Soon the first families began to arrive and I went to the hall to greet them and to try to make them sure of their welcome.
Lady Courtney had disappeared. I expected she meant to stay out of the way, but I had no time to worry about her feelings.
Mrs Cartwright and her four children and Mrs Wain and her two came first.
‘Ever so good of the master, it is, ma’am, to ’ave us. But then, you’s kind folk.’
I took some of the heavy load of blankets and led the way.
‘Think nothing of it, Mrs Cartwright,’ I told her from behind an armful of blankets. ‘We can’t possibly leave you all down there in the village.’
We entered the ballroom, now transformed from the awe-inspiring grandeur of shimmering chandeliers and cold marble floors, to a warm inviting dormitory. Welcoming fires burnt in three huge grates down one side of the room and on the other the thick brocade curtains had been drawn across the long windows shutting out the wild, fearsome weather.
Mrs Cartwright was soon followed by more of her fellow villagers. Young and old alike—calm and resigned to whatever Fate held for them, grateful for the shelter we offered them.
The old people were almost too awestruck to enter the luxurious bedrooms and each vowed they would not dare to sleep on the bed.
Comforting them, supplying them with food, cradling whimpering babies, I was soon very tired and thankful at last to return to my own bedroom and fling myself on the bed.
But I could not rest long, for Mary soon fetched me to go to little Albert Whittaker, a baby of ten months, whose mother, a young girl of twenty, was beside herself with worry over him.
The child was running a high fever and I knew Charles was the only person who could help us.
‘Stay with Mrs Whittaker, Mary. I’ll fetch Dr Corby.’
‘I’ve just seen him with old Tom in the Blue Room, madam,’ Mary said.
But when I reached the bedroom I found old Tom alone, peacefully dozing in a chair by the fire.
Hurriedly, I ran in search of Charles. He was not in his own rooms in the east wing. I approached the main stairs and heard his voice in the hall below. I was about to call out to him, when I realised he was talking to Evelyn. So instead I went down the stairs and in so doing could not help but hear their conversation.
‘Charles,’ Evelyn was saying, ‘ I must go home. There is something I must fetch.’
Her eyes were wide with fear.
Charles gripped her shoulders almost cruelly.
‘Don’t be so foolish, Evelyn. The house may be swept away any moment. It is already flooded. How do you expect to get there?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know,’ she answered wildly, ‘but I must go—I must.’
‘Why?’
‘I—can’t tell you.’
‘I’ll go, if it is so important,’ he sighed. ‘What is it you want fetching?’
Evelyn’s glance dropped to the floor and she turned away as Charles loosened his grip.
‘No,’ she whispered, clearly still distressed. ‘It’s not that important. You must not go.’
And she left the hall.
Charles ran his hands through his hair.
‘Whatever has got into her? I’ve never seen her like this.’
‘Charles,’ I said urgently, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but young Mabel Whittaker’s baby, Albert, seems very ill—can you come and look at him?’
Charles’ love and concern for his patients pushed all thoughts of family problems aside immediately and he followed me swiftly to the child.
Albert’s eyes were large, dark circles in his hot little face. He lay on the bed wrapped in a shawl, his breathing a rasping, painful sound. He was quiet, but his eyes, even though so young, showed fear and pain.
Charles was gentle and examined the child with the minimum of fuss.
‘Pneumonia,’ he said softly to me. ‘Don’t alarm the mother—we must do all we can.’
The next few hours were a turmoil of following Charles’ instructions in nursing the sick baby. Charles persuaded the distraught mother to rest and leave the care of her child to us. Her trust in Dr Corby was implicit and soon she was asleep in the next room. But there was no rest for Charles or me that night. He said the fever would reach a climax around two o’clock in the morning.
I hardly remember what we did except watch and wait and be there to ease the poor mite’s breathing as best we could.
Bassett arrived home about midnight and Georgiana, still helping the villagers settle for the night, told him of our vigil. He came to the bedroom where we watched over little Albert.
He stood for a long time looking down at the baby whose tiny finger clasped mine tightly.
‘Will he be all right, Charles?’ he asked softly.
Charles, his fair hair ruffled, his brow wet in the heat of the room which was necessary for the child in such a fever, replied,
‘We shall know by two in the morning, if not before.’
Bassett nodded.
‘I’ll look in again then.’
I thought he seemed about to speak to me and I looked up at him. His face was in shadow from the low light on the table, so I could not see him clearly—just the clear-cut outline of his firm jaw, the wide brow and arrogant nose.
But he said no more and went quietly from the room and I turned my attention back to little Albert.
Charles and I did not speak much. We were both tired, and all our efforts were concentrated upon caring for the child.
The minutes dragged, but two o’clock came at last and passed.
About half-an-hour later than Charles had anticipated the baby’s fever broke and we passed the crisis safely. We both heaved a thankful prayer of relief and though no doubt Charles was used to such efforts as a doctor, for me it was the first time I had helped to save a life, for Charles said we had certainly done just that between us.
A little later Bassett returned, still fully clothed, and I knew he was too worried and restless to sleep.
‘There is no more Louella can do,’ Charles said to Bassett. ‘I’ll stay with the child. See she gets some rest, Bassett.’
Now that the crisis was over, the exhaustion seemed to sweep over me and I could hardly find the strength to walk to my room. Bassett, his arm round me, helped from the room, leaving Charles still sitting by the child’s bedside.
I stumbled along beside him and suddenly felt his strong arms lift me and carry me the rest of the way to my room. I remembered him laying me gently on the bed and then I knew no more as I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
The next thing I knew was Georgiana tiptoeing through the door and smiling into my weary eyes late the next morning.
She placed a breakfast tray before me.
‘Poor Louella,’ she said, ‘you seem to be bearing all the visitors’ troubles.’
I sighed.
‘How is Albert?’
‘Still sleeping. Charles says he will pull through, but it was a close thing a few hours ago.’
I nibbled the toast, not really hungry—I was still too tired.
Georgiana sat on the bed and said, a little too casually.
‘Did you see Evelyn last night? She’s not in her room and her bed looks as though it’s not been slept in.’
I looked up at her, startled.
‘Only when I fetched Charles to the baby.’
‘I don’t want to worry Charles, just now, he’s so tired,’ Georgiana frowned, ‘ but I have the uneasy feeling she may have been stupid enough to try and go home—I know she wanted to.’
‘Oh no,’ I sat up quickly nearly spilling the tray, and grasped Georgiana’s arm.
‘Of course, now I remember. That’s what she and Charles were arguing about when I fetched him. Go and tell Charles at once. She may be in danger.’
‘But I don’t know for certain she’s gone.’
‘Of course she has, if she’s missing,’ I said impatiently. ‘She was so determined to go home.’
But Bassett was the one whose help Georgiana sought. She wanted, at first, to protect her husband from worry. Bassett set out immediately with two of the villagers to go to the Corbys’ house to see if Evelyn was there, for a thorough search through Courtney Hall revealed that she had certainly disappeared somewhere.
But as they were gone a long time, Charles could be kept ignorant no longer. By this time I had risen and went with Georgiana to tell him.
Charles was very angry to think that Evelyn had not only disobeyed him, but had caused others to place themselves in danger by going to look for her.
‘The foolish girl,’ he said marching up and down. ‘How could she? The house is already flooded—I told her.’
A cold fear began to spread through me. I could see that Charles feared for Evelyn’s safety, but I, I realised with shock, feared for Bassett now that he had gone to that very house to look for her.
Georgiana too seemed to sense our mounting fear for she took Charles’ hand and held out her other hand to me.
‘Come,’ she said firmly, ‘we shall go to the front door to watch for their return.’
The howling wind tore at our clothes as we opened the huge door. Black clouds scudded overhead threatening more rain to add to the already overflowing river.
Bassett’s horse rounded the sweep of the drive and he rode straight up to the front door. He had been gone some three hours in search of Evelyn and now he returned alone, without even the searchers who had gone with him.
I think we all knew he had grave news from the look on his face as he entered the hall. We waited, as Millicent and Lady Courtney joined us, to hear what he had to say.
‘Charles,’ Bassett’s tone was deep. ‘I have bad news. Evelyn reached home, but was swept away on her return to the Hall. We have found her body—the villagers are bringing her here.’
Georgiana put her arms round her husband and tried to comfort him. He swallowed hard and nodded to Bassett.
‘Thank you for going in search of her,’ he said hoarsely.
‘I fear there is more to tell you, Charles. I’m sorry, at such a time, but I must.’
Bassett took from beneath his mud-bespattered cloak a parcel of cloth.
He unfolded this blue cloth and there across the palm of his hand lay the shimmering Courtney dagger.
Bassett’s voice was low and solemn and his eyes turned apologetically to Charles’ stunned face.
‘This was found beneath Evelyn’s cloak, wrapped in this cloth. She was bringing it back to Courtney Hall.’
‘Then …?’ Charles dragged his eyes, mesmerised, from the dagger to meet Bassett’s gaze. ‘Then Evelyn—took it?’ he whispered and added, with a trace of anger even through his grief, ‘ and let Louella
take the blame?’
Before anyone could answer, a sob escaped Millicent’s lips and
the stricken look on her face caught Bassett’s, indeed everyone’s
attention.
‘What is it, Millicent?’ he said.
She flung herself forward and clung to Bassett’s arm.
‘Bassett, Bassett, forgive me. Had I known all this would happen …’ and she began to weep uncontrollably.
‘Did you have something to do with this, Millicent?’ His tone was none too gentle, but his arm was about her shoulders.
She nodded miserably and her whisper was barely audible to the rest of us.
‘I planned it—with Evelyn.’
‘Why?’ Bassett asked incredulously.
‘Bassett,’ her eyes looked up into his appealingly, ‘ need you ask?’
Suddenly, he became aware of us all watching and waiting.
‘I think we had better discuss this in my study, Millicent.’
And with his arm still about her, they left us and disappeared.
No one knew what passed behind the closed door of Bassett’s study, but Millicent appeared almost an hour later, dry-eyed but subdued and almost a changed person.
They joined us in the drawing-room. Lady Courtney watched them enter and immediately Bassett’s eyes met hers. The look which passed between them told me all I needed to know.
Lady Courtney, if not a prime mover in the theft of the dagger and the subsequent blame upon me, had not been entirely ignorant of the true facts, I was certain.
But Bassett evidently understood her motives, as, indeed, did I
now, and from the expression in his eyes, I knew he pitied her.
But Lady Courtney pursed her lips and looked away, as if she despised his pity.
The matter was not referred to again except between Charles and me. The poor man, stricken with natural grief for the sister who had sacrificed so much to ensure his career, had the additional sadness of knowing that she had participated in the plot of theft which had overshadowed all our lives for so long.
‘Louella, how can I ask your forgiveness?’ he said to me on the day of Evelyn’s funeral, as we, Georgiana, Charles and I, waited in the small sitting-room where he and Georgiana had found so much happiness, in their own suite of rooms.
‘Charles, my dear, that is all past. Please forget it, for all our sakes, not least your own. It was only because of her love for you, she dreaded losing you to anyone—to me as she thought.’
‘You’re so generous and good, Louella,’ Georgiana said, taking my hand. ‘ Evelyn must have been so jealous of you, poor thing.’
‘She never had a normal, happy life,’ said Charles. ‘Mother and father were so demanding. I escaped their clutches when I went to college, but poor Evelyn, by the time her release came at their death, had forgotten or never learned how to enjoy life. But how I wish she had never done this, and to you, Louella, of all people.’
‘Please try to forget it,’ I begged, ‘and think of her only with affection. She is to be pitied, not blamed or despised.’
I must admit that it was because I was so relieved that the truth had been discovered and that I was proved blameless in Bassett’s eyes, that I had no feeling of anger or peevishness against those who had wronged me. I merely wanted it to be forgotten.
‘Very well, I’ll try,’ and Charles smiled a little. ‘Come, it is time we went.’
The funeral, which took place only three days after Evelyn’s body had been found, was held amidst the gales and torrential rain which still buffeted and massacred our valley. Fortunately, the little church remained, like Courtney Hall, unscathed. How the funeral arrangements had been made, I do not know. How different it was from Sir Hugh’s final farewell, when not a soul in the village had stayed away, when very few eyes were devoid of tears for the gentle man they had loved and whose son they adored.
Evelyn was laid to rest in a corner of the churchyard not far from the shadow of the proud Courtney tombstones.
Only Charles, Georgiana, Bassett and I attended the funeral as mourners, and as soon as we returned to the Hall from the church, we were plunged immediately back into the trouble which surrounded us all.
Bassett immediately changed his clothing and left the Hall to go out into the wild storm to look for more lost animals reported to be missing from the higher slopes.
Charles was soon called to attend to his patients. Several of the older folk were beginning to suffer from the shock and the young doctor was needed everywhere at once, it seemed. Georgiana and I were also finding it difficult to find enough food to feed all our guests. Supplies were dwindling fast, and with the road cut off out of the valley we could see no way of getting further supplies.
‘When will it end, Louella?’ she said miserably. ‘Now the dagger is back, surely it must stop.’
‘I fear the dagger has little to do with it,’ I said, ‘I only wish it had, for then we should be nearing the end of our troubles.’
Little did I know how right I was in my disbelief in the dagger’s powers, for as the night closed in once more, bringing with it a worsening of the fearsome gale, Bassett had still not returned to the Hall.
Chapter Ten
All
the men who had accompanied Bassett in search of stranded animals returned one by one before nightfall, saying that their master had instructed them to return to the Hall before darkness. He had gone on alone down to the valley to search the houses, those he could reach, for food.
With the tragedy of Evelyn’s death still in our minds, we were all afraid for Bassett’s safety. I tried to busy myself with work, but all too often I found myself peering into the wild darkness for some sign of his return.
And now, with the suddenness of a physical blow, I realised I loved Bassett. I was shaken as at last I admitted it to myself.
Never during all the unhappiness I had suffered recently, had I visited such utter depths of misery.
Bassett must be dead by this time, for it was almost eight hours since he had left the house shortly after four o’clock in the afternoon.
Too late I realised I loved him. Too late to tell him. Too late to try to erase the bitterness and hatred I had shown towards him. Here I was a virgin widow with no happy memories to console me, only a heart heavy with remorse and shame for my foolish pride.
The blessed relief of tears was denied me. I sat in my room, a solitary statue, gazing unseeingly from my window across the dark, flooded land, where I was sure, now, Bassett lay.
Unbidden thoughts from the past began to torture me: Bassett’s warm smile when we first met: our first ride together before Millicent’s arrival spoilt it: his belief in me at Georgiana’s request when the dagger disappeared: his anger when I had argued with him over Georgiana’s marriage to Cedric Rothbone and again when he met me returning from a moonlight meeting with Charles.
But my thoughts dwelt mainly on the times when he had smiled and laughed, when he had spoken directly to me, when the expression on his face had left me wondering. Whether he cared, if only a little, for me or not? Not until now had it mattered. But now, though it was too late, my mind searched back over the days and weeks remembering Bassett’s every look, his tone of voice, searching in desperation for some sign of affection towards me.
Pride of the Courtneys Page 14