Calamity Claresta

by Irene Estep

  "Thank you, my dear. My husband employed a gifted carpenter from Yorkshire to build the furniture especially to my liking."

  "Your own bedchamber? Really, Lady Norwood, it is much too generous of you. I simply cannot accept--"

  "You can, and you will, and I’ll hear no more about it. Besides, I’ve long since moved to a room closer to the servants’ wing, since I often must call upon poor Mrs. Williams to prepare a cordial to soothe my aches."

  Claresta had noticed the lady’s stooped posture and slow progress up the stairs and immediately guessed the cause. "Inflamed joints can be very painful. I was a mere child at the time, but I remember my grandfather waking the household during the night when he became too distressed with the gout."

  "I pray I shall not inconvenience my guests by creating such a ruckus."

  "Oh, I truly did not mean to infer that you would, ma’am. But I surely would understand if--I mean to say it would be no inconvenience on my account if you do."

  Lady Norwood laughed. "My dear, I can see you are going to be just as much a balm to my lagging spirits of the past five years as the new earl. Well, I promise you I’ll try not to become so distraught that I’ll disturbed anyone but Mrs. Williams. And, I must tell you that since Lord Norwood has been administering to me with shoulder and hand massages, I have had less discomfort. The man has magical hands, my dear."

  Claresta’s insides turned warm. She had envisioned several times in the last few weeks being touched by Drake Lockwood’s broad, masculine hands. Should they become married, it might become inevitable that he do so. Men could be such demanding creatures, Nan had often warned her. She realized that Lady Norwood did not seem to harbor any reservations about Drake Lockwood’s right to the Norwood title. "I do hope . . . er, Lord Norwood’s illness is not of a serious nature."

  "Indeed, I think not. He did run an acute fever for a few nights, but he seems much improved now. When he sets eyes upon you, my dear, no doubt he’ll be up and about in no time a’tall."

  "I’m most anxious to speak with him." Claresta hoped his illness didn’t run overlong, however she wouldn’t object to a bedside ceremony.

  "Good. After breakfast, I shall take you on a tour of the gallery, then you can visit with him for a while." Lady Norwood smiled delicately, and a sparkle of amusement appeared in her clouded gray eyes. "I do wish you good luck, my dear."

  After her puzzling words, the dowager summoned Lizette from the dressing room where she was putting away Claresta’s things. She instructed Claresta’s maid to see Mrs. Williams if there was anything her mistress needed. Then, as Lady Norwood was leaving the room a loud screech echoed along the hallway.

  Claresta rushed forward in time to see a furry ball race toward Lady Norwood and make a leaping dive into her arms. At the end of the hallway stood Perkins, Reggie’s valet, with a look of frustration on his face. Reggie in his nightgown and cap, which showed signs of dishevel, pushed past Perkins, pointed at the shivering animal clutched to Lady Norwood’s breast, and screeched at the top of his lungs, "That--that, creature tried to bite me!"

  Lady Norwood, anxious to calm the frightened animal, smoothed back the canine’s hair exposing two hugely round, dark eyes. She spoke to the dog as one speaks to babies. "There, there, Puggy. Do not be frightened, my precious."

  "Frightened!" Reggie blurted. "He almost nipped off my--well, never mind. He could have done serious damage to my person had I not jumped out of the way in time."

  Claresta heard a sound to her left, turned, and saw Shipley standing outside the bedroom next to hers. "Good evening, Miss Huntington. I trust you had a pleasant journey."

  "Tolerable, Shipley. How does Mr. Lockwood fare this evening?"

  "Sleeping restfully until the loud disturbance."

  "Oh my," Lady Norwood said. "Do apologize to his lordship for me. And tell him the matter shall be resolved shortly. It is entirely my fault, I’m afraid. I should have made certain Coggins had removed Puggy before Lord Westhaven retired. The crimson bedchamber is his favorite, you know. I suppose the pagoda canopy of the bed reminds him of his home country."

  "Good Lord," Reggie yelped. "You mean the bed I’m to lie in belongs to--to that creature?"

  Shipley cleared his throat and said, "If you will excuse me, I shall inform his lordship ‘tis no cause for alarm."

  Claresta nodded and Shipley disappeared back into the adjoining room, closing the door softly behind him.

  "There is no harm done, Reggie," Claresta said. "So why don’t you just go back to bed?

  "I doubt I shall get a wink with that . . ." he pointed at the animal in Lady Norwood’s arms, "that thing running tame over the premises."

  "Yes, yes," Lady Norwood said with a slightly impatient tone. "I do apologize again, Lord Westhaven. I assure you Puggy is quite harmless." To disprove her statement, the miniature dog wriggled out of her arms and bounded back down the hall toward Reggie.

  Lord Westhaven jumped behind Perkins. Lady Norwood called to the dog to heel, but Puggy paid no attention, barking and dancing wildly until the valet backed his master into the bedroom behind them.

  After the door slammed in Puggy’s face, the animal sat and quietly cocked his head from one side to the other. Then he lay down as if taking up guard duty in front of Reggie’s room.

  Claresta imagined how her chicken-hearted cousin would react if he awoke the next morning and found the dog lying in wait. She laughed. "Where in the world did you get such a lovable creature?"

  "Lord Norwood, my husband Percy, that is, got him off a vessel just returned from China at Kings Lynn. Poor Puggy was a stowaway, and the captain would have dunked him into the Wash, had my soft-hearted husband not stepped in and saved him."

  Claresta stooped down and patted the floor. "Come here, Puggy."

  The dog was reluctant. Sliding on his belly, he crawled only a few inches toward her.

  "Come here, my sweet."

  The softly spoken endearment seemed to do the trick, for Puggy rose to his feet and trotted over to Claresta. She took him up in her arms. "There you go. Aren’t you a downy one," she said, holding the animal up to get a better look at him while scratching behind his ear.

  "Give him to me and I’ll take him up to the servants’ quarters for the night," Lady Norwood said.

  "Why not let him stay in my room tonight?"

  "Oh my, are you quite certain, my dear? He has a habit of roaming about and getting into mischief when you least expect it."

  The dog lapped at Claresta’s chin. "See, he likes me. Puggy and I are of like minds." She glanced toward her cousin’s closed door. "I do believe we shall get along famously."

  * * *

  There were a few things that Puggy and she would have to work out, Claresta thought, when she awoke the next morning and found the clothes that Lizette had laid out for her strewn across the room. The animal was nowhere in sight. Neither was her maid.

  Claresta went into the dressing room to get another pair of stockings, for Puggy had made shreds of the ones on the floor in her room. As she stepped into the connecting chamber, she heard animated yapping coming from Lockwood’s room. She leaned her ear against the door and could make out Shipley’s voice, obviously grumbling about the pet. Then came a low chuckle that could be from none other than Drake Lockwood.

  Suddenly the door she leaned against swung open, and Claresta fell forward. A multitude of things came into her line of vision, not the least of which was the near naked man on the bed grasping rapidly for the covers.

  Puggy jumped out of Shipley’s arms, barked and danced excitedly around Claresta as if she’d flung herself upon the floor for some merry game.

  Shipley, still clutching the doorknob, looked frozen in place. It was the first time she’d ever seen such a look of dismay on his usually stoical features.

  "Good morning, Miss Huntington," Drake said. His calm manner helped somewhat to relieve her embarrassment. For several moments all Claresta could concentrate on was his exposed chest. S
he swallowed. It was the first time ever she’d seen a man that bare. She had a sudden wish to get closer and see if the silky sheen of his dark chest hair were merely an illusion. Would it feel like bristles on a boar or soft as Puggy’s coat?

  Shipley came out of his stupor and helped her to rise. Lockwood stared at her below the chin, and she realized her wrapper was gapping at the neck. She hastily pulled it together. His eyes then roamed downward to her bare feet where Puggy nipped playfully, and her toes seemed to curl involuntarily.

  "P-Puggy . . . I heard him bark and was afraid he might disturb your rest, sir." She gave Shipley an accusing glance, for if he’d not opened the door she would never have been discovered eavesdropping.

  "On the contrary," Drake said. "The little fellow has a habit of scratching at my door first thing in the morning. I insisted Shipley let him in for his usual romp. We had hoped to slip him back into your room before you awoke."

  The room was rather dim, but only total darkness could hide the brilliance of Lockwood’s blue eyes. They shone with such luster, she wondered if he was still feverish. Suddenly concerned, she walked boldly to his bedside and placed her hand upon his brow. "Ah, ha! Just as I thought, you are quite warm."

  "That I am, Claresta. That I am." He seemed to be teasing her, but she could not be sure. He’d used her Christian name, and the husky sound of it coming from his lips sent goosebumps of pleasure up her arms. Flustered by her reaction to his warm skin, she took her hand away, straightened and turned to Shipley. "Bring his lordship some tea, preferably herbal if available. If not, then send someone into King’s Lynn for chamomile. It is said to be good for the ague, you know."

  She glanced briefly at Drake, grazing over his chest with one quick sweep. The sheen was no illusion. She noted the radiant gleam in his eyes. Yes, he definitely was suffering from the ague, she thought. Remembering her mission, she decided to take his care into her own hands. She must get him well and soon. "Tell the cook to make him a light breakfast of--"

  "Miss Huntington!" Shipley gave her bare feet and state of dress a disapproving look.

  "Oh," she said. Perhaps she had been a bit overzealous. Puggy now lay upon the covers with his head resting on Drake’s thigh. Careful not to touch that muscular outline, she picked up the dog and backed toward the dressing room door. Before closing it, she said, "You should not overtax yourself, sir. I shall come back later."

  "A visit that I truly look forward to, Miss Huntington."

  The magnificent curl of his lips left deep dimples on either side of his chiseled face, which appeared to be blotchy in spots. The distinct signs of fever, she thought. Yet, he showed no signs of shivering or delirium, which usually accompanied the ague.

  He smiled and something flip-flopped inside her chest. She quickly closed the door to keep him from seeing the glow of searing heat that saturated her own cheeks.

  Turning her back against the dressing room door, she sighed. Her body felt strange, foreign to her all of a sudden. She was grateful Drake Lockwood seemed to have no aversions to her company. Quite the opposite in fact. If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d actually been flirting with her.

  Puggy squirmed in her arms, and she realized she’d been squeezing him. As she stooped to set the dog on the floor, she congratulated herself on making a such a workable choice for a husband.

  Then, her confidence was shaken when she overheard Drake loudly exclaim, "Damnation, Shipley, don’t you dare allow her into my bedchamber again!"

  CHAPTER TEN

  The dowager found Claresta in the library later that morning thumbing over the dusty tomes lining the shelves from floor to ceiling. Her ladyship wasn’t much of a literary devotee herself, but the late earl had collected books as often as he replaced sheep in the upper grazing lands. Other than removing the agriculture journals she’d picked out to read to the new Lord Norwood during his illness, and a rare dusting by the housekeeper, the room hadn’t been disturbed much in the past five years.

  Claresta was examining an edition of the Life of Samuel Johnson, by the great biographer James Boswell. Hearing someone enter the room, she turned and greeted Lady Norwood.

  "Good morning, my lady. I hope you don’t mind my taking the liberty of inspecting your well-stocked library." Claresta shoved the book back into its slot, and her white sleeve came away with a dark smudge.

  "Oh dear," cried the dowager. She removed a lace handkerchief from her waistband and hurriedly crossed the room.

  "It is nothing," Claresta protested when the lady began brushing away the dust.

  "I shall instruct Mrs. Williams to give this room a good cleaning. Though, when the poor housekeeper will find the time, I do not know."

  "That is something I wished to discuss with you, my lady."

  The dowager gave a defeated sigh and apologized again. "I suppose I should have been more explicit when I mentioned in my letter not to expect things to be in top order."

  "No, no, think nothing of it," Claresta said. "You could not have anticipated the extra guests or that I’d wish to explore the unused sections of the manor. Which, by the bye, are quite extraordinary. The thing of it is, my aunt and cousin have always lived a rather comfortable existence. Providing extra staff to make their stay more pleasant should be my responsibility, but not without your approval, of course. I must make a trip into King’s Lynn on another matter and request your permission to hire additional servants to assist Mrs. Williams and Coggins during our stay."

  Claresta had been in awe of the tremendous burden placed upon the only two servants she’d seen so far at the manor.

  "Naturally, I will pay for their services," she added.

  Lady Norwood’s eyes twinkled. "My dear, I understand perfectly. Oh, do tell me, shall you ask him soon? Shipley would not allow me past the portal of the sick room this morning. I do not know what he spoke of, but he said I should tell you to pay no heed if you overheard his lordship’s loud outburst this morning. I’m certain it must have been brought on by a sudden episode of amour propre."

  Claresta had realized almost immediately Drake was a proud man. How could she expect him to react to such an embarrassing situation any differently? But, after hearing his loud mandate, she’d begun to fear that her chances of presenting him with her proposition any time soon were remote. And, she’d also begun to doubt his acceptance of such, if he had found her presence so objectionable. She remembered his high color and heated brow and worriedly asked, "Pray, Dra--Lord Norwood has not taken a turn for the worse, my lady?"

  "Nothing of the sort. I sent for the doctor yesterday, but he only arrived a short time ago and went up to him. After his visit to the sickroom, Doctor Adams informed me that the worst is over. The rash often breaks out after the fever subsides."

  "Rash?"

  "Measles, my dear. It seems our dear fellow is afflicted with a childhood ailment."

  Claresta laughed along with the dowager. However, she gave thanks for Drake’s healthy constitution, for she knew adults often succumbed during the extreme stages of the disease. She wondered how the sick orphan boy fared since her departure from London, but knew Charlie was in the best of care with his sister, Nan, and Cook looking after him. "It seems the disease has run a course in Town of late."

  "I heard as much from a neighbor who fled to the country recently to spare her fragile daughter from being exposed. Now, my dear, I think it is time we had a talk. Come sit down."

  Lady Norwood led Claresta to a sofa that apparently had seen little use during recent years, for it had not a sag or tear on it.

  "There now," the dowager said and patted Claresta’s hand affectionately. "No need to be coy with me, for I do believe we shall get on nicely. And do not think I object to your proposal to increase the staff. Dear me, no. You should do with Norwood Manor as you desire, and goodness knows there is much to be done. No need to worry about butting heads with me on any turn, for I shall retire to the dower house as soon as the knot is tied."

  "The knot?" Loose strawber
ry curls escaped Claresta’s cap when she shook her head, and she pressed her hands to her heated cheeks as understanding came over her. "Oh dear, it seems Shipley has become quite a gossipmonger."

  "Not so much as you would think. Actually, it took quite a bit of prodding on my part--for you see I’ve heard just enough rumors while in London to cause me to make some assumptions. To pull the slightest confirmation from Shipley was quite an undertaking. And do not think, old fool that I am, that I believe any of what he acknowledged is merely gossip, not coming from that dedicated servant. Why, I do believe Shipley thinks the sun rises and sets with you, dear gel. So tell me the whole of it and do not try shamming me."

  So Claresta, finding it easy to confide in the lady, gave her a short rendition of her situation. How she became involved in the family business, her father’s shocking decree, and how she came to be known as Calamity Claresta when a close relative of Sir Pedigrew’s blamed her for his demise. She explained that if Drake Lockwood accepted her offer of marriage it would greatly benefit the both of them.

  Claresta would be willing to give Lord Norwood whatever he needed to improve his holdings. The dowager confessed the matter to be just as she had hoped. "It sounds like a splendid arrangement, my dear."

  She told of the topsy-turvy tumble into Lord Norwood’s room earlier as a result of her eavesdropping. "I’m afraid my terrible lack of decorum may have turned him against me. I--I tend to become quite the blunderer at times."

  "Don’t be silly, child. Take it from one who was married for many years, a man becomes cantankerous if caught in less than perfect physical condition by a beautiful lady." The dowager studied the blush on the young lady’s face and smiled. She noted the slight flicker of emotions in Miss Huntington’s eyes when she mentioned Lord Norwood. The dowager did not see anything wrong with a marriage of convenience, for it was quite common among the Quality. But she thought it much easier to endure when the pair involved had a liking for one another.

  She admired the spunky Miss Huntington for her forthrightness and determination, but the girl was practical, as well, and the dowager detected a bit of skepticism when Miss Huntington called Lord Norwood by his title. Like Denton, the young lady seemed to harbor some doubt to the fellow’s heritage. "In your explorations this morning, Miss Huntington, have you by chance been to the gallery?"