Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 01] - Some Brief Folly (11 page)

"Good God, Mama!" Bryce protested unhappily. "You embarrass
poor Stephie to death! Let be!"

"Silly boy!" His parent slapped his wrist playfully. "My
dearest niece knows very well I have only her best interests at heart!"

Her "dearest niece" was all too crushingly aware of her total
lack of any "brilliant potential" and, knowing that she was already "a
drab little country dowd," kept her tearful eyes downcast, praying the
earth might open and swallow her, her heated cheeks adding to her
despair.

Euphemia could have positively scratched the odious woman.
Long ago, Tristram Leith had once laughed that his adored Mia could
charm even gruff old General Picton into languishing at her feet, and
now, revealing nothing of her vexation, she murmured a thoughtful, "Do
you know, ma'am, I believe you have the right of it. Miss Hawkhurst has
been hiding her light under a bushel. But with very little effort I
think she might surprise us all." She leaned forward and, placing her
hand over the fingers clenched so tightly upon an inoffensive teaspoon,
smiled, "My dear, will you do as your clever aunt suggests and have a
cose with me this afternoon? I am sure we will find much to chatter
about, though I do not promise to reveal all the witchcraft by which
large and ordinary girls such as I wring offers from helpless
gentlemen!"

Buchanan laughed, and young Bryce threw her a look of warm
gratitude, while Archer grunted and regarded Lady Bryce with sardonic
triumph.

Miss Hawkhurst, striving to speak, could not, but her eyes
conveyed her thanks so humbly that Euphemia knew she could easily learn
to love this gentle girl.

Whatever plans Euphemia cherished for the beautification of
Miss Stephanie Hawkhurst were destined to be postponed. Even as Lord
Coleridge prepared to conduct them on a tour of the great house, a
lackey came running to say that the little page was most distressed,
and could Dr. Archer please come at once. Hastening upstairs after him,
Euphemia found Kent tossing frenziedly, his blurred gaze turning to her
with pathetic relief. The doctor's manner became so kindly that terror
struck into her heart. He left, promising to send medicines, warning
her the boy must get worse before he got better, and arming her with
instructions on how to cope with possible emergencies. He had no sooner
departed than the housekeeper bustled into the room. The neat, plump
little Scotswoman proved a far cry from the disinterested individual
Lady Bryce's casual remarks had implied. Nell Henderson was a pillar of
strength, possessed of a kindly disposition, a merry good humour, and a
knowledge of nursing that proved invaluable. She popped into the room
regularly throughout that long morning, and at half past one, when the
ailing child at last fell asleep, Euphemia yielded to her persuasions,
returned to her bedchamber, and, having washed and changed clothes,
went down to luncheon.

Only Mrs. Graham and her stifling "perfume" awaited her in the
smaller dining room. Mr. Hawkhurst, it developed, seldom ate lunch. In
preparation for the Musicale, Lady Bryce had gone shopping in Bath, and
Miss Hawkhurst had gone into Bristol on a long-planned visit to her old
governess. Sir Simon, said Mrs. Graham, surreptitiously retrieving a
scallop she had contrived to send darting into her saucer, had handed
my lady a letter addressed to his great aunt, and, while she shopped,
Lady Bryce's coachman would deliver it to that renowned grand dame.
Euphemia said worriedly that she trusted Simon had not irritated his
shoulder, but Mrs. Graham refuted this. "My sister took with her a
groom and footman, her abigail, a coachman and two outriders, but
Colley decided to ride part of the way beside her carriage, and your
brother felt well enough to accompany him, my dear."

"
What
?" exclaimed Euphemia,
thunderstruck. "He never did!"

"But, yes. They took the curricle. I saw them, leave."

"If that is not the outside of enough! Simon had no business
riding out in this weather, and with his wound so troublesome!"

"As I tried to warn him. But did you ever know the man who
would admit himself not quite up to par when another fellow was
inviting him to go somewhere?" She signed and added, " 'For his friend
he toiled and tried. For his friend he fought and died…' " Euphemia
blinked at her incredulously, and Mrs. Graham tilted her untidy head
and mused, "Oh, my, that doesn't sound very encouraging, does it?"

"Who wrote it?"

"Why I haven't the vaguest idea. But never mind about that.
Eat up, dear Miss Buchanan. May I call you Euphemia? I did know your
Papa so well. And you must call me 'Dora.' No, I insist! Drat these
scallops! How elusive they are! There goes another!"

It was an erratic meal at best, but after a while one grew
accustomed to the heavy aroma, and Dora's conversation was so merrily
idiotic that Euphemia found it difficult to be downhearted. It was as
well she was enabled to forget her worries, for, when she went back
upstairs, Kent was awake, coughing incessantly and in much discomfort.
All she and Mrs. Henderson could do was to bathe that hot little body
and see to it that the medicines were administered as the doctor had
prescribed. Soon, Dora came up to "take a turn with the poor fellow"
and succeeded in so fascinating him with her tale of a frog who
developed an insatiable craving for bonbons that he was quiet for some
time. As the afternoon waned, however, he became more and more
distressed, and it was not until he dropped into an exhausted slumber
just before six o'clock that Euphemia again felt able to leave him.

She went downstairs in time to see Bryce and her brother come
in from the rear of the house. Simon was laughing, but he looked tired
and very cold, and she could have shaken him.

Wearing a superb frieze riding coat, Hawkhurst strode through
the front doors. He pulled off his gloves and, handing them to the
footman, frowned and told Bryce with a flashing look of irritation that
he should have had more sense than to take Sir Simon out driving on
such a bitter day.

Bryce ventured an anxious enquiry, to which Buchanan responded
that he had thoroughly enjoyed it, adding a diversionary, "How's your
page, Mia?"

"Not at all improved, I fear. Dr. Archer is coming this
evening, thank heaven."

At this point two lackeys carried in some battered but
recognizable pieces of luggage. Hawkhurst apologized that, although he
and his men had spent most of the day at or near the scene of the
accident, this was all they had been able to retrieve. One of the
portmanteaux had split open, but the losses appeared negligible, and
fortunately, Euphemia's jewel case proved to be intact.

Climbing the stairs again, her relief at the recovery of her
jewels was marred by the fact that Simon sneezed twice. This so
wrenched his shoulder that, when she remonstrated with him, he
requested irritably that she kindly not maudle over him, and that he
felt splendid. Knowing him and his rare ill-humours, she restrained a
cutting comment and feared the worst.

By morning, having spent a frightening night with Kent, her
fears were realized. Simon remained in bed, stricken with a very bad
cold. With typical male perversity, having allowed not a whimper to
escape him when a heavy lead musket ball had smashed his shoulder, nor
once complained through the agonizing weeks that had followed, he was
now the complete invalid, sneezing, snuffling, groaning, and calling
down maledictions upon a malignant Fate, while never once admitting
that his own folly had brought about his condition. Much as she loved
her brother, Euphemia found herself quite out of charity with him and
informed him roundly that he should be spanked for such irresponsible
behaviour.

Hawkhurst was no less incensed with Bryce, and that young man,
having received a royal set-down at his guardian's hands, hurriedly
took himself off and remained least in sight for the next several days.

Those days were trying indeed for Euphemia. Simon was
genuinely ill, and, despite her irritation with him, she was obliged to
divide her time between the sickrooms, dreading lest his cold worsen
into pneumonia or his wound become inflamed by reason of his violent
sneezes. Kent, meanwhile, grew worse, the harsh, racking cough
convulsing his small body, and his fever mounting. Mrs. Graham, Ellie,
and the invincible housekeeper were reinforced by an endless succession
of maids in caring for the two invalids, but, despite their devotion,
Euphemia was the only one who could calm the child, and as time wore on
she scarcely dared relinquish his burning little hand, but what the
hollowed eyes would fly open in a terrified seeking for her.

Shortly after two o'clock on the third night, he became so
weak that she was sure the end was near. Thoroughly frightened, she
roused Ellie, who was dozing in the chair, then ran downstairs in
search of Hawkhurst. Candles still burned in the library, but the
pleasant room was empty. She was about to pull the bellrope and
despatch a servant to wake him when she heard voices outside. Drawing
her shawl closer about her, she stepped onto the terrace. A chaise with
the door wide stood upon the front drive. Two young gentlemen,
decidedly inebriated, clung to each other as they viewed Hawkhurst's
laughing and clumsy attempts to lift a reluctant beauty into the
vehicle. He placed her upon the step, but was staggered as she launched
herself into his arms again with a shriek of hilarity. "Not so loud!"
he urged. "We've a sick child in the house!"

His inamorata fairly squeaked her astonishment, and one of the
gentlemen hiccoughed, "Ch-child?
You
? Wha' th'
deuce? Did y'lovely Blanche bring y'brat back t'haunt you, Gary?" It
was an ill-judged remark, and the effect on Hawkhurst was startling. He
abandoned the lady and turned on his foxed friend like a fury, one fist
whipping back.

At any other time, Euphemia would have immediately retreated.
Now, illogically angered that he should be thus occupied when she so
needed him, she ran forward, calling his name. That lethal fist
dropped, and he spun around, an expression of dismay crossing his
flushed face as he beheld her. Striding forward then, he took the hands
she stretched out and searched her pale, tired face. The moment she
felt that strong clasp, she felt comforted, a sensation that deepened
when he said with quiet authority, "Go back inside at once. I'll bring
Hal."

His voice was only slightly slurred, and she thought
thankfully that he was not so drunk as to be stupid. His friends were,
however, and stared in total, befuddled silence as she ran, shivering,
back into the house. Climbing the stairs, she wished Hawkhurst had sent
a groom to Down Buttery. He would likely have difficulty retaining his
seat, much less be able to ride faster than a walk. Moments later, she
heard a thunder of hooves upon the drive, and was contrarily appalled
by such headlong speed. The moon was dim tonight, and to ride so fast
was to invite disaster. She sat bathing Kent's burning face, counting
the minutes, and praying that Hawkhurst's recklessness might not result
in his being carried home a corpse.

She had supposed the journey to Down Buttery and back would
take the better part of an hour, but he must have ridden like the wind
indeed, for within thirty minutes she heard the rumble of wheels
outside. Soon, quick footsteps sounded in the hall, and Dr. Archer
hurried into the room, followed by Hawkhurst, who moved to wait
silently in a distant corner. The doctor nodded to the worried Ellie,
threw Euphemia a smile, and questioned her softly as he made his
examination. When he finished, he turned on her in mock outrage and
grumbled that the boy had taken a decided turn for the better. Euphemia
was both overjoyed and mortified, but Archer stilled her rather shaken
apologies by saying she had done splendidly and that now she could
safely rest, having given him the opportunity to enjoy some of Hawk's
excellent brandy.

Thus reminded of her host's efforts, Euphemia turned to thank
him. She was too late, however. Hawkhurst had quietly slipped away.

The following morning, Buchanan felt much improved. Not only
was his cold relieved; his shoulder was easier than it had been since
he was hit. A few more days like this, he thought with elation, and he
would be able to rejoin his regiment. He breakfasted in bed and allowed
Bailey, Hawkhurst's imperturbable valet, to shave him and assist with
his toilet. Then, in high spirits, save for the unwelcome notion that
he had been a nuisance at a most trying time, he went off in search of
some way to make amends. A shy maid advised him that Mrs. Graham was
still sleeping, that Miss Euphemia, poor dear soul, had taken to her
bed at dawn, that Miss Stephanie was come home again and somewhere
about, and that my Lady Bryce and Mr. Hawkhurst's secretary were in the
small gold salon upstairs, planning the Musicale.

Feeling decidedly
de trop
, Buchanan
proceeded down the stairs. Lord Bryce, clad in an enormously caped
riding coat, with hat, whip, and gloves in one hand, was crossing the
hall. At Buchanan's hail, he halted and beamed upward. He went
considerably in awe of the Lieutenant's military prowess, but despite
this and the difference in their ages, a deep liking had sprung up
between them. He told Buchanan he looked "in jolly good point" today,
and that they would have to throw some dice later on. Guessing that
Bryce meant to ride over to Chant House to visit Chilton Gains,
Buchanan hopefully offered to bear him company. Bryce turned quite pale
and began to stammer his way through an involved morass of excuses.
Hawkhurst had very obviously put the fear of God into him, and, having
no wish to cause him further embarrassment, Buchanan politely
remembered that he really must write some letters and watched rather
wistfully as Bryce all but heaved a sigh of relief and fled the
premises.