Sir Gordon remained abed for the first day, as did Lady Eleanor. By the following morning she was up and about, and went to check on her beloved. She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, aided by his valet, as his bruised ribs pained him greatly.
She scolded him for getting up too soon, and was scolded in return by the redoubtable valet, who was scandalized that the lady should appear in his employer's bedroom. Laughing, though it hurt terribly to do so, Sir Gordon convinced her to await him in the sitting room and went about his painful way, getting dressed.
No one could convince him to be coddled for a few bruised ribs.
When he joined her in the private dining parlor set aside for the family's use, he was pale and a little weedy. Determined to ignore his injuries, he moved with a stiff, careful gait.
Forgetting his taped ribs would not allow for it, he started to execute a bow and grimaced as he quickly straightened his posture. "Sorry Love, can't greet you properly in this rig."
"Really, Gordon, you should have better sense than to gad about without giving yourself a chance to heal properly." She sounded much like his aunt, and her eyes sparked at him in the same arrogant way, so that he wanted to laugh but knew better. First, because it would hurt his ribs and second, because it would surely anger her.
Lady Eleanor rose from her chair, fussing over him, pouring his tea and looking quite worried, which pleased him and somewhat appeased his mood. This was the woman he knew and loved. She then began to harangue him for his foolishness, spoiling the entire effect, yet he refused to be drawn, and stood looking at her innocently until she subsided.
Gordon managed a rueful grin as he seated himself carefully, vowing to have a talk with Alana as soon as he could about putting ideas into Eleanor's head. He liked her fine just as she had always been and did not relish the idea of a carbon-copy of his aunt running roughshod over him as Alana often did with Rothburn—though he cared very much for Alana.
Rothburn liked it. He did not.
"How is Allie this morning?" he asked—dreading the answer as her gaze spoke to him before her words reached his ears.
"No change, I am afraid. The doctor has been here, though and says that her signs are good. He says it is a concussion and she should come out of it soon."
She squeezed his hand in sympathy, her wan smile in a face so drawn with fatigue, he realized she had not rested.
"You look done in, Eleanor, and I want you to rest this afternoon. You may not have been seriously injured physically, but you took a beating in that wreck and you have no idea what you look like."
He did not mean to sound autocratic or to insult her, though his words came out that way.
"And pray tell me, lord and master, just what do I look like?" Her eyes were stricken, and he saw that she might cry, so he amended his speech, returning the pressure of her small delicate hand.
"I don't mean you have lost your looks—you are quite beautiful as always. The smudges beneath your eyes and the drawn look in them worries me. You are most likely still in shock and rest is the best cure."
"Oh? And I suppose for you rest is not a cure at all?" She countered his demand with one of her own, her manner crafty. "If I rest, then so shall you. I have no broken bones, nor a lacerated shoulder."
When he looked sheepish, she knew she had won, and softened her gaze. "Gordon, you do not need to prove anything. I know that lounging about is abhorrent to you but you must see that it will ease my mind if you go carefully. I would have you well and able to meet me at the altar without the aid of a cane."
Her last words were spoken lightly, but he drew himself up as the import of them sank into his brain. He nodded thoughtfully, seeing her point.
Then he promised, "I shall return to my bed as soon as we've broken our fast and will not rise again for the entire day, if you will do two things for me."
He smiled in the same crafty manner she had.
"Anything you say, just name it."
"First, you will return to you rooms and if you do not precisely get back into bed, you will take your ease, knitting or some such activity as that—at least for today."
"And what is the other?" Her voice was a purr of submission, making him suspicious of her motive.
"The other is that you will come to my room, along with a chaperone, and have dinner with me tonight. For if I am to be confined to quarters, I would have something to look forward to besides Griffin pacing and wringing his hands, or worse yet, Beakson driving me insane hovering like an old nanny."
"Beakson can be our chaperone, for I'm sure that my parents wish to support Griffin as much as possible and stay close to Allie. And, of course, Countess Rothburn will not leave her for a moment."
She leaned into his shoulder as he put an arm carefully around her and whispered, "In truth, 'tis Griffin who needs rest. Father is at this very moment getting him sauced so he will sleep and stop worrying and giving everyone fits with his—as you said—pacing and wringing his hands.
"Lady Susan commanded it, indeed was ready to take him herself and even threatened to do so. Of course, they would never allow her in the tap room. At least, I don't think they would."
"Never underestimate that great lady. She can do just about anything she pleases. Why, if she took it into her head to have dinner at White's, she wouldn't hesitate and I can't see anyone stopping her."
He chuckled at the image of the fluttering, deceptively gentle Lady Susan sailing into White's, demanding a dinner menu. The effort cost him some pain and he realized immediately that in order to heal, he would have to refrain from conversations that amused him—at least for a day or two.
* * * * *
Aided by his lady love on one side and the banister on the other, Sir Gordon made his painful way back up the stairs and decided to stop by and check on Allie himself before retiring.
"After all," he reasoned with a mutinous looking Eleanor, "she is my sister and I am deeply concerned. I won't rest, you know, until I've seen her, so don't look at me like that."
When she did not argue further, he was relieved and gratified that perhaps she had not taken Alana's lessons to much to heart, but still he would talk with his aunt, just in case.
Lady Susan stood up as he entered the room. "Glad to see you up and about my boy. You've done a wonderful deed. Griffin told me all about how you held this child with your weight and injured, too boot, and directed everyone's progress so that you might be safer."
She came forward and pecked his cheek, smiling benignly. "But of course, nothing less can be expected from a knight of the realm who has been so honored for his valor on the field of battle."
Somewhat embarrassed by her reference to his medals and his bravery in battle—for he was a modest unassuming man—Sir Gordon ignored her words, and went to the bed, looking down at the waif-like face of his little sister. "She is just a child and right now she looks every inch of it. Lately she has matured—quite rapidly actually—and I had forgotten just how young she really is."
Allie stirred and murmured something inaudible. Her eyes fluttered open, and the anger there surprised her brother greatly. She turned her head and looked at him a moment, a small frown marring her features. He came closer and smoothed a gentle hand over her brow, thinking perhaps she was in pain.
"Don't try to move, little one. You've taken a nasty knock on your head and must keep still. Doctor's orders."
He tried for a light tone, yet some fear crept in.
Allie continued to look at him for a moment, neither of them aware of the surge of excitement among the other occupants of the room, for Allie had not moved nor spoken until now. When she finally spoke, her voice was rough and whispery, for she needed a drink of water badly. "I am not a child. Do not call me so. Just get me some water, please."
The glass of water was quickly brought to her lips by a penitent Sir Gordon. "Of course you are not a child, my dear, but you are still my baby sister, and I am afraid it will be difficult for me to see you any other way. Ho
wever, I won't bring it to your attention again, I'm sure."
He grinned at her, adding, "Of course, if you are unconscious, I shall do so, for it seems to do the trick in bringing you around."
Just at that moment, a wild looking Griffin rushed into the room and skidded to a halt by the bed, all but knocking his future brother-in-law through the open window just behind him.
Catching himself and howling in pain, Sir Gordon rounded on the younger man, ready to punch him, but thought better of it as he spied the look on Griffin's face as he gazed down at his love.
Deciding that just this once, he would leash his temper in view of the fellow's obvious distress, he managed to get himself into a nearby chair.
Realizing what he had done, Griffin turned on him an apologetic look and mumbled, "Sorry sir. Didn't mean it—just excited don'tcha know?"
Sir Gordon managed to smile and nod acceptance, then beckoned Lady Eleanor to his side, whispering in her ear as she bent to him. "Get me to my rooms before I'm destroyed altogether. I vow, one more hit on my person and I will perish for certain."
He allowed his valet to hover, assisting him to his feet and then blew a kiss to Allie, saying, "I cannot bend, you see, so you shall have to make do with this token."
"What is the matter? Are you hurt?" Allie tried to sit up, her alarm evident. She was gently pushed back by Griffin, and allowed the gesture, for rising had made her quite dizzy. "Tell me you are all right Gordon."
"I am all right, Gordon," he quipped—which would have made Rothburn quite proud. Grinning, he looked at her with affection. "Really, missy, I am quite alright. Just a few bruises along my ribcage. Must go lie down now, however. Doctors orders, just like you."
"Oh, well, if you are sure." She then returned her gaze to her beloved.
Quietly exiting the room, they all agreed that there was little harm in leaving an engaged couple alone for a few minutes as long as the door was kept open, which Countess Rothburn saw to, swinging it wide. Pulling the door half closed, Sir Gordon smiled at her to take the sting from his action.
"I think we can trust them. You just stand guard and if they get out of line, harrumph at them." When she swatted his shoulder lightly with her fan, he tried to dodge, forgetting his injuries and had to groan again.
"Get me to my bed quickly, Beakson, before I sustain real injury." He went down the hall to the sound of Countess Rothburn protesting her innocence in the matter.
"After all, you do look quite healthy my boy, and I forgot for a moment that you are in dire straits." She then returned her attention to the door, enjoying her role as watchdog, though in truth she did not harrumph one time when Griffin knelt by the bed and kissed the girl. She heard the sob in his voice as he spoke with her and knew that the fellow truly loved Allie and would bring her to no harm.
Countess Rothburn was so sure of it, she closed the door all the way and went to sit in the large comfortable chair in the anteroom, dozing for all she was worth.
* * * * *
Though still subject to dizziness, and feeling occasionally faint and nauseous, Allie insisted she could travel. She wanted quit of this place and so they departed the very next morning. The doctor agreed that she could go, as long as she saw her own physician promptly.
Griffin went to London with them and saw her home and safely tucked into her bed then lingered for two more days, spending the time studying furiously while she slept. They took their meals together in her sitting room. He stayed until he could not put it off longer due to finals being imminent. It was time to go back to school.
Promising to return at the end of the month, he took his leave and went to hire a coach. He stepped onto the Pendleton's front stoop, seeing a brand new carriage and pair at the curb with his initials embossed on the door. Sir Gordon, waiting for him on the stoop, took the young man by an arm and guided him to the vehicle.
"All yours, M'boy. No more riding in hired carriages—or borrowing another man's horse." He grinned and put up both hands to stop Griffin's refusal, his eyes turning grave as he explained. "All of my executives have vehicles paid for by the company. It keeps them prompt and it is a bonus. Also, since you will be a member of the family, you'll be coming here more often so this will save you a few groats in transportation."
"I don't know what to say sir, for I'm not even working for you yet." Griffin stood suddenly taller and looked the other man in the eye, his jaw squaring with determination. "I will accept your kindness as it was well meant, but please do not deign to give me anything that you would not give another employee. I shall earn my keep."
"Of course. I know well your principals, and would never insult you in such a manner." Pausing to let his words sink in, Sir Gordon patted Griffin's shoulder. "I also know that without those principals, you would not be allowed to marry my sister, so be certain I shall expect great things from you, my boy."
"Sir, can I ask you something without offending you?" Griffin chose his words carefully. "Could you call me something other than 'my boy'? It smacks of childhood and I'm an adult, don'tcha know? You always call Rothburn old fellow, so something like it would do, I'm sure."
Laughing heartily, and giving his new brother a fond hug, he agreed. "Well, then Griffin, I shall call you old-something-or-other, not sure what. But never again will I call you a boy in any form."
He then stepped back and watched the eager young man climb into the buggy, whistling at the fine leather seats and even more at the blooded cattle in harness. "But you must do me a favor as well, old chap."
"Yes sir, anything you want." Griffin smiled happily.
"Stop calling me sir. Gordon will do. No one in the family calls me sir. Even Rothburn, who is notorious for his quips and sometimes indelicate speech, does not call me sir."
When Griffin agreed heartily, Sir Gordon stepped back from the curb and waved him off, calling, "There is ample grain and a full complement of accessories waiting for you at Caruthers Stables. All is taken care of."
Griffin halted the buggy and looked around, his face taking on that stubborn look and suspicion clouded his eyes. "And just how is that to be paid for?" He did not mean to sound ungrateful, but in accepting the gift he had not thought about the maintenance involved and was ready to return it.
"It will come out of your salary, of course. Just a few groats at a time, never fear. You are paying for everything from this point on." Sir Gordon had no intention of charging him, but knew if he did not appease his pride, the youngster would refuse the carriage, so he lied adroitly.
Satisfied with the answer, Griffin took up the reins once more and glancing up to Allie standing in the window, blew her a kiss and was off, handling the reins with deftness, just as his cousin had taught him.
* * * * *
Allie stood swaying, head pounding as the blood rushed through her ears. Had Griffin looked for a longer moment he would have seen her sink from sight as she fainted. Tillie ran to and lifted the girl—hers the strong muscular arms of a farm girl—and moved her quickly to the bed.
She then ran shouting for help. Hearing her distressed cries from the street, Sir Gordon took the steps as quickly as his ribs would allow and met her as she slid to a stop in the foyer, cap askew, eyes round with fear.
"Fainted dead away, she 'as. Told her not to get outer bed, but she'd not 'arken to me warning." Breathless, she asked, "Should I be callin' for the doctor, Milord?"
"Yes, please. I'll see to her. Come back when you've sent Hobbs." He hurried along the hall and opened the door to her suite, crossed the small anteroom to the bed. Allie was stirring, but her face was waxen and her eyes looked vague as they wandered around the room.
"Where am I? What is this place?" Her voice was puzzled and frightened, and when she looked at her brother she drew back from his outstretched hand. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"Allie, don't you know me? It's Gordon, sweet. It's your brother." He could not bend to her, but wanted to find out if she were feverish, and so made the effort by leani
ng forward and stretching out his long arm, touching her brow and finding it hot and dry.
"You seem to have a fever, Allie. I shall fetch a cloth and cool you down." Knowing the effort was beyond him, he hurried to the door and shouted for Beakson, who appeared so quickly it was obvious he had been hovering once again. "Get some ice, she is feverish—"
Beakson began moving before his master had finished speaking. "Just sending along Mrs. Quincy, Milord. She is quite helpful in these matters."
Mrs. Quincy was up the stairs in a trice, her beloved charge the only thing on her mind, so that she failed to notice how ill her master looked. In fact, no one noticed him at all in the frenzy to help the young mistress.
No one, of course, except Beakson, who finally took note of Sir Gordon's growing pallor and sweating brow as he stood by the bed, worry creasing his face and pain in every line there.
"And it's back to bed with you, Milord. Won't help anybody if you don't recover quick. Those bones won't knit properly with you gadding about." With that, he summoned Hobbs and together they half carried, half walked the sick man to his bed.
"And just what were you thinking of, Milord? You can't be running around. Doctor said to keep you down, and keep you down I will." Beakson was a master at handling his employer, for he had served as his batman in the Napoleon wars and his loyalty was beyond anything—his audacity as well.
Once in his four poster, propped up against the sturdy headboard, Sir Gordon began to direct operations. "Beakson, be sure the doctor comes in here as soon as he's seen to my sister. I don't want to get any information second hand. Understood?"
When his servant nodded assent, he went on, "Have someone standby to go after Master George, he's just left in the new carriage, heading for Cambridge. Hobbs will be the best bet for that errand. Also, stand ready to send someone to Cheshire to find my aunt and Rothburn, if it is necessary.
"My parents, of course, should be summoned at any rate, even if there is nothing urgently wrong."
He knew that his mother would never forgive him if he did not bring them at once, and in view of Allie's relapse he felt it was a priority. He waved Beakson to his side and they moved toward the door.
A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) Page 24