But then the smile faded, to be replaced by a thoughtful expression. Because, whilst physical attraction was something he understood, the protective feelings he felt towards her were new. They were born, not of a good upbringing, but of a deep-rooted instinct to protect his mate.
What had come over him? He had resisted every effort ever made to leg-shackle him. He had fought off society’s most determined mamas, and yet here he was, thinking of leg-shackling himself. Only for some reason it didn’t seem like shackling. It seemed like joining. Joining, merging, becoming one. And then splitting again, separating into many parts, small parts, growing parts.
Good grief! He was thinking of his nurseries again! And not just his nurseries. His house, his garden, his life, all full of rough-and-tumble children wrestling with puppies and scratching the table, children with black hair and hazel eyes . . .
‘Hrrrm.’
Beddows cleared his throat, and Lucien was brought back to the present.
He shook his head to clear away the images that had been besetting him. He had no business thinking of nurseries, or marriage, or anything else, until Kendrick’s killer had been caught, and until he was convinced that last night’s accident had not been anything more sinister.
‘You were saying?’ he asked.
‘I said I’ve checked the house,’ said Beddows, repeating his earlier phrase. He had guessed, quite rightly, that Lucien had not heard a word.
Lucien became more vigorous. Withdrawing his thoughts from Eleanor with difficulty he turned to the matter in hand.
‘And? Has there been a forced entry?’
‘No,’ said Beddows.
Lucien frowned.
‘You don’t think it was an accident, then, the gas blowing out?’ asked Beddows.
‘It could have been. But it seems too much of a coincidence that it should have happened on the day I retrieved the documents.’
‘But they are still here?’
‘They are. But would they have been if Elean- Miss Grantham hadn’t found me so soon? I don’t think so. Yet if it wasn’t an accident, how did the perpetrator get in? You’ve checked the house,’ said Lucien thoughtfully, then asked, ‘but how thoroughly? Have you checked the attics?’
‘There’s no way in through the attics,’ said Beddows.
‘Make sure,’ said Lucien. ‘If someone got in here to blow out the gas when I’d fallen asleep, then I want to know how they did it. And I want to make sure they can’t get in again. Not that I’ll be spending the night here for some time. I have to get these back to where they belong.’ He glanced at the documents lying on the table. ‘Even so, I want to make sure the house is secure.’
‘Then I’ll check the attics,’ said Beddows, ‘and let you know what I find.’
Once Beddows had departed, Lucien picked up the papers, then donning his greatcoat he headed off to meet the general. His business was too important to be delayed. And besides, the fresh air would help to blow the lingering thoughts of Eleanor out of his mind.
At least, he hoped it would.
Eleanor felt her spirits lift as she saw Bath spread out below her, looking peaceful and serene in the September afternoon. Its buildings of golden stone looked inviting. The blue ribbon of the River Avon snaked its way past and between them, disappearing now and again as it ran beneath an elegant bridge before emerging, sparkling, into the sunlight.
As the coach began to descend the hill Eleanor could see the gardens. Despite the lateness of the season, they were filled with colourful flowers. There, too, were the promenades. Although Bath had declined in recent years and was not the fashionable resort it had been when Eleanor, her mother and her sister had removed there ten years before, it still had an elegance that rendered it lovely in her eyes.
She thought of the day when she and her family had first arrived. They had had to economise, having suffered a reduction in their income following her father’s death, and so they had settled on the outskirts of Bath where it was possible to live economically. The waters had been another attraction. Mrs Grantham had been in low spirits, and the family had hoped the health-giving properties of the waters would be of use to her. Daily visits to the Pump Room had followed, but unfortunately their mother had at last died and the two girls had been left alone. Since when Eleanor had done everything in her power to look after Arabella.
The coach now began to pass fashionable ladies and gentlemen who were strolling along arm in arm. The ladies, gay in their feathered bonnets and colourful pelisses, were holding parasols to shelter their complexions from the sun. There were children walking with their nurses, and ragged urchins playing in the street.
At last the coach turned in to the yard of the coaching inn. There was a hustle and bustle as it drew to a halt. All was noise and confusion. Private carriages were coming and going, some of them being driven by coachmen and some being driven by dandified young gentlemen.
Elegant ladies and gentlemen were picking their way across the yard, going either to or from the inn, and servants were overseeing the stowing or unloading of luggage. Urchins were running errands and stray dogs were getting in their way, but Eleanor scarcely noticed it. The noise and confusion passed her by, and as she climbed out of the coach she was just pleased to be back in Bath.
Going carefully so as to avoid the post boys, ostlers and footmen who were running to and fro, she made her way out of the yard. Cooper, as arranged, followed at a short distance behind her. Then she turned and headed for home.
It was not long before she reached the house she and Arabella shared on the outskirts of Bath. It was a small building but it was attractive, being built of Bath’s glowing golden stone. Its long windows reached almost to the ground, and it was surrounded by a generous garden.
Eleanor went through the gate and walked up the path, ignoring the weeds that sprang up here and there. She had tried to keep the garden tidy, but it was a never-ending job, particularly at this time of year, when leaves were constantly falling from the trees. She approached the door, with its shining brasses, and as it was the maid’s day off she let herself in.
As she opened the front door she smiled. It was good to be home.
Her eyes wandered over the familiar hall. The warm tones of the biscuit paintwork contrasted with the white panelling, and created a welcoming feel. A console table was set against her wall to the left, and above it hung a gilded mirror, whilst next to them was a long-case clock.
There was a letter on the console table, addressed to Arabella. She recognised her own handwriting. It was the letter she had sent from Lydia and Charles’s house, explaining her absence, but now that she had arrived home before Arabella there was no further need for it. She picked it up. She would rather explain matters to her sister in person.
Her eyes drifted through the open door on the left of the hall into an elegant dining-room. It held a mahogany table and chairs, and had gold drapes framing the window. A few good pictures hung on the walls.
Then her eyes drifted back across the hall to look into the sitting-room. A floral sofa, together with two easy chairs, were arranged around the fireplace, and an escritoire took advantage of the light beneath the window.
She undid the strings of her bonnet and lay it on the console table, then went upstairs. Her bedroom was welcoming, with the sun streaming in at the windows. The patchwork quilt, which had been carefully stitched by Arabella and herself, glowed in warm colours on the bed. Two watercolours of the house, painted by her mother, hung above it.
She took off her cloak, then patted her hair into place in front of the mirror before going downstairs. She went through into the kitchen, and was pleased to see that Molly had left everything neat, clean and tidy. The copper pots and pans were gleaming on the dresser, and the large table had been well scrubbed.
She set about lighting the fire. Although the sunshine was pouring in through the window, it was cold.
Fortunately, everything was laid out ready. The coal bucket was standing next to
the large dresser, and it was full to overflowing. She had just picked it up when there came a knock at the back door. Cooper had finally arrived. Putting down the coal bucket she let him in.
‘I was just about to light a fire,’ she said, as she saw his eyes drift to her dirty hands.
‘I can do that for you, miss.’ Without waiting for a reply he took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and said, ‘You leave it to me.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you.’ She had been wondering what to do with Cooper, but now she knew. She was happy for him to light the fires, as it had never been one of her favourite jobs!
He set to with a will. He lit the paper that lined the grate and waited for it to flare up, setting fire to the twigs that were piled on top of it. Once they were burning thoroughly he poured on the coal.
‘You’re very good at it,’ she said, as she rinsed her hands with the water Molly had left ready.
‘My old mother always used to say I laid the best fire in the county,’ said Cooper with pride.
‘I can see we will be very glad to have you with us. It was good of Lord Silverton to arrange for you to stay,’ she added a trifle awkwardly. It was not easy for her to talk about Lucien, but she could not avoid all mention of him, particularly with Cooper, and so she tried to sound at ease.
‘Ah, he’s a good man,’ agreed Cooper.
Eleanor felt a pang at this praise from one who obviously knew him well. Lucien was in every way someone she wanted to be with, and yet she would have to resign herself to the fact that she would never see him again. How she was going to do it she did not know. But she must at least attempt it, if she was not to drive herself mad.
Resolutely turning her thoughts into more practical channels, she said, ‘I am not sure how to explain your presence to my sister when she arrives. Unfortunately, I don’t think she will believe that you are a new footman. We haven’t had a footman for years, as we haven’t been able to afford one. And even if we could afford one, I’m afraid you don’t look the part.’
Cooper smiled widely: anyone who looked less like a footman would be hard to imagine! In both looks and manner he was too rough and rugged for an indoor servant.
‘Even so, I’m not leaving you alone, miss,’ rumbled Cooper. ‘His Lordship’s instructions were clear. I’m to keep an eye on you, and make sure no harm befalls you, until he tells me it’s all right for me to leave.’
‘And I’m glad of it. I must admit I will feel safer for having you here. Although I’m sure I’m in no danger,’ she added.
‘Just so, miss. But it’s better not to take chances. Kendrick was a nasty piece of work, and the villains he mixed with were even nastier. If they happened to see you leaving his house in Pall Mall on the night of the murder, they might take it into their heads to silence you, just in case you’d seen anything. But as long as you go through the next few weeks without anything happening I reckon you’ll be safe. If anyone saw you leaving the house, they’ll make their move quickly or not at all.’
Eleanor nodded. ‘Still, I’m not sure what to tell Arabella. I don’t want to worry her with the truth, but I must tell her something. She will be home soon.’
For the moment she could not think of a solution to the problem.
Glancing round the room, she said, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘I don’t mind if I do, miss,’ said Cooper, sitting back on his heels as the fire began to blaze. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘You know how to brew tea as well?’ she asked with raised eyebrows: it seemed there was nothing this giant of a man couldn’t do!
‘I can turn my hands to most things if needs be,’ he said comfortably.
Eleanor relinquished the task of making the tea and wandered over to the window. She sighed. Although the house was looking just as it had done when she had left it, the garden was even untidier. The autumn leaves had been busily fluttering from the trees, and the garden was awash with them. It would be an endless job for the next few weeks to clear them up, which was a positive nuisance as she had so much to do.
An idea struck her. ‘Can you turn your hand to gardening?’ she asked Cooper.
He brightened. ‘Oh, yes. I like a bit of gardening, miss. I’ve always been an outdoor sort, rather than an indoor.’
‘Good. Then that’s settled. I’ll tell Arabella that I’ve hired you to help outside for the next few weeks. We often hire someone to help with the leaves at this time of year, so she won’t find it strange.’
‘A good idea, miss,’ said Cooper, handing her a cup of tea. ‘I can keep an eye on you and the house without anyone being the wiser.’
Eleanor took her tea into the parlour whilst Cooper, true to his masquerade as a gardener, remained with his cup in the kitchen.
It was a good thing he did, because no sooner had Eleanor finished her drink than a carriage rolled up outside the house and out stepped Arabella.
Eleanor smiled with pride as she watched her sister trip up the path. Arabella’s golden hair glinted in the sunshine, and her big blue eyes lit up her pretty heart-shaped face. Her dainty figure was adorable, and it was not surprising that half the young men in London had been in love with her.
A lesser girl would have become spoilt. But Arabella had retained her sweet and affectionate nature, and was as lovely inside as she was out. True, she was rather timid, and she was inclined to let others make decisions for her, but what did it matter? She had Charles to make her decisions for her now, and he was a trustworthy man.
For Charles, too, the match seemed perfect. He was kindly and courteous, and he liked Arabella’s helplessness, as it gave him an opportunity to look after her.
Arabella was wearing a pale pink pelisse, a gift from Charles, which matched her delicate complexion. Beneath it she wore a dress of the finest white muslin. Even so, there was a faint cloud on her face, and it did Eleanor good to know that she could remove it, setting her sister’s mind at rest about the letters.
She went to open the front door.
‘Oh, Eleanor, it is lovely to see you,’ said Arabella, hugging Eleanor warmly. ‘I missed you!’
The footman carried her valise inside and then departed, leaving the two young ladies to catch up on all their news.
‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ asked Eleanor.
‘Yes. It was lovely to see Sophy again.’ Arabella hesitated. ‘And you? Did you manage to speak to Mr Kendrick?’
‘I did.’ Eleanor linked her arm through her sister’s and led her into the sitting-room. ‘You have nothing more to worry about. I have managed to retrieve your letters.’
Arabella’s face was flooded with relief. ‘You have? Oh, that’s wonderful. Thank you.’
Her words were heartfelt, and were accompanied by an impulsive hug.
‘It has taken such a load off my mind,’ she went on. ‘I was so afraid I had done the wrong thing by telling you. If he had been horrid to you I would have felt awful.’ She looked at Eleanor anxiously. ‘I hope he was not too horrid?’
‘No,’ said Eleanor reassuringly. She had no intention of telling Arabella about the adventures and trials she had endured. All Arabella needed to know was that the letters had been successfully retrieved.
Arabella gave a heartfelt sigh.
She was about to sit down when she noticed Cooper through the window. She turned to Eleanor enquiringly.
‘I have hired a man to help with the garden,’ said Eleanor. ‘The leaves are such a nuisance at this time of year.’
Arabella nodded. ‘Good. It will be nice to have it tidy again.’
‘Now,’ said Eleanor, as she sat down opposite her sister, ‘tell me all about your visit.’
To Eleanor’s relief, the next few weeks passed quickly. It was a busy time, and although she had not been able to banish Lucien from her mind she was at least able to concentrate well enough to help Arabella with her preparations for the wedding. There were many things Arabella needed to buy, and the shops in Milsom Street provided the perfec
t place to find them. Gloves, hats, shawls and scarves were gradually added to Arabella’s trousseau. Then there was the friseur to consult, and the modiste to visit, so that all in all there was never a minute to spare.
Unbeknownst to Arabella, they had a shadow when they went on their errands, for Cooper followed at a discreet distance to make sure they were safe.
‘My dear Miss Arabella,’ gushed Madame Dupas one fine morning as the two ladies made their way into her salon. ‘’ow good it is to see you. And Miss Grantham, you are both very welcome.’
She clapped her hands, sending her assistants scurrying into the workroom to bring out the two young ladies’ gowns.
The gowns were both being paid for out of a legacy left to Eleanor and Arabella by an aged aunt some two years before. The same legacy had financed Arabella’s London Season. There had been just enough left over to provide Arabella with her wedding finery, and Eleanor with a new gown for the wedding.
‘Oh! It looks wonderful!’ gasped Arabella, as Madame Dupas held up her wedding gown.
‘Try it on,’ said Eleanor.
With the help of Madame Dupas’ assistants, Arabella slipped off her muslin walking dress, and then slipped on her wedding gown. It was beautiful. The white silk underskirt shimmered beneath the gauze overskirt. The bodice was strewn with seed pearls, whilst the short puffed sleeves were so delicate they appeared to be made of gossamer.
‘Bella, you look beautiful,’ said Eleanor.
‘Do you think Charles will like it?’ asked Arabella, her eyes shining.
‘Charles will love it,’ Eleanor assured her.
‘You ’ave lost weight,’ said Madame Dupas with a tutting noise. ‘You brides! You are so excited, you forget to eat. You must keep your strength up. But see, I take a tiny tuck ’ere, and a little tuck there’ - she adjusted the gown with pins - ‘and it is done.’
Arabella turned round to see the back of the gown. A ribbon bow ornamented the high waist, and a short train trailed elegantly behind her.
The Silverton Scandal Page 11