Patricia Wynn

by Lord Tom

  He nodded. “I seem to have caught a bad habit from you. I have the most irrational need to rush about saving people from calamities. Never had it before. It must be catching.”

  Susan flushed and he grinned at her discomfort. She decided not to respond to his sally, but instead asked, “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “I am quite better now, thank you. But another day of rest does not sound like a bad idea. Where are my clothes?” he asked suddenly, looking about him and noticing his state of undress.

  “I shall have them brought to you directly,” Susan said, trying to act as though there were nothing disturbing about his present state. “Peg removed them,” she added pointedly.

  Lord Harleston smiled wickedly. “I seem to remember that.”

  “I shall have Vigor return them,” Susan said, rising to her feet and ignoring the provocation. “He stayed with you here at night and was most helpful in lifting you to be fed. Though you must be famished, for all we got down you was a few sips of broth. You seemed quite anxious to be protected from Peg, by the way—crying out for help, and carrying on.”

  She was amused to see that Lord Harleston finally had the grace to blush. He quickly reached up a hand and took hers before she could depart.

  “My dear Mrs. Faringdon,” he said in a strangely serious voice. “Pray accept my thanks.”

  Susan’s eyes met his and then faltered. “It was nothing,” she said. “Nothing compared to what you have risked for me. It is I who should be thanking you.”

  Seeing her extreme confusion, he kissed her hand lightly and released it, saying, “Thanks accepted. Now, I would be most grateful for my clothes and a bit of breakfast.”

  Promising to see to it right away, Susan left him with a glowing heart. The sight of Tom well and in full humour had filled her with a bubbling sense of happiness. Not until she had seen him thus had she realized how much she had missed his teasing company. And there had been something about that look in his eye which, although disturbing, had elated her beyond measure. In it there had been amusement, yes, but also pleasure, and desire.

  Susan left orders with Bates to see that Tom’s clothes should be brought to him and a hearty meal sent to build back his strength. If the elderly butler found anything strange in her constant attention to the welfare of her groom, he gave no indication, but bowed politely and said it should be done. Then Susan went in search of Lady Mewhinny.

  She found the diminutive lady engaged in supervising the scrubbing of the cages. The nervous animals were so excited with this activity, despite its familiarity, that they had set themselves to shrieking at an unbelievable pitch. The noise did not seem to disturb their mistress, however, for she listened calmly to Susan’s shouts with one ear while directing the operation from a chair.

  “I am so glad he is better, my dear,” she said, managing to make herself heard above the din with little effort. “I was afraid you would worry too much about him. Vigor could have seen you safely home, you know, but I did not care to suggest it. Tom seems a truly faithful servant.”

  Susan smiled to herself and agreed. “Indeed ’e is, Kitty, and I ’ad to reward ’is loyalty wiz my attention. If you would not mind too much, in fact, I should like to stay on a day or two until ’e is more definitely well. Per’aps I could ’elp you wiz ze monkeys,” she added, thinking she ought now to appear less interested in her groom.

  The suggestion delighted Lady Mewhinny, so Susan stayed with her most of the day, resisting the temptation to check on Tom that night. It would appear all too strange, she thought, to continue to pay him attention when he was well able to care for himself. The next day she exhibited a similar restraint, waiting only for the afternoon when she would go down with his “instructions” for their departure the following day.

  * * * *

  After a day and a half of food and rest, Tom was quite himself and anxious to start their journey. It was high time they stopped this masquerade, he thought. Surely they could find some other way to travel which would not make it so impossible for them to speak freely. He was whistling to himself as he brushed down the horses, hoping for a chance to speak with Susan later in the day, when a female voice greeted him from the door to the stables. He whirled round happily, only to find Peg approaching him with a seductive look in her eye.

  “Hallo, Peg,” he greeted her cheerfully, bracing himself for the onslaught.

  “I ’eard you were up and about again,” said Peg coyly. “An’ I see you’re lookin’ chipper. Thought y’might like to ’ave a little visit.”

  “Thanks, Peg. But I’m not quite up to snuff,” he demurred. “Still a little weak, if you know what I mean. That fever really knocked me up.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Peg, letting her gaze run up and down his figure suggestively. “You look about ready for anything, I’d say.”

  Lord Harleston experienced a feeling of alarm. Drat the wench! Was she going to make him blush?

  He turned anxiously back to his work. “Good of you to come, Peg. But I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Mrs. Faringdon. She’s got the devil of a temper, you know.”

  The gambit did not work. Peg came close beside the horse he was brushing and sat down, nearly reclining at his feet in the straw. He tried to avoid glancing at her as he worked, but had an irrational fear that she might spring on him if he didn’t.

  “Don’t I know it,” the girl agreed. “Liked to scratch my eyes out, she did, for puttin’ you to bed the way I did. As if there was anythin’ wrong with it and any decent, kind-’earted soul wouldn’a done the same.” She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes as if hoping to awaken a memory.

  “Did she now?” he asked, ignoring it. “Was she so angry as to give you a hard time?”

  “I’ll say she was. Made me do the wash and ‘elp with them blood—them monkeys,” she corrected herself. “Wanted to nurse you ’erself, she did. Thought she might fancy a bit of a go with you ’erself.” She smiled provocatively as though she had paid him a compliment.

  Lord Harleston gritted his teeth in sudden irritation. “Don’t speak of the mistress that way, Peg,” he said seriously. Then he added lamely, “She might hear you.”

  “Oll right,” Peg said, unconcernedly. “I will give ’er one thing, though. She’s just that smart.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Fancy ’er learnin’ English as fast as she done. An’ ’er not speakin’ above ten words when she first took me on.”

  Lord Harleston smiled quietly to himself. So Susan had tired of playing her part. He did not worry, though, for obviously Peg, in spite of noticing a difference, had no suspicion of there being another reason for Susan’s fluency. Lady Mewhinny, by all rights, must be mad as a hatter and extremely frail to boot, as he recalled from the one time he’d seen her. It was hardly likely she would be so alert as to spot a fraud.

  “Oh, smart she is,” he agreed, happy to have found his excuse. “And she watches me like a hawk. I’m always worried about losing my place if she catches me out. And you had better be off now, too. I wouldn’t want you to be turned off either.”

  Peg rose reluctantly to her feet and moved closer. “Oh, I’ll prob’ly find meself another spot in Lunnon when we gets there,” she said saucily. “But not before you’re feelin’ a might stronger, I ’ope.” She edged herself between Tom and his horse and gazed up at him invitingly. His lordship was looking down at her, biting his lip and trying to think his way out of this spot, when a sudden sound behind him signalled his relief.

  “Peg!” Susan cried sharply. The unrepentant girl sighed her disappointment and turned to greet her mistress with a scowl. Susan stood with arms folded in a gesture of displeased authority. Peg bobbed a curtsey and said, “Yes, miss,’ as though she’d been interrupted in her duties.

  “Go into ze ’ouse at once and see to your chores, you lazy girl. I will not ’ave you wasting Tom’s time out ’ere in ze stables. We will be leaving zis ’ouse tomorrow and I need
you to pack.”

  “Oll right, miss,” said Peg, eyeing her sulkily and then turning to bestow a wink upon Tom. “I won’t be sorry to see the last of this place and them monkeys.” She moved away slowly, not omitting to wiggle her hips and casting a glance back in Tom’s direction before passing through the door.

  After she had gone, Tom fell back against his horse and uttered a sigh of relief. “I thought you would never arrive.”

  “Um-hmmm,” Susan said, tapping her fingers unconsciously against her forearm and still in her offended posture. “I daresay it is quite a trial for you.”

  “It is. Turrible,” Lord Harleston teased. “And I cannot risk offending her, you know, for she would think it strange for me to be completely unresponsive.”

  “I see,” said Susan. “Yes, I understand perfectly. That’s why I put on such a show of anger, too, you know. It’s all to convince her of my identity. It seems the genuine thing to do.” Tom was nodding in agreement, and she was glad to see he looked slightly less sure of himself.

  “Are you quite recovered now?” she asked, choosing to change the subject. “I suppose we ought to be leaving.”

  “Yes, I’m fine, thank you, and quite ready to go. I will have the carriage ready for you in the morning, madam,” Tom said, with a bow and a tug at his forelock.

  Susan could not resist the impish look he gave her and smiled playfully in return. “Thank you, Tom. Have the horses put to at six-thirty, please. I shall be at the door and ready by seven.”

  Lord Harleston bowed and then straightened, looking at her strangely. Susan fancied he was about to address her in seriousness when they both were distracted by the sound of wheels in the drive. A carriage was arriving.

  “Ho!” came Vigor’s quavery tones from outside the stable. “Tom! Give a hand here!”

  Tom took Susan by the arm and pulled her out of sight of the door. “I will have to help him bring in the horses. Will I speak to you again this evening or must you go?”

  Susan was suddenly shy. “I’m afraid I must go,” she said, averting her eyes slightly from his intense gaze. Her fine black hair fell gently forward about her temples. “Dinner will be soon, and if this is to be my last evening here, I must be mindful of my duties to Lady Mewhinny. I shall be rather sad to leave her,” she finished wistfully, “knowing I cannot ever come back to see her as myself. She must never know of my problems.”

  Lord Harleston frowned. He wanted to tell Susan of his plans to secure her pardon but was fearful of raising her hopes too soon. Surely the Prince would grant it. He could not allow her to be punished for an act of compassion! The thought sent a shot of fear through him, greater than any he had experienced in battle. Susan was refusing to meet his eye, but he could imagine the sadness in her expression. She had an open, impulsive nature, not intended for a life of concealment.

  All at once, his lordship wondered how much it was for himself that he desired her pardon. But now there was no time for discussion. He let go of her arm at the sound of another cry from Vigor.

  “I must go, too. But please do not worry. We shall see about everything.”

  He gave her an encouraging smile and hurried off to help the old groom. Susan, sighing, lifted her skirts and picked her way back to the house, being careful to stay out of sight of the new arrivals.

  Inside, she found the servants in a perturbed state. It appeared that Lady Mewhinny’s nephew, Mr. Augustus Petworthy, had come to stay unexpectedly, bringing with him a strange guest. From the rare, disgruntled expression on Bates’s face, Susan guessed that Mr. Petworthy was not popular with the servants.

  “Does he often arrive unannounced like this?” Susan enquired of the butler.

  “Seldom unannounced, madam,” Bates said, deigning for once to discuss matters. “Though never with more than a few days’ notification. And he is not in the habit of bringing uninvited guests as if this were his own residence. Or likely to be,” he added significantly.

  “I see,” Susan said, although she was not perfectly enlightened. She went upstairs to change into her black silk mourning gown for dinner. She had only two dresses to wear, not judging it correct for her to be out of mourning. Lady Mewhinny’s dresser, another elderly servant named Simmons, had been keeping them fresh for her, but she was relieved there had been no other guests present during the few days of her stay. They might have thought it quite odd for a widow in such comfortable circumstances as to have her own carriage, to have no more than two mourning gowns to her name.

  She went down to dinner just before six and was presented to Mr. Petworthy and his guest.

  “Enchanté, madame,” Mr. Petworthy said with a broad, tight-lipped smile which did not light his eyes. “I have heard the remarkable story of your assistance to my Aunt Catherine, and may I say how truly grateful I am. I am quite devoted to her. Indeed, my friend here, Mr. Sodporth, will tell you how often I have spoken of her and in what affection I hold her.” He turned and presented the gentleman at his side.

  Susan could not truthfully say that she was favourably impressed with either gentleman. While there was nothing specifically in their manners to offend, there was something about them she could not quite like. Mr. Petworthy was a large man with a red face and a round nose. His hair was cut “à la Brutus,” but the back of his head was perfectly flat and he kept it always at a slight tilt which she found distracting. There was an alertness about him which suggested a need to be constantly seeking points of weakness in others, and she later found his questions to be both probing and annoying.

  Mr. Sodporth, who was introduced to her as a medical man, seemed to have very little to say for himself, but he clearly had a love of comfort. He was small and slightly nervous, so that whenever a remark was addressed to him, he bobbed his head up and down repeatedly with more than the necessary agreement. The rest of the time, he looked anxiously about him and awaited each delicacy placed before him with such anticipation that he seemed hardly aware of the conversation going on around the table. Lady Mewhinny’s sherry, brandy and pastries were gobbled up in a state of total absorption.

  Lady Mewhinny seemed to accept her visitors without the slightest worry. She carried on quite as if her nephew were free to come and go as he chose. Susan had watched her during Mr. Petworthy’s profession of devotion, but aside from looking up once from her needlework, Lady Mewhinny had shown no sign of being moved.

  The dinner table conversation revolved largely around Mr. Sodporth’s distinguished qualifications, although that gentleman showed more interest in his slice of mutton than in Mr. Petworthy’s eloquent praise. According to him, Mr. Sodporth was an authority on the subject of melancholia and despondency. Lady Mewhinny listened brightly but without much comment, so Susan was obliged to appear more interested than she truly was. Mr. Petworthy seemed quite eager to impress them with his friend’s accomplishments.

  “But I daresay you have little knowledge of medical matters, Mrs. Faringdon,” he said, turning to her finally. “It has just occurred to me to ask whether you are a part of the Hertfordshire branch of the Faring-don family. I am quite well acquainted with Sir Donald, but I do not recall his having mentioned the recent loss of a family member.”

  Susan cringed inwardly, but lifted her head with dignity and replied in as crushing a tone as she could muster, “Non, monsieur. We do not form part of zat branch of ze family.”

  “What a pity,” Mr. Petworthy said in heartfelt tones. Nevertheless, Susan got the distinct impression that he was relieved. “Then we cannot be acquainted. Still, I shall mention our having met to Sir Donald next time I visit him. It will be sure to interest him. Now, tell me,” he continued, swiveling his big head around to face her and smiling in a way she found offensive, “how much longer may we look forward to the pleasure of your company?”

  “I shall be leaving in ze morning, monsieur,” she answered, without betraying her relief. With his arrival she had felt obliged to reapply herself to her French accent, although having had an English
husband excused her from total ignorance of the English tongue.

  He tuttutted with a cheery smile and turned back to solicit the attention of Lady Mewhinny.

  “Auntie!” he said rather loudly, as if he thought she were deaf. “I must thank you for providing my friend and me with such a charming companion for the evening.” He glanced back at Susan, giving her a look of complicity, and went on in a condescending aside, “for you must know we are not usually so gay here.”

  Then, fortunately, with this rather heavy-handed compliment he seemed to have finished with Mrs. Faringdon, for he ignored her for the rest of the evening.

  “Auntie,” he began again. “I shall hope for a few minutes of your time after dinner to discuss a matter of business with you. I have come into the way of an extraordinary opportunity about which I could not conscionably omit telling you.”

  “That is very thoughtful of you, Augustus,” Lady Mewhinny said complacently. “But as you know, my fortune is all in the funds.”

  “Of course, of course, Auntie,” said Mr. Petworthy impatiently. “But you must let me tell you about my extreme good fortune in hearing of this investment. No matter how ably your man of business is handling your affairs, you could not possibly wish to refuse hearing of something which could treble your income. Just think of what it could mean to your monkeys,” he added with a tight little smile.

  “Why, Augustus!” her ladyship cried with a laugh. “Have you at last developed an affection for my monkeys? I warned you it would happen if you continued to visit me. They are quite irresistible!”

  Mr. Petworthy did not answer immediately, but gave the impression of swallowing a retort.

  “You must know, my dear Susan,” continued Lady Mewhinny, “that Augustus feels himself very ill-used by my monkeys and me, not to mention Sir William. I am afraid it was a grave shock to him when Sir William left his entire fortune to me. It was not entailed, you see. And I, of course, need the better part of it for my poor monkeys.”

  Susan felt the gentleman tense in his seat beside her, but he managed to address himself to his aunt with rigid composure. “Nonsense, Auntie,” he said, smiling for Susan’s benefit. “You are only joking. Why, my uncle made me such a generous allowance that I have nothing to wish for.”