Never Less Than A Lady

by Mary J. Putney

  Julia was quietly impressed at how Randall managed to explain what had happened, and imply that he’d killed both men without actually lying. He would have made a fine lawyer. Both Julia and Benjamin were largely silent. She was more than willing to take the role of frail, terrified female, and Benjamin was skilled in not talking.

  It was almost dark by the time official statements had been made. After they returned to Roscombe Manor, Julia enlisted Gordon to bathe Benjamin. By the time the boy emerged from his bath, the local surgeon had arrived to bandage Randall’s head.

  Benjamin hardly protested when she ordered him to bed. When she came to tuck him in, he had one arm around Miss Kitty and looked tired enough to sleep through until the next morning. Julia smoothed back his brown hair. “It was quite a day, wasn’t it? We’ll postpone our trip to London by a day. We all need to recover.”

  “You don’t want to get rid of me?” Benjamin asked in a thin voice. “I saw your face when I killed that man.”

  The boy noticed too much. She supposed it had been necessary for his survival. “I was upset,” she admitted. “My job has always been to fight death. But I’d rather see Crockett and his man die than to have him kill you and me and Major Randall. You were very clever and very brave. Despite my husband’s skill at fighting, I don’t think he could have saved us without you doing what you did.”

  Benjamin reached up and patted the ribbon he’d given her, which was still tied in her hair. “That man Crockett deserved to die. I’m glad I killed him before he could hurt you or the major.”

  It was a chilling statement from a boy so young, but entirely, dreadfully understandable. Julia just hoped Randall was right that Benjamin wasn’t like his father.

  After kissing Benjamin good night, she went in search of the surgeon, who had finished examining Randall and bandaging his head properly. The injury was declared not life-threatening, and the surgeon gave Julia careful instructions on wound treatment. She didn’t bother to tell him that she probably had experience equal to his.

  Julia ushered the surgeon out and returned to their shared bedroom. She didn’t want to disturb Randall if he was sleeping, but his eyes opened when she entered the room and turned down the lamp. She asked, “You really do need your own private surgeon. How are you feeling?”

  “A headache and many fine bruises where bits of timber landed on me, but generally I feel well,” he said sleepily. “How about you? Being knocked to the ground twice surely left you with bruises, too.”

  “A few. Very minor considering what might have happened.” She perched on the edge of the bed. “I should have known Crockett wouldn’t quit until I was dead. Not realizing that might have cost you and Benjamin your lives.”

  “But didn’t. Don’t blame yourself. Even if we were sure that Crockett was behind that carriage accident in London, what could we have done about him until he showed himself?” Randall said reasonably. “Finding out where I live would have been easy. Then it was just a matter of waiting until we were vulnerable. I imagine he saw us walk to the fair and made his preparations to kill us when we returned home. Foolish of him to explode the hut, but perhaps he wanted our deaths to look accidental.”

  Her brows arched. “Do huts explode on their own?”

  “Sometimes, especially if grain has been stored in a closed building.” He covered a yawn. “It’s rare, though. Conditions have to be just right. Luckily, my instincts said something was wrong and I reacted in time to get us out of the way of the explosion. How is Benjamin?”

  “Shaken but handling his first killing better than I would.”

  “Benjamin really does have the makings of a first-class officer. The army is a good place for a young male with sharp edges. It worked for me.” Randall took her hand and pulled her down beside him. His voice softened. “Relax, milady. You’re safe now.”

  Weary to the bone, she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Now that she was safe, would he think that she no longer needed his protection so he could leave at the end of the year?

  Tonight, she was too tired to think about it.

  Chapter 36

  As always, Lady Agnes Westerfield was an island of unflappable calm. Randall and Julia took Benjamin to meet her at Rockton House, the London home of her brother, the Duke of Rockton. Benjamin was dressed with painful neatness, anxious despite Randall’s assurances that Lady Agnes would surely accept him to her school. He wanted so much to be like other boys.

  Lady Agnes was expecting them, so the butler escorted them to the lavishly furnished morning room. Setting her newspaper aside, she rose. In her fashionable blue morning gown, she was more regal than any member of the royal family, but her expression was welcoming. “Good day, Lady Julia, Randall.” Her gaze went to Benjamin. “You, I presume, are Master Benjamin Thomas, Major Randall’s cousin?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Lady Agnes.” His country accent was strong today.

  Randall asked, “Should we leave so you can interview Benjamin privately?”

  “That shouldn’t be necessary. Please, take a seat.” She settled back in her chair. “I’m returning to Kent in the morning, so it’s good you could come today. Benjamin, why do you wish to attend the Westerfield Academy?”

  He looked startled at her directness. “Uh…because Major Randall went there? And because he thought it would be a good school for me.”

  Lady Agnes nodded. “Randall will have told you the Westerfield Academy is unusual because all of the students have an odd kick in their gallop. What is yours?”

  Benjamin looked uncertain again. “M-my mam was a barmaid, and I’m a bastard,” he stammered. “I was born and raised in a posting house until she died and I was given to a farmer as slave labor. That’s odd.”

  “You would not be the first illegitimate child to attend the Westerfield Academy, and other students have had backgrounds as unusual as yours,” the headmistress remarked with a faint smile. “Major Randall’s note yesterday said that you’d had basic schooling in reading, writing, and numbers, and that you love to read.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know any Latin or Greek,” he confessed. “Gentlemen are supposed to know Latin and Greek.”

  “One can be a gentleman without, but they are good subjects to know. With tutoring, you can catch up with those boys who’ve had more traditional educations.” Lady Agnes regarded him thoughtfully. “I always ask two questions of prospective students. What at school would make you happy? And what would you hate most?”

  “I have a cat,” Benjamin said hesitantly. “Could I bring Miss Kitty to school with me? She’s no trouble!”

  “Other students have pets. Five dogs, three cats, a parrot, and two ferrets at the moment, I believe,” Lady Agnes replied. “There’s room for another cat if she’s not a troublemaker and you take care of her, so that’s doable. But what would you hate?”

  Benjamin’s lips thinned. “Being beaten for no good reason!”

  “I assure you that will not happen.” Lady Agnes gave a short, sharp nod. “I think you’ll do very well at the Westerfield Academy, Benjamin. Classes will start a week Monday. Most boys will be arriving the Friday before to settle in before they start to work. Randall will know what you need”—she lifted a folder from the side table and offered it to Benjamin—“but here is general information on the school.”

  Benjamin stared at the folder, not taking it. “There’s something else, Lady Agnes,” he blurted out. “I killed a man three days ago.”

  For a moment there was absolute stillness in the morning room. Randall and Julia stopped breathing, but Lady Agnes asked calmly, “Why did you do that?”

  “He was trying to kill Major Randall and Lady Julia.”

  “In that case, you did the right thing.” Lady Agnes looked over at Randall, silently asking for information.

  “A friend of Julia’s first husband has made several attempts to kill her,” Randall said tersely. “Three days ago, he and an associate ambushed us while we were walking home from the
Roscombe fair, but Benjamin and I stopped them. The official story is that I killed both attackers, since I was unlikely to suffer any consequences for doing that. But Benjamin was very brave and very clever. I’m proud of him.”

  “It seemed better for Benjamin not to be seen as a murderer,” Julia agreed. “Why did you tell Lady Agnes now, Benjamin?”

  He bit his lip. “I thought she should know before accepting me as a student.”

  “That’s very honorable of you, Benjamin,” Lady Agnes said gravely. “I would suggest that you not tell anyone else for the reasons the Randalls have mentioned, but I do appreciate your honesty with me.” Once more she offered the folder of school information. “Just remember that killing is not allowed at the Westerfield Academy. Do you have any other questions?”

  “No, ma’am!” Benjamin took the folder, looking much more relaxed.

  “Then I shall see you in Kent.” She rose gracefully. “Much needs to be done before I leave London.”

  “Thank you for finding time to interview Benjamin,” Julia said. As they left, she said to Randall, “Is there another headmistress in England who would accept such news so calmly?”

  He grinned. “I doubt it. That’s why Lady Agnes’s school is unique, and a perfect place for Benjamin.

  As they settled into their Ashton carriage, Julia said, “Well done, Benjamin. I almost fainted when you told Lady Agnes about Crockett, but your instincts were right. Honesty is preferable. Especially when one gets away with it.”

  “One of Lady Agnes’s rules, which you’ll probably find in that folder, Benjamin, is to always tell her the truth, no matter how appalling.” Randall studied his young cousin, amazed at the boy’s inherent integrity. Did it come from his mother? Or was it some special gift that was Benjamin’s alone? “Are you pleased to be accepted?”

  “I would rather be at Roscombe, but I need to go to school if I want to become a gentleman,” Benjamin said pragmatically as he claimed the seat opposite Randall and Julia. “I though Lady Agnes was scary at first, but she has sparkly eyes and she says I can keep Miss Kitty. And she’s had other bastards as students!”

  “Indeed she has,” Randall said, thinking of Mackenzie. “Those who have studied at the academy and gone on have done well.”

  Julia’s brows furrowed. “I want to give some advice, Benjamin, but I’m not quite sure how to say it. Basically, it’s that you should be true to what you are, but it’s not necessary to make a point of tossing everything into the middle of the drawing room.”

  “I’m not sure I can say it better, but you’re right,” Randall said slowly. “At the Westerfield Academy, you will be judged primarily on what you do, not on your background. Are you a good friend, a good student, a good athlete? Those things are what are important to your classmates.”

  Benjamin looked thoughtful. “I think I understand. But what shall I say when asked about my family?”

  “You can say that your guardian is Major Randall of Roscombe Manor. That’s not grand, but it’s respectable,” Randall said. “Or you can say that you’re a connection of Lord Daventry. But that might invite more questions than you want.”

  “What if people think I’m your bastard?” Benjamin asked.

  “I would be honored if they think that,” Randall said quietly. “Would you mind? We are family, after all. The exact relationship is merely a detail.”

  “Oh, no, sir!” Benjamin looked ready to melt with happiness. “I won’t mind.”

  Julia squeezed Randall’s hand and smiled at him with such warmth that he started calculating how long it would take them to get back to Ashton House. Because of their assorted bruises, they had merely slept together the three previous nights. Now he needed to be skin to skin, as close as two people could be.

  He was wondering if Julia might be persuaded up to their rooms for a romantic interval before luncheon when she said suddenly, “Daventry House is on this street, isn’t it? Let’s stop and see if Daventry is available to meet Benjamin.”

  “Now?” Benjamin said uncertainly.

  Randall frowned, thinking he didn’t want to ruin what so far had been a good day. Correctly interpreting his expression, Julia said, “Perhaps the earl won’t be in. But if he is, we can get this meeting over with before we have time to worry more.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Randall said without enthusiasm.

  “I hope so.” Julia gazed out the window again, her brows drawn together. “I have a strong feeling that we should call now.”

  Randall signaled the coach to stop. He had his battlefield intuition, and Julia had human intuition. She also had a point about getting this over with.

  Anticipating the worst, he said to Benjamin, “It will be good if Daventry acknowledges you as his grandson, but remember that you will be no worse off if he doesn’t.”

  Benjamin’s nose wrinkled. “Your old earl can’t be worse than Jeb Gault.”

  Which put the situation in perspective.

  Julia’s nerves were strung to jangling point as Randall knocked on the door of Daventry House. She’d felt this way before, usually when one of her patients was about to give birth. Her teacher, Mrs. Bancroft, had experienced the same with her patients. Though Lady Daventry wasn’t Julia’s patient, they had discussed the older woman’s pregnancy. If the baby was coming early…

  Her thoughts were interrupted when an agitated footman flung open the door. “Thank God…!” His expression changed when he saw who was on the doorstep. “I thought you would be Sir Richard Croft. Go away, the household is not receiving.”

  Lady Daventry’s accoucheur! Julia was wondering if she should force her way in when a scream echoed eerily through the house. The young footman gasped and looked like he wanted to bolt.

  “Lady Daventry is giving birth?” Julia asked, her voice sharp.

  “Yes, and it’s bloody awful! I think she’s dying.” The footman cringed at another cry. “Lord Daventry has gone to find Sir Richard Croft.”

  “I’m a midwife and have discussed Lady Daventry’s pregnancy with her.” Julia marched into the house as if she had every right to be there.

  “But…but…” the footman sputtered, uncertain what to do.

  Randall put a hand on Benjamin’s back and they came in behind her. “Give thanks that an experienced midwife has arrived,” Randall said tartly. “I assume Lady Daventry is in the countess’s rooms?”

  “Yes, but…”

  Ignoring the servant’s protests, Randall said, “I know the way, Julia.”

  She glanced back at Benjamin. “You might want to stay down here.”

  “I’m coming, too.” Jaw set, Benjamin followed her and Randall up the stairs.

  Randall’s escort wasn’t needed. It was all too easy to follow Lady Daventry’s cries of pain. Julia turned left at the top of the stairs and moved down the corridor at a near run. Randall opened the door at the end and Julia swept inside.

  In the middle of her massive canopy bed, Lady Daventry thrashed in agony across blood-stained sheets. A white-faced maid clutched helplessly at the countess’s hand.

  “Stay out of my way,” Julia ordered. “Alex, I’ll tell you if I need any help. Benjamin, go to the footman and get a bottle of brandy and a pile of clean towels.”

  As they obeyed, Julia approached the bed. The ghastly stains were more pink than red, indicating that the countess’s water had broken and there was some bleeding. It was enough to make an unholy mess, but Julia guessed that the situation looked worse than it was. “Lady Daventry, it’s Julia,” she said in her most soothing voice. “Everything will be all right.”

  “Thank God you’ve come!” Contraction over, Louisa grabbed Julia’s hand. Her sweaty face was twisted with pain. “Please, help me! Something is different this time.” She was not a countess now, but a desperate, terrified woman. “Am I going to die?”

  “You are not going to die,” Julia said firmly. There was a bowl of water and a cloth beside the table, so Julia moistened the cloth and wip
ed perspiration from Louisa’s face. “I’m a midwife,” she told the maid. “And you are…?”

  The maid was about the same age as the countess. Now that someone knowledgeable had arrived, she tried to pull herself together. “I’m Hazel, her ladyship’s maid, but I don’t know what to do. The doctor was always here in plenty of time for her other babies.”

  Julia asked, “How long has her ladyship been in labor?”

  “I…I’m not sure, ma’am. Maybe an hour?” the maid said uncertainly. “Her water broke and the contractions and bleeding came very fast. Today is the servants’ half day off, so there’s hardly anyone in the house. His Lordship went for help himself.” As Lady Daventry moaned with another contraction, Hazel said worriedly, “She’s been thrashing something terrible. It’s all I’ve been able to do to keep her still.”

  “A woman giving birth isn’t supposed to be still,” Julia said. “Louisa, were your other labors quick?”

  “Yes.” The countess’s gaze was locked on Julia, but she looked a little less terrified. “My youngest son was born after only a couple of hours.”

  “How fortunate you are,” Julia said admiringly. “Let me wash my hands here in this basin, and then I’ll examine you. I always wash thoroughly when I’m delivering a baby. The midwife who trained me said it can’t hurt and it might well help since cleanliness is next to godliness. She was right, too. Mrs. Bancroft almost never lost a baby or a mother.”

  Julia continued talking as she washed up, surrounding the countess with warm, calming words to drive away the fear. Another thing Mrs. Bancroft had taught was that a woman who didn’t think she was going to die was more likely to survive.

  When her hands were clean, she said, “I’ll examine you now, Louisa. It’s undignified, but you’ve had three strong, healthy babies before, so you know what birthing is like.”