Summerset Abbey (13 page)

She hurried upstairs, cursing her aunt’s unspoken mandate that everyone change her clothes for every occasion. The thin black lace and tulle tea gown she wore was completely inappropriate for visiting a hospital. Or for doing anything else in for that matter, except sitting at the tea table looking decorative. The only good thing about tea gowns was that one didn’t have to wear a corset.

Oh, where is Prudence?
she thought as her fingers fumbled with the dainty silk-covered buttons running down the side of the gown. Finally free, she tossed it onto her bed and grabbed a black tweed walking skirt, not bothering to put on a corset. It wasn’t as though she could get into it herself anyway.

She’d been wanting to inquire about the injured pilot for the past couple of days but wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. She kept hoping that Mr. Dirkes would send word, but she hadn’t heard anything. She could send a note to the hospital, of course, but she didn’t know his full name, and it would sound rather strange asking about the health of someone she didn’t know. Besides, she was rather afraid her aunt and uncle would find out and she knew they wouldn’t approve. Not that there was anything wrong with her concern, but her aunt and uncle were just such sticklers for etiquette.

She tucked her blouse into the skirt and reached for her jacket. Kicking off her useless slippers, she shoved her feet into her boots and discovered the bootlaces were easier to do without a corset. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, reveling in her freedom. Everything was easier without a corset.

She tried to pull a knitted stocking hat over her head, but her hair, still piled up into a complicated mass of rolls and curls, wouldn’t allow it. Frustrated, she pulled out the pins, brushed it loose, and tied it with a ribbon. Tucking the ends down the back of her jacket, she was now able to put her cap on. She snatched up a woolen wraparound coat to put over her jacket in case she got chilly.

She ran down the stairs, pausing as she passed the servants’ door, wondering again where Prudence was. This was the first morning she hadn’t seen her. Granted it was her day off, but she usually just stayed in Victoria’s room, reading, or up in that frigid garret they called a bedroom.

Then she had another thought. Dashing down the servants’ stairs, she burst into the kitchen. “Has anyone seen Prudence?” she asked, her eyes darting this way and that. The entire staff had frozen in their places, staring at her as if she were a stylish ghost come to wreak havoc in their domain. Rowena looked around the kitchen. In all her years of coming to Summerset, she had never been down here. In spite of being large and modern, the kitchen felt dark, steamy, and crowded with people.

A small, wiry, brown-haired girl edged forward. “It’s Prudence’s day off, Lady Rowena. She went into town. May I help you with something?”

A plump, motherly looking woman flicked the girl in the back of the head with a towel. “Mind your manners and get back to your pots. My apologies, Lady Rowena. I’m the cook here. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Rowena wanted nothing more than to run back up the stairs the way she had come. This is where Prudence spent her time? “I was hoping Prudence could help me make up a basket of baked goods for a sick friend, but . . .”

The room burst into activity as maids and Cook scurried to do her bidding.

“Don’t worry, miss, we’ll have you fixed right up. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?”

“Um, no,” she said, taken aback. “Thank you.”

One woman dressed as a parlor maid snatched a basket down from a shelf. “Is this too big, miss?”

It was the size of a small boat, used for family picnics. “Um.”

“Of course it is, you ninny,” Cook said. “Go on with you. Susie, get some of those leftover tea scones and wrap them in a clean cloth. Regina, bring two small jars from the cupboard and fill one up with plum preserves and the other up with the clotted cream. Don’t get any on the outside.”

Rowena watched in amazement as the basket was filled with scones, lemon tarts, ham sandwiches, and biscuits. Moments later, the basket was in her arms and they all stood at attention awaiting her next order.

“Thank you,” she told them weakly. She spotted Susie peering around the door again. Had Prudence mentioned Susie? She hadn’t heard her say anything about the other servants, but then, Rowena hadn’t been a very good listener lately. Just being around Prudence made her feel like a failure. Rowena wondered whether Prudence had taken pains to make friends with the scullery maid. No doubt she had. Prudence was just like that.

“Thank you for the information, Susie,” she said before leaving the kitchen. The girl blushed with the pleasure of being singled out.

Sebastian was waiting for her when she finally made it down the front steps.

“I thought you might have gotten lost.” He smiled and took the basket from her hands. “Are you going on a picnic?”

“No, actually, it’s for a friend.”

“Lucky friend.”

He helped her into the car and then went around to the front to start it up. They were silent as they motored down the long drive and it wasn’t until they turned onto the road into Summerset that he spoke to her.

“You know, I could tiptoe around with a lot of small talk, but I have a feeling you’re not a small-talk kind of girl.”

She looked over at him, surprised. “I don’t mind small talk, it’s the pointlessness of most society talk that I can’t abide.”

He nodded. “I agree. You must find tea with your aunt most vexing.”

She sighed. “Very perceptive of you.”

“So I’ll get right to the point, Lady Rowena.”

“Please call me Ro.” She liked this young man. Even though he was no doubt the same age as her cousin Colin and his friend, he seemed steadier, more mature.

“All right, Ro. Who is Prudence?”

The question caught her unawares. “Prudence? My sister. Well, not really my sister.” She turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “How do you know Prudence?”

“I ran into her at your father’s funeral,” he said. “And then again last night. Literally.”

Her eyes widened. “Literally?”

He smiled. “Yes. And then I gave her a ride into town this morning. She said she was going to meet someone.”

Rowena frowned. Who could she have been going to meet? She didn’t know anyone in Summerset. Or did she?
How would I know?
she thought, regret tightening her stomach. The days of whispered confidences and telling each other everything were long gone. Rowena slumped down in the fine leather seat and pressed her hand to her forehead. She felt as if she was losing everything. She sat silent for several moments, listening to the purr of the motor. “What do you want to know about Prudence?”

“How is she your sister but not your sister?”

How much would Prudence want this strange young man to know? He was obviously interested. She could tell by the light in his eyes and the way he leaned slightly toward her, awaiting answers. “She grew up with Victoria and me in our home from the time we were all just toddlers. It’s always been just the three of us.” Her heart caught in her throat. Until recently, that is, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Would Prudence care if she told him her mother was their governess? Rowena decided against it. Interest or no, it was no one else’s business. And Ro was learning that having a governess for a mother made Prudence a person who wouldn’t
do,
or who, in other words, wouldn’t fit in or be accepted into polite society. She was learning there were many people who wouldn’t
do
according to the dictates set down by the likes of Aunt Charlotte and her circle. If you wouldn’t
do,
you weren’t invited to any of the important social events.

“She was my father’s ward,” she said. It was the best she could do. Well, not the best she could do. “Prudence is right in the middle of Victoria and me in age, and she has always taken care of us. I’m the eldest, but Prudence is a natural-born caretaker, so she just played that role. Victoria is delicate and no one can care for her as Pru can. We both adore her.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “She’s never been to Summerset before? I would have remembered if I had seen her here.”

“No. She and her mother went to the seaside every summer when Victoria and I came here.”

“I thought you said she was your father’s ward? But she was with her mother?”

Usually wards were orphans, and Rowena could have bitten her tongue off. They were motoring into town and she took the opportunity to change the subject. “I think the hospital is in the older part of town,” she said, pointing.

He nodded and turned the car. Within minutes they were sitting in front of an old brick building that had been the town hospital for over two hundred years. The Buxtons had recently donated money for it to be renovated and the new addition hugged the back of the building like a fancy new bustle on the back of a rag dress.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait? I can give you a ride back.”

“No. I’ll walk. I’m not sure how long I’ll be. Thank you for the ride.” She waved as he drove away and she wondered whether he was going to look for Prudence.

She turned to the hospital and took a deep breath. Now that she was here, nerves bounced around in her stomach.
You’re being silly,
she chastised herself.
He might not even be here and probably won’t remember much about me anyway.

Gathering her courage and her coat tighter around her, Rowena entered through the wide wooden door. The old part of the building had been poorly converted into an administration area, desks and medicine cabinets lining the walls where beds had once stood. A woman about Rowena’s age sat behind one of the desks. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and she wore a modish brown and black suit with whorls of black braid.

“May I help you?”

“Yes. I’ve come to check on a patient.”

“The name?”

Rowena cleared her throat, feeling more and more ridiculous in front of this smart young woman. “His name is Jon.”

The woman raised an eyebrow until Rowena was forced to admit that she didn’t know his last name.

The woman smiled. “Well, lucky for you we only have one Jon in the hospital today, and you’re certainly not the first visitor he’s had.”

Rowena’s cheeks burned. The girl made it sound as if she was just one in a long line of admiring females. “I actually don’t want to visit him; I just thought I would leave this . . .”

“Rowena! Er, Miss Buxton, rather.”

She turned to find Mr. Douglas Dirkes lumbering toward her from a door in the back. “I’m so glad you came to visit. Our boy has been feeling a bit blue.”

Our boy?
She didn’t think her cheeks could become any hotter, but evidently, she was wrong. “I didn’t actually come to visit. I was just going to drop this off . . .” she tried again weakly, but he would have none of it.

“Of course you’re going to go back and visit! After you’ve gone to all this trouble.”

He offered her his arm and, giving him a resigned smile, she took it. The modern part of the hospital was quite nice. The windows reached almost floor to ceiling, bringing in light and air, and the tiles on the floor were clean and shining. Each patient had ample space, and she saw that several had screens around the beds to give them more privacy.

“How is he?” she asked, her throat suddenly dry. What if he was still unconscious? What was she even doing here?

“You can see for yourself,” Mr. Dirkes said, waving his hand with a flourish.

The young man in question was sitting up in bed as a pretty, dark-haired nurse fussed over him. His golden red hair had been brushed and the nurse was cleaning up some shaving supplies.

Rowena’s pulse quickened at her first look at the man lying in the bed. She’d known on the hillside that he was handsome, but she could not have known that he was simply the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. No, he wasn’t classically beautiful, like Michelangelo’s David, nor even conventionally good looking like her cousin Colin or Lord Billingsly. His appeal had to do with the way the sunlight lit up the mixture of gold and cinnamon in his too-long hair, or how glints of light seemed to come from the blue, blue shade of his eyes. His lips were too thin and the planes of his face sharp and well defined, but his entire being seemed to be lit from within and once again, Rowena’s drab world was drenched in color. Rowena flushed when she realized she was staring. Thankfully, Mr. Dirkes filled the gap.

“I suppose introductions are in order, though that seems rather foolish, considering the circumstances. Lady Rowena Buxton? May I present Jonathon Wells. Jonathon Wells, this is Miss Rowena Buxton, the young woman who saved you from a fiery death.”

“Oh, no. It was nothing like that.” Ro felt her cheeks flush again.

“Save your breath, Miss Buxton. Douglas’s version of the truth is the only one he cares about. In his story, you are the plucky heroine who saved the unworthy hero from a fate worse than death, though I have yet to figure out what’s worse than death.” He grinned at the nurse. “Thanks, Nora. You have a smooth touch.”

The interaction made Rowena squirm inside, though the nurse just winked at him. She gave Rowena a sulky look as she took away the shaving bowl.

“So tell me, Miss Buxton, what would a
lady
like yourself be doing visiting the likes of me?” He stared at her frankly, his blue eyes cool.

Rowena gave him an uncertain smile, not sure whether she liked the way he said “lady.” But before she could answer he continued.

“I’m sure you won’t mind if I don’t get up and bow, miss.” He touched his leg, which she just now noticed was in a cast. “But this makes it a bit difficult.”

“Of course not.” She bit her lip, feeling ridiculous. “Not that I would expect you to bow anyway,” she added quickly.

He raised a brow. “No?”

“No.”

“I told Jon here what a brave woman you were to pull him out of the wreckage and wait with him for help,” Mr. Dirkes put in.

Rowena squirmed. “I just did what anyone would have done.”

“I doubt that, miss. He was a total stranger to you, and you are a well-born young lady. Not many in your position would have helped at all.”