Only a Hero Will Do

by Susan Lodge

  Somewhere in his head, he battled with the idea of just keeping her with him, marrying her. But the kind of wife he wanted wasn’t a bit like Miss Hetty Avebury. Taking on a woman who ran around in breeches, gambling and causing him anxiety, was not how he had planned his future. Although he had to admit, there was a lot about Miss Avebury that filled him with pleasure. She was intelligent, beautiful, and compassionate. And she did play an excellent game of chess.

  Robert moved to his desk, shuffled through the unopened correspondence, and selected the letter he had been expecting. It was the reply to his offer to repurchase his father’s land. He ripped the seal and scanned the parchment.

  It was as he had hoped – Denby was willing to sell it back. Good! The price was acceptable. But that wasn’t the part of the letter that held his attention and made his heart race. Denby informed him of a family tragedy involving his son-in-law. Grayston was dead.

  He let out a small gasp.

  “Is it bad news, Doctor?”

  His head jerked up as he remembered her presence. He tried to keep his voice steady.

  “It’s from Sir Phillip Denby. He owns the estates adjacent to Longwood. He has agreed to sell me back some of the land that used to belong to my family.”

  Hetty frowned. “Is that not good news?”

  Robert re-read the letter as if he couldn’t quite absorb its contents. His voice was strained when he finally answered. “Denby’s son-in-law, Viscount Grayston, is dead.”

  Her eyes widened. “Rose’s husband,” she whispered.

  He nodded.

  “Was he ill?”

  “Consumption. He had been ailing for over a year, apparently.”

  Robert looked back at the letter. It was dated two months ago. She would still be in mourning. He felt terrified – stunned – jubilant.

  Rose was free.

  ***

  Hetty felt her heart shatter, and the fragments settled inside her like the remnants of a battle.

  Tears threatened as she gauged his reaction to the news. Obviously, he still had powerful feelings for the woman. She had not allowed herself to believe that the doctor could belong to her, but somewhere the idea had existed. Now it was ripped away.

  Rose was a widow. Dr Withington’s dream of marrying the woman he loved was possible. He had been given a second chance, and she should be pleased for him. He deserved to be happy.

  The doctor folded the letter carefully, and Hetty forced her face into something other than misery. He reached for her hand and squeezed. She didn’t know what the gesture was supposed to convey, but it felt like goodbye.

  He spoke softly. “I made you a promise, Miss Avebury, and I intend to keep it. I will not permit the marriage to Stark. We will convince your father, and if not, you will always have my protection.”

  He meant he would protect her as a friend, of course.

  Rose was free, but would she still want Doctor Withington? After all, she had been married to a viscount. It was clear, though, that he still wanted Rose.

  ***

  In a private room situated off the main ward at Haslar, Guvere waited impatiently for the doctor to finish his examination of Thomas Brown. He was anxious about the man’s recovery chances. He was still unconscious, although there were times when his features moved. It was as if he wasn’t ready to die just yet but couldn’t find the strength to come back.

  “He mentioned the words ‘Avebury’ and ‘blue’ but nothing else. Is the name familiar to you, Doctor?”

  “Miss Avebury had been reading to the patients on the ship. He could have heard her name mentioned. She wore a blue gown.”

  “He must have seen her then,” Guvere replied, “which means he must have opened his eyes.”

  The doctor shrugged. “It seems unlikely, however anything is possible. But I am afraid it is a waiting game. Even if he regains consciousness, his world may not appear as clear as the one he left.”

  Guvere looked puzzled. “When he said the words, he was agitated – angry even.”

  “Miss Avebury would be unlikely to make my patients angry,” the doctor replied.

  Guvere rubbed his chin and sat back down by the bed. This was taking far too long. He needed answers.

  He had devoted years to uncovering the network of traitors responsible for the leaked information on the movement of Wellington’s troops. Brown was one of his best operatives but had disappeared a few years ago. Guvere had always suspected that he had discovered some vital information and been murdered before he could pass it on.

  Then he had received word that Brown was still alive and in possession of documents that would put a noose around the neck of several prominent members of the military. Guvere had travelled to Cadiz to meet with Brown, but on arrival at the prearranged destination, he had found the man barely alive. He had undergone a vicious attack and been left for dead – and of course, there were no documents left on him. Guvere sighed and leaned back in his chair.

  He needed to know what Brown had discovered. Why didn’t the cursed man wake up?

  Chapter Twelve

  Hetty sat stiffly beside Doctor Withington and watched her father across the desk. Something was wrong. This was not the Avebury Hall she had run away from. She had expected an onslaught of recrimination, but there was nothing. No Lord Stark, no raging anger, and no joy at her return. Well, she hadn’t really expected that one, of course.

  Her father listened politely to the doctor’s report on her health. She was impressed by the diplomatic way he presented the case against her marriage to Stark. He even suggested her illness had left her weak, and that she needed no further upset.

  Henry Avebury leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Thank you, Withington, for your assistance, but Stark did have my permission to escort Hetty home.”

  The doctor’s reply held more than a hint of impatience. “I have had words with Stark, and I did not like his manners. I could not allow Miss Avebury to be handed over to the care of someone exhibiting such disregard for her welfare.”

  Henry Avebury looked surprised. “I am sure he was just a little overwrought about Hetty’s safety. However, he will be visiting later, as I have to speak to him about the marriage agreement.” He looked over at Hetty, and she recognised that familiar reproach in his stare. “Your conduct, young lady, has been deplorable, and I would be surprised if Lord Stark still wishes to go through with the arrangement. However, given what the doctor has told me, and the changed fortunes of the Avebury family, I will reconsider the plans for your betrothal.”

  Hetty straightened, startled. He had agreed! She was overcome with a rush of joy. She could not believe that the doctor could have persuaded her father so easily.

  “What change of fortunes, Father?”

  He looked at her steadily. “There is one piece of news that you have not heard – blessed news. Anthony has been returned to us. He spent several years in captivity, but he was not killed with his company as we had been informed.”

  “Anthony,” she whispered. She must have misunderstood. “Anthony is alive?”

  “Yes! And he has argued in your favour, Hetty. He is of the same opinion as Withington here. It made me realise that I should not insist on the marriage if you are so averse to the idea. Ah! Here he is now.”

  Hetty heard the door open behind her. She rose nervously and turned to the slightly familiar, golden-haired man who approached her. He was dressed in buff breeches and a forest-green coat that hugged his lean figure. He looked every inch the elegant gentleman.

  “Hello, Hetty.”

  He came forward and hugged her. Hetty awkwardly hugged him back. Throughout her childhood, the only time he had ever touched her was to deliver a pinch or slap. He had never shown any kind of affection. And he never called her Hetty – it was either Carrot Head or something even more derisive. She didn’t know how to react. Of course she was glad he was alive, but it all felt unreal, as if she had stepped into a rather bizarre play.

  “H
etty, how you have blossomed. You look positively radiant.” His smile was warm and admiring, and Hetty blushed under his appraising eyes. “You look so much like your mother.”

  The compliment was startling and the reference to her mother strangely comforting. Only Aunt Amelia ever talked about her late mother. She smiled back, trying to drink in the changes since she had last seen him.

  “Anthony, I…I had never thought to see you again.”

  “I realise that.” He chuckled. She had never heard him make such a merry sound before. She knew that men who came back from the war were often changed by the experience, but the change wasn’t usually for the better. It didn’t usually make them more jovial. Perhaps he had taken a blow to the head.

  “Dear Hetty, still getting into trouble, I see. Now I am home, I intend to take the burden from Father’s shoulders a little more. I have persuaded him to reconsider your marriage to Stark. We cannot have you so upset that you have to run away to avoid a match.”

  Hetty was mesmerised. He was far more handsome and agreeable than she remembered. The soft contours of youth had hardened into masculine assurance. That man who had always been disdainful was now smiling with such warmth it made her catch her breath. She felt as if a shaft of light had entered the doom and dullness of Avebury Hall.

  ***

  Robert watched the scene in fascination. He was delighted that Hetty was not to wed Stark, so now he could leave with a clear conscience.

  Or could he?

  He didn’t like Henry Avebury. The man appeared weak and callous, not a bit like Hetty in appearance or personality. As for Anthony Avebury, he certainly did not look like a tyrant stepbrother, but Robert didn’t take to him either. However, the son’s return had obviously changed things for Miss Avebury. Hopefully, it would take the pressing necessity of marriage away. He studied Hetty’s stepbrother. The man made him uneasy, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the scar on Hetty’s hand, but it was difficult to picture him terrorising young girls by murdering their dolls.

  Anthony advanced toward him, his hand outstretched. “Withington, I thank you for returning Hetty to us. She was indeed fortunate to fall into your capable hands. However, you can leave her with my promise that she will have no reason to flee Avebury Hall in the future.”

  Robert shook the man’s hand, the action a definite dismissal of his involvement in what was now a family concern.

  “I am pleased that your stepsister will not be married to Stark. I have met him twice and encountered his bad manners and disdainful treatment of Miss Avebury. She was indeed in desperate straits to have to flee from her home.”

  Robert’s tone remained civil, but he made sure the rebuke was evident. Anthony’s smile slipped, but he remained silent.

  Robert continued, “You were captured, I understand. Were you held for long? There are not many who have been fortunate enough to escape from the French.”

  The man certainly hadn’t the look of someone who had been imprisoned for years. Robert had seen some of the broken bodies that had undergone interrogation. Few survived and fewer escaped.

  “I was leading the advance party during the push toward Maida when we were ambushed. We were all left for dead. I lay unconscious for two days before scavengers discovered I was breathing, and then I was imprisoned in the stockade just outside Marseille.”

  Robert cast a professional eye over him. “What exactly were the nature of your wounds?”

  Anthony looked steadily at Robert, but his eyes did not quite reflect the smile he still wore. “I don’t think that is an appropriate subject to discuss in front of a lady. It was not a pleasant time. However, I have always been blessed with luck.”

  “Indeed.” Robert’s eyes remained locked with Anthony’s. “I would like permission to enquire after Miss Avebury’s health in a few days. At present, I have rather a lot of work on my hands, but perhaps I would be permitted to call in a week.”

  “We have our own physician, of course, Doctor, but if Hetty wishes to see you, I am sure you can send word to arrange a meeting. On a professional basis,” he added.

  Robert grimaced at the pointed reminder that social calls from a mere physician would be beneath his sister. He considered revealing his title just to secure their respect but something held him back, and he wasn’t sure what. He hadn’t yet come to terms with the title, and he resented it. He had made his own way in life quite well without it. Of course, he hadn’t told Miss Avebury about his title either, and he did not want to surprise her with the news now.

  Yet she clung to his conscience, or was it his heart? He needed time to think, to sort out exactly why Miss Avebury worried him so much. Meanwhile, he had a hospital full of patients to oversee and Longwood to organise. Miss Avebury was returned safely to a now amenable family, and she would not be forced to marry Stark. She really didn’t need his help anymore.

  He turned to the copper-haired woman who had disrupted his life for the last weeks and, with great restraint, quelled the desire to embrace her.

  “Goodbye, Miss Avebury. It has been an education and a pleasure.” He gave her a tender smile.

  “Goodbye, Doctor Withington. I can never repay you for your kindness.” She held a hand out to him.

  How he wished he could say goodbye in private, but of course, that would have been improper. He glanced up, noting Anthony and her father had moved to the far side of the room. As he took her hand, he pressed a small piece of paper into her palm. Their eyes met and he gave her one last, reassuring smile before executing a formal bow.

  “I will visit as soon as I can. Meanwhile, no gambling and no climbing trees.” The last sentence was said quietly, only for her ears.

  Robert did not look back as the carriage rumbled down the drive. He should have been happy and relieved that everything had turned out for the best. Hetty had been returned to her family and, no doubt, would eventually make a good match.

  But suspicion, gloom, and guilt stabbed at him as he headed back toward Portsmouth. He felt as though something had been snatched from him – something that had been stored in his soul.

  ***

  Hetty excused herself as soon as she could and took refuge in her room, where someone new was busy lighting the fire and setting out a tray of tea. The woman was tall and long-limbed, moving about the room like a giant spider. She had small, dark eyes, a sharp chin, and thin lips that looked as if she had tried to force them into a smile and failed.

  Hetty smiled, despite an instant aversion to the woman. “What is your name?”

  “Foot, miss. Molly Foot.” She bobbed a curtsy.

  “Well, Molly Foot, welcome to Avebury Hall.”

  “Thank you,” the woman replied, and then stood stiffly. “Will that be all, miss?”

  Hetty nodded and then sighed as the woman left. How different things were going to be without Annie’s warm, kind presence. Still, at least her former maid was settled in a new position. Doctor Withington had engaged her in his Portsmouth house, one of the many generous actions he had performed over the last few days.

  She had wanted to keep his hand in hers as they had said goodbye and to run down the steps and jump into the carriage with him. When his carriage disappeared on the horizon, she felt as though a warm blanket had been pulled from around her shoulders.

  She tried to focus on more positive thoughts. Stark was not to marry her, and a brand new Anthony was home. Both cheered her. Perhaps life would be more bearable now.

  She sat on her bed and unfolded the note the doctor had passed to her.

  Miss Avebury,

  If you need me, I will come for you. I can be reached at my town house, at Haslar, or through the Medical Board. Do not put yourself at any risk by running away again. You will always have my protection if you should find your circumstances become untenable.

  Respectfully,

  Robert Withington

  She smiled – brave words indeed. Her smile slipped. Had he sent a note with similar sentiments to Rose after her
husband’s death?

  Hetty rested for a few hours then bathed and changed into a pale green muslin gown. The soft fabric on her skin felt luxurious after her time at sea and helped improve her mood no end. She wanted to look good tonight and gain everyone’s approval for a change. She would try to be an agreeable daughter tonight. Perhaps she could even make a special effort to be civil to her stepmother.

  She studied her face in the mirror. The freckles sprinkled across her nose had become more prominent from exposure to the sea air. She would dab them liberally with lemon juice tonight. She reached for her hairbrush then jumped as Molly Foot’s frosty reflection appeared in the mirror.

  “Lord Stark has arrived, Miss Avebury. Your presence is required in the study.” Foot’s features were expressionless as she delivered the message.

  Hetty’s insides plummeted. Surely her father and Anthony would deal with the explanations of the cancelled betrothal. She had hoped to have nothing to do with the awful man ever again.

  Replacing her hairbrush, she paced the room and considered sending Foot back to say she was indisposed. No! She must not be such a coward. She sought courage with the image of the doctor’s fist hitting Stark’s chin. Facing him in the study wasn’t the same as marrying him, after all. It would only be polite to be there when he was told the news.

  Hetty made her way down the main staircase and turned into the quiet west wing of the house. Her father’s study was deliberately situated to take advantage of the peace it gave overlooking the lavender garden. She knocked on the door, then, hearing no reply, entered.

  Puzzled by the absence of people, she turned to leave. Foot must have informed her of the wrong location. But just as she started to retrace her steps, a familiar figure walked into the room, closed the door, and turned the key in the lock.

  “Good day, Hetty.” Stark’s pale blue eyes danced with venom. “I told you I was going to deal with your disobedience, and this seems the perfect opportunity.” He spread his arms and looked around. “Nice and quiet, where no one will disturb us.”