Toblethorpe Manor (18 page)

 Mary helped her lie down and went to have her tea. “I’ll just grab a jam buttie and be right back, miss.”

“I shall not need you till dinnertime, Mary,” she said. “I am no longer so ill that I must always have someone by me.”

As soon as the girl had left, she turned her face to the pillow and wept. She wished she had not scolded Mary in such a way. It was so difficult to guess what might upset Richard. She resolved to be extra careful until Friday next. She might never see him again after that day. Why had she so eagerly agreed to the German doctor’s plans? She might otherwise have put off the evil day indefinitely. Perhaps she had in any case so disgusted Richard that he would not speak to her for the next week. Exhausted and unhappy, she cried herself to sleep.

When Mary brought her dinner tray, she was still sleeping, so Mary ventured to consult Lady Annabel, who said she should not be disturbed.

“I daresay she will waken later, and she may eat then. I shall be at home this evening, and I shall visit her.”

Miss Fell woke at nine-thirty, and Lady Annabel sat with her while she ate. They laughed together about Herr Doktor Holzkopf, and Miss Fell inquired about Mrs. Tupton’s disgruntlement. Lady Annabel described the uproar.

“She won the argument, if not the kitchen. ‘Eaven ‘elp me,” she said, ‘if I kin see ‘ow yer kin let one o’ they murtherin’ Frenchies prepare yer wittles. I’d as soon marry Boney as eat anythin’ ‘e’d made. Mounsewer Peer, indeed! I’ll Mounsewer ‘im, not ‘arf I won’t!’”

Lady Annabel had the Cockney accent perfectly. Tears of laughter running down her cheeks, Miss Fell asked, “How do you do it, ma’am? Are you not Yorkshire bred?”

“Not I. The Mortlake estates are in Somerset, but I was brought up mostly in London, and almost all the servants, including my nurse, were Cockneys. My mother was Italian, you must know, and did not at all like the English countryside.”

“Would you like to live in town still?”

“Oh no. When my dear Kit first showed me Toblethorpe he was afraid I should be bored in such a remote place. I soon learned to love it, though we usually spent some of the winter months in London. When I lost Kit, his home, as well as his children, became very important to me.”

“You still miss him, do you not?” Miss Fell asked hesitantly.

Lady Annabel nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“He must have been a wonderful person to make you love him so much. You must have been very happy together,” said Miss Fell wistfully.

“I pray that Lucy and Richard may find such happiness,” answered Lady Annabel with fervor. “And now, dear Clara, I hope the same for you.” She took Miss Fell’s hand in hers, and they sat a moment in silence, both, had they but known it, with much the same thoughts.

At last Lady Annabel sighed and stood up. “You have scarce eaten anything,” she said. “You are not to be wasting away.”

“I had luncheon very late,” Miss Fell apologized. “I seem to feel more need of sleep than food.”

“Sleep well, then, my child.” Lady Annabel stooped and kissed her forehead.

Chapter 11

When Miss Fell awoke, the sun was shining. Mary flung the curtains wide, and she could see the blue sky with white puffs of cloud scurrying before the breeze.

“Open the window a little, Mary,” she ordered. “What a glorious day!”

The air was cool and refreshing, and she found that the previous day’s distress loomed less black in her mind. She ate a hearty breakfast and then wondered what to do next.

Lady Annabel dropped in and was delighted to find her so well. “I’ll send you some books, if you feel in need of an occupation,” she offered. “I would keep you company for a while but I must drive over to Orchard Street and see how Lucy goes on.”

“Lady Annabel, I ought to write to Miss Florence and thank her for her care of me.”

“If it will not tire you, Clara. You shall have paper and pen and see how it goes.”

Miss Fell wrote her letter and started on one of the books. She was amused to find it was a novel very like
Count Casimir’s Castle
,
and she wondered if it was one of Lucy’s or if Lady Annabel had similar tastes in literature.

The book bored her, and she grew restless. The shadow of a cloud fell across her window, cutting off the sun, and she was just deciding that, after all, it was a perfectly horrid day, when Richard requested permission to enter.

“Come in!” she called eagerly, then added shyly, “I was afraid you were angry with me.”

“With you? Lord no, whatever made you think that? With myself rather, for tiring you. I have the best intentions, yet I seem fated to retard your recovery.”

“Oh no!” she cried with a joyful heart. “I am very well today, and I enjoyed your reading amazingly.”

“Shall I read to you again? What is this you have?
The Ruins of Adelstein Abbey.
It does not sound very amusing.”

“I find it rather dreary,” confessed Miss Fell. “Your mama kindly lent it to me. It is full of mad monks.”

“Yes, mama has a taste for such stuff, though she frowns on Lucy’s reading it. I am surprised she should confess it to you, for it is a dark secret and I found out quite by accident. Pray do not let Lucy guess!”

“‘Twould be shockingly treacherous in me to do so.”

“Shall I read you some more poetry?”

“To tell the truth, Mr. Carstairs, I am too full of energy for such a passive occupation. Should you object to a game of chess?”

“Not chess,” he said firmly. “Too much mental exertion by half. Backgammon is more the mark.”

“Very well, sir,” she submitted, “let it be backgammon.”

“I suppose Mary will not go fetch the board as it would mean abandoning you to my tender mercies. I shall be back in a trice.”

That day set the pattern for several to come. Richard would go riding after breakfast, and then play at backgammon or chess with Miss Fell until luncheon. He taught her piquet and they wagered vast amounts of totally imaginary money on the turn of a card. After luncheon, she would sleep for an hour or two, and then he would read to her, or they would discuss the latest news. In the evening he would go to White’s or dine with friends, while Lady Annabel sat with her, reading or sewing or simply chatting companionably.

Miss Fell was blissful. Determined not to suffer in advance whatever the future might bring, she gave herself up to the enjoyment of Richard’s company. Happiness speeded her recovery, and she argued when Lady Annabel insisted on her obedience to Dr. Knighton’s recommendation of a full week in bed, but a word from Richard quashed her rebellion. When she was able to rise, he would no longer feel obliged to entertain her, she realized suddenly, and pondered a relapse. It would have been useless—the bloom in her cheeks announced her returning health.

Lady Annabel had never seen Richard so happy and at ease since he was a small boy. The hopes she had hardly dared admit to herself seemed less and less outrageous. She deliberately absented herself from the house in Cavendish Square, calling on people she had not thought of in years and finding every day some ribbon that must be matched or book to be returned to Hookham’s Circulating Library. Richard, on the rare occasions when he noted her absence, lovingly called her a regular gadabout and failed to notice her conscious look. In the evenings she furthered her acquaintance with Miss Fell, and grew more and more certain that that young lady, whatever her birth, would be the most delightful daughter-in-law.

The day arrived at last when Miss Fell was permitted to leave her bed. Her legs trembling from lack of use, she leaned heavily on Richard’s arm as she walked across the chamber to the wing chair by the fire. However, she very quickly recovered from the effort and stayed up for two hours. It was decided that if she slept after luncheon she might venture to the drawing room for a short while later on.

“For if Mr.
Carstairs would be so good as to carry me,” she pointed out, blushing, “it would be no more tiring than to sit in my chamber; and while it is a charming room, I have been confined to it for a whole week and it would be positively restful to have a change of scenery. Besides, Herr Doktor Holzkopf is coming tomorrow and I should wish to try my strength a little before I see him.”

“We had better put him off,” protested Richard. “You are not ready for such exertion.”

No less than Miss Fell did he dread the morrow and the revelations it might bring. He was very ready to postpone it, but she now felt she wanted to know the worst and get it over. Richard would never be more in charity with her and if his regard was not now strong enough to survive the truth, whatever that might be, it never would be. She was adamant that she would see the German physician.

“I shall be there to take care of you,” conceded Richard. “If necessary, I shall simply stop the wretched experiment.”

Lady Annabel had stayed home to watch that Miss Fell did not overstrain herself. She was completely satisfied with the results of the expedition to the drawing room.

“She is very much improved, dearest,” she said to Richard. “If we can but see her completely recovered, I daresay she may never have another day’s illness in her life. As both doctors have admitted, her constitution is excellent.”

Richard, preoccupied with thoughts of the morrow, did not reply. His face had the stern expression that had not been seen on it for several days. He went off to change, as he had an engagement that evening.

Lady Annabel dined in Miss Fell’s chamber, as was her wont when Richard was out for dinner. Miss Fell was sleepy, so she left her early. She had just decided to put away her novel and retire when Richard came storming in looking thunderous.

“Where is Lucy tonight?” he demanded.

“Whatever is the matter, dearest? What is today’s date? The fourteenth? I declare I do not know where the days disappear to.”

“Please, mama! Where is Lucy?” repeated Richard savagely.

“At Lady Twistleton’s rout, I believe. A dreadful woman, but her parties are all the rage. Richard, what has occurred to put you in such a tweak?”

“I cannot stop now. Excuse me, mama.”

Without another word, he rushed out.

I love Lucy dearly,
thought Lady Annabel,
but if some outrageous prank of hers has ruined everything, I shall wring her neck.

She sighed, and went to bed.

Richard came home after midnight and sat drinking brandy in the library far into the early hours of the morning.

“H’I disremember when I’ve seen Mr. Richard so top-heavy,” remarked Bell disapprovingly to Willett as they helped him up the stairs.

“Mr. Richard has Things on his Mind,” replied Willett with equal disapproval.

Richard woke in the morning with a splitting head. When his mama requested that he assist Miss Fell to her chair, he growled at her, an event so unprecedented that Lady Annabel quite forgot to ask what had upset him the night before. He did not growl at Miss Fell, but scowled at her so ferociously (and quite unknowingly) that she hardly dared to take his arm. He departed immediately, leaving both ladies wondering desperately how they had offended.

Lady Annabel quickly conquered her own dismay and decided to see Lucy as soon as possible. Miss Fell had more reason to fear his displeasure. She worried all morning, and when Herr Doktor Holzkopf arrived and Richard had not yet reappeared, she was feeling distinctly unwell.

He came unexpectedly in the middle of the afternoon. When Lady Annabel pointed out that he had mentioned the evening, he roared with laughter.

“Ev’nink, ev’nink!” he repeated with gusto.
“
Verstehen Sie, gnädige Frau, auf
Spanish is ev’nink ‘
tarde’; auf Deutsch,
iss
‘tarde’ Abend.
Iss
auch Nachmittag! Ich habe
many years in Spain lift. I mix up mein lenkvitches, iss all!”

Having no idea what he was talking about, Lady Annabel was powerless to protest. Miss Fell gathered the gist of his speech and treasured up his last sentence, feeling that Richard would appreciate it--if he ever spoke to her again.

She was almost glad, now that the time had come, that Richard was not present. It might be just as well if she had time to adjust to the knowledge of her origins before she had to face him. Of course, she might yet turn out to be the daughter of—well, perhaps not a duke—but an earl, say. Unlikely, she thought ruefully; if she had been, her disappearance would have been widely noised abroad by now. No one seemed to have missed her, she realized, her depression deepening.

Herr Doktor Holzkopf had the room arranged to his liking at last. He sat her in a deep chair with wings that hid from her the banks of candles on either side. The curtains were all pulled close against the daylight. Lady Annabel, in the absence of her son, sat slightly behind Miss Fell, out of her sight. The little German perched on a high stool, hastily carried up from the kitchen by a puzzled James, directly before her. He took a gold watch from his pocket.

“Zo, Miss Fell, you regard ziss vatch. I svink it slow, zo slow, before ze eyes. Back and fort’ it go, back and fort’, back and fort’.”

Miss Fell watched, fascinated, as the glittering circle swung more and more slowly. She wondered when she would fall into the expected trance.

“Zo slow it go, slow, slower, slower. Now ze head feel zo heavy, you are fallink to sleep, fallink, fallink, fallink. Your eyes are closink, closink.”

She was not doing anything of the sort, but did not like to tell him so. Obediently she closed her eyes.

“Zo, my lady,” he observed with satisfaction, “ze patient iss to sleep. Now I will ze qvestions to ask. Miss Fell, can you to hear me?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Very gut. You haff anozzer name, you are not Clara Fell. Vot iss your name?”

“I’m afraid I still don’t know, doctor,” said Miss Fell apologetically, and opened her eyes.

“Ach, zo!” cried the Herr Doktor in amazement. “You are not in ze trantz, Miss Fell?”

“I am very sorry. I did everything you told me.”

The doctor was very excited. “I haff only two ozzer people known,” he explained, “who half ze resistance zo shtrong. Lady Annabel, I fear ze eggsperiment iss not a success. I vill try vunce more, if you vish?”