tale out, and had eaten her meal, Serena was almost exhausted, but lighter in spirit. A note from Honoria had arrived, telling her of Benedict’s awakening, and she felt herself able to go and try to rest. Mr Allison, far from the conventionalities this evening, accompanied her upstairs and she stopped at the chamber allotted to Lady Sumner.
‘I shall put this on Genevieve’s nightstand for her to read when she wakes up,’ she said of Honoria’s note, ‘It will ease her mind.’
‘Her ladyship seems extremely upset at Benedict’s fate.’
‘Yes, well, we were all brought up together. She said something in the carriage about it all being her fault-’ Serena frowned.
‘Don’t trouble yourself about it tonight my dear girl,’ he said, his blue eyes looking down at her kindly, brushing his thumb against her chin ‘Just rest.’
She looked up at him and took one hand, tiptoeing to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. ‘You are such a good man, Mr Allison. I cannot imagine why Honoria-’ she stopped herself abruptly and opened the door behind her with her other hand. ‘Goodnight, sir,’ she whispered. And then she was gone.
It was nearly midnight when Honoria and her father arrived at the house. Mr Allison had stayed up, but they both refused ref
reshments and took off their hats and coats and ascended the stairs. They parted with a hug at the top, her father whispering in her ear, ‘He will be alright now, never fear, my dear.’
She let her father go to his room and headed for hers, nodding away the footman who had lighted their path. There was a room across the hall with a door ajar and a candle glimmering - she walked towards it fearlessly.
‘Mr Scribster?’ she whispered before she got there.
‘How did you guess it was mine?’ said he, coming into sight with a candle in his hand.
She moved past him into the room, closing the door behind her.
She heard him swallow audibly. ‘I don’t think it is seemly to close the door, Miss Fenton.’ He grasped at the handle and she put her small hand on his to prevent him.
‘Please - don’t you speak to me of seemliness too, Mr Scribster. I count on you to be vile and abominable at the end of this horrible day.’ She threw her arms around his waist and cried quite as passionately as ever Genevieve had in her arms earlier. He stood stiffly for a moment with his arms extended as though frozen. But in a second he had put down the candle on a handy side table and pulled her close to him, bending his head to rest his chin on her curls.
‘You poor girl. Tell me.’
They stood thus for a moment, Scribster holding her up as her knees buckled. He lifted her gently and put her on the armchair before the hearth, where some coals still glowed.
‘I know what it is - you have been good and strong for your mama and papa, for Benedict, for Serena, for Uncle Tom Cobbley and all. Have you even allowed yourself to cry before now?’
‘Not a lot. Other people were crying so much already. Like Genevieve Horton. I mean Lady Sumner. Why must she have hysterics and become chief mourner - before even my mama?’
‘He’s not dead - yet.’
‘Oh!’ burst out Honoria, laughing despite herself, ‘that is low, even for you.’
‘It is low. But do you suspect Lady Sumner of display? She has never struck me as that type.’
‘Oh, never. It was so unkind of me to say that. It is just that I was working so hard not to have hysterics when I saw him and she just - oh, how unkind I am.’
‘Dreadfully! And fast, too. I noticed it when you closed that door to be alone with a gentleman.’
‘It’s only you!’
‘If your mama were to find out-’
‘-And you are only barely a gentleman, but you are not a blabber.’
‘That shall be inscribed on my tomb.’
She laughed. Then she trembled a little.
‘You must get to bed,’ he said.
‘Yes. But I have to say it aloud first and I cannot say it to anyone else without chafing them sorely.’ He nodded sombrely, matching her mood. ‘I thought he was near to death. He lay there and I thought he would die and I realised how much I would miss his annoying presence. I thought if he died, I would die too. But first I would like to kill whoever had done this to him. Oh, I am so very wicked.’ He moved to his knees beside the chair and pulled her to him to let the scalding tears fall on his shoulder. She clung to him, saying into his neck, ‘This is not at all the thing.’
‘Damn the thing!’
She stayed thus for a minute and then pulled away. ‘I knew I could count on you to let me behave abominably. I must go.’
She left him before he had time to rise.
She was trembling a little as she entered her room, where a small maid awaited to undress her, but it was not from the cold.
He stayed on one knee for enough time for the truth to hit him like the cudgel to Benedict’s head. He had held Honoria Fenton in his arms, and he would strain every nerve in his body to make sure no other man would ever hold her so. He was in love and no longer on the sidelines of this little comedy that had so amused him. It was not a comfortable place to be, but as in the thick of battle, he would find a way through or die trying.
All he had to do, after all, was to convince Honoria (and her family) to refuse a fortune and every advantage in marrying a diabolically handsome, fashionable, intelligent and first class human being and his own best friend - for him.
Chapter 15
Lord Sumner Receives a Letter
Scribster and Allison met on the way to an early breakfast. ‘I don’t think you should offer for Miss Fenton,’ he said, getting to the point.
‘Well, I’ll hardly do it in these circumstances. I never told you how the proposal fared.’
‘You proposed already?’
‘I would have if she hadn’t kept interrupting me.’
‘Did she? And you thought she would wait meekly until her parents’ greatest hope came to pass.’
‘You wound my pride - perhaps she could like me for more than her parents’ sake. Actually, she was delightfully pert and I became interested for the first time. Thanks for that.’
‘You’re thanking me?’ said Scribster at the last step.
Allison put his hand on his shoulder. ‘It was you who kept saying she had hidden depths.’
‘I did.’
‘And it tipped me over into talking to her. The delay was about to get embarrassing for all the family. But she ripped me up - when I told her she must know how I admired her, she said she could never have guessed from my behaviour.’ He laughed. ‘I had to admire her honesty. I was becoming inured to my fate.’
‘How did she reply to your offer?’
‘I never got the chance to finish it. You interrupted - I thought you must know.’
‘I thought so. Anyway, you must not do so now.’
‘Of course not. What kind of self-interested dolt do you think me? And what’s it to do with you anyway?’
‘You’d be surprised.’
They entered the breakfast room to find only Lieutenant Prescott and Honoria. The Lieutenant’s large handkerchief was in Honoria’s hand and she looked up.
‘Good morning Mr Allison, Mr Scribster,’ she said, with a smile, but still a little watery-eyed. ‘I am sorry that you see me thus. I assure you that I’m much better now. Lieutenant Prescott was most kind.’
‘Are your sister and Lady Sumner still abed?’
‘Serena has gone to your kitchens to make a rub for Benedict’s bruises. She seems to think if it’s efficacious for horses, it will be good for him.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Then she is going to let Mama come back here to rest. Lady Sumner and I will stay here and I must wait for the afternoon, when Papa says I may relieve my sister. He wishes me to rest again, as I had such a late night. Papa is already gone, I think. Could you get a footman to find a hackney for Serena?’
‘I will take her myself,’ said Allison determinedly. ‘And you should rest.’
‘I cannot. I shall just wait here until I am needed.’
Mr Scribster said, ‘You will very likely chafe yourself into low spirits if you do that. Don’t be a little f-’
Allison looked askance at his friend. Almost calling a guest a fool was more rudeness than even he could display normally.
Honoria frowned at him, her sadness dispelled for a moment.
‘That is why I have invited Miss Fenton to a ride around the park with me in your tilbury, Rowley. I’ve ordered it to be put to. Clear away the cobwebs before she has to tend to the sick. I trust you have no objection.’
‘None whatsoever,’ said Allison, hearing the soft step of Serena in the hallway. ‘Miss Serena!’ he called from the door, ‘I’ll drive you today.’
‘I can go by hackney coach,’ she said, appearing in the doorway fastening the ribbons of a pretty straw bonnet.
‘I would not hear of it. Anyway, I want to see how your brother goes on.’
‘Well, thank you. But you cannot stay, mind, Mama does not want a crowd - like yesterday - around his bed. Honoria told me so this morning.’
‘Serena! You are impolite. Not but what it is true. Ever since Benedict regained consciousness, his sleep has been so restless. The least thing awakens him and he is in suc
h pain! The doctor will bring him another sleeping draft this morning, I hope.’
‘I promise,’ said Mr Allison with a bow in Honoria’s direction, ‘that I shall only step in for a minute or two to see what help, if any, I can offer.’ He smiled. ‘And ladies, can we be done with politeness for the present? In this circumstance, I speak for all the gentlemen present in saying that we are at your command, at your family’s command, for the foreseeable future.’ Prescott and Scribster bowed briefly.
‘Well, thank you, but Benedict is swamped with help already,’ said Serena frankly, ‘And I do not suppose that there is anything else to be done.’
But she was wrong.
By that afternoon, at Mr Allison’s instigation, another surgeon - very much more experienced - had examined Benedict and had given exact instructions for having him moved to Grosvenor Square. Serena’s lineament was applied, a light sleeping draft was prescribed, his ribs were strapped and a regime for his intake of food and wine established. Benedict was conscious for some of this and bore it with gritted teeth and an attempt at a smile.
At Mr Allison’s house, a bed was lumbered down from the attic whilst a great deal of delicate modern furniture was banished from the blue salon. A nurse, a clean and sober middle-aged person who had been Mr Allison’s own nurse before her marriage, arrived and tended to the more humdrum and earthy tasks of caring for an invalid, including ejecting visitors who might add to his excitability and very likely give him a fever.
Carstairs rather resented his friend’s abduction, but Mr Allison soothed his soul by assuring him that he was always welcome, and that even a bedchamber could be speedily made for him at Grosvenor Square if he found it desirous to stay.
In Mr Allison’s phaeton, on the way back, Serena said, ‘You are a take-charge kind of highwayman, are you not, sir?’
‘Too much?’ he asked her, taking an eye off the busy road for a second to study her face.
‘No, just right.’ She smiled at him and then exclaimed. ‘Watch your leaders, sir! That cart!’
After a nifty move of the reins and his whip, they passed the cart with only a light scrape of the wheels.
Honoria and the Family Obligation Page 13