The Village Spinster

by Laura Matthews

  Perkins handed up the dog once Will was astride Rannoch, who was not at all happy about the arrangement. The little dog, who had ridden quite easily with Upton the previous day (by report), now managed to scrabble about on Will's lap and scrape his paws along the horse's back. It was all Will could do to control the two of them, and he rather wished he'd brought a sack for the dog. The little animal whined and barked and generally raised quite a ruckus for such a small thing. Will wouldn't have owned him for the world.

  But he was sure Miss Driscoll would love him.

  “No,” she said. “I don't want a dog."

  “But, Miss Driscoll, he's perfect. Such a small, cute thing. And so friendly.” He was licking Miss Driscoll's ankles at the time. “You'll have grown so used to Aria's company that you'll be lonely when she leaves. You'll need a dog to keep you company."

  “Thank you, William. I'm sure it's very considerate of you, but I determined some little while ago that I would not have a pet, and I see no reason to break that rule."

  “But why? There's nothing like the company a dog gives.” This determined instruction was offered over a chorus of barks by the dog, who was running round and round Miss Driscoll's hall.

  “Yes, I see,” she said, dampingly. “What's his name?"

  Will considered this a good sign, her asking the dog's name; unfortunately he did not remember it, if he had ever known it. “Terry,” he said, almost adding, “for terrier."

  “And where did he come from?"

  “A master at school, who was unable to care for him properly.” That suggested a new line of persuasion to Will. “He really hasn't had the kind of care you could give him, Miss Driscoll. He needs some affection, don't you know? And you mustn't think he would be a burden. He hardly eats anything, and I'll have the kitchens at the Hall send down scraps for him. Damme, I'll bring them myself!"

  Clarissa crossed her arms over her chest. It was a stance Will knew as unpromising in his brother, and he hastened to pick up the animal and hold him out to her. “Here. Just see what a sweet little fellow he is."

  Reluctantly, Clarissa accepted the small burden. The dog did not particularly like being held, but he looked up at her with curious brown eyes and she sighed. “Well..."

  From the sitting room they heard Aria's voice calling, “Is there a dog here? Have you my brought my Puffin?"

  Perfect, Will thought. Now Aria would be on his side, too. He slipped into the sitting room before Miss Driscoll could prevent him. She was forced to follow with the dog in her arms. “No, I haven't brought Puffin,” Will explained, “but I've brought a dog for Miss Driscoll, and he'll keep you company while you're here, too.” Inspiration hit again and he turned to Clarissa to say, “And what a grand companion he'll make on your walks, ma'am. He has lots of energy."

  Clarissa could undoubtedly see that for herself. The animal wanted down and she set him on the floor. He instantly bounded up onto the sofa with Lady Aria and proceeded to lick her face. She giggled and wrapped her arms around him. “What's his name?"

  “Terry."

  “Ugh. I think we should change it,” she decreed. “I bet he won't mind. How about Max, for Maximilian?"

  “Well, he's Miss Driscoll's dog, so she should be the one to decide,” Will said, transparent with the effort to unburden himself of the animal.

  Clarissa shook her head helplessly. “I'm not at all certain I want to keep the dog, William. Though perhaps we could have him while Lady Aria is here. He seems to have taken an instant fancy to her."

  And indeed he did. The terrier had already curled up beside the girl, and fallen asleep. Will decided it would be pointless to press the matter, and he felt certain that Miss Driscoll would be unable to part with the dog once she had spent a little time with him, provided the animal didn't bark its fool head off.

  “So we shall call him Max, shall we?” Lady Aria asked, laying a hand possessively on the dog's head.

  Clarissa and William agreed. Will inquired after his sister's health, but he was rather in a hurry to be off, so that no one would change their minds. And so that his brother would not find him there, in possession of the dog. For some unknown reason it did not occur to Will that his older brother might ask Miss Driscoll, or even his sister, the origins of the newest member of the Driscoll household. In Will's mind, once a pet was established in a house, he was simply a part of the fixtures. One might ask an animal's name, or of what breed it was, but was one really likely to ask whence it had come? William thought not. And William was wrong.

  “Where did the dog come from?” Lord Kinsford asked in astonishment when he found it lying on Aria's bed, snuggled up against her.

  “Will brought him this morning. Isn't he the dearest thing?” Aria asked.

  Kinsford frowned. “Where did Will get him? He's certainly not from the Hall. We've never had a cairn terrier there that I can recall."

  Miss Driscoll was not present at this interview, and Aria had not learned Max's previous abode, so she simply dismissed the question. “He likes me,” she said. “He took to me instantly. Jumped right up on the sofa with me when Miss Driscoll put him on the floor."

  “I don't suppose he's the animal who startled your horse,” Kinsford muttered, more or less to himself. “That one was much larger. But what was Will doing with a dog?” Something resonated in his mind, but he was unable to quite place what nagged at him about the animal.

  “I'm feeling much better today,” Aria interjected, a little annoyed with him for concentrating on the dog and not on her own condition. It also seemed possible to her that Will might have some reason not to disclose the animal's past, for where indeed would he have gotten it?

  Kinsford was instantly distracted. “I'm glad to hear it. You had a restful night, then?"

  This easy question seemed to discompose her a little. Aria decided it would be best for Miss Driscoll to broach the night's adventure with the earl and so she said, “Well, I did wake hungry in the middle of the night and had something to eat. Then I fell instantly back to sleep."

  Told in such a way, it sounded tame enough. Aria and Will were in the habit of telling Kinsford the truth, but seldom the whole truth. He did make such a fuss about one's obligations and duties! Lady Aria didn't want to make him suspicious.

  Kinsford stayed to visit with her for some time. He had brought a pack of cards for her and showed her a game of solitaire that she had not known before. So she was well pleased with him by the time he took his leave. The dog wasn't mentioned again.

  Chapter Nine

  Since Miss Driscoll had left them alone, he felt he should make his good-byes to her in person. The house was so tiny he felt she could be nowhere but in the dining parlor, and he tapped on the open door. Miss Driscoll bid him enter and he found her there with an account book which she closed on his entering.

  “Aria seems well this morning,” he said. “In case I should miss him, I wish you would ask Dr. Lawrence if it is safe to bring her home now."

  “Please sit down, Lord Kinsford,” she said, looking a little troubled.

  He was not in the mood to have an argument with her, and he hesitated. “I don't want to keep you from your business, Miss Driscoll. Perhaps I should be on my way."

  “There have been two occasions on which Lady Aria has exhibited distinct disorientation,” she said, halting his attempted leave-taking. “I think we should discuss them."

  Kinsford drew up a chair and seated himself. “I beg your pardon. She seemed so well this morning."

  “And I believe she is.” Clarissa's hands moved restlessly in her lap. “But we shouldn't overlook these instances just because she comes out of them quickly and seems so much healed."

  “Tell me what happened."

  “The first time,” Clarissa said, her brows drawn down with concentration, “she awoke from sleep and asked for her watercolors, as though she were here for a lesson. She wanted to paint the ha-ha and William chasing a fox cub, but she spoke of it as if it had just happened. Wh
en I reminded her that she was ill, she recollected herself immediately. It was as brief as that, and I was willing to believe it was just the influence of a dream, and the normal confusion of being sick and away from her own room. Perhaps I should have said something."

  The earl was inclined to dismiss the occurrence and assured her that she had not been at fault in allowing it to pass. It could have happened to anyone, awakening from a dream. “What was the second occasion?” he asked.

  “I woke in the middle of the night last night, not aware of any sound having disturbed my sleep. Lady Aria had seemed well enough and neither I nor Meg had thought it necessary to sit with her. Still, I felt it wise to check on her, since I was awake. It gave me quite a start to find her missing from the sitting room."

  “Gone from the sofa? Where was she?"

  “In the kitchen, looking for some food. We've been feeding her a very light diet and she sometimes fell asleep before eating all of that, so I'm not surprised that she was hungry. But she didn't know where she was. She thought she was in the kitchen at school, foraging some food. She remained under that impression, even though we talked for several minutes, only coming to understand where she was when we had been seated at the dining table and eating for a while."

  Kinsford felt a frisson of fear. He said nothing, but waited to hear the conclusion of Miss Driscoll's tale.

  “After a while she asked me what time it was, and seemed to understand who and where she was. But it frightened her. She said she got a little confused and that things didn't quite fit together sometimes. She wondered if there was something wrong with her head."

  “Oh, God. The poor child. She mentioned nothing of this to me this morning."

  “No, I suspected not. And it may be nothing, but I doubt her fear has entirely gone away. I will, of course, mention it to Dr. Lawrence this time and hear what he has to say. You might wish to consult him yourself."

  “Yes. I'll stay in the village until he comes. No, no, not here, thank you. We have imposed quite enough on you.” He impulsively covered her hand, which lay on the arm of her chair, with his. “You've been extraordinarily kind, Miss Driscoll. Forgive my foul temper these last few days. I have no excuse for t. I've meant to do right by the children but it's making up a bit late, I fear. My stepmama seems a great deal less able to manage than I had realized.” He rose quickly to his feet and added, “We'll talk again after the doctor has been here."

  He was gone before Clarissa could reply. She stared unseeing for some time at her hand, warmed so unaccountably by his touch, before she retrieved the accounts book.

  * * * *

  Clarissa soon heard the clicking of the dog's nails on the floor in the hall. It seemed to her that little fellow might need to go outside, so she went out to find him sitting in front of the front door, staring at it as if it would open of its own accord. Since Clarissa was not at all worried that Max would wander off (in fact, rather hoped that he would), she allowed him to go out on his own.

  She found Aria sound asleep, looking almost angelic on the sofa. The playing cards had fallen onto the floor and Clarissa bent to retrieve them. There was a sack there of other items Lord Kinsford had brought his sister, including some ribbons for her hair, another note from her mama, a book of Cowper's verses, and a nightdress of her own. She'd been wearing Clarissa's, which were a little long for her, and which somehow made Clarissa feel uncomfortable when Lord Kinsford was about, as though her nightdress should have been somehow different— prettier, or softer, or warmer, or something.

  The dog scratched vigorously at the front door and Clarissa hastened to spare the wooden surface. Max trotted in as if he'd owned the place for his entire life. His exploration of the cottage then began, first heading back down the hall to the kitchen. Clarissa followed him and found him perched on his haunches, begging food from the astonished Meg.

  “Where did he come from, Miss Clarissa?” Meg asked. “I've not seen him around the village."

  “He's ours,” her mistress informed her ruefully, “if we'll keep him. William brought him by this morning. Aria has renamed him Max."

  “Cute little fellow,” Meg allowed as she cut off a bite of the boiled beef and offered it to the dog. “Were you wanting a dog?"

  “No, and I'm not at all sure I shall allow him to remain. But he seems to delight Aria, and curled right up with her. I can only think he'll do her good for the time being."

  “Yes, miss.” Meg dug through a cabinet to find a battered bowl which she filled with water and placed on the floor near the back door. “We always had a dog when I was growing up. They're not much bother."

  Clarissa shook her head, but not in disagreement. “We'll see."

  The dog, through with his exploration of the kitchen, retraced his path to the dining parlor, which he trotted around with nose to floor. Finding no crumbs of interest, he traveled out to the hall and up the narrow staircase to the floor above. Clarissa followed him. There were three rooms on the first floor: her bedroom, that of her “companion,” and a room at the back which was Meg's bed-sitting room. Finding the door to this last closed, he barked at it, but Clarissa hushed him and said, “You can't go in there, Max. Not unless you're invited. Come and see mine."

  He obediently followed her into the larger of the front rooms, where he instantly bounded onto the bed. Clarissa felt she should decide just as instantly whether he was to be allowed such a liberty. Easier to give in later than to change an established habit, she decided, and she ordered him off the bed. Max looked definitely put out by her insistence, but he crawled under the bed, lay down, and remained there.

  The sound of a carriage stopping in the lane outside her house drew her to the window. Dr. Lawrence was arriving in the gig he drove on occasion. He tied the reins to an iron ring beside her door and pulled down his medical bag from the seat. Before he had even lifted the brass knocker on the door, Lord Kinsford was striding down the lane toward him and he waited until the earl was abreast of him before rapping.

  Looking down unobserved, Clarissa realized what a striking figure Alexander Barrington made. He was no more than average height, but there was something so powerful, so commanding about his presence that one would not have passed him even on the streets of London without a second glance. She had thought, at one time, that it was simply his consciousness of his rank.

  Now she was not at all sure this was true. Certainly he never forgot that he was an earl, but there was something more. An intensity, a vigorous strength to him that she was unfamiliar with in other men, and which was a little disconcerting. With difficulty had she maintained her poise on the occasions he had seemed intent on having his way. The force of his will was immense, but it was only part of the influence she felt.

  Abruptly Clarissa turned away from the window. She had seen the two men enter the house and knew she would be called upon to recite her story to Dr. Lawrence. The dog remained under the bed when she left the room and proceeded down the stairs to the hall where she found Meg taking the two men's hats and coats. She nodded to Lord Kinsford and smiled at the doctor. “We can talk more easily in the dining parlor,” she suggested, and the two men followed her there.

  When Dr. Lawrence had heard of the two episodes with Lady Aria, he looked concerned. “It's not something to be wished for,” he said. “The disorientation may mean pressure in her head which is affecting her mental processes and could lead to problems. I don't mean to be an alarmist, however. I've seen patients with far greater disorientation settle down to perfect recovery."

  “Is there anything we can do about it?” Lord Kinsford asked.

  “Just continue the compresses and the fever medication for the time being. Tomorrow, if she's had any more disorientation, I'll bleed her a little. But she's a healthy young thing and I think we must surely hope for the best. Let me have a look at her now."

  In the sitting room Lady Aria blinked awake at the touch of Dr. Lawrence's hand on her forehead. She looked momentarily puzzled, then understandin
g. “I'm a little better today,” she announced rather weakly. “Perhaps not up to the jolting of a carriage ride home, though."

  Dr. Lawrence was looking at the wound on her head and into her eyes. “No,” he agreed, giving the matter some thought, “I think what would be best is if we simply got you out of Miss Driscoll's sitting room and up to the spare room above. I know you'd like to be in your own bed, my dear, but this is the safer alternative."

  He looked at the earl, who shrugged helplessly. “We'll do whatever is best for my sister, of course,” Kinsford said. “I do hate to impose on Miss Driscoll for any longer than necessary."

  “I'm delighted to be of assistance,” Clarissa assured him.

  “But what of your companion? Won't Aria be displacing her?"

  “Lorelia is not expected back for some time.”

  Clarissa said this with laughing eyes, but the earl did not seem to notice. “I'll have Meg prepare the room."

  When suitable arrangements had been made, Kinsford asked his sister, “Shall I carry you upstairs?"

  “Oh, no. I can surely walk that distance.” Aria accepted Clarissa's hand to help her off the sofa. But it was obvious from her tentative footsteps that she was feeling fragile. Kinsford offered his arm in the most gallant way, but at the narrow stairs there was no possibility of their walking side by side. Aria cast her eyes upward with a rather worried look; she hadn't been much on her feet for several days and the stairs were a little steep. Kinsford offered again to carry her.

  “That might be wise,” Clarissa interjected, fearing her guest's pride might stand in her way. “So long as he doesn't bang your head against the wall."

  Aria giggled and agreed. Kinsford lifted her with gentle ease. Clarissa led the way, and pushed open the door of a charming room under the eaves. Meg had turned down the bed and put a warming pan in to make it toasty. Kinsford set his sister down and watched as she climbed into the high half-tester bed. There was a colorful coverlet with matching draperies at the windows. A rocking chair sat on a Turkey carpet, with a lamp and a shelf of books to hand. On the dressing table were various items of feminine toilette and a letter. Clarissa flashed Meg, who was removing the warming pan, an appreciative glance.