Selina took full responsibility for the afternoon's fiasco; it pointed out to her that she was really not the proper person to have charge of Henry. For years she had allowed herself an escape into drama when things became a bit much for her. She and Henry had found it a joke, and it was a way of relieving her pent-up emotions, and often of expressing her very real feelings on matters in a harmless way. Never before had she exhibited this penchant in front of anyone but Henry, and she could not blame him for being ashamed of her doing so in company.
Sadly she looked up at her maid from where she lay propped against the pillows. “Have Henry come up and join me, will you, Alice?"
The girl nodded and disappeared with the dinner tray, the food hardly touched, leaving the door open. In minutes Henry stood there, staring at Selina's pale face, uncertain of his reception and unwilling to enter the room until she noticed his arrival. He cleared his throat.
The dark eyes seemed enormous in her face. “Come in, Henry, and bring a chair by the bed. I wasn't up to coming down for dinner. Did you eat the calves’ ears, or give them to Scamp?"
“Scamp is in hiding because McDonough laughed at her haircut. I'll see she gets something to eat later.” The chair he was carrying knocked against the bed. He grimaced and sat down on it heavily. “Selina, I ... I know my behavior this afternoon was inexcusable. I was only thinking of myself and I made a scene. You see, I wanted you and Mr. Rushton to like each other. Well, he's being awfully good to come and teach me to box, and he helped with Scamp today ... I know you don't get on very well, but if he is to come around every so often, it would seem strange for you to avoid him all the time. You and I have always laughed at your dramatics, but he's so sophisticated ... I'm not criticizing you, honestly I'm not. You should do just as you please in your own house. I was afraid he would think you were ... eccentric or something."
“He always has, Henry. You did make an awkward scene and you must learn not to put a guest in such a position. It was every bit as uncomfortable as my play-acting. I won't do that again with company. We have done it so much that I suppose I didn't really think about doing it with Mr. Rushton there. And he didn't seem to mind. But I never meant to ... embarrass you.
“I won't have you apologize to me, Selina!” Henry exclaimed. “I was entirely at fault. Rushton was not the least put out; he said so."
“You spoke with him afterwards?"
“He summoned me to the study and gave me a proper raking down.” Henry flushed to the roots of his hair.
“I see.” She shivered and drew the shawl more closely about her shoulders. So Mr. Rushton had decided for himself that she was no longer able to manage her charge, and had taken on the necessary task of scolding him. The significance of such an action made Selina's throat ache, and she bit her lip to control its quiver. “This will probably mean your going to live with Lord Leyburn, Henry. I shall miss you dreadfully, but it will be better for you at your age to have a man to guide you. Perhaps you will come to visit me sometimes, or ... or join me on a trip to the coast, or one of the spots we have gone to before. For a week or two. No one could object to that! I am, after all, your only relation. But you mustn't think it necessary! If you are happy and busy and haven't time to get away, I shall understand. Why, I shall be pleased for you. Your happiness is my only concern, dear Henry. You have not even seen Bromley Manor since you came here. To see your own estate ... Oh, it will cause you some sadness, no doubt, at first, but you will be proud to think of the day it will be yours to run and to make into a home. Lord Leyburn's seat is no more than a few miles from it, I understand, and, though he has tenants there now, I am sure he can arrange for you to see it."
Henry sat stunned through this recital. Never had he envisioned such a punishment for even his most dastardly crime as to be sent away from Selina and Shalbrook. Lord Leyburn was, to his mind, the bogeyman. A dim shadow in his memory, with no features to fill in his face, nothing more than an angular script on a quarterly letter. The man who directed his future from afar, as though he were a puppet on strings. Henry found himself unable to utter a word.
“Henry dear, my head is aching unbearably. Would you mind very much if we talked more tomorrow? I can't seem to think clearly and there is so much I want to say to you. Have Alice bring me a drop or two of laudanum in water, will you, love?"
Desolated beyond anything he could remember, including the death of his family, Henry rose unsteadily and nodded mutely. He must, as Rushton would decree, bear his punishment like a man, at least in her presence. Tomorrow, oh, if tomorrow ever came, he would humbly ask for a reprieve, promise to behave better in future, assure her that he could and would respect her authority over him. To be banished from the warmth of her affection to the coldness of an uncaring stranger, surely that was more than he deserved. Even when one considered his various misdemeanors of the last few weeks, even then it was too much. How could Selina think it would be “better” for him to live with Lord Leyburn? Who would there be in that large family of unknown people to take his cousin's place? After giving Alice her instructions, Henry went numbly along the corridor to his room.
Certainly it was the longest night Henry had ever spent. While Selina succumbed to the first ministration of laudanum she had ever allowed herself, Henry tossed and turned in his bed, advancing and discarding arguments which he would offer her the next day. None of them somehow seemed sufficient. Henry did not doubt her love for him; it was that love that terrified him now, for Selina had indicated that she was proposing this course not in anger but out of her firm desire to see him happy, established where he would have the proper guidance. Rushton had said that awful thing about Henry's not acting like a gentleman. More than anything, of course Selina wished to see her cousin instilled with those virtues, and if she thought Lord Leyburn could provide them where she could not, then she would, even if it made her desperately unhappy, send him to his guardian.
In spite of his resolve to bear up under this adversity, Henry greeted the dawn hollow-eyed and desperate. As he pulled on his buckskins and top boots, he began to formulate a plan in his mind, hazy but determined, to talk with Rushton. After all, Rushton had combed his hair about Henry's behavior, but he had also indicated his sympathy with the boy's growing pains. Henry donned a shirt and waistcoat mechanically before knotting a kerchief at his throat. Even if there was time to tie a cravat properly, he had not the patience. Shrugging into his riding coat, he made no attempt to see that it set correctly on his long arms and bony shoulders.
There were few people astir in the manor and he met none of them as he slipped out the back door onto the flagged path leading to the stables. The day promised to be as fine as the previous one, with the dawn sun already beginning to dry the dew, and the heady smell of newly-turned earth pervading Henry's nostrils. Such a day would be perfect for him to accompany Mr. Sands on his rounds of the estate. Henry gulped down the lump in his throat when he realized there might never be a chance to do so now. His pace quickened as he neared Catastrophe's box.
The horse whinnied as he was being saddled, and stretched out his stride as Henry directed him to the village. Only after leaving Catastrophe at the Horse and Hound stables was Henry checked in his hell-bent progress toward Mr. Rushton. The innkeeper, newly arisen from his warm bed, was issuing directions for lighting fires when he glanced around at the opening door. “Mr. Forrester! You're about early, and no mistake. No trouble at Shalbrook, I hope."
“No, no. I must see Mr. Rushton,” Henry explained, running a hand through his tousled hair.
“At this hour? You can't do that, my good sir. I've never known him up and abroad before nine or ten, and that only once or twice. No, no, you mustn't disturb him. You can wait in the coffee room."
“But it is urgent!"
“Nothing is so urgent as to wake a man from his slumbers,” Mr. Evans said severely. “Come and have some coffee. I dare say you've not even had your breakfast at this hour. We've pigeon pie, ham and a round of cold beef,
or you might prefer the kidneys and rashers. Or a poached egg and toast, or muffins. No one in Leicestershire keeps a better table than the Horse and Hound."
“I know, sir, but this cannot wait. Mr. Rushton is in the rebuilt rooms, is he not? I'll not tell him I met you on the way,” Henry promised as he skirted the astonished landlord and fled down the corridor toward the wing.
Mr. Evans considered the possibility of pursuit, but decided it would be undignified, unsuccessful and probably needless. The quality had their own ways, and far be it from him to try to understand them.
Although his single-minded purpose carried Henry to Mr. Rushton's door, once arrived there he hesitated. Nothing would change in the next few hours and Rushton would undoubtedly think him the greatest dunderhead for awakening him to pour out his problems. He would label Henry an unthinking, selfish child, as he had thought him the previous day. Henry decided that his best course of action was to wait at the door until he heard sounds of movement within, and then he would knock. After a while he tired of standing and sat down leaning against the doorframe, in which position he promptly fell asleep.
Rushton's valet, Victor, arose shortly after Henry's arrival and began to quietly light fires in his master's bedroom and the sitting room. From years of experience he chose the clothing he would propose for the day's toilette, laying the items lovingly over a chair in such a way that no wrinkles would result. A stack of cravats, neatly folded and glistening whitely, he left on the chest of drawers while he set out the shaving kit. It was too early to fetch hot water for his master, who lay sprawled on the bed unconscious of the movement about him, but Victor was never begrudged his own luxuries, so he made his way to the door with every intention of going to the kitchen to obtain a can for himself. If it had occurred to Victor that someone would be sleeping in the doorway, he would of course have carefully stepped over the recumbent form. Unfortunately, such a thought never occurred to him, and Henry had slipped down in such a way that he was practically invisible in the dark corridor outside.
Thus Victor stepped squarely on poor Henry's most tender part, and stumbled on his face in addition. The resulting commotion—Henry's scream of anguish, Victor's yelp of terror as he careened toward the gaping staircase—might have awoken anyone for some distance around, and it certainly woke Rushton. Unaccustomed to being startled from his bed by such pandemonium, he leapt up in confusion and raced for the doorway in his nightshirt. The sight which greeted his eyes did nothing to alleviate his mystification, for Henry lay rolling on the floor and groaning, while Victor clung precariously to the bannister which appeared in imminent danger of giving way.
“What the hell is going on?!” Rushton cried as he attempted to pass Henry in an effort to save his valet from peril. Not particularly alert yet, he failed to notice that Henry was struggling to stand in his presence. Henry's head caught him at the back of the knees, throwing him forward against his hapless valet, and the bannister promptly gave way. Henry watched horrified as the two men disappeared from view.
It was a short stair, but neither of the victims was in any mood to rejoice at this lucky circumstance. The broken piece of bannister, under their combined weight, careened down the stairs and stopped abruptly at the bottom, where their momentum caused them to smash against the opposite wall. Momentarily dazed, Rushton did not notice that his nightshirt was caught up about his chest, but the bedchamber maid who was carrying fresh linens along the lower hall was struck by it first thing. She screamed, and, dropping her burden, fled in the opposite direction. Henry looked over the remaining bannister and groaned.
People began to converge on the scene of the accident with gratifying speed. Chambermaids, guests, and eventually Mr. and Mrs. Evans themselves stood staring at the two shaken men. Rushton was the soonest to regain his senses, and his concern was more for his valet than for the gaping throng. He felt for Victor's pulse and found it beating steadily, but there was a gash on his forehead and his fingers were bloodied. “Here, give me a hand with him,” he rapped out to the innkeeper, who stepped forward immediately at the command, but, out of decency, first tugged down Rushton's nightshirt before laying hold of Victor.
By the time they had carried the valet up to his bed, past the shaking Henry, Victor's eyes were beginning to flicker open.
“Lie still,” Rushton ordered, as he busied himself dipping two of his lawn handkerchiefs into the ewer and wringing them out. “His fingers will need professional attention. Will you send for Dr. Turner?” he asked Mr. Evans.
“Right away, sir,” the man responded as he backed toward the door.
“And see to the boy. If he's all right, have him come here."
Henry, still shaky on his feet, had remained in the hail as the procession passed, but he assured Mr. Evans that he was fine and would go to Mr. Rushton. Unable to break himself from the grip of this nightmare, Henry stumbled uncertainly into the suite of rooms, where he could see Rushton bent over a bed in a small room off the sitting room. Carefully he placed one foot before the other to traverse the distance, but once he stood beside Rushton he couldn't think of a thing to say.
“Are you all right?"
“I ... I think so. How is your man?"
“He'll do well enough,” Rushton grunted as he finished wiping away the blood from the fingers. “The gash on his forehead is not serious, but some of his fingers may be broken. What happened?"
“I don't know, exactly. I fell asleep in your doorway and I think he stepped on me."
The valet, who had again opened his eyes at the sound of their voices, turned his gaze to Henry and whispered, “I am very sorry, sir. I did not see you."
“What the devil were you doing sleeping in my doorway?” Rushton demanded.
“I didn't want to wake you. That is, at first I thought I would, and I came here shortly after dawn. Then I was afraid you would think I was being a child again, and only thinking of myself, so I decided to wait outside your door until I heard you get up. But I didn't sleep much last night and I fell asleep just outside."
Rushton regarded him sharply. “Is there something wrong at Shalbrook? Is your cousin ill?"
“No, well, she wasn't feeling well last night but I suppose she'll be better this morning.” Henry cast a glance at the valet. “I must talk with you but this is not the time. I never meant to cause any trouble.” He shrugged helplessly. “This is what I get for trying to be patient. I should have woken you when I got here."
“I'd have wrung your neck,” Rushton informed him casually. “Wait in the sitting room."
After half an hour the doctor came and went into the valet's room where he stayed for some time. Rushton showed him out and then returned to take a seat near Henry's. “Victor has two broken fingers which Turner says will heal without impairing his use of them.” He fingered a sticking plaster on his cheek. “He also informed me that my own slight cut will undoubtedly leave a scar."
Nothing more was needed to complete Henry's desolation. If he had not been sixteen he would have burst into tears.
Rushton laughed. “When I was your age I wanted a scar more than anything else, I think. Romantic, you know. Of course, I visualized receiving it in a duel where I was the champion of a lady's virtue or a gentleman's honor. Well, who's to know how I received it?” he asked cheerfully. “I'd best get dressed. You can come in and tell me your problem while I'm at it."
Henry stammered, “I ... I can wait until you're done."
“Lord, Henry, everyone in the damn inn has seen me naked this morning, so what odds? But please yourself. I thought you were in a hurry."
“Well, I am.” Henry followed his host into the bed-chamber and stood by the window looking out. The black depression settled on him again, so that he began to fear that even Rushton could not help him. “I'm frightfully sorry about what happened this morning. Tell Mr. Evans that I will take care of any damage. No, I shall tell him myself so he knows I'm responsible for the whole."
Rushton sighed. “I expect he will
manage to take me aside and ask if I don't think I would find myself more comfortable at some other hostelry. Imagine being thrown out of a country inn! It will be a first, my boy.” He inspected the fit of his pantaloons and asked abruptly, “Am I likely to be returning to Shalbrook with you?"
“I hope so,” Henry said fervently.
“Hmm. Then I'd best wear the Hessians. You have not come yet to your problem, young man,” he reminded his guest as he tugged on one of the boots.
“Last night Selina said she would probably send me to Lord Leyburn. He's my guardian."
With a muffled oath, Rushton tossed the second boot back onto the floor. “Nonsense! There is nothing she wants less."
Henry turned around to face him. “That's true, of course, but she talked about it being best for me. She wasn't angry about yesterday afternoon. That's to say, she did reprimand me, of course, but she started to apologize for her acting. Fancy! When I made such a fuss, she apologized for embarrassing me. We were just sitting there discussing what had happened, when all of a sudden she said I should go to Lord Leyburn, and talked a lot of rubbish about how I would see my estate, and maybe I would come to visit her sometimes. I don't want to go!” Henry wailed. “I want to stay with her. I can't even remember Lord Leyburn. Don't you think she is being too severe? Couldn't you speak to her? Tell her that I am not so different from other boys? I promise I will do better! She shall have all the respect due her. I needn't learn about the farming after all, or at least, I could do so only after my regular lessons. And I won't complain about them, or say anything derogatory about Dr. Davenport. Only, please, help me to convince her not to send me away!"
A Curious Courting Page 16