“Huzzah, me girl,” Caroline’s father bellowed. “Swift as the wind, ye are!”
The wind snatched his words away as she attempted to make up lost time. Urging her horse into greater speed, she assessed that she had little time to gain the advantage before the gatehouse was obtained. Casting her gaze at what was meant to be the finish line, she realized that the gate was shut.
Her alarm eased when the gatekeeper ran out through the doorway of the gatehouse and began to fumble with the latch. She knew that she ought to slow down to ensure that the gate was fully open before she barreled through. It was then she noticed how very narrow was the area spanned by the gate. They could not hope to race side-by-side under the arch of the gatehouse without either crashing into each other or the gatehouse. The only solution was for her or Fiona to pull far enough ahead of the other so that they went through the arch one by one.
She had only a moment to determine which course would be hers, to slow down or to go even faster. If she chose to go faster and she ran into trouble, the choice would no longer be hers. Even if she pulled back on the reins, the horse would never be able to stop in time. She checked and saw that the horses were neck and neck. Her ears burst with the sound of their hoofs against the road. The dust as it rose in the air partially clouded her view of the gate, but she knew it could not yet be fully opened.
“Throw it wide!” she cried as she leaned forward in her seat and gave the horse a crack of her whip. Leaving the gate to its keeper, she concentrated on pulling far enough ahead that the cars did not catch together at the wheels. Fiona gave no indication that she was aware of the possible danger; their mutual safety appeared to be the sole province of Caroline. Once her horse’s nose cleared the gate, she nearly cheered aloud. Then, to her horror, she realized the person in the most immediate danger was the gatekeeper. He would be required to run like the wind to avoid being struck by the jaunting car as it went past.
Just as she was about to submit to the urge to pull back on the reins, the way cleared, and she was through the gate. The thunderous echo of the car as it passed under the stone archway of the gatehouse assailed her ears, and then, to her relief, she was through to the other side, and all was well. By the time she had brought her car round again, Fiona was through, as well, and slowing her horse to a trot. Their eyes met, and together they burst into laughter.
“I don’t know why it all seems so amusing,” Caroline called out as Fiona lined her car up with the other. “What a fine thing that we are both such capable drivers.”
“I agree,” Fiona said as she wiped the tears from her face. “And yet, I find that I am about to have a fit of the vapors.”
This observation set them to laughing again so that, for a few moments, speech was rendered impossible.
“Oh, my,” Caroline said, tears of hysteria flowing down her face. “We must restrain ourselves! If we don’t drive the cars back to the house, they shall be riding out to rescue us.”
“Yes.” Fiona took a few deep breaths. “I believe you are correct. Until we are seen, they shall be anxious for our welfare.”
It was a sobering thought, one that had the desired dampening effect. This time, Caroline held back to allow Fiona to drive through the gatehouse ahead of her. As she followed her friend, Caroline noted that her horse was not in the least winded, and evidently anticipating another race. She should have taken into account the horse’s experience and superior instincts from the beginning. The danger had, in fact, been minimal, though her tumult of emotions felt entirely genuine.
As they drew near to the guests clustered at the other end of the drive, cheers filled the air, but she had no thought but to assess the reaction of Mr. Doherty. She quickly discovered him standing nearer to the house than the others. He smiled, but she thought he looked paler than usual. By the time she had drawn to a halt, he was well-placed to assist her in stepping down from the car.
She expected him to leap onto the car to assist her in descending, and was surprised when he merely held out his arms to her. Without a thought for her safety, she jumped; he caught her skillfully at the waist. As he lowered her to the ground, she noted the apprehension in his face. He had been afraid for her! She smiled her gratitude as her feet touched the gravel of the drive, but immediately lost her balance.
Taking her by the elbow, he steadied her. “Forgive me,” he murmured, “I forgot myself. It’s the lads who are always wanting to jump.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she said with another smile.
“Ah, me girl, what a hand at the toolin’ ye are!” her father cried as he approached. “I t’ought surely you would never make it,” he said as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her.
It was not the embrace for which she longed. He held her so tightly that she could barely draw breath, a mercy when one considered the stink of alcohol on his breath. As the fetor rose from his clothing, it was obvious that he had feared for her life, as well.
“I am quite all right, Papa, as you can see,” she said with a hand at his chest. She pushed herself from the circle of his arms and looked about. “Who shall race next?”
“After that feat, who should dare?” Lord Bissell cried, evidence of his admiration in every word.
“I dare!” Lady Anne cried as she hurried to the jaunting car Fiona had only just vacated through the offices of Mr. Wilkinson.
“Would you be kind enough to hand me up?” she asked him, her smile sweet.
“But, of course,” he said in some surprise. He lost no time, however, in handing her up to the seat. He also stood beside the vehicle until she was settled in the case she lost her balance and fell.
Once seated, she bent down to favor him with a beaming smile. “You are a true gentleman.” She took the reins in her hands and asked in a loud, clear voice, “Who shall race against me?” She punctuated her challenge with a flick of the reins, which sent the horse into sudden motion. As the car moved forward with a lurch, Mr. Wilkinson gave a cry and fell to the ground. There was a collective gasp as the others surged to his side so quickly that Caroline could not see him through the crowd. Lord Chorley, who had been near so as to smile his pleasure in his daughter, was first to Mr. Wilkinson’s side.
“The wheel has run over his foot!” he cried. “That blasted beast had no call to take off like that!”
“Carter,” Lady Bissell said to the butler, who had been standing by in the case he was needed, “arrange for someone to fetch the physician.”
“I shall go this instant!” Mr. Doherty insisted. “It shall be faster to take the jaunting car than to run to the stables and have a horse saddled,” he suggested.
“Yes, you are quite right,” Lady Bissell said. “Now, go!”
Caroline watched with mingled admiration and misgiving as Mr. Doherty leapt up onto the seat and drove off at a spanking pace. Mr. Wilkinson, his face blanched with pain, was supported on either side by Lord Chorley and Lord Bissell. Mr. Knight assisted Lady Anne in descending her jaunting car, whilst the other guests made way for the wounded and his escort. Just as they reached the front steps, a cloud burst overhead and poured rain down upon the proceedings.
Caroline looked to Fiona and saw the anxiety on her face. “My dear,” she said as she went to her friend’s side, “let us get out of this rain.”
“I agree, but I am concerned for the lads,” she replied. “Where can they be?”
Caroline looked about and saw no sign of them. “They must have already returned to the house. I am certain their mother would not have forgotten them.”
“Yes, you are right,” Fiona said, though she still looked overwrought.
“It is Mr. Wilkinson, for whom you are most concerned, is it not?”
Fiona nodded as Caroline gathered her to her side and drew her towards the house. They were the last of all assembled to step inside, and were met by an array of wet hats and gloves that had been abandoned by their owners. Carter indicated that they should divest themselves of their wet th
ings, whilst a footman scuttled back and forth with as much as he could carry into the antechamber to dry by the fire.
Most of the guests had made their way into the drawing room, whilst the three men made their labored way up the stairs to Mr. Wilkinson’s room. Caroline watched as they finally disappeared into the passage above. She did not lack compassion for poor Mr. Wilkinson, yet it was the way in which Fiona responded to the stoic manner that most dampened her spirits. He had surely risen in her esteem from her initial opinion of interesting to wildly romantic. Should she offer to sit by his bed and nurse him, Caroline feared she could expect to learn he had offered marriage in a matter of days.
She sighed and turned to her friend. “Let us go upstairs and change into dry clothing.”
“Yes,” Fiona said weakly. “I do believe this has all been too much.”
“I think perhaps you ought to rest. We shall go directly to your room,” Caroline insisted as they slowly mounted the steps, “and get you into bed. Then I shall find someone to bring you some warm milk.”
Fiona nodded, and when the time came for Caroline to peel off her friend’s wet half-boots and pelisse, she resisted not at all. “If we had a maidservant, she would carry these off to dry somewhere,” Fiona mused.
“Yes, but it is Mr. Doherty for whom I am apprehensive,” Caroline said before she had considered the wisdom of airing her thoughts. “He is most certainly wet through and through by now. Who does for him in these circumstances? Is he to put his clothing in front of a little fire up in his tiny room in the attics?” Caroline wondered.
“It is doubtful that he has a valet, but I am persuaded they shall take care of him in the servants’ quarters, aren’t you?” Fiona replied. “It is Mr. Wilkinson for whom we should be concerned.”
“But of course, you are right. Thanks to Mr. Doherty, Mr. Wilkinson shall be cared for, whilst his rescuer needs must return to his little room at the top of the house.”
“How very snappish of you!” Fiona said with a frown. “Truly, Caroline, you fret for nothing. A tutor does not live in the servants’ quarters. His room ought to be near to the children as is that of a nursery maid.”
Caroline forced herself to smile. “I pray that you are correct. You are right to scold me; I have been too anxious on his behalf. It is only that he was raised a gentleman of means. He was never meant to live such a life of deprivation.”
“That is unfortunate, indeed. How is it, then, that he is here?” Fiona asked weakly.
“His family suffered a tragedy, and he was forced to earn his keep.” Caroline offered her friend a sad smile as she folded down her blankets. “But he is lonely, Fiona, so very lonely.”
“Surely he has the lads to speak to, as well as the other servants,” Fiona murmured as she lay down and allowed the blankets to be pulled up under her chin. “You rather make it sound as if he were all alone.”
“You have taken my meaning very well,” Caroline said, sitting on the bed at Fiona’s side. “Speaking only to children all day should grow tiresome, surely. He does dine with the family on occasion, but, as a servant, he may never be first to speak. As such, he is not allowed to choose the topic of conversation. All that he says is wholly determined by the remarks that go before. And as for the other servants, he is so far above them that they have nothing to say to one another. Quite naturally he does not spend his free time below stairs. It is an untenable situation. How he endures it, I do not know.”
“I should think he would be relieved to allow his tongue to rest after a day of teaching,” Fiona observed sleepily. “Either way, you mustn’t go into a decline because of it.”
“’Tis true,” Caroline asserted as she rose to her feet. “I shall leave you. Come to my room when you have rested,” she added with a fond smile.
Fiona, her eyes closed, nodded her approval against the pillow. “What will you do now?” she murmured.
“I believe I ought to see if there is anything I can do to help Lady Bissell.”
When Fiona did not respond, Caroline went quietly from the room. Just as she shut the door behind her, Lady Bissell appeared on the landing at the top of the staircase. “I was just about to go in search of you,” Caroline said as she hurried down the passage. “How might I be of use?”
“And here I was,” Lady Bissell replied, “in search of you or Miss O’Sullivan. With Mr. Doherty not yet returned, there is no one to mind the children. Miss Deakin is with them now, but it is her afternoon off, and she insists on going into town. I wonder if you would be willing to stay with Charles and Christopher until Mr. Doherty returns? I shall have luncheon for the three of you sent up.”
“I should be delighted,” Caroline said. “I believe the school room is one flight above this, is that right?”
“It is. The door shall be open. I daresay you shall have no trouble in locating it,” Lady Bissell said over her shoulder as she hurried back the way she had come.
Caroline followed in her wake as far as the landing, whereupon she went up the stairs from which she first heard Mr. Doherty sing. The open door was immediately visible, and she had no trouble in finding where it was she was meant to go. Pausing on the threshold, she surveyed the scene.
Charles sat at his desk, both a pencil and a pocket knife in his hand, one of which he employed to carve figures into the desktop. Christopher slumped in his chair, his foot swinging so that his heel pounded against the leg of his chair. He had wound his parchment into a ball with which he was playing catch. The nursery maid was seated at the desk in the front of the room. In one hand she held aloft a book that screened her view of the lads; in the other, a beastly-looking switch.
“Miss Deakin,” Caroline said. “May I enter?”
The nursery maid lowered her book and offered Caroline a tight smile. “But of course. I have been waiting for your arrival. It is imperative that I keep my appointment in the village.”
“Then you shall,” Caroline said with genuine warmth. “I cannot think of a better way to spend my afternoon than with these dear lads.”
Miss Deakin plucked a quizzing glass from the desk. Slowly, she raised it to her eyes to stare at Caroline. “You are an unusual creature, are you not, Miss Fulton?”
“I hope I am unexceptionable, even if not precisely like everyone else,” Caroline replied.
Abruptly, Miss Deakin lowered the glass and rose briskly to her feet, switch in hand. “I recommend you stay behind the desk at all times.” She did not favor the lads with even a look as she walked towards the door where Caroline stood. “You shall need this,” she said as she handed the switch to Caroline.
“No, I do not believe that I shall,” Caroline replied.
Miss Deakin’s shock was evident in her eyes. “Very well; if you say so.” She brushed past Caroline and into the passage.
“Is she gone?” Charles asked in hushed tones.
“She is,” Caroline replied with a smirk.
The lads jumped to their feet and ran to her side.
“Well, then!” she said as she took each by the hand. “What a delightful room! You must explain everything to me.”
The lads both began to chatter at once so that Caroline could not make out but one word in ten. “Lads, lads,” she said, laughing, “one at a time!”
“I shall go first because I am the eldest,” Charles said.
“But I have something that I must say to Miss Caro this very moment,” Christopher insisted.
“Very well, Christopher, you shall have your say first,” Caroline decided.
“I need the chamber pot!”
Caroline cherished a lively desire to laugh, but the expression of alarm on Charles’ face put an end to her amusement.
“I shall take him to the nursery. It is just through here,” Charles said as he quickly ushered his brother into the next room.
Weak with gratitude, Caroline crossed over to the window to inspect the view. She was not surprised to discover that it framed the same grassy park with its edging of ash
trees as did her own. Recalling the note Mr. Doherty had lowered that morning, she opened the window and peered down to see if she could determine whether or not her room was just below where she stood. She was leaning nearly halfway out of the window when she heard a horrific screech. Whether the noise came from man or beast, she could not guess, but it was coming from somewhere beyond the ash trees, as had the others, of that she was certain.
“Miss Caro!”
She whirled about, her heart still pounding. “What is it? What is wrong?”
“Nothing. We have returned; that is all.”
“Were you shouting for me?” Caroline asked. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Charles said, puzzled.
“Never mind,” she assured them despite her continuing dread. “Please sit at your desks for a moment whilst I catch my breath.” She went immediately to sit in the chair behind the large desk at the front of the room, and closed her eyes. So as to still the thundering of her heart, she took some deep breaths. When she again opened her eyes, the lads were standing, one on either side of her, peering into her face. Christopher, who regarded her through the quizzing glass, seemed particularly absorbed in his scrutiny.
“Oh!” she said in amusement. “What is this?”
“Christopher wants to know why it is you are so pretty,” Charles offered. “I am older and do not require a glass in order to know the answer.”
“I see,” Caroline said gravely, despite her pressing desire to laugh aloud. “As it is not likely that we shall get through any lessons today, let us think of something else.”
Christopher lowered the quizzing glass. “What kind of something?”
“Well,” she drawled as she stood and returned to the window. “It seems that the rain has ceased. Perhaps we ought to go for a walk after we have eaten luncheon. You haven’t had your usual ramble yet today.”
This suggestion was enthusiastically approved, and once they consumed their luncheon, the three of them found themselves out on the gravel drive.
O'er The River Liffey (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 11