A Mistress for Stansted Hall (7 page)

The children were outside with Jethro, they appeared to have adopted each other. Mary and Jack had never had grandparents and the old man seemed happy to fulfil that role. Indeed, the entire staff were ready to step in when needed with advice or help for the little ones when she was occupied elsewhere.

Jack, who up until now had been a truthful child, insisted that he'd spent several hours in the company of Mr Bucknall and had even been taken up in front of him when he gone out on his fierce stallion. She was sure this was a fabrication; John had never been interested in his children, had played little part in their lives, it was possible her son was beginning to see Mr Bucknall as the father he had never had. This would be a catastrophe, she must ask her employer not to encourage her son. It would make matters so much worse when eventually they moved on, as they surely would. Good things did not last forever, in her experience.

Checking her cap was straight, no errant strands of hair protruding on either side, that her apron was crisp and clean, she felt ready to go forth and find him. It had occurred to her several times that as housekeeper she should not need to wear protective covering, all menial tasks would be accomplished by those under her control. However, until she had made up a fresh gown from the pretty material she had been given, she must appear as she was.

She paused in the grand entrance hall, already it both smelt and looked far better. The magnificent oak staircase was polished, the marble tiles scrubbed clean and the tall windows on either side of the front door sparkled in the sunlight.

According to William she would find the man she sought in his study working at estate business. With the parcel tucked firmly under one arm she marched up to the door and knocked far louder than she'd intended. Immediately he bid her enter, this time he did not roar and shout.

Stepping into the room she dipped in a polite curtsy. When she raised her eyes she was astounded to see he'd stood up as if she were a lady and moved from behind his desk to greet her. Her pulse raced. Before he had been a handsome man, now he was devastating. She could not take her eyes from him.

His hair shone with good health and was fastened, in the old-fashioned style, at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. Even the thick white bandage did not detract from his appearance. His shirt was immaculate, his waistcoat a dazzling peacock blue, and his cravat tied in an intricate arrangement. She dared not lower her gaze to see what he was wearing
below
the waist.

Chapter Seven

‘Mrs Reed, I had thought you avoiding me for some reason.’

Was it her imagination or did she detect a decided glint in his eye? ‘I must apologise for not coming and thanking you immediately for your generous gifts.’ She could hardly tell him that his butler had forgotten to pass them on. ‘They were temporarily mislaid. It was a generous gift indeed, sir, but I cannot keep this one. Material of this quality is not suited to someone of my station.’

She held the rectangle out and he was obliged to take it. She could see he was not pleased to have it given back to him in this way. Then he smiled and the breath caught in the back of her throat.

‘Mrs Reed, I do beg your pardon. I should have realised that myself. Please, will you not sit down, there are various matters I need to discuss with you.’ With a slight bow in her direction he pulled out a chair and placed it on the opposite side of the desk to the one he had been sitting in. She had no option but to take it. It was highly irregular for someone in her position to sit in the presence of her employer. But then everything about this relationship was irregular.

‘Mr Bucknall, no doubt you have seen the improvements I have already made in the house. However, to restore it fully I need a full complement of staff. Jack tells me you have already brought in a flock of sheep to tidy the park, and taken on sufficient outside men to bring it back to its former glory.’

He steepled his hands in front of him and nodded solemnly. Why did she think he was having fun at her expense? She could feel her irritation building, and did not care to be laughed at in this way. ‘Do I have your agreement to increase the inside staff?’

‘You are the housekeeper here, Mrs Reed, you may do as you please. But I must make it very clear that I do not care for liveried footman and all that flummery. Discreet and invisible, that is what I want in all my servants.’

‘Then I thank you, sir, I shall send someone to the village. I have already taken on all those available who live in the cottages nearby. Forgive me for asking, but do you have any more bolts of the darker blue material? It is perfect for the female staff, if I'm to take on more than I need to see they are dressed accordingly.’

‘The trunks in the box room on the nursery floor are full of such stuff.’ He tossed the parcel of gold silk back to her, his sudden gesture startled her and the item fell the floor with a thump. She had not fastened the string securely and it unrolled; yards of shimmering silk cascaded across the boards.

She exclaimed in horror at her clumsiness. This was no way to treat such delicate stuff. Scrambling from her chair she dropped to her knees and started to gather it back. His strong hands gripped her elbows and she was lifted from the floor and dropped, rather too hard, back on her feet.

‘Leave it. You have girls to pick up after you, Mrs Reed. I will not have you scrabbling about the floor as if you are no better than serving maid.’ He stared down at her, his mouth firm and his expression uncompromising. ‘Ring the bell. Summon a girl to pick this up. Come with me, we can continue our discussion on the terrace.’ Without allowing her time to disagree he took her arm and all but bundled her out of the open French doors. ‘Sit there, in the shade, I shall speak to the girl when she arrives.’

He strode inside and she heard him issuing orders, no doubt they would be obeyed with alacrity. His absence gave her a precious few moments to recover her composure. She was unused to being manhandled in this way, he was a very dictatorial gentleman and she wasn't at all sure she liked him at all. He reappeared and handed her a glass of something sweet. ‘Drink this, my dear, it is sherry wine, it will calm your nerves.’

Obediently she sipped and found the contents to her liking. ‘I have not had this before, it is most palatable, I thank you for bringing it, sir.’

He folded himself on to the stone bench beside her. His proximity was unsettling and nervously she gulped her drink. The liquid went the wrong way and she choked. Red-faced and mortified, she was obliged to suffer the indignity of being thumped on the back whilst gasping like a landed fish.

‘I am recovered, thank you for your assistance. I do not know why it is, but every time I am in your vicinity some accident occurs. I think we will do well to keep our meetings to a minimum in future.’ She stood up and curtsied. ‘I would like to ask you a favour, Mr Bucknall. Would you allow my daughter to play your piano in the drawing room? She is a talented pianist and I can assure you it will be no hardship to listen to her.’

His gaze was no longer on her, but over her head towards the natural lake that graced the sweeping lawn. ‘Is that your son over there by the boat shed?’

Emma followed his pointing finger. ‘It is, he should not be there on his own. He is forbidden to go near water without an adult with him.’

Before she could gather her skirts and race down the slope he grabbed her arm, restraining her. ‘Has he been told expressly not to go down to the lake?’

Why was he delaying to ask such silly questions? ‘Yes, did I not just say so? Please, sir, I must go down there before he falls in and drowns himself.’

‘No, I shall fetch him back; he will come to no harm from the water. I can assure you, Mrs Reed, he will not venture there again. Go about your duties and allow me to take care of this matter for you. After all, your children are as much my responsibility as yours whilst they reside under my roof.’

Reassured by his confidence, although puzzled by his comments about responsibility, she returned to her sitting room. Mrs Turner was due to discuss the menu for tomorrow, but first she would find Mary and tell her the good news.

*

As Rupert jogged down to the water he wondered what had possessed him to become involved in this way. Each step jarred his head, he would be glad when the sawbones returned to remove the sutures. It was correct that anyone in his employ was his responsibility but he wasn't sure that included the offspring of employees. However, Mrs Reed had more than enough to do running the household. And it was high time this young scamp was taken in hand. He was hopelessly spoilt, overindulged by his doting mama, in desperate need of discipline in his opinion.

The child had been told not to come near the water and had deliberately disobeyed. He doubted he would be punished by his mother, so he would administer some well-deserved discipline himself. A few sharp slaps on his backside would do the boy no harm, and might teach him to mind his mother more. It might also save his life by keeping him away from the water.

When he was within range he raised his voice and roared. ‘Jack Reed, what the devil do you think you're doing down here when you have been forbidden to go near the water?’

The little boy had been happily poking his stick into the lake. The child, scared witless by his shout, tumbled forward and disappeared beneath the reeds. Cursing his stupidity, Rupert ripped off his jacket and waistcoat, one boot and then the other followed. He dived headfirst into the lake and swam desperately towards the bottom.

At first he could see nothing, just waving greenery and water. Then he caught a glimpse of something solid and lunged forward. His lungs were bursting. There were black spots before his eyes. He would not give up until he had the boy. His questing fingers touched a slippery leg; he gripped it hard and shot to the surface. It was too deep to stand even for him, and the water was cold even in midsummer. Jack was limp in his arms, his head lolling to one side, no sign of life at all.

Not again, not another life lost because of him. Desperately he turned the boy over his knee and began banging him vigorously between the shoulder blades. Although a gush of water came from his mouth, he was still not breathing. Once when a sailor had gone overboard he'd watched in amazement as an Arab physician had somehow breathed life back into what had appeared to be a corpse.

Flipping the child on to his back he knelt over him trying to remember what he'd seen. Whatever he did, it could not make matters worse. Placing his own mouth over the boy's he breathed deeply, then turned his head and drew a second breath and pushed this into the boy's lungs. He turned his head away and then the miracle took place, just as it had done on the ship. The child convulsed, vomited up the remainder of the water he'd swallowed and started to weep piteously.

Scooping him up, Rupert stroked his little head. ‘Hush, my brave boy, you are safe now. Perhaps you will remember not to go near the water in future.’ Stopping momentarily to snatch up his jacket and wrap the shivering child in it, he ran back to the house.

When he arrived at the terrace William was waiting for him. ‘Here, let me take him, sir. You must go upstairs and get yourself dry, you will have done yourself no good so soon after your accident.’

Reluctantly Rupert handed his burden over, his valet was correct. He did feel extremely unwell, he ran his hand over his dripping hair and it came away red. At least one of the sutures had broken. ‘Send for Doctor Andrews, William. I fear that I shall need him as urgently as the little lad.’

*

‘Lawks a mussy! Whatever's all that noise?’ Mrs Turner jumped to her feet and bustled to the door. Emma was beside her instantly, she had hardly had time to settle behind the table for their meeting.

Tilly hurtled down the passageway. ‘It's your Jack, Mrs Reed, he fell in the lake. The master got him out but he looks mighty pale. William's sent for Doctor Andrews.’

The flustered girl had hardly finished speaking when William hurried round the corner carrying her beloved son wrapped in Mr Bucknall's jacket. What felt like a stone lodged in her stomach. Her voice sounded strange, as if it belonged to someone else. ‘Bring him through. Mrs Turner, fetch a warming pan and hot water. Tilly you come with me.’

William waited, holding the dripping bundle, while she placed a thick comforter on top of the bed. He gently placed her child in the centre and stood back. ‘Quickly, Tilly, we must strip off his wet clothes and then rub him dry with a towel. The more vigorously we rub, the quicker we will restore his circulation.’

Although he was deathly pale and cold he was definitely breathing. His eyes flickered open and he half smiled at her before slipping back into a swoon. She flung his wet clothes in a heap on the boards and dried him vigorously. Tilly rubbed one arm whilst she worked on the other. His skin was becoming less pallid, their treatment was working.

The patter of light footsteps warned her Mary was about to arrive. ‘Mama, is Jack drowned?’

‘No, darling, he is cold and miserable but not drowned. Fortunately Mr Bucknall was there to fish him out in time.’

Jack turned his head and stared at his sister. ‘I told you he was brave, he's very good at saving people.’

‘Dearest, raise your arms and let me slip this warm nightgown over your head. Then you must get into bed and drink this hot tea Cook has sent you.’

Mary leant over and kissed her brother's forehead. ‘Well, Mr Bucknall's certainly better saving people now than he was before. Mama is always telling us that
practice makes perfect.
’

‘Mary, I think that is quite enough from you. Run along and make yourself useful in the kitchen. Jack needs to rest.’

Tilly smoothed the covers and stepped back with a happy smile. ‘He'll do, Mrs Reed. Look, his colour's much better and his skin's warmer too. I don't reckon Doctor Andrews will say any different.’

Emma looked at her son; she believed she was feeling more unwell than him at the moment. ‘Jack, Tilly is going to help you with your lovely sweet tea. Mama is going to see how Mr Bucknall is after his courageous actions.’

Her apron was quite sodden, she discarded it, checked her cap was straight in the overmantel mirror and ran up the stairs to the main part of the building. It was hard to imagine what it would have been like working at Stansted Manor when the east wing had still been there. It was overlarge as it was.

William met her in the hall. ‘Mrs Reed, Doctor Andrews is with the master. Unfortunately Mr Bucknall has reopened his wound and it needed stitching again. I took the liberty of sending the doctor upstairs first, word from downstairs was more encouraging.’

‘You did exactly right, William. Jack is a very lucky boy and is almost fully recovered from his unpleasant experience. I should like to thank Mr Bucknall personally, would you be so kind as to let me know when it would be convenient for me to come?’

‘If I were you, ma'am, I should leave it for a bit. The master's a bit tetchy at the moment if you know what I mean, demanding his brandy be brought up to him.’

‘Oh dear! I do hope this accident does not set him back. I shall suggest to Doctor Andrews that he might forbid strong alcohol for the moment. Kindly send the doctor down when he has finished upstairs.’

The doctor declared her beloved boy to be quite well. He could get up as usual the following day. She was glad she could inform the rest of the staff that the drama was over and they could return to their duties. Her meeting with Mrs Turner was completed satisfactorily and she spent the remainder of the afternoon with one ear listening out for her son while she filled in her housekeeper's journal.

Jack sat up in bed and demanded his supper when he woke a second time; news from upstairs was also more encouraging. Emma left Tilly and Mary to sit with her son and sent word to William that she was on her way. Mr Foster had told her the invalid was refusing to remain in his bed, but had agreed to recline on a
chaise longue
in the sitting room that adjoined his bedchamber.