by Carola Dunn
“Oh no!” she said in surprise. “I only do what any mother does for her children.”
He refrained from pointing out that they were not her children, and thought of his own mother who had rarely seen him, let alone comforted his hurts. He changed the subject.
“You have mentioned Geoff and Robbie this morning,” he said, “but I have the impression that last night you told me of several more. I fear I do not remember the details.”
“Three more. You were half-asleep when I told you. I’ll not confuse you now, for I daresay you will meet them all today. Now, Mr. Fairfax, do you care for some breakfast, or would you prefer luncheon?”
“Is it so late? My midnight Hamlet has faded to a dim memory. I will devour anything you have available.”
“You are easy to please, sir. Let me help you sit up, and then I shall see what I can produce.”
As she bent over him, he was very conscious of the fresh scent of lavender. He raised himself on his elbows, and her arm went round his shoulders. Once again he was astonished at the strength in her slim body as she helped him lift himself and tucked pillows behind his back. He could not suppress a groan as the movement disturbed his leg, and Hester looked at him in concern.
“It’s all right,” he reassured hastily. “Just a momentary twinge.”
For a moment she dubiously regarded his pale face, then accepted his assurance.
“Are you comfortable?” He nodded. “Then I’ll return shortly.”
The tap on the door, some fifteen minutes later, heralded not Hester but a dark-haired vision of beauty followed by a small and slightly grubby boy with a laden tray.
“Here’s your breakfast, sir,” announced the latter proudly. “I carried it all the way upstairs and didn’t spill a drop.”
Mr. Fairfax managed to tear his eyes away from the vision.
“Thank you,” he answered. “You must be Robbie, I think?”
“Robbie, mind your manners,” reproved the vision. “I’m Alice Godric, sir, and this is my youngest brother.” She seemed quite unconscious of the effect she had produced.
“How do you do, sir,” said Robbie, “and I can’t bow, Alice, ‘cos I’m holding this tray, so there.”
“Set it on the table by the bed, you gudgeon, so that Mr. Fairfax can reach it.”
“Don’t call me a gudgeon,” Rob objected pugnaciously. “Hester said you’re not to.” He carefully deposited the tray, then turned and bowed. “There! Can I stay and talk to you while you eat, sir? Alice says I’m not to, but Hester said I might if I asked politely and you did not mind.”
Alice heaved a sigh, which did wonderful things to her figure. “Please excuse him, sir,” she begged. “He’s only little.”
Warned of the coming explosion by the stormy look on Robbie’s face, Mr. Fairfax hastily intervened.
“I shall be happy to have company,” he assured Alice. “Please thank Miss Godric on my behalf. She seems to have provided enough to feed an army.”
“Hester is a wonderful cook. Are you sure you want Rob to stay? Very well, but toss him out if he bothers you.” Alice left before Robbie could retort.
“They all pick on me because I’m youngest,” he explained bitterly. “I won’t bother you, and I’m not little, am I, sir?”
“How old are you?” queried Mr. Fairfax around a mouthful of cold beef. “Eight? I have a nephew of that age, and I would say you are a head taller at least.” Too late, he remembered that he had denied any family other than his sister. At least Robbie seemed pleased with his answer.
“What’s his name?” he asked eagerly. “Does he like ships? Has he ever been boating? Can he row? I can. Does he live by the sea? If he does, I should like to know him.”
“His name is Frederick, I believe. He does not live by the sea, and I fear I do not know his interests. Am I right in thinking you want to be a sailor?”
“Oh yes! I have wanted to forever, and Hester says I may become a midshipman when I am old enough. But let’s talk about that later. I have an important question I have to ask you. Pray do not answer if it mortifies you!” he added anxiously.
“Whatever do you want to know?” asked Mr. Fairfax, somewhat startled.
“Well, I do not see why you should be mortified, but Hester said you might. Were you ever at a university?”
“Why, yes, I was at Oxford. I suppose the question might conceivably have embarrassed me if I had not. However, I cannot imagine of what interest it can be to you, Robbie. Sailors do not customarily go in for studies of that sort.”
“It’s not for me. Jamie wants to go to Oxford, and the vicar has not opened a Greek book for a century, and he hoped you could help him.”
“And why did Master James not ask me himself?”
“He would have, only he was dreading it in case you were offended or did not wish to teach him. Should you wish to?”
“I don’t see why not, since I am to be confined to bed. It will help to pass the time.”
“Good. I’ll tell him to stop worrying. You will not tell Hester I asked for him, will you? She says he must strive to overcome his shyness.”
“No, I’ll not tell. And may I ask what it is that you must strive to overcome?”
“I must mind my manners, and Geoff must mind his tongue, and Alice has excessive sensibilities, and Susan is . . . sancti-something. It means she prays all the time.”
“I see,” said Mr. Fairfax gravely. “It seems Miss Godric has an amazingly difficult family to manage.”
“Oh no, she says we are helpful and commonsensical and . . .” He noticed the twinkle in Mr. Fairfax’s eye. “You are bamming me,” he declared with severity. “Are you finished eating? I’ll take the tray and go and tell Jamie not to worry. Good-bye, sir. I’ll come and see you again later.”
“Thank you, Robbie. Tell James I am at his service.” With much manoeuvring, Rob managed to get himself and the tray out of the room and shut the door.
Gazing out of the window at a herd of brown and white cows that were peacefully grazing the hillside beyond the Oxford road, Mr. Fairfax pondered the unexpected delights of conversation with a small boy. He had never taken the slightest interest in his sister’s children, with the occasional exception of his heir, George, but he rather doubted that their company would be equally stimulating. Ariadne had brought them up to be seen and not heard, and as a result they had nothing whatever of interest to say.
He looked forward to discussing the navy with Robbie, to feasting his eyes on Alice, and even, though with some misgivings, to coaching Jamie.
Chapter 3
By the time Mr. Fairfax’s next visitors arrived, he was tired of watching the cows and was about to turn to a book. He had heard wheels passing frequently in the busy post road below, and this time the sound stopped close by. A few minutes later, he heard someone call: “Hester, it’s Dr. Price.”
After a short interval, there were heavy footsteps in the passage, and his door was opened without ceremony.
“And how are we today, young man?” enquired the doctor. He was followed by a lad of some fifteen summers whom Mr. Fairfax guessed to be Geoffrey. His surmise was confirmed by Dr. Price.
“I brought young Cheoffrey with me, look you,” he explained, “to help turn and lift you. Miss Godric wished to come, but I succeeded in persuading her that her presence would embarrass you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Mr. Fairfax gratefully, and smiled at Geoff, who bowed and grinned. He appeared to be minding his tongue very thoroughly, as he said not a word throughout the examination that followed. It proved painful, but the Welshman was satisfied with the results.
“You can remove the bandach on your head tomorrow,” he declared. “That leg will keep you confined these three months and more if you’ll take my advice. Indeed to goodness, and if you should not, ye’ll be limping the rest of your life.”
“I cannot stay here so long,” protested Mr. Fairfax. “Miss Godric has enough on her hands without a helpless stranger t
o nurse. Surely I may travel sooner?”
“Well, it is your leg . . .” began the doctor, when Geoffrey interrupted him.
“Hester would not dream of letting you leave before you should,” he insisted, “and we shall all help with the extra work. It would be foolish beyond permission to risk a limp for no reason . . . I beg your pardon, sir; I should not have said that.” He looked absurdly guilty, and Mr. Fairfax, remembering Robbie’s words, had trouble keeping a straight face.
“Unpardonably foolish,” he agreed solemnly. Turning to the physician, he thanked him for his care, and Dr. Price left, saying he would return in a week or so unless summoned sooner.
Geoffrey stayed behind to assure the patient that his horses were well cared for. “They’re a bang-up bit of blood and bone, sir,” he enthused.
“Only a trifle skittish where dogs are concerned,” pointed out Mr. Fairfax wryly. “I shall sell them when I return to London. You say they have no blemishes?”
A wide-ranging discussion of horseflesh followed. During this exchange, Geoff unintentionally let slip that on his father’s death, some two years previously, a stable of a score of animals had had to be disposed of, along with the manor, and that presently they owned no horses.
“Fancy and Checkmate were not bred up as saddle horses,” mused Mr. Fairfax, “but they will need exercising and you might try riding them. Can you obtain tack?”
“I do not wish you to think I am complaining,” said Geoff belligerently. “I know it was necessary that everything should be sold, and even so Hester pays most of the bills out of her own pocket.”
Does she indeed! thought Mr. Fairfax. Aloud, he spoke soothingly. “Did I accuse you of complaining? You did not do so, nor is it my place to reprove you if you did. Tell me, can you beg, borrow, or steal a saddle to exercise my horses?”
“Yes, I will.” Geoffrey rose from his chair and paced restlessly up and down the narrow chamber. “Curse my tongue!” he muttered. “Jamie will say I should not have mentioned private family matters to a stranger, and he is right, as usual. You will not tell him?” he added pleadingly.
“Of course not.” Mr. Fairfax thought with amusement that this was the second secret he was expected to keep. He hoped he would remember what had to be kept from whom.
Geoffrey quickly recovered his youthful buoyancy.
“There’s not much to do in the garden at this season,” he said. “I’ll go right away and borrow some stuff from Jarvis. Thank you, sir!”
Opening the door, he came face to face with his eldest brother, who had been about to knock.
“Here’s Jamie,” he announced, and ran off.
“May I come in, sir?” asked Jamie stiffly.
“Pray do.”
“I’m James Godric. How do you do, sir? I am very sorry that our dog caused your accident.”
“How do you do, Mr. Godric. I assure you that my team was quite as much at fault as your dog.”
“It’s good of you to say so, sir.” He hesitated, then flushed. “Robbie told me . . . that is.”
“I understand that you are a Greek scholar. I shall be happy to lend you what aid I can. I can claim no expertise, but my experience is somewhat more recent than that of your tutor. A century, I believe, was the period mentioned by your brother.”
“I hope Rob was not rude.” He flushed again. “He was only trying to help me, you know.”
“Not realising that it would pain you far more to have your, er, diffidence exposed. I found him delightful, and Geoffrey also.”
“I suppose they are not bad as brothers go,” Jamie observed dispassionately. “Most of the time,” he amended.
Mr. Fairfax grinned.
“I have quite lost count of your family,” he declared. “How many have I still to meet?”
“I think you saw Alice this morning? Then there is just Susan. And Grandfather Stevens, of course, though he is not strictly my family.”
“No?”
“He is Hester’s grandfather, though we all look on him as our own.”
“Ah, yes. I have a vague memory of Miss Godric mentioning a stepmother. She is your half sister, then?”
“Yes, and the best sister in the world.” said Jamie fervently, losing his self-consciousness for a moment.
“That I can believe,” responded Mr. Fairfax. “Well, Mr. Godric, did you want a Greek lesson this afternoon?”
“Hester says you must rest for a day or two, sir. I came to collect my books.”
“I appreciate the loan of your chamber. Are you sharing with your brothers? That must make it difficult to concentrate on philosophy and Latin.”
“I am using Hester’s study, where she does the accounts.” As he spoke, James piled books from the shelves onto the floor.
“If Miss Godric forbids my teaching today, perhaps you will leave me a Greek text or two so that I may brush up. Is that Aristophanes? Sufficiently light reading for an invalid, I think. Thank you. And before you go, would you be so kind as to help me to lie down? I am a little fatigued.”
He found the necessity of asking for assistance most disagreeable. A gentleman of independent spirit, Lord Alton permitted his valet to shave him, but was in the habit of brushing his own hair, tying his own cravat, and even putting on his coat without aid. To be obliged to depend for the most personal and intimate services on a pair of schoolboys was odious, and only bearable, he felt, because they seemed to take helping him as a matter of course.
Lying back, he listened to the drowsy humming bees and considered his situation. He decided that fate had not dealt him too harsh a blow. His leg ached but was excessively painful only when he moved, and his head was just slightly tender to the touch. According to Dr. Price, with luck he would not be left with a limp. He had been fortunate enough to fall in with a delightful family who appeared to be willing to care for him indefinitely. He might look to Miss Godric to provide food for the body, to Jamie for food for the mind, and to Alice for a veritable feast for the eyes.
He rather hoped the latter might be persuaded to indulge in a mild flirtation. The thought of an affaire crossed his mind, to be instantly dismissed. A fine return that would be for the hospitality so freely offered, and besides, it was not his habit to seduce innocence nor to press his attentions where they were not wanted, unlike some acquaintances he could name.
David Fairfax, Lord Alton, had actually rarely found a woman who resisted his advances. A happy blend of title, money, good looks, and charm opened every door to him and many a heart. A frivolous mother, of whom he caught fleeting glimpses as she flew from party to modiste to lover, had early made him cynical where females were concerned. Nothing he had experienced since had given him cause to change his mind, and at the age of thirty he was the despair of matchmaking mamas with whose eligible daughters he would flirt elegantly before passing on to the next. His mistresses were legion, and legend, both among the demimonde and the ranks of society matrons and widows. Always generous, he prided himself on the fact that no woman suffered through him. His taste ran toward well-seasoned beauties who knew what they were about.
In fact, Alice Godric was not at all his type, he realised. True, she was an outstanding beauty, but she had none of the worldly sophistication that distinguished even his innocent flirts among the marriageable damsels regularly paraded for his edification. Even a simple flirtation would have to be carefully managed so as not to give rise to unwarranted hopes in the girl’s mind, or her sister’s. Altogether it sounded like a lot of work for small reward, but then he had little else to occupy him. And she was a veritable Aphrodite, he thought as he turned to Aristophanes.
He was halfway through The Clouds, and feeling smugly pleased with his returning fluency, when there was a knock at the door of his chamber.
“Come in!” he called, and waited in anticipation to see which of his new friends would appear.
It was Hester, bearing a pot of tea and followed by a small girl with a plate of cakes.
“Miss Godric!�
�� He smiled at her. “A cup of tea is just what I need to wash down this dry Greek.”
“We generally have tea about this time. My father refused to keep country hours and we still dine late. What are you reading? The Clouds? I would not describe that as dry.”
“You know it? You are truly a remarkable woman!”
“I have not read it in the original, only in Mr. Owen’s translation, but I found it most entertaining. My stepmother believed that a woman should always know what the gentlemen are talking about.”
“A dangerous doctrine,” he remarked with a grin. “You will leave us no secrets. This must be Susan, is it not?”
Susan curtsied and offered the cakes.
“I have been praying for your swift recovery, sir,” she announced gravely.
“The sight of your pretty face will do me more good than any number of prayers, Miss Susan.”
“Alice is the beauty of the family,” the child answered austerely. “I consider inward beauty to be more important.”
Mr. Fairfax met Hester’s eye and was hard put to keep a straight face. “I am sure you are right,” he said with irreproachable solemnity, “but inward beauty needs feeding. Will you share my cakes?”
“Oh yes, please, sir!” Eyes sparkled as the gourmande overcame the saint. “May I, Hester? Do you particularly like cream puffs, sir?” she asked anxiously.
“I am particularly fond of gingerbread. You had best eat the cream puff, Miss Susan, for it will not do to return anything to the kitchen. I must not offend your sister.” His laughing eyes met Hester’s over Susan’s bent head. “Miss Godric, will you not join us for a cup of tea?”
“Do, Hester,” seconded her sister. “We will have a proper tea party. I’ll fetch you a cup, but pray do not eat my cream puff!” She whirled out of the room.
Hester settled in the rocker with a tiny sigh, which did not go unnoticed.
“I think you have found the irresistible temptation,” she congratulated. “Do not the nuns in convents live upon porridge and fish? Susan cannot abide either. I daresay it is wicked to wish that she were less pious, but it is very trying, and she does so annoy the others with her preaching. Could you, do you suppose, persuade her that she would like to be a pastrycook when she grows up?”