The Inheritance (7 page)

"I say,
delighted to—"

"Out. Out now
and do not return!" Lord Michael commanded.

Freddy froze,
then to everyone's surprise, raised his hands and smoothed his
hair, and once again started forward, head bowed.

"Delighted, I
must say—" he chirped.

Lord Michael
could see Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye. She had turned
her head and was staring at him, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly
open. He could not have known it was the only expression she'd
exhibited since the fateful day of her Uncle's passing.

"If you do not
leave this instant," Lord Michael continued, "I shall throw you
out."

Freddy looked
over at his hosts. James and his father were immobile.

"I'm sure you
don't—"

Freddie didn't
have a chance to finish his sentence. Lord Michael strode forward,
grabbed him by the back of his collar, dragged him across the
length of the very large room, out into the foyer, on to the
veranda, and pushed him forward. Freddie tumbled down the steps and
landed on the gravel driveway. Attempting to stand he tripped over
his own feet and stumbled on to his knees, then finally, awkwardly
stood up, righteously indignant but clearly terrified.

"Should I see
your face at this house again I shall beat you with this cane,"
Lord Michael threatened, waving his walking stick in the air.

In complete
and utter shock Freddy began running up the drive, causing James to
laugh out loud. While Freddie's walk was reminiscent of a duck, his
run was even more so. The laughter was contagious and George joined
in. Even the footmen in the middle of collecting Lord Michael's
luggage from the carriage were stifling their chortles.

Lord Michael
turned, grinning, and walked back to the foyer, James and George,
still chuckling at his side.

"That is the
first laughter this house has seen in three weeks," George said.
"Three weeks."

"Marvellous to
have you here," James said, lightly slapping his friend on the
back. "Just what we needed. And hopefully Elizabeth as well."

"Thank you.
Now then, it is she who must have my attention. Would you please be
so kind as to arrange some bread covered with jam, and some bread
with honey too I think, and a strong pot of tea," he requested,
then paused for a moment. "But in the dining room. Not where she is
now. I want her seated at the table. Where might that be?"

"She hasn't
been eating at all," James interjected, "and hasn't spoken a
word."

"The dining
room is through here," George replied, answering his question,
leading him past the staircase to the grand room. Lord Michael
peered in through the door.

"If you would
be so kind as to arrange a setting for both Elizabeth and myself
next to each other, then leave us alone," Lord Michael said. "I
shall see what I can do. Sometimes," he said solemnly, "grief can
steal one's mind. I hope and pray we can bring her back to us."

While the
table was being set and the light snack prepared, Lord Michael
quickly washed and changed. It had been a long journey and he
needed to refresh himself. As he made his way back down the stairs
he saw James holding his sister's arm, leading her slowly down the
hallway to the dining room. He hurried to join him.

"Elizabeth, my
dear," he said warmly, studying her.

It was very
difficult for him to keep his composure. She bore little
resemblance to the young woman of whom he was so fond. Her eyes
appeared to be sunken and were surrounded by dark circles. His
earlier observation that her clothes appeared too big was
confirmed. Her dress was literally hanging off her body. It was
heartbreaking to see her in such a state. He resolved to restore
her to the happy, spirited Elizabeth if it was the last thing he
did on this earth.

Gesturing for
James to step away, he took his place at her arm, and leaning in
whispered in her ear.

"Elizabeth,
have you been a good girl since you've been here?" he asked, unsure
if he would even receive recognition of the question, let along a
reply.

She stopped
her slow walk and turned to look at him.

Oh. It's Lord
Michael. It's so nice to see him. What did he just ask me?

She didn't
speak, but to his relief she did frown at him, and he hoped it was
because she was processing his question.

"Come along,
Elizabeth," he said firmly. "It's time for some afternoon tea."

Afternoon tea? I don't think I have afternoon
tea
.

He walked her
through the dining room door and sat her down at the table. Before
her was a teacup on its saucer, and a plate. Off to one side and
above the setting were a platter of bread and jam, bread and honey,
and a pot of tea with some slices of lemon in one small jar, and
sugar in another.

Lord Michael
settled in the chair next to her. He had the same set up as she,
and proceeded to place a piece of bread covered in jam on her
plate, and one on his.

Why is he doing that? I'm not hungry
.

"Close your
eyes so we may say grace," he said.

James and
George were standing just inside the doorway watching. It was not
customary in their household to say grace, but they did not doubt
Lord Michael and anything he might see fit to do in order to help
their dearest girl.

Dutifully she
closed her eyes and Lord Michael took her hand.

"Lord we thank
you for this bounty. We are fortunate to have such blessings. We
thank you for our family and friends, and ask that you watch over
our dear departed ones, especially Alfred, who has just joined your
family in heaven."

What? What is
he saying?

Lord Michael
felt a twitch from Elizabeth's hand. He squeezed it gently, then
deliberately laid it on the table next to her plate.

"Now we may
eat, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth felt
that troubling lump in her throat. It was larger than ever and very
warm. Lord Michael turned to Mrs Danvers, standing against the wall
should she be needed, and James and George.

"Would you
leave us please?" he requested. "I need to be alone with her."

"Yes, yes,"
George said quietly. "Of course, of course."

Lord Michael
waited until they had left the room, then leaned forward and
whispered into Elizabeth's ear.

"Elizabeth, I
am your Master. Am I not?" he breathed, making his voice as stern
as he was able while speaking in such hushed tones. He didn't doubt
that her brother and father were listening right outside the door.
She did not respond for a moment, then very slightly began to nod
her head.

"And you must
obey me, mustn't you Elizabeth?"

She turned her
head and looked at him.

He is my Master. I must obey him
.

"I'm waiting
for an answer, Elizabeth," he said, his voice low but no longer a
whisper.

She nodded her
head, this time with more purpose.

"Good girl,"
he said, firmly. Then leaned in to her ear once again.

"Remember,
Elizabeth, good girls get rewarded. Bad, disobedient girls get
punished."

He pulled back
and watched her face. Her eyes were wide and she was staring at
him. He could see a faint glint of something there. A semblance of
recognition.

Oh yes. Good girls get rewarded. Bad girls get punished. I
don't want to be punished
.

"Now then," he
said, picking up a piece of bread and jam from the platter and
placing it on her plate, "eat your bread please, Elizabeth," he
instructed, this time his voice crisp and clear.

She turned her
head and stared down at the plate. He waited, hoping against hope
she would obey him. His training and conditioning was being put to
the ultimate test. He saw her hand move and slide toward the edge
of the porcelain, then it stopped and rested. He dropped his head
next to hers.

"If you do not
obey me I shall take my shoe to your bottom, Elizabeth," he warned,
and while his voice was husky and sombre, he was fervently praying
she would believe him. He had never broken his promise, and he
didn't want this to be the first time in his life he would do
so.

The shoe. I remember the shoe on my bottom
.

"Followed by
the rod," he continued, knowing how she dreaded the rod, "if you do
not pick up that bread and eat it."

The rod? I remember the rod. I do not want the
rod
.

She tilted her
head and looked at him from the corner of her eyes.

He is my Master. I do wish to please him. I don't want the
rod
.

George and
James were peering through a crack in the door. They couldn't hear
Lord Michael's hushed promises of punishment, but they could see
Elizabeth was being responsive. Her face had expressions and
reactions. They watched, holding their breath, as Elizabeth reached
for the bread.

"That's my
good girl," Lord Michael said enthusiastically, and proceeded to
follow suit, lifting his bread and jam with the same slow pace as
she.

George and
James gasped in unison as they saw Elizabeth pick up the bread and
slowly lift it to her lips. George brought his clenched fist to his
mouth, fighting his urge to cry out in joy, and James grabbed his
father's arm as close to tears as he had ever been. Elizabeth
opened her mouth and bit into the side of the bread, and very
slowly began to chew.

"I expect you
to finish the whole slice, Elizabeth," Lord Michael said firmly.
"Do you understand?"

Elizabeth
nodded - this time with a little more animation.

I like this. I remember this. This is nice. It's
sweet
.

With each bite
she chewed with greater confidence, and each bite was taken with
more alacrity, until, with just a small amount left she was
consuming it as it she were eating normally.

Lord Michael
was having trouble controlling his own emotions and cleared his
throat, then reached for the pot of tea.

"I know it's
usually your job to pour," he commented, 'but I feel like doing so
today. And I expect you to drink the entire cup and have a second.
Do you understand?" he asked, holding the pot in mid-air, staring
at her.

I would like a cup of tea. I haven't had a cup of tea in so
long. With lemon and sugar. That would be nice
.

She nodded her
head and Lord Michael saw the corners of her mouth turn up. It was
an almost indiscernible smile. He poured their cups, and recalling
how Elizabeth liked hers, held up a piece of lemon.

"Do you want
this?" he asked.

She nodded her
head, the little curls at the end of her lips extending just a tiny
bit. He squeezed the juice into the amber liquid, then taking a
teaspoon of sugar he held it over the cup.

"And
this?"

Again she
nodded, and he dropped it in and stirred. Placing the cup and
saucer in front of her, he poured his own then waited, wanting to
see if she would pick up her own tea first. She did. She drank it
immediately. And she didn't just sip. She drank half the cup, took
a breath, and immediately drank the other half.

Oh my goodness. That was very nice. I think I might want some
more of that
.

George and
James were beside themselves. Moments later Lord Michael picked up
the bread and honey and placed it on her plate. He didn't speak,
but gave her 'the look'. The look was a stern glance. Whenever he
used 'the look', it was at times when she knew exactly what was
expected of her, and she'd better obey him or suffer the
consequences - usually a sore bottom.

Lord Michael
wasn't sure the unspoken instruction would be remembered or
understood, but to his great joy he saw the acknowledgement in her
eyes, and she reached for the bread and honey. Leaning back in his
seat, he drank his tea. It saved him from weeping. His dear
Elizabeth was going to be just fine.

Over the next
week, much to everyone's great relief, Elizabeth's appetite
returned. Lord Michael began taking her on walks through the rose
gardens in the morning and exploring the many stairways and
hallways and rooms in the voluminous house in the afternoon. He
would then have her nap for an hour before dressing for dinner.

The Doctor was
called, and advised she eat small amounts of food throughout the
day and continue the tonic. Lord Michael saw to it that the
physician's orders were followed to the letter. At week's end there
was remarkable change in her appearance. The dark circles around
her eyes had disappeared and her dizzy spells had ceased. But she
still wasn't talking.

It was late
morning and Lord Michael decided to take her for a visit to the
stables. It was their first excursion there since his arrival and
he was sure being around the horses would be excellent medicine.
They walked into the stable yard and Elizabeth unexpectedly stopped
and inhaled deeply.

Oh what a wonderful smell. My favourite smell in the whole
world
.

A stable hand
approached and offered them some carrots. She took a few and
glanced around the yard. She saw Mindy, a dear little horse she had
ridden many times while visiting, and the carriage geldings who
were poking their heads out of their boxes. But then her eyes fell
on an absolutely magnificent horse. A horse she did not recall. A
huge grey stallion.

He was a
magnificent creature, pawing the ground restlessly, and moving back
and forth as though anxious to relieve himself of the rope. He had
a long flowing mane and thick neck.

She started to
walk towards him and Lord Michael stepped forward to stop her. The
horse was one of the biggest he had ever laid eyes on, bigger than
his steed, Coalpepper, and much bigger than Elizabeth's horse,
Constance. He was afraid that the beast might bite or strike
out.