by Sandra Heath
Frank took a long breath. “I’ll be more than delighted to get back on my feet and back at King’s Cliff, Lady Grenville. I had my doubts anyway about going to the countess. King’s Cliff is where I belong. Mind, I’d thought I would be working indirectly for King’s Cliff again soon anyway, when my leg’s healed.”
“Indirectly?”
“On the gangs when the marsh is drained. It’s to happen soon, isn’t it?”
“It is, but I hadn’t realized that word was out already. Mr. Dodswell has only just heard from Mr. McDonald.”
He smiled. “Lady Grenville, the folks in Langford knew the moment a letter was sent to Mr. McDonald in the first place and what it said in it. We’ve known that there’s to be work for nigh on five hundred and it’s news that has been greeted with great delight, I can tell you.”
“Except by them Tibdales,” said his wife. “They reckon on undoing all the work that’s done each day on King’s Cliff Moor once it starts. Got short shrift and all. Folks want work, not starvation.”
Her husband nodded sagely. “Reckon that the changes at King’s Cliff didn’t go down too well when they were first heard, but there’s more who know it was right than there are those like the Tibdales who disagree. King’s Cliff doing well can only be of benefit to the folks around here.” He raised his glass. “Will you drink a toast with me, Lady Grenville?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“I say it as much for King’s Cliff as for my own small dwelling. Here’s to this old house; may the roof never fall in and those inside never fall out.”
Laura drank the wine, savoring its delicate and elusive flavor. In its way it was as fine as any grand vintage from the vineyards of France.
She left a little later, and as she went down the little path she noticed that there were some clouds in the sky now and the coachman had raised the landau’s hood. She waved once to Ann Roberts, who stood by her gate, her two small children clinging to her apron as they watched the grand carriage draw away, wheels crunching and harness jingling, the teams’ hooves striking sparks from the cobbled road.
Laura leaned her head back against the upholstery, gazing out at the passing buildings as the carriage moved down toward the bridge. How good it would be to spend the rest of her life in this part of England. If only Nicholas could love her as she loved him, then this would indeed by a heaven on earth….
The coachman urged the team on to the bridge, gathering speed once again as he did so, and there was a sudden grating noise, a splintering crack, and the carriage was jerked violently sideways. Beyond her own scream she heard the team whinnying in terror and the coachman’s frightened shouts. The world seemed to spin and everything went black.
Chapter 35
She could hear water gurgling very close by. Slowly she opened her eyes and found herself looking at the river, passing barely a few feet away directly below her, the long weeds waving seductively in the current. A cold fear touched her, for she was pressed against the door on the landau, and only the fact that the coachman had so providentially raised the hoods had saved her from certain death.
The carriage trembled slightly and she could hear men’s voices nearby. Someone was by the other door, almost directly above her, and she stared up as the handle was moved and someone raised the door to look in. She almost wept with relief to see Daniel looking down at her.
“Laura, are you all right?”
“I think so,” she replied shakily.
“You’ve been unconscious for almost a quarter of an hour, but I did not dare to climb in to you. Whatever you do, don’t move, for it will not take much to tip the carriage the final few feet into the river—only the strength of about ten Langford men has held it safe until now.”
Trembling with fear, she nodded. “I won’t move.”
“They will be able to hold it for a little longer, long enough for me to reach down to you. I want you to take my hand and let me draw you up. Don’t struggle at all, just trust me.” He smiled at her.
“I’ve always trusted you, Daniel.”
Stretching in as far as he dared, he reached down to her, gripping her tightly around the wrist and pulling her steadily but surely toward him. She vaguely heard someone cheer as he lifted her out of the landau and then carried her to safety just as the men holding the vehicle could detain it no longer. With a shattering, splintering shudder, the landau slid into the river, striking the water with a great splash that scattered droplets over Laura as Daniel put his arms around her and held her close.
Men leaned over the bridge to watch as the river swamped the carriage, and the water, so clear a moment before, was now brown with mud stirred up from the bed.
Laura felt quite weak. “What happened, Daniel? Did the wheel strike the bridge?”
“I am afraid that that was but part of it.”
“Part?”
“The main cause of the accident was the team being frightened by the two Tibdale brothers. It was a deliberate action, and they knew you were in the carriage.”
She stared at him as the full import of what he was saying was borne in on her. She had come so close to death and it had not been an accident?
“It was witnessed, Laura, and you now have friends enough here for the culprits to be apprehended. The parish constable is even now taking them to be locked up. They will not escape justice this time as they have escaped so many times in the past.”
Slowly she looked around at the men who had held the carnage while she was rescued, at the anxious coachman who was struggling to control the nervous team, and at Daniel’s carriage which had been fortunately coming in the opposite direction at the time of her accident. She felt quite numb, and Daniel took her arm gently, steering her toward his carriage. One of the men bent to pick up her reticule and parasol, which had fallen as she had been lifted down, and with his cap in his other hand he held them out to her now. In a daze she took them. “Th—thank you.”
Her thoughts were confused as she let Daniel help her into his carriage, and she hardly noticed as he sat beside her and the door was closed. The carriage turned slowly in the road and began the long climb away from the bridge. Daniel’s arm was around her and she was glad to have it there because she was still afraid.
The carriage turned into King’s Cliff, and as it at last swayed to a standstill by the main steps Daniel put his hand briefly to her cheek. “Tomorrow I must go to London for a day or so. I have to settle my affairs before leaving for America. On Thursday I will be back and I want you to meet me.”
“No.”
“I saved your life, Laura,” he pressed.
“That isn’t fair,” she whispered.
“It was not meant to be. Meet me, Laura. I will be in the clearing where I found you before at three o’clock on Thursday afternoon.”
The carriage halted by the portico steps and she did not wait for the door to be opened, but thrust it open and jumped lightly down. She hurried up the wide steps without a backward glance.
Her steps echoed in the vestibule as she approached the staircase, but then something made her stop and look at the head of the stairs. Nicholas stood there. He said not a word as he gazed coldly down at her, and then he turned on his heel and walked away.
A great heaviness descended over her then and she slowly walked on to the foot of the staircase. He thought she had deliberately met Daniel Tregarron. The handrail was very cold to the touch and momentarily she could see the rushing waters that had so nearly claimed her moments before. Her whole body began to shake. A strange feeling of nonexistence seized her and she felt as if she was not really there but was somewhere else, where she was becoming weightless. The sunlight was fading sharply now and the columns at the head of the staircase lurched toward her. She began to slide to the floor, her legs could not support her, and the black and white tiles were suddenly very close. She tried to call out as everything went silent but for the gurgling and hissing of the river. So close, so close now….
* * *
There seemed to be green and white flowers above her, and a refreshing coolness touched her forehead. She felt lethargic, deliciously so, and her limbs were warm and heavy. She had no strength, nor did she want any, for time was suspended and all cares had gone.
“My lady?” Kitty’s anxious voice drew her inexorably back to reality as the maid pressed another cool cloth to her forehead.
“Kitty?” she whispered, looking up as the maid’s face swam indistinctly before her.
Then Nicholas was there, leaning over to take her hand. “Are you all right?”
“What happened?”
“You fainted. I heard you call me and I found you at the foot of the staircase.”
“I called you? I don’t remember,” she murmured, but she could see again his cold face looking down those stairs at her. “You walked away,” she whispered, beginning to remember.
“Forgive me, I did not know about the accident and I thought—”
The accident! Memory flooded back then and she struggled to get up, but he held her back.
“Be still now, you are quite safe, I promise you.”
“The river—”
“I know, the coachman returned a few minutes ago.”
“Daniel saved me.”
“I know that too.” He released her hand abruptly.
She was very conscious of his immediate withdrawal. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, “I swear to you that I didn’t.”
Dear God, when she looked at him like that he wanted so much to confess to her, to tell her he loved her, but he knew that such confessions were the province of fools and would be the grave of what little pride he had left after she had destroyed his trust and love. But even though visions of her lying in Daniel Tregarron’s arms hovered in the air between them, Nicholas could not totally reject her, for she had come so very close to death. He had nearly lost her completely, never to even touch net again. “Perhaps,” he began hesitantly, “if you are recovered a little later, we could dine together. A deux, as we did in Venice.”
“Without the Austrian band?” she asked with a glimmer of a smile.
She saw a momentary return of his old humor as he replied. “Dear Lord, I sincerely hope so.”
* * *
Her pale blue silk gown was blushed to lilac by the rays of the setting sun as she approached the doors of the dining room. The golden strings tying her sleeves touched her skin, making her shiver, and she drew her rich shawl more closely around her arms as the footmen opened the doors to admit her. She saw immediately that Nicholas had not yet come down.
The dining room at King’s Cliff was an impressive chamber, and although she had dined there on occasion since arriving, notably when Mr. McDonald had been a guest, she had not really looked at it closely before. It was an almost masculine room with its dark green walls and strikingly intricate gilded plasterwork. Several white marble statues stood in niches and a magnificent collection of Chinese jade was displayed in large cabinets on either side of the tall fireplace. A Boulle marquetry clock stood on the mantelpiece, together with some large candlesticks and a clutter of statuettes. The room’s glazed doors stood open on to the terrace and a lacquered screen shielded the table from any draught. But the evening was warm and the rain, which had threatened so briefly earlier in the day, had not come to anything.
The room was dominated by the long, rosewood table, which could seat thirty people, but which tonight was laid at one end for only two. It was covered by a starched white tablecloth, which almost touched the parquet floor, and an array of silver cutlery and cut-crystal glasses, in which napkins folded like fans had been tucked, was neatly set put for the master and mistress of the house. An epergne tumbling with clear green grapes presided in the center of the settings, and on either side of it were low bowls of pale pink roses. It was very gracious. And very remote.
Waiting for Nicholas, she went to examine the jade. How strange it would be to dine with him again. She had not dined in his company at all since entering this house and the only meals she had enjoyed had been those shared with Daniel Tregarron and those with Mr. McDonald, during which the charming Scot had entertained her with his tales of the rivalry between those two eminent engineers, Mr. Thomas Telford and Sir John Rennie.
The doors opened and Nicholas came in. He wore black velvet, his coat tossed casually over his shoulders because of his arm. The jeweled pin in his cravat flashed as it caught the sunlight.
“Good evening, Laura, I trust that I have not kept you waiting for long.”
“Good evening, Nicholas. No, I have not been here more than a minute.”
The customary words were polite and meaningless, for there were too many barriers.
“The room is a little large for just two, but I hope you will not mind.”
“Mind?”
He smiled a little. “I understand you have been in the habit of taking your meals in the library.”
She flushed, for it was an indirect reference to Daniel and she knew it. “I resorted to the library to escape Miss Townsend and her mother.”
“Yes, so I understand,” he said, taking her hand to escort her to the table. Hawkins seemed to appear from nowhere to draw out her chair for her.
She decided to choose a safe topic of conversation. “I wonder if the monde will ride to the Bagshot hounds this coming season?”
“The duke will create a pretty scene if things are not ready in time.”
“Is he always as unpleasant as he was when he was here?”
“I’m afraid so. Prince William Frederick is guaranteed to empty a drawing room within seconds.”
“I have never met royalty before.”
“Would you wish to again?”
She paused as Hawkins served the asparagus soup. “No,” she said then, “not if they are in any way like the Duke of Gloucester.”
“There are degrees. The Prince Regent is a very charming and entertaining fellow, his conversation is witty and interesting, and he can be excellent company.”
“Do you know him well?”
“Well enough.”
“I had not thought….” Her voice died away.
“Thought what?”
“I feel very insignificant suddenly. You move in the highest circles in the land, and I am so very—well, ordinary.”
“That is not a word I would use to describe you.”
She looked up, but he did not meet her eyes.
“Besides,” he went on, “if I once moved in Court circles, I certainly no longer do.”
“But I thought the duke expected you to return.”
“Possibly. I shall not, however.”
“Why?”
“Well, to begin with, such a life requires copious funds, which I do not have and which if I had I would not wish to squander on the foolishness of London Seasons. King’s Cliff is too important to me for that.”
“Is it very exciting in London society?”
“It can be decidedly dull. All the masquerades, balls, assemblies, and routs may take place in different buildings each night, but the faces are all the same. It is one vast and exclusive club, and I have resigned my membership.”
“You are so disenchanted?”
“I have acquired a little wisdom. In my brief life, I have seen a great deal. I enjoyed a wild and reckless youth which was abruptly brought to an end by fighting for my country against Bonaparte. I have wandered through many fashionable London drawing rooms, attended many royal levees, and in the end known only boredom. I have therefore come to the conclusion that such a life is not for me.”
“My life, by comparison has been very uninteresting.”
“Would you have preferred to enjoy a wild and reckless youth, to have fought on Spanish battlefields—and so on?” He smiled a little. “I think you would not. As to London life, well maybe that might hold some appeal for you, I don’t really know. From what I know of you, however, I think it very unlikely that you would enjoy the empty life of a society b
elle, being trotted out in the marriage market day after day until a suitable match is made for you. A woman who throws caution to the winds and blows everything on Venice is too interesting for that.”
She said nothing as the soup course was removed and replaced by a beautifully garnished dish of pigeons wrapped in bacon. It proved as delicious as it looked.
“Laura,” said Nicholas after a while, “I believe that I have shown myself to be ungrateful.”
“Ungrateful?”
“I was not aware of all you had done here while I was ill.”
“I did what I promised.”
He glanced away, remembering the last time she uttered those words to him. If only she had turned back to him then, maybe it could have been different…. Maybe. Maybe it was all too late anyway, for Daniel Tregarron had claimed her now.
She sensed that conversation had been dampened, and she knew in that moment that she must ask him about their future. “Nicholas, what is to happen to us?”
A veil passed over his eyes. “Happen?”
“You did not really wish to marry me, did you? We both know that you want Augustine as your wife.”
“I don’t think this is the time or the place to discuss that, do you?” His tone was calculated to freeze her.
“I just want to know.”
“I have not even considered the matter,” he said shortly. He met her gaze without wavering. He believed she wanted to leave, to go with Daniel Tregarron, and he had no intention of making it any easier for her. Until that moment he had not faced the situation or made any decision, but now he did and he knew that he would never willingly release her from this marriage contract. She had betrayed him and taken a lover, but she was his and she would remain his.
But she could know nothing of his real thoughts; she could only hear a refusal to discuss something that was of the utmost importance and she could only see the coldness in his eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said at last.
“No? Then I suggest we leave the subject, don’t you?”