Ariel popped out of the ladies’ sitting room, pen in hand. “For Avery, I take it?”
I shrugged.
“You were so right about him. Model citizen,” Ariel snapped. “I should follow you in and ask if he’s drinking again at this hour.”
“He’s in a mood. I wouldn’t trouble him right now.”
“Now would be the perfect time.” Ariel trailed me out of the bar. “I suspect I’d find less of the perfectly behaved gentleman and more of this privileged, smarmy rich boy I suspected all along.”
I wanted to flat out agree with her. Then again, he was, in a way, my employer. I shrugged again.
“Quite tongue-tied, I see.”
I probably deserved Ariel’s sarcasm, yet what could I do? We were in very different positions within the household. I had grabbed up a nearly full bottle from the back of the bar. Probably more than I should bring him, but it didn’t appear I had much choice. “What do you want me to say?” I asked Ariel. “I suppose there are worse things than he occasionally drinks to excess.”
“Yes, like, if he gambled, say.” Did she guess about the gambling, or had she been spying on him?
I very nearly shrugged again but managed not to. Instead, I spoke in the tones of a Mrs. Brookeson. “As to that, I truly cannot say.”
Ariel put her hands on her hips. “Will not, you mean?”
I waved the bottle. “The master awaits. If you’ll excuse me.”
Avery sat hunched by a pitifully small fire in the men’s smoking room. Mark, apparently unconscious, draped limply over an overstuffed chair in the corner. He persisted in being the weak-willed cousin to a rich boy. I restrained myself from snorting in disgust, remembering Cook’s recommendation and the ridiculous expectation for he and I. As if I would ever consider a man like him!
Dirty glasses littered the table, and the stench of cigars filled the air.
Avery jerked his head, by which I gathered I should pour.
“Join me for a drink,” he grumbled.
I felt nothing whatsoever like joining the party. “I’m afraid I’ve things to do.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” he bit off, suddenly angry. “A bit of companionship, isn’t that what your job is supposed to be? Sit and talk with the guests, that sort of thing? If you want to work here again next year, perhaps you should be a bit more accommodating.”
I eased onto a stool well away from him. “Well. If you are going to be so charming.”
He hunched his shoulders and leaned forward, clutching a tumbler of whiskey in both hands. “Where the hell were you yesterday? No damn staff left in the building.”
“Beryl and I went to her aunt’s. We weren’t far. I didn’t think you were here either.”
“I went to town. Told Osten I’d get boards, to board up the windows with that big storm coming in. What do you think I was doing?”
Why hadn’t Osten told me so? I wondered at the odd oversight. I mean, I had asked him directly. In fact, neither one of them had mentioned any sort of storm preparations.
“You marched out the door and left the place,” Avery snapped, accusingly at me.
“I’m here now. I think everyone ate and the house survived the storm and all.” I might as well have been yapping like a little dog for Avery paid no heed.
He was, as ever, all caught up in his own problems. “Damn Norris. Fellow looked a fool. Fleeced us. Took my month’s allowance before midnight. Finished Mark off not long after. We were down to bartering our damn watches. Rube. Met him at the pub in Ingonish. Thought we’d spend the day relieving him of all his cash.”
I tsk-tsked in a sympathetic manner. A grown man whining about losing his allowance? It would do me no good to say a word of what came to my mind.
“I want my own back!” He grabbed his tumbler and threw back a large dollop of the amber liquid. It had to burn going down for he followed it with a gasping “Ahhhh.”
So he had gone off to gamble yesterday, as I had guessed. He’d certainly set off uncharacteristically early. I got up and wandered over to his coat rack and waiting table. Darn it if someone hadn’t again left mail for Madame C in among the men’s stuff, again.
“Leave that alone,” he snapped. “I’ll go through it.”
“Yesterday’s mail,” I said. “This can go right over to the front room for the ladies.”
Abruptly, he yanked my arm and jerked me back to my seat. He lofted the glass, with perhaps a teaspoon full left, and barked “for you!”
He was loud enough for anyone in the hallway to overhear. The fool! He was ruining his own chances. Ariel didn’t even need her ear to the door to overhear him.
I brought a finger to my lips, to try to shush him. I have no idea why. Why should I care if he ruined his best marriage prospect? Wouldn’t that suit me? I suppose there was something romantic about it all. Genevieve dead-gone on him, and Avery still taking care to put his best foot forward when it came to her. Perhaps, for her, Avery would make himself a better man?
The idea of Ariel investigating him seemed somehow cruel.
Avery took no notice of my desperate shushing motions. He slopped the couple drops at my face and spun to top up the glass again.
“Honestly, Avery!” I snapped, and mopped at my face with my sleeve. Heaven knew I didn’t need to walk around stinking of booze.
“No damned appreciation for anything I do, stuck here with all these so-called friends.” He glanced at the unconscious Mark, then turned back to me. “You’ve always been a friend, then, haven’t you, our Miss Eames? So very competent, aren’t you? You’d like to do even better here, wouldn’t you?”
I hardly noticed what he said. I was worried about Ariel overhearing. He reached over and placed a hand on my knee. “I need an assistant myself, don’t I? A personal assistant. You could work directly for me.”
“Lucky me.” I scrambled back from him. “Right now, I should get back to my job here.”
Avery grabbed my arm, dragged me down and whispered in my ear, “You’ve always been my favorite, but you know that, don’t you?”
His hot, boozy breath, and heavy, lurching movement made me step back into the corner. “Excuse me.”
He grasped my arm, staggered, leaned heavily on my shoulder while pressing me backward toward the long settee.
“So accommodating,” he slurred.
I scuttled sideways and tried to yank my arm free.
“You still want a job, do you?”
He slammed his lips down on mine.
I fell back as he bore down, harder and harder. I squirmed sideways off the settee and out from under his hammering embrace. He hung on my arm and dragged me down. I fell to my knees to get away from him and crawled sideways, hampered by the hem of my skirt catching on something.
He gathered a bunch of sweater in his fist and yanked me back abruptly. “Whoa there, old Nellie. I’m not done with you.”
I fell backward, and falling, flung my free hand out to catch myself. I hit the floor and pain shot up my arm. I shrieked as I jerked myself away and nearly crashed down onto the unforgiving bricks of the hearth. As I rolled away from him my hand landed on the poker he’d been using for the fire.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Avery snarled. He leaned over to grab my hand. I assume he meant to grab my hand. Oh, heaven only knew what he planned next.
I rolled back over, the fireplace poker still clutched in my hand. It slammed directly into the intersection of his trousers’ inseam, the area one might indelicately call ‘the crotch.’ I can honestly claim it was no plan of mine, but somehow, a happy accident.
He screamed.
The hallway door slammed open and Ariel charged into the room, but froze at the madness before her.
I struggled to sit up, stuck as I was between the chair, the hassock and Avery’s flailing body. Avery, still drunk I realized, flopped to the floor, clutching his crotch and groaning.
Mark snored, very gently, from the comfort of the easy chair not two steps away. We’
d overturned the little side table. Candy almonds, in their pinks and pale blues, littered the floor all around us.
We all endured several seconds in silence. That is, Ariel and I remained silent, looking at the groaning and gagging man on the floor.
“I ah, er.” Eventually, Avery clambered to his feet. “That is, ah Ariel, I stumbled. I mean…” He made a bold effort to stand upright and not clutch any embarrassing parts of his body.
Ariel advanced, glaring. She looked like some crazed Joan of Arc, if only she’d had a shield.
No doubt alarmed by the killer look in her eye, Avery hurriedly said, “This isn’t what it looks like. I mean, Elizabeth, you tell her.”
I cannot say what I might have said, or what I meant to say. I started to sit up, and reached out to place my hand on the floor. Pain shot up my arm.
To my horror, a sob burst out of me as pain overrode both fear and confusion. I clutched my wrist and tried to stifle the next sob.
“Oh, for heaven sake.” Avery half turned toward me, ready to bark something, no doubt.
Ariel raised the poker I had held, like a firebrand. “Swine,” she snarled. “Attacking the help? You are never ever good enough for my sister. You think I haven’t been watching you? I’ve seen what you do. I’ve kept an eye on you for weeks.” She started to jab and Avery actually turned and belted off into the hallway.
I scurried away as well. I ran down the hall, mindlessly clutching my arm. I burst into the kitchen like a creature quite possessed, thinking no more than to find Cook there, and… I don’t even know my intentions.
In any case, Cook was not there. She’d taken her afternoon break and gone.
I thundered into the kitchen and straight into the arms of ‘my Daro.’
Chapter Six
Rescue
Daro Michelson stumbled back. I looked like heaven-only-knew what.
He didn’t ask or guess or try to converse. He wasn’t embarrassed. I gulped back a sob and tried to about-face, stumbled, and put out a hand to catch myself.
Mr. Michelson stepped forward and caught me in his arms and swung me, ever so gently, onto a kitchen chair.
“You’ve been in some rough seas, Captain.” He pulled out a bright red, much crumpled handkerchief. “Just the ticket.” He handed it to me.
I mopped my face with it, one handed, holding my arm at an awkward angle. I felt so embarrassed.
Daro pulled a long face and said, in his same gravelly voice that sounded like it should belong to a giant, “Are you all right?”
In spite of it all, I giggled. I managed to nod my head. Then the tears started again.
Looking back, I suppose, it was all the things he didn’t do that set him apart. A fellow of Avery’s ilk would have been annoyed. My father would have marched off saying ‘I’ll called your mother.’ Osten would have stood about, coughing.
Nor did Daro have the suave gift of words like our old driver George, who’d say something like “No need to cry, beautiful girl. You know I’ll do anything at all to see you smile.”
No, Daro gently took hold of the arm I was cradling and murmured, “What have you done to this arm now, Captain? The wrist is swelling already.” He set my wrist under running water in the sink, then helped me settle in back in the chair as he cast about for a towel. We settled for a dish towel, and rested my wrist on that.
He moved it gently. “Not broken. Still, a nasty bruise. Right along the bone. That will throb. Keep the cold on it.” He eased my arm into the great basin cook used for everything. “Best to do this, off and on.”
The cold took the pain, and suddenly, I felt more embarrassed than anything. “It’s nothing. I’m going to make a cup of tea, Mr. Michelson. I am so sorry.”
“Shh. No need, Captain. You’ll tell me if you need anything, if you want me to do anything or not, won’t you?” He had the deep dark soulful eyes of a hound. I knew he meant what he said. If I asked him to toss Avery out on his ear, it would take him no more than a matter of moments.
It all seemed quite ridiculous suddenly. I giggled through my tears and, feeling crazy, made an effort to pull myself together. “There is something, as a matter of fact. I’d like you to call me by name.”
“Name?”
“Yes. Mine is Elizabeth. It’s actually quite rare for anyone to call me ‘Captain.’ ”
Distantly, someone started to play a Gaelic-sounding tune on the piano. Cook must be listening to George play in the dining hall. He often came in for a cup of coffee of an afternoon and was the most beautiful musician. Thank heaven for our gifted chauffer, for it meant Mrs. Buxton, at least, wasn’t here to witness my hysteria.
In fact, almost no one noticed. Why, anything could be going on in a corner of this vast place, with no one the wiser. I wrapped my useless shawl tighter around me and crouched by the stove.
I should have been shattered, planning my departure, or screaming with fury. Instead, my mind kept turning back to sailing through storm on the Thistle. I pictured how Daro had wrapped his arms right ’round me so he could grasp the wheel next to my hands.
Thick dark hairs curled up over the edge of his shirt collar and he smelled of salty sea air.
I suppose I sat there silent, clutching my arm, for ages. He must have guessed I’d suffered more than a common household accident.
He glanced at the hallway door, turned back to me. “You want me to have a word with someone here?”
“Oh no. I’m fine.” Heavens, let him not go tackle Avery. I shook my head quickly. “Silly accident. I um, I was chatting with Cook yesterday, and she said you grew up far off in Sydney.”
He stepped away. “A long time ago.”
“Surely, I mean, you must miss people you knew there?” I tried not to cling to his arm.
He smiled suddenly, so suddenly. “You know, I do. I never think of that part of it. I remember the mines, getting up early so I could see a few minutes of daylight, but I did like the folks. I stayed with the Stewart family, and remember the missus reading poetry in the firelight of an evening as we kids fell asleep.”
“Poems.” I had to smile. “You know your poetry.”
He motioned for me to put my wrist back into cold water. “I still hear Tennyson as if spoken in Mrs. Stewart’s voice. Those years weren’t all an awful time and nice of you think of it, and to remind me.”
A tap at the door announced Ariel. She stuck her head around the corner.
She and Daro looked at one another for a long moment, and then she said, in a rather low voice, “Tea?”
“Tea.” I nodded, as if all were ordinary. She looked as if she had expected hysterics.
I didn’t care. The scene with Avery felt as distant and unreal as if I’d watched it on stage, as if it wasn’t real at all. Daro stood there, as calm as if he still faced down the monster waves in that storm.
Likely, I was about to find myself out of a job. I should have been devastated, but all I could think was I’d never see Daro again.
Ariel bustled into the massive kitchen as if she were perfectly at home there. She flipped back her luxuriant auburn locks and smoothed her hands down her long-line plaid day suit. Any man could be forgiven for giving her another look.
Daro didn’t. He held my wrist in his massive paw for a moment longer. “Send word if you need me.”
“Don’t go on my account,” Ariel said. She set out the common mugs and grabbed up the oversized tea kettle.
“Halibut waiting,” he said briefly, by which I supposed he meant to go fish.
I shivered as he left, in spite of the heat emanating from the huge old black stove.
Ariel, ever practical, jumped to her feet. “Let me fetch you something. You’re freezing.”
I leaned over the stove, glad for a moment alone. I shut my eyes, but even with the incredible warmth washing over me, another shiver ran up my spine.
“Here, slide your arms into this.” Ariel held out a soft jacket of cashmere or something equally soft and expensive, and sta
rted to ease it over my arm.
“I couldn’t borrow such a lovely thing.”
“Nonsense. In fact, you can have it. My mother purchased it for me and look how sallow it makes my complexion.” She held a sleeve up to her face. “Hideous, isn’t it? I’ve noticed you wear yellow nicely. Brings out the highlights in your hair. You keep it.”
I pulled off my own too-thin, shawl—one of those ‘height of fashion but useless’ creations, and slid my arm into the exquisite, soft silk lining of her jacket. “I love it.” I started to hang my shawl over the back of a chair, then thought better of it. “You know what? This shawl was from my Mum. I had asked for some warm things from home. You have it.”
“Really?” Ariel looked startled. “Why, you know, I’ve quite admired the elaborate stitch-work. I suppose it isn’t exactly practical, is it?”
At exactly the same moment, we both said, “Mothers,” and giggled. We might have always been friends.
“Ariel, why did you suspect Avery might do something nasty? If you hadn’t charged in, I don’t want to imagine what might have happened.”
She plopped down on the stool by the warming oven. “Siobhan Bryant.”
“Siobhan? The lovely housemaid with the long dark hair?”
Ariel nodded. “She left early in the season and abruptly. Made me wonder, that’s all. I overheard Avery growl something about her to Osten weeks ago, and it’s not like he could have meant someone else, could he? Her first name is so uncommon. So, I listened in. Avery told Osten to send her money.”
We looked at each other, undoubtedly thinking precisely the same thing. A pretty girl, sent home for no apparent reason? I finally made myself say, “It might mean…something else.”
“It might, but why other than having been too familiar, would Avery send a maid money? I don’t claim to know for certain, but it was overhearing about her that made me start checking up on Avery.” She leaned back in the old kitchen chair and mused, “I realized that we actually knew very little about him.”
I guess I looked horrified.
“I still don’t know about Siobhan for sure, mind you. A miserable way to treat a girl, and to send a young girl home, even with some cash, in that condition.”
Trouble Cove Page 5