by Sandra Heath
“No.”
“Then may we proceed?”
“Yes.”
He said nothing more, offering her his arm, and they walked back to where the groom waited with the horses.
They rode down through the park toward the woods and the battlemented gateway marking the boundary of the estate, following the road toward the Royal Charles Inn, and the crossroads by Tremont Park’s lodge. Overhead the leaves were cool, the sun dappling the way with soft shadows. The fading rhododendrons still looked bright between the trees, the pink, mauve, and crimson of their blooms softer now as they came to the end of their life. The scent of pine needles and silver birch filled the air, and on either side of the way the banks were covered with thick, feathery ferns.
Bryony could hear the murmur of a stream nearby; perhaps it was the same stream from which she had rescued the doll. She glanced at Sebastian as she remembered the incident, for if ever she had shown herself to be unsuitable and not to have learned anything from the duchess’s tuition, it had been then. But still he intended to marry her.
She had completely forgotten Delphine’s warnings about the horse’s freshness and wasn’t giving it the attention she should. Suddenly there was a loud, piercing whistle, and almost immediately a huge gray lurcher burst from the undergrowth, snapping and snarling around her terrified horse’s heels. The horse reared and then bolted, the lurcher darting at its legs all the while.
Bryony screamed, clinging to its mane. Sebastian shouted after her, trying to urge his own terrified mount in pursuit, but it only capered around, its eyes rolling with fear as it fought against the command which would take it after the hound. The groom was thrown heavily, his horse immediately galloping back in the direction of Polwithiel.
In the confusion, Bryony still clung desperately to her fleeing horse. She screamed Sebastian’s name, but suddenly there was another whistle and the lurcher broke off, vanishing back into the woods as swiftly as it had appeared. In a blur she saw a cloaked figure running away between the trees, followed by the lurcher. She saw it for only a split second, but she knew that figure, she’d seen it before!
The low branch hung down directly in her horse’s path. It struck her on the forehead, sweeping her from the saddle so that she fell heavily, rolling over and over like a rag doll. A blinding pain rushed over her as she lay still at last, gazing weakly up at trees which were fading from green to a deep, deep blue. From a strange distance she heard Sebastian rein his horse in beside her. Her eyes could not focus properly as he leaned over her, cradling her head in his arms.
“Bryony? Bryony, are you all right?”
She couldn’t answer him. Everything was slipping away into a velvet darkness. His voice seemed to echo over and over in her head. She knew no more.
Chapter Twenty-two
She was warm and comfortable and did not want to open her eyes. A lethargy spread deliciously through her and she did not want to struggle free of it. The sheets between which she lay were lavender-scented and it was good just to lie there cocooned and protected, safe from everything.
But sounds kept intruding upon her refuge, the rustle of a woman’s skirts and the low murmuring of a man’s voice as two people came into the room. What were they saying? Her eyes still closed, she turned her head a little to listen.
“Lady Delphine, I do not wish her to leave her bed until I have pronounced her fit enough so to do, and that will not be for some time yet. I have administered laudanum to make her sleep a great deal, and I have put a balm dressing upon the wound on her forehead. Instructions have been left as to the precise amount of laudanum to be given at any one time, and I do not wish the dressing to be disturbed at all. I will do that myself when I inspect it tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, doctor.”
“I do not think her injuries are anything other than superficial, although of course I cannot be sure yet. It was a very bad fall. There do not appear to be internal injuries, but a blow to the head is always alarming and may prove more serious than appears in the beginning. If you should become anxious about anything before I am due to call again, please do not hesitate to send for me straightaway.”
“Very well, doctor.”
“She will not wish to eat at all, but she may feel thirsty, in which case I recommend an infusion of chamomile, but nothing more. Is there anything else you wish to know before I leave?”
“No, doctor, I think you have said everything you need to.”
“Very well, I will go to see her grace now. I trust that her sprained ankle has not been giving too much cause for concern?”
“No, doctor, although she is hardly a model patient.”
“No, my lady,” he replied, a smile in his voice, “but it must be difficult for a duchess to have to do as she is told.”
“Her rank has nothing to do with it, sir. She is difficult by nature. She was informed that the little bridge was unsafe, and a notice to that effect was actually fixed to the parapet, but she still insisted on going that way. She has no one to blame but herself for her sprained ankle. Miss St. Charles, on the other hand, has had a dreadful accident and she is entirely deserving of my sympathy.”
Delphine’s skirts rustled again as she and the doctor went out. Silence returned. Bryony lay there, wanting to open her eyes but not having the will to do so. She thought the window must be open, for she was sure she could hear the gulls over the estuary. Perhaps they were flying around the top of the folly. No, they weren’t, they were going farther and farther away now.... From the edge of consciousness, she slipped back into a deep, drugged sleep.
The room was candlelit when at last she awoke properly. She could feel something tight bound around her forehead, and a throbbing pain deep in her temple. It was this throb which had at last disturbed her long slumber. She lay there, puzzled for a moment, for she could remember nothing. Candle shadows moved slowly over the room, turning the bed’s dull blue canopy to a dusty shade of lilac, the same lilac as the gown Delphine was wearing as she sat reading nearby.
Bryony’s brows drew together curiously. Why should Delphine be sitting there like that? “Delphine?” she asked hesitantly.
Delphine put the book down with a glad smile. “You’re awake at last!”
“Why are you here? You were ill and went to your bed—”
“I was quite well again once I had had a sleep. But you mustn’t worry about me, it’s you we have to worry about. How are you feeling? You’ve been in bed for two days.” She paused. “Don’t you remember the accident?”
Bryony stared at her. Two days? But memory was beginning to return and she could see again the blur of trees and leaves as her horse bolted. The pain in her forehead made her frown suddenly and she put her hand up to the dressing, but Delphine hurried to stop her. “No, don’t touch it, the doctor said it was not to be disturbed.”
“I know,” whispered Bryony, vaguely remembering, “I heard him.”
“You were awake when he was here?”
“I think so. I don’t know. I was so very tired.”
“That would be the laudanum.”
“I remember the accident, at least I think I do. There was a dog.”
“Yes, that devil which has been worrying our sheep. I really am cross with Petra, for although she denied it, I know that beast comes from somewhere on Tremont.”
Everything returned to Bryony with a rush then, the whistles, the cloaked figure running away, Sebastian’s voice as he leaned over her! With a gasp she struggled to sit up, but the pain shafted blindingly through her head again, forcing her to lie back again, her face ashen.
Delphine sat forward anxiously, “Are you all right? Should I send for the doctor again?”
“No, I’m all right, it’s just ...”
“Yes?”
“I’ve remembered what really happened now. Someone deliberately set that dog on my horse, Delphine. It was no accident.”
Delphine’s eyes widened. “Surely not ...”
“Someone wh
istled before the dog appeared, and then whistled again to call it off, and I saw a figure in a cloak running away into the woods, the dog at its heels. I’ve seen that figure before, when Petra’s letter was left in my reticule in Falmouth.” She looked at Delphine. “There’s no mistake, I remember it too clearly.”
“It cannot be true,” whispered Delphine, shocked, “for it’s too horrible.”
“She knew we would be riding that way.”
“Yes, but surely she would not go so far in her efforts to halt the marriage! Bryony, you’d have to be very sure of your facts before saying anything, you’d have to be able to prove she was responsible. It’s one thing to write false letters and substitute miniatures, it’s quite another to do something like—”
“I can’t prove it,” interrupted Bryony, “I can’t prove anything!”
“No, and that is partly my fault, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Besides, how can you be certain that the attack was made upon you in particular?”
“What do you mean?”
“The groom who accompanied you has upset a number of local farmers by exercising Polwithiel horses over their land, riding over crops and through flocks. He could have been the intended victim, not you.”
Bryony fell silent. What Delphine said could be true, but the cloaked figure had been the same one she had seen in her rooms at Falmouth; she would have taken an oath upon it. But as Delphine pointed out, she couldn’t prove anything, she just had her own conviction that Petra was behind it all.
Delphine got up then. “Rest now. I’ll send a man to tell the doctor you’ve woken up at last.”
Bryony lay there after Delphine had gone. Petra had been responsible for the so-called accident, and she had employed the same man to do her work for her. Having so far failed to induce the prospective bridegroom to withdraw from the match, she was now attempting to frighten the bride into doing it instead. Suddenly the prospect of marrying Sebastian seemed almost too daunting. How could she possibly marry him if his mistress was prepared to go to such lengths? Tears suddenly filled her eyes and she felt very vulnerable and alone. And so very far from home.
Felix came so quietly into her apartment that she did not know he was there. He stood in the bedroom doorway for a moment, just beyond the arc of candlelight, and then he went to her, sitting on the bed and gathering her into his arms. She did not resist, although she knew that she should, but she was too unhappy and in need of the comfort that he alone was offering.
She hid her face against his shoulder, glad of the strength and warmth of his arms around her. It was Sebastian that she loved, but it was Felix who was with her now. She did not question his sincerity as he stroked her hair and whispered her name, for in that moment she did not remember his cruelty or his falseness.
Delphine entered the drawing room next door and he moved quickly away from the bed, pressing back against the wall by the door, where the shadows were darkest. When Delphine came in with the measure of laudanum the doctor had prescribed, she did not see him slip out behind her or hear him close the door.
Bryony closed her eyes, regret already sweeping through her. She should not have allowed him to hold her, she should have remembered all that she knew of him. She would have to be more on her guard in her dealings with him.
Two days passed and she was much improved, although still confined to her bed by an overcautious doctor. Her head was inclined to ache a great deal and so she wore her hair loose in ringlets again, but the dressing still pressed against her forehead like a tight band.
The first time Felix returned to her rooms was when both Delphine and Sally were present. There was no opportunity for him to speak to her alone, but she knew by the light in his eyes that he did not intend their last meeting to be forgotten. He murmured all the usual pleasantries, giving no hint of anything to the others present, but when he took his leave of her, raising her hand to his lips, his thumb had secretly caressed her palm. She snatched her hand away, her cheeks reddening. The moment of madness in which she had clung to him had been a very fleeting thing; now she could see him clearly again and she was determined not to repeat her mistake.
She found unexpected assistance in her determination to avoid Felix, for the doctor’s excessive diligence meant that she was not left alone, either Delphine or Sally being always with her. She knew that Felix was displeased with the arrangement, even going so far once as to try to dismiss Sally from the room, but Bryony had not allowed the maid to be sent out, and in the end it had been Felix who had withdrawn, and not without some show of irritation.
The unfortunate doctor had a great deal to do during his visits to Polwithiel, attending not only Bryony but also the duchess, whose cantankerousness increased each day. She was an extremely difficult and uncooperative patient, and being confined to a wheelchair did not improve her temper in the slightest. Her voice could be heard continually ringing through the house, and her maid was frequently seen in tears.
Sebastian had sent Bryony red carnations and had called at Polwithiel each day since the accident, but each time Bryony made an excuse not to see him. She wanted to see him, but she could not bring herself to do so. She had thought a great deal about everything since the “accident” and had decided that in spite of all that Petra had done, the marriage must still go ahead—she must still try to save Liskillen. But although she had arrived at this decision, she still found the thought of seeing Sebastian too painful. She needed a little time, time during which she hoped to steel herself against loving him.
The moment of meeting could not be indefinitely postponed, however, and on the fourth day after the fall she found it being forced upon her. It would have been bad enough had he been alone when he called, but on this occasion he brought Petra with him.
Delphine managed to delay them a little, hurrying on ahead to break the news to Bryony, who sat up disbelievingly in her bed, her eyes flashing with sudden anger. “She’s here? I won’t see her! I won’t!”
Delphine thought a moment. “There is only one way you may be free of her, and that is to declare off. And that’s what I advise you to do, Bryony. You must end the contract now and allow her the victory.”
Bryony slowly shook her head. “No, I’ve decided that the marriage must still go ahead. I must put Liskillen first and that is the end of it.”
Delphine stared disbelievingly at her. “You cannot mean it!”
“I’m in earnest, Delphine.”
“Please forget the match, Bryony, it’s madness to proceed!”
Felix’s voice suddenly interrupted them from the doorway. “Is it any of your concern, sis?”
Delphine whirled guiltily around. “I didn’t know you were there!”
“That much is obvious,” he replied. He was smiling with his lips but not with his eyes, and Bryony knew that he was angry with his sister.
Delphine got up and faced him. “It is my concern, Felix.”
“I think not.”
“But—”
“I said, I think not,” he repeated coolly. “Now run along and tell dear Sebastian that his bride will receive him now.”
“I’m not a servant that you may order me on such an errand!”
“Very well, let me put it another way. Will you please be so obliging as to inform Sebastian?”
Delphine glared at him, but then gathered her skirts to hurry out. Bryony was anxious not to be left alone with him. “Delphine? Will you send Anderson in?” she called after her.
Felix’s dark eyes became angry. “Bryony—”
“Please, don’t say anything, sir,” she said quickly.
“But I must speak with you.”
““No, I don’t want to hear.”
“The other night—”
“I want to forget all about it, sir,” she replied firmly, smiling gladly as Sally came in. “Will you quickly comb my hair?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss Bryony.” The maid came to the bedside, and Felix moved
angrily away, standing with his back to them as he gazed out of the window.
In the few moments before Sebastian and Petra came in, Bryony strove to compose herself. She must reveal nothing to Petra, and she must not let Sebastian see into her heart for even the most fleeting of moments. She heard them in the gallery and she took a deep breath, drawing her shawl around her shoulders.
Petra hurried toward her, her rust-colored riding habit looking as impeccable as if it had been pressed but a moment before. A little black hat rested on her head, and she carried a riding crop with a jeweled handle. She looked the picture of style and elegance, a vision from Hyde Park at the fashionable hour, not the depths of Cornwall on an undistinguished morning in late July. She was also the personification of friendly concern as she sat on the end of the bed.
“Oh, my dear Miss St. Charles,” she said, “we’ve been so terribly worried about you. Haven’t we, Sebastian?”
He came toward Bryony, raising her hand to his lips. His touch was like fire running through her, and she had to force herself to look up into his eyes. He smiled. “I trust you are feeling greatly improved, Miss St. Charles.”
“I am. Thank you, I’m sorry to have caused you concern.”
“You have no need to apologize, for I am sure you did not fall deliberately.”
She couldn’t help glancing coldly at Petra. “No, the fall was not deliberate.”
Petra gave a light laugh. “Why, what a thing to say, for I cannot imagine that such a dreadful fall could ever be anything but accidental. I see that you are wearing a dressing on your forehead. Is your poor head very sore still?”
“It improves each day, my lady.”
“Oh, please call me Petra, for I do so loathe being formal, especially when you are to be dear Sebastian’s wife.”
In spite of her resolution to be calm and give nothing away, Bryony found her loathing for this woman too much to bear. Her eyes flickered. “I could not call you by your first name, my lady, for I hardly know you,”
There was a sudden silence and Petra seemed quite nonplussed by this very deliberate snub. Sebastian looked sharply at Bryony, while Felix turned with interest from contemplating the view from the window.