‘Oh milady, thank goodness, you are awake, here is your drink if you feel you can take it, and then I have your bath ready too. Shall I help you to sit up?’
’Thank you Anwen, I will try.’
It was as much as Catherine could do not to cry out as Anwen helped her sit up, her shoulder in particular was sore, but eventually she was propped up with pillows and sipping the comfortingly sweet chocolate.
‘There you are milady, that will soon take away the taste of the sleeping draught.’
‘I do remember the doctor, I think, and you but was Lord Alex here too?’
‘Yes milady, at first he was so agitated the doctor insisted he leave, but later he came back and sent me to my bed, so it was he that stayed with you through the night.’
Catherine closed her eyes for a moment, so he had been here, she relaxed and the scent of him came back, she let the recollection of the feeling of warmth and safety flood through her with a sigh.
‘Where is his lordship now Anwen?’
‘He rang for me an hour ago milady. I should think he’s breakfasted by now and round at the stable, or what’s left of it. Oh the fire was so awful, smoke and flames and those poor horses so frightened, and there’s so much damaged it will take something to build it back.’
‘Did they get all the horses out?’
‘Oh yes milady, Mr. Stayton and Lord Edgar and Mr. Waring all helped once the master and Tom the groom were saved. Then when little Guto told the master that Lord Hector had taken you, his lordship along with the young gentlemen rode to find you but Mr. Stayton stayed here to help. They’ve taken the horses to the old barn for now.’
‘His lordship saved, why, what had happened?’
‘I don’t know how they came to be in the stable milady, but I saw Tom fetch his lordship out right dazed he was and Guto was there too. That boy’s a hero and no mistake. He was all fuss this morning, wanting to see you milady, but his lordship wouldn’t allow it but sent him to take your little dog to the kitchen to be fed. He’ll be back as soon as he can though I should think, and that daft Scrap with him.’
Catherine smiled at the thought of her two little scraps, she loved them both, in truth she loved this house and the hodge-podge little family she seemed to have gathered together. Emiliano was a dear child, so easy to love with his dark curls, blue eyes and loving nature. Onesta had been slow to share him to begin with, having been his only nurse for so long it was only natural, but once she trusted that he would not be stolen from her, she began to confide in Catherine. Increasingly she had spoken of those dark days that led to Emily’s death and Catherine had begun to understand a little of the lively, loving but unstable girl whom her father had loved so tragically. Anwen had moved on to collect together the soaps and towels for her bath and Catherine was soon deep in the luxury of the hot scented water. As she felt the heat ease away her aches and pains she leant back and resumed her thoughts.
Onesta had known that Emily was in love, and that her beloved was someone that would not meet with the approval of her brother.
‘She shone with love, singing all day, but being careful not to let me guess who he was. We were seldom apart, but she began to ride out more often. I am not much of a rider, much preferring to ride in the carriage. I know now that they must have met on those rides.’
‘Did she admit her lovers name then?’
‘Yes, he had left by then, but she was sure of his love, sure that he would come back to her. She wrote to him, every day, of her love. Those first letters were full of love. Then she began to lose faith, as the days went by and then weeks with no answering letters, she sank into a state of mind that frightened me. She would rage one minute, then cry, I was at a loss to understand. Then I began to suspect the worst, that she was with child. I confided in her brother and it was he that made her confirm it to us.’
‘Was that when Alex moved her into the cottage?’
‘We did move to one of the lodges then, but not at his insistence but hers. It was the only place she could find peace she said, but I had the feeling that she was hiding there, afraid of something or someone. She would fly into a panic if anyone approached the house, locking doors and drawing curtains until they had left. Yet she would not tell me what frightened her so. It was a difficult time and then the baby was born and though I had hoped she would improve once she held the little one, it was not to be.
She became obsessed with the baby, watching him with fear in her eyes, and she would not decide on a name for him. One day I heard him crying out as if in fear or pain and ran in to find her holding him so tight he screamed and when I tried to take him from her she flew into a rage and hit me. I made sure never to leave her alone with him after that.’
‘Did you speak to Alex of your fears, and of these events?’
‘Yes, but he had seen the dangers already and was not happy that she hid away so, fearing the solitude was not healthy for her. She had always been susceptible to melancholy, even as a child and so he tried to make her move back to the house and they quarreled more than once, but always she would cry and he would give in.’
‘And so he blamed himself?’
‘Yes, on the day she drowned herself, she was in the blackest mood I had seen her in. She would not stay in the house, though a storm was on its way and insisted on taking a walk on her own. I sent our maid to fetch Alex, I was so afraid for her and he went himself to look for her. Following along her favourite walks, but of course she had not kept to any of these, but had gone to the river.’
Catherine sighed, poor Emily, to have been so lost, so bereft, that not even her love for her child could save her. It was clear that sometime after papa had returned home Barrington must have come across poor Emily and raped her. Then slowly the poor girl lost all hope, her love lost, and her abuser’s child marking her now as a fallen, shamed woman. Her heart went out to those left behind, Onesta and Emiliano, left to carry on without her, and Alex, blaming himself for not keeping her safe. Oh yes he’d held her Papa to blame for her loss, but he blamed himself more, of that she was sure.
The sound of Anwen returning roused her from her reverie, so reaching for the towel she stood and prepared to step out of the tub, steadying herself on the screen as she did so.
‘If you pass me another towel Anwen, I can dry myself. Then, once I am dressed, I think I will go down to breakfast.’
‘You most certainly will not Lady!’
Her husband’s voice was incredulous and Catherine looked up to see that emotion reflected in his face. Anwen was nowhere to be seen and it was Alex that stood holding her towel in readiness. He stepped forward, wrapped it around her and in one fluid motion picked her up and carried her back to her bed. Then sitting beside her proceeded to dry her carefully.
‘Where is my maid, surely...’
‘Surely, it is quite fitting for your husband to tend you after your ordeal Kate, Lie still and let me dry you and help you into a fresh nightgown, then you may indeed breakfast, but you will do so in your bed as the doctor recommended.’
There was nothing for it but to lie still and accept his ministrations. Slowly and with care he stroked a second towel over her skin. He began with her face and neck, then moved in gentle circles to her shoulders and arms. Catherine began to relax, only to tense instinctively as he pulled the towel he’d wrapped around her down, revealing her body to his gaze and touch. Where was he taking this? He made no comment, but simply continued to dry her. She saw his eyes darken and his hands still momentarily at the dark bruises Barrington had left on her breast and on her thigh, but still he made no comment. It was heaven and hell in one, the gentle motion of his hands drawing the heat to her skin, eliciting sensations that made her feel weak and wanting. Did he know what he was doing to her? There was no hiding the response of her breasts, they felt taut, swollen, flushed pink, nipples unbearably tight, all this he must see, but could he sense the aching heat spreading low in her belly? The studied concentration on his face suggested not,
but how could that be? Did she not excite him as he did her? Did he not long to hold her as she longed to be held close to his body?
She was dry now and he reached for her gown and slipped the silk over her head, drawing it down and guiding her arms through the sheer sleeves. Finally he unpinned her hair, picked up her brush from beside the bed and with deft strokes brushed it smooth.
‘There now, ready for a little breakfast. I’ll send the boy up with your pup presently, but you must rest, so they may stay but half an hour. Anwen has orders to make sure you do as the doctor ordered. I have much to attend to so will leave you in her care for now.’
He dropped a perfunctory kiss on the top of her head and incredulous at his cool demeanor she sat open mouthed, watching him walk away, and as he closed the door to his own chamber, she struggled to make sense of her conflicting emotions.
Alex closed the door to her chamber and sank with a groan into the seat beside the fireplace. His body was on fire, screaming for release, what on earth had possessed him to put himself through the last ten minutes. He’d intended merely to reassure himself that she would keep to her bed as the doctor ordered, but on seeing her half submerged in the tub, shoulders and breasts flushed pink from the hot water all sense of self-preservation seemed to have evaporated. He leant back closed his eyes and let his mind relive the sensations, holding her, warm, damp and scented, the feel of her silky skin under his hands, her almost inaudible gasp as he’d revealed her body and the inescapable evidence of her arousal. It had taken all his self control not to take advantage of the moment, then his eyes had taken in the bruising, the marks of Barrington’s assault on her and along with an almost palpable rage a fresh realization of her vulnerability had flooded through him, enabling him to subdue desire and finish dressing her before taking his leave. He would have to take care not to put himself in the path of such temptation again if his plan to woo her, to convince her of his love and win hers in return was to succeed and succeed he must, his very life depended upon it.
For Catherine the week that followed was long and tedious. Alex insisted she follow the doctor’s instructions to the letter and if she so much as indicated any intention to deviate from those instructions, he seemed always to be on hand to thwart her. Her days therefore consisted of little more than laying abed reading or being read to by Onesta, (for the good doctor even saw reading as likely to cause a tiring of the mind). No visitors other than Alex were allowed and Guto was under instructions to bring Scrap for one half hour every morning and no more. All stimulation was to be kept to a minimum and as a result Alex would not discuss any of the events of the last few days with her.
‘I must insist we take the advice of the doctor and keep all such discussions until you are well again. Time enough once you are on your feet to worry you with the details.’
She was able to glean a little information from Guto and Anwen, but both were so very guarded in what they said, that she learnt little more than she could piece together herself. Barrington and Jem Cutler were obviously in league to steal horses. She was not surprised in the least and if truth be told had wondered how a horse of the quality of Romany came to be in the hands of a gypsy. It was also obvious that she herself had accidentally become embroiled in a bungled theft from the Llangorfan stable. What was not clear though was the role Alex and the trio of young men who were his accomplices had played. The three were to take their leave in the morning, having stayed a full five days, during which time she’d been confined to her bed, it was very frustrating.
She had however fared a little better on the subject of Guto, for Alex had been careful to discuss his plans for the boy with her.
‘I have spoken to the boy and his parents, and have decided not to pursue my initial plan to send him away to school.’
‘Oh I am glad, I should not like to think of him sent away as if he’d done something wrong.’
Alex smiled wryly, ‘quite, in view of his determination to take over the farm from his father in due course I feel it would be better if he served his apprenticeship here on the estate. He will work with the estate workers until he’s learnt how each and every role contributes to the running of the place. Two days each week he will take classes with a tutor, to learn to read and do accounts. Then, once he is able, he will begin to work as assistant to the estate manager. It will take some years and hard work but he will then be in a position to either run his own farm or find employment as an estates manager.’
‘Is this what Guto wants then? I fail to see that he will have gained much if he then takes over the tenancy from his father, as I’m sure he will feel obliged to.’
‘I have already spoken to the estate solicitors, instructing them to transfer the deeds of the farm to him when he reached the age of twenty one. That way he will be working for himself, if he chooses to do so and in the meantime his family will benefit as I will allow them to work the farm rent free, on condition they send the remaining three children to school at least two days a week. The sum of two thousand pounds will also be invested for the boy, which should provide a reasonable nest-egg for his future.’
‘And have you appraised Guto and his family of your decision yet? It may be that they would like to have him home at least for a day or two to celebrate their good fortune?’
Alex smiled, it seemed she was always one step ahead of him where the boy’s happiness was concerned.
‘Very well, the parents are to come to hear my decision in the morning, they can take the lad home for the weekend. Though who will take care of your pup while he is gone I don’t know.’
‘I shall be able to look after him myself, for it is a full week tomorrow and I intend to be dressed and back to my duties forthwith.’
‘We will have to see, it may be the doctor’s opinion that you should continue to rest. In which case I will see to it that you do.’
Catherine did not dignify that final remark with an answer, he noticed wryly.
Chapter 12
Christmas in Wales promised to be infinitely more fun than Christmas at home had ever been, Catherine decided as she supervised the hanging of more traditional greenery than she’d ever seen in her life. In Sussex holly was used to decorate the mantels and tables, while a bunch of mistletoe adorned the door, the evergreens were a symbol of eternal life, fertility or simply a protection against evil, depending on your particular point of view. Here in Wales it seemed that half the woods were being draped over every conceivable surface. As well as the red-berried holly, rosemary, laurel and bay were used in abundance until their combined perfume permeated every corner, and as for the mistletoe, bunches selected for their abundance of waxy white berries, each with its promise of a kiss, had been pinned above every doorway by giggling maids and footmen. Llangorfan had its own tradition too, as the harvest of the orangery seemed timed to coincide with the festivities and colourful bowls of the fragrant fruit adorned every table. Plump oranges, some studded with cloves, waxy lemons, sharp with acid juice, and tiny limes like dark green emeralds tucked between their larger cousins. Catherine loved these, with their exotic fragrance best. Evans had explained that the custom in Wales was to attend a daybreak church service known as "Plygain" when the men would sing carols in a service that went on for three hours or so. After the service, the feasting and drinking would begin and last for a week and after that an ancient custom peculiar to the Welsh would be enacted. All over the country the Yuletide season would be brought to a close with the pre-Christian custom of the Mari Lwyd or Grey Mare. A horse's skull with false ears and eyes attached, along with reins and bells, covered with a white sheet and colourfully decorated with ribbons, would be carried on a pole from door to door by a party of people. At each door, poems would be recited in Welsh and those inside the house would reply, also in verse refusing to let the Mari Lwyd in until this battle of verse was won. Anwen had been bright eyed as she’d described the custom and the revelry that went with it to her mistress and Catherine could hardly wait to witness it for her
self.
In the kitchen Cook had laid in what seemed like enough food and drink to withstand a lengthy siege, and together they had planned each meal in such detail that Catherine’s head fairly swam with menus. The kitchen had been a hive of spiced activity for weeks now as a bewildering variety of puddings, cakes and pies had been lovingly concocted and with less than a day to go to Christmas Eve the preparations had reached a crescendo of baking, roasting, boiling and steaming, which cook orchestrated in the style of the most impassioned of musical conductors. Clashing pans and squeals of delight vied for top the note with cook bawling at the maids in mock anger and the musical giggles of the younger servants. Making the kitchens the warmest and noisiest place in the house.
This evening Dorothea and Charles were to arrive and would stay for the whole week. Mama and Papa, would not come to visit until the spring when it was expected that Papa would be strong enough to withstand the journey. Lord Edgar, along with Mr. Stayton and Mr. Waring were already arrived. They and Alex had escaped to the stables, to avoid the pre-Christmas hustle and bustle no doubt. Though Henry Waring had enquired rather pointedly after Onesta and looked rather crestfallen to learn that she was not yet back from her shopping trip. She had found a friend in the daughter of a neighbour and the two were expected back later today from Cardiff. Alex had provided the carriage and two footmen to carry the shopping and Catherine had not seen Onesta so excited and carefree, finally able to let the loss of Emily pass into poignant memory as she moved on with this new life.
Vengeful Lord, Defiant Lady. Page 18