"Would you like me to warm the cup for you?" I asked Trevor.
An abrupt nod was his response, so I proceeded to heat the small glass cup over the fire until it grew uncomfortably warm to touch. Over my shoulder I watched the indisposed old gentleman lower his head nearly to his knees, closing his eyes as Trevor welded the silver sharp-edged blade back and forth before his face.
"Are you ready, Mr. Dix?" Trevor asked.
"Aye," the man mumbled.
"Is that cup prepared?" Trevor called.
"Aye," I responded.
"Then hasten it to me now." With a flick of his wrist, he slid the knife into the flesh of Mr. Dix's forehead.
I almost stumbled in my haste to press the four-ounce cup onto Mr. Dix's brow. Immediately the article adhered to the patient's head. The vacuum created by the cooling of the cup drew blood in a rush from the incision.
Trevor turned away, offering no encouragement at all as his patient paled and shuddered. Sliding my arms around Dix's shaking shoulders, I soothed him. "There, sir, this will undoubtedly cure you. Have faith."
"I am bled dry of faith," he said.
"There, there, it will soon be over."
He angled his face toward me. "Yer a kind lass."
"No sir, not kind."
"Aye. Gentle and kindhearted."
"Hush now." I smiled and smoothed my hand over his brow. "You are delicate now and prone to sentimentalities."
"Yer a right bonny lass."
"Sir. Mayhaps- you're better? There. I see color in your cheeks."
"Have ye a husband, lass?"
My eyes widened.
"I've a son yer age, y' see."
"I am not in the mind for marriage, Mr. Dix, but if I were, I'm certain a son of yours would be far too good for me."
He clapped his hands. "She's modest too! Doc, where did y' find her?" Forgetting in his reverie the glass sucked up against his head, he centered his sparkling, if slightly feverish, gaze on his physician, who eyed me in return.
"She belongs to my brother," Trevor said, and I noted the slightly upward tilt of his mouth as he continued to survey me. "I agree she is quite the philanthropist. And, aye, she is bonny as well."
I was not accustomed to this appreciation. It made me blush.
Sensing my discomfiture, Trevor went immediately to his patient, and I hurried to the door, stopping only long enough to bid each gentleman a good day.
Upon entering the kitchen, I was heartened by Matilda's good cheer. She sat me down at the table and plunked before me a heaping bowl of steaming porridge swimming in butter and sweetened with treacle. I was given toast and blackberry jam, a cherry tart, and coffee.
Around me the others hustled to prepare a much heartier breakfast for their employers. Ham sizzled over a fire, cakes rose in fluffy mounds in the brick ovens. Adrienne's highly treasured Chinese tea steeped in a white china pot of painted cupids and pink rose garlands.
Just then Polly entered the room through the outside door, her apron bulging with eggs. The wind whipped in around her, whirling with leaves and the snowflakes that had begun to fall from the heavy sky. "Lud," she said, "it's cold as a well digger's arse out there. We'll be snowed in by evenin'."
Matilda jumped for the tea, hovering her arms around it like a mother hen protecting her chicks. "Close the bloody door; y' know what milady's like if 'er brew is cold."
"Ah, she's gettin' as flaky as 'er brother," someone mumbled. I was soon to learn the young woman's name was Kate.
"I beg your pardon." I stared into my porridge as I spoke. The hustle and bustle about me paused. Then, certain I had their attention, I said, "I think you should not make light of Lord Malham or his sister. They pay your wage, do they not?"
They gaped at me. Glancing at each one somewhat sternly and stirring the cream into my porridge, I stated firmly, "They deserve your loyalty. Without their consideration you would be no doubt involved in some sort of occupation that may or may not be so comfortable, or respectable, as this one."
Matilda cleared her throat. "She's right, ladies, I've told y'—"
"Give over." It was Polly. Having placed her eggs on the table, she fixed her eyes on Matilda and screwed up her mouth in a way that likened her countenance to that of a tit-mouse. " Vs daft, 'e ain't even human, if y' ask me. 'e aught t' be locked up, considerin' wot 'e done. I'll warrant 'ad it been me or you who committed the same crime we'd We been bound up at Leeds long ago." She punctuated her remark with a sharp nod of her head.
Irritated, Matilda countered, "Y' got no proof, y' cheeky girl, that 'is lordship were involved in 'er ladyship's death."
" 'e were there now, weren't 'e?"
"So what?*'
I looked back and forth between the two, discomforted by their heated opinions. Their voices were rising and I was certain they would be heard soon by the Wyndhams. I looked to Kate as she joined in.
"Well, it were 'igh time someone did somethin' to stop 'er philanderin'. She were makin' a mockery of 'er position. She broke Miss Adrienne's heart by forcin' 'er out of 'er own quarters and puttin' 'er on an allowance. And she made no bones about the gents she was seein' on the sly. Why, I heard with me own ears, 'is lordship accusin' 'er of adultery and 'er admittin' to it. Flung it in his. face, she did, at the top of 'er voice. Said 'e had no right upbraidin' 'er for 'er affairs after wot 'e'd done."
Matilda huffed. "His lordship can't be held accountable for what he done before he married Jane. It were no business of Jane's at any count."
Kate's eyes grew round as saucers, and her look of disbelief was obvious, "Well, 'e made it Jane's business, didn't 'e, by allowing that wasted man into the house." Kate looked down at me. "It were just as well. It were common knowledge milord and lady were married in name only. Never once did they spend a night together—as 'usband and wife—in this house."
Matilda very nearly hopped now in her exasperation. "Y'll be hushin' such gossip, Katie Smythe."
"But it's true, Tilly, and y' well know it." Kate looked at Polly for substantiation, then back at me. I had begun to rise from my chair, grasping the table edge to support my wobbly knees as Kate narrowed her eyes and said, "It's no secret, y' know. It ain't as if Jane 'erself didn't weep to the entire world that Wyndham 'ad shamed 'er. It were no secret that Master Kevin is—"
I had closed my eyes when the room suddenly rang with tomblike silence, and I knew even before I opened them and spun around, that Nicholas would be there.
Recovering my composure, I dipped slightly and met his gray eyes without blinking. A slight but unmistakable shudder ran through me at his studied nonchalance. For an instant I questioned whether he had overheard Katie's remark, then as quickly I dismissed it.
"Come along, Miss Rushdon," he said,
I moved woodenly to his side, and did not look back at the mortified women.
I entered the breakfast room behind him. Pausing in the doorway, I waited, wondering what course I was to take next. Adrienne sat at one end of the breakfast table, her fingers absently tracing the brass inlay that decorated the rosewood veneer. Trevor, seated to one side of his sister, stirred his coffee and glanced up from the text he was reading as Nicholas announced, "Miss Rushdon will be joining us."
Taken off guard, I questioned him. "Sir?"
Dropping into his chair, he pointed to a place beside him.
My cheeks burned as both Trevor and Adrienne studied me curiously. Squaring my shoulders, I said, "My thanks, milord, but no. My position is in the kitchen and I—"
"I said"—he looked at me, his gray eyes threatening—"sit down."
I obeyed him.
Nicholas regarded his brother and sister with a challenging look, "I find it necessary to separate Miss Rushdon from those vipers in the kitchen. If either of you find some problem with my decision, speak now. No?" He sat back in his chair like a king regarding his
subjects, and twisted his lips in a smile. "You're thinking, Humor him Wise, very wise. I'm in no mood to deliberate on
my decision at this moment."
Polly bustled through the doorway then. She stopped when she saw me.
Nicholas looked savagely at the stunned servant and said through his teeth, "Serve her."
Curtsying in compliance, Polly hurried out of the room, only to return a minute later with the same breakfast I had begun to eat earlier. As the woman thudded the bowl of congealed porridge before me, his lordship announced, "Get that foul rubbish out of my sight. If I am not totally out of my mind that is ham I smell roasting."
"Aye, milord."
"Shell have ham, then. And eggs. And some of that black gold otherwise known as tea."
Polly snatched the porridge from the table and disappeared out the door.
Silent, I looked about the room, noting Trevor had gone back to reading his book. Adrienne, appearing to shrink in her chair, clasped her hands in her lap and stared at Trevor as he continually stirred his coffee. "Do you mind?" she snapped in an edgy voice.
Without looking up, Trevor tapped the spoon on the cup rim then set it aside.
"Thank you," she said.
Although I was aware that Nicholas watched me, I could not manage to face him. I wondered why he was doing this. I was not comfortable in these people's presence any more than they were comfortable in mine.
I had just worked up my courage to excuse myself when Polly and Matilda reentered the room with the food cart. As they went to the task of dishing out the food, Reginald entered brusquely and handed Trevor an envelope. With his white-gloved hands clasped, Reginald considered me at some length before centering his eyes on the limewood mirror adorning the wall behind me.
Trevor scanned the letter, then threw it on the table. "Praises, the old man has returned. I wager Mr. Dix will be on Brabbs's doorstep within the hour complaining that I sucked him dry of blood."
Adrienne slumped in her chair. "Must we discuss this over our meal?" she asked in a weak voice.
Trevor smirked. "I've charged him a pence for my services. No doubt I'll be paid again with a blasted sack of cornmeal," He looked at me and his smile became friendly once again. "Brabbs will be interested to hear about you, Miss Rushdon. I'm certain Dix will be crowing of your kindness to everyone in Malham."
There was silence again. I did my best to eat the luscious food placed before me. But I wasn't hungry. I realized I would somehow have to get to Brabbs as quickly as possible. It would not be an easy feat. To reach his house I would find it necessary to pass directly through Malham.
Adrienne spoke then. "Miss Rushdon."
I looked at her directly, thankful for some cause to avoid the doctor's eyes.
Adrienne's delicate hands carefully spread white butter over her thinly sliced Sol-et-Lune bread before she regarded me. "I shall be riding out today. If my brother is agreeable I would like you to attend me."
"Where are you going, Adrienne?" Trevor asked.
"Beck Hall. I'm to luncheon with Melissa."
"Why do you request Ariel's company?" Nicholas asked.
A long moment of silence passed. Adrienne continued chewing the bread and dusting the caraway seeds and sugar from her fingers before reaching for her tea.
"I asked you a question," he said. Sitting back in his chair, he smiled. "Oh yes, you're not speaking to me again because of yesterday. I have apologized for that."
Adrienne continued to sip her tea.
Nicholas glanced at me with a slight tightening of his mouth. "Very well," he suddenly announced. "If you cannot find the words with which to answer me—"
"As you recall," Adrienne began quietly, silencing his forthcoming ultimatum, "you sent any companion from the house in a fit of tears a little better than a fortnight ago."
Nicholas paled.
"You frightened the young woman out of her senses with your tales of ghosts. I am surprised we have managed to keep what little help we have."
His eyes came back to mine. As quickly he looked away.
"Such idiotic foolishness." Adrienne's cup rattled as she replaced it on the saucer.
Shoving his breakfast plate away, Nicholas said, "I could use a drink."
"So could I," Trevor joined in. Shutting his book, he placed it aside and volunteered to fetch them both a sherry. Excusing himself, he left the room.
I spent the latter hours of morning preparing for the trip to Beck Hall. I recalled it clearly in my mind. Small compared to Walthamstow, it was yet grand to passersby, its gardens tended regularly and blooming with seasonal flowers. Ofttimes I had daydreamed of visiting there.
At one hour past noon I was summoned to join Adrienne. The front door stood open, and beyond the steps awaited the grand post chaise, its gleaming, black-lacquered doors ensconced with the Wyndham coat of arms. All at once, a strange delight inspired me. The nervousness that had racked me throughout the morning was forgotten.
"Ariel?"
At the sound of my lord's voice, I stayed my step. I slowly turned to face him.
He stood in the shadows of the foyer, a shadow himself pressed in black. "Where are you going?" he asked me.
I stepped forward to better see him. His port was erect, but his countenance looked desperate and confused, like a child who discovers his last friend has deserted him without explanation. Pulling the hood of my cloak up over my head, I responded, "My lord. You have granted me permission to attend your sister to Beck Hall."
"Did I?" came his quiet voice.
"Aye, milord. At breakfast. Have you forgotten?"
His silence was an admission that took my breath and twisted my heart so painfully I was forced to blink back my tears. I looked away and continued to the chaise, praying he would not call me back. I could not face him when he was like this.
With relief I sank back into the chaise's leather cushions. As Reginald closed the coach door, I shut my eyes, momentarily forgetting Lady Adrienne at my side.
"He's getting worse," she said softly.
I inched the burgundy velvet casing from the window as the coach got underway. Only then did I release my breath.
I continued to watch the countryside as we advanced toward Malham. We passed the common pastures of Grisedale and Pikedaw. Swinging off Raikes Road, we skirted the outlying shops of the village and continued over Monk Bridge, Finally, we entered Malham East, its common granges and pastures cultivated with lynchets. I knew the moment we swerved onto Hawthorn Lane. Looking out across the rolling moor of rough brown grass and the sedges growing along Millstone Grit, I was assailed with memories both happy and sad. Jerome and I had frolicked about these very pastures as children. I missed my friend deeply at that moment.
Hearing Adrienne sigh, I relaxed in my seat.
"I wish to apologize for my behavior yesterday/* Adrienne announced. Burying her hands in her fur lap muff, she eyed me from beneath the brim of her hat. "You were very kind, Ariel."
I returned her smile somewhat shyly.
"I would like to thank you in some way/*
"That isn't necessary/' I told her.
"You must understand how I felt."
"I understand/' I assured her.
We rode in silence before she continued. "I feel you must know. This morning Trevor and I discussed committing Nicholas to Saint Mary's."
I looked away, seized with sudden panic. "No," I whispered.
"You think us unkind."
"He is not mad. Forgetful, perhaps—"
"His memory lapses are only a small part of his ailment, Ariel. At times his moods grow severely dark, and I fear not only for our safety but his as well. And there is the child to think of."
I turned suddenly, terror-struck by the quiet insinuation. "You think him capable of harming Kevin?" My heart pounded in expectation. Her awful silence was more than I could tolerate. "Well?" I demanded. "Have you some reason to believe he would harm the child?"
"No." Closing her eyes, she rested her head back on the seat. "He loves the boy more than his own life. No. He would never harm the boy."
"Yet you wo
uld send him away from the boy. Would that not equal death to your brother?"
"Yes. It would destroy him completely."
"And what of the child? What would happen to Kevin without his father? Would you entrust his care to Bea? Knowing how she loathes him? He would wither and die from lack of love."
Adrienne looked at me, her eyes sad and her smooth face pale with cold. "I am fond of my nephew."
"But you are neither his father nor his mother."
"He has never known his mother, so that is of little importance. Besides . , ." She took a breath. "Oftentimes I think the child has a great deal to do with my brother's illness. It is Nick's guilt, you see, over the death of Kevin's mother that is driving him to ruin. I firmly believe that."
I forced myself to look out the window.
The halt of the coach silenced any further remarks on the matter. We had arrived at Beck Hall.
Chapter 8
We returned to Walthamstow just after dusk. After excusing myself from Adrienne, I waited in my room until I was convinced that milady had returned to her quarters. Then I struck out for Malham.
Color had faded completely from the landscape as I approached the tiny village. Dark as it was, I could still make out the distant steeple of the church and the oblong structure of old Malham Hall, with its walls of crucks and stone and wattle. The snow was falling harder now, swirling about my shoulders, whipping this way and that. I shivered, not so much from the cold as from my dread. It seeped into the marrow of my bones, into my heart and there battled my better judgment. Perhaps I was making a mistake by returning here and facing the same man who had sent me to Menston two years before.
I continued my journey down the bridle path, closing my eyes occasionally as the wind whipped the falling snow into my face. My hands and feet grew numb and my lungs ached from the cold. But I was determined now. No climate would turn me back. No threat from a man who had once been a friend would deter me from my goal.
I took the footbridge over the hemp beck, pausing momentarily to peer down into the freezing stream.
A Heart Possessed Page 9