Anna Jacobs (15 page)

“Well,” said Johanna, smiling broadly, “I never would have believed it! She doesn’t usually give in so easily.”

“I think I’ll go for a ride,” said Beatrice, who had been pacing about restlessly for a while. After receiving yet another peremptory missive from Satherby, she was suffering from another wave of guilt at having totally failed to comply with her aunt’s wishes. She had dutifully allowed Jennice to introduce her to several gentlemen from the district, whom Jennice described as eligible, and these had included two more from the Dowager’s list.

But Lord Whinber’s son and heir had proved to be a red-faced, hunting-mad country bumpkin, however elevated his breeding, and he was so lacking in sensible conversation that he would have driven Eleanor insane within an hour. And as for Mr Standrey, well, he might look better when he had recovered from his cold, but she doubted it. A nose as large as that could not but intrude upon one’s marital life.

* * * *

A groom saddled a horse for Beatrice and would have accompanied her on her outing, but she waved him away. “I’m only going for a gentle ride round the home park,” she said. “You needn’t come with me.”

“But his lordship said that - “

She stared at him frostily. “I do not wish for company, thank you, Semsby. I shall be staying within the park. I can’t possibly come to any harm there!” What she desperately needed at the moment was some time alone to think through her predicament, for predicament it was undoubtedly becoming.

She rode slowly along the leafy alleys cut through the woods by Lord Newthorpe’s father to enhance the pleasures of just such outings. Gradually the peace of the day seeped into her and she began to relax. She was quite content to let the horse pick its way slowly over the soft earth so that her own thoughts could drift miles away.

After a while, she came to a quiet pool which she hadn’t seen before on her outings. It was so beautiful there she decided to dismount and sit for a while on a fallen tree trunk. But although she continued to rack her brain, she could make no sense of her own feelings or come to any conclusion about a suitable husband for Eleanor.

Suddenly she realized that the sun was appreciably lower in the sky than she would have expected and when she looked at the little fob watch pinned to her waist, was startled to realize she’d been out for over two hours. They would be starting to worry about her and probably the groom would now be in trouble on her account, which was quite unfair, because Semsby had tried to do his duty. Hastily she put on her gloves and picked up her riding switch.

The mare was contentedly munching the lush grass at the edge of the clearing. Beatrice strode over to the animal and set her foot in the stirrup, but just as she was starting to mount, two birds screeched out of the undergrowth, erupting right under the mare’s hooves, and the animal reared in fright. Unprepared, Beatrice lost her grip on the reins and was thrown to the ground, for which Anders would have scolded her roundly.

“Always keep hold of the reins, Miss Beatrice,” he had told her times without number. “Whatever happens, don’t let go of your horse’s reins!”

She tried to get to her feet and found she’d twisted her ankle and couldn’t stand, only sit and watch the mare vanish from sight, still whinnying in protest at the birds’ unprovoked attack. She tried again to get up but could bear no weight on that foot and sank back to the ground, grimacing in pain.

“How stupid of me!” she exclaimed aloud. “Any idiot knows to keep a firm hold of the reins!”

“Careless indeed,” a voice informed her. “You seem to be remarkably prone to accidents, Miss Dencey. And it appears I shall need to rescue you once again.”

She blushed scarlet in embarrassment. “Oh no! Mr Serle!”

“None other,” he said lightly. “And as I am myself on foot, I’m afraid I can’t rush off to catch your horse for you. How came you to be riding alone? I’m sure Boris wouldn’t approve of that. He is, if anything, overprotective of his womenfolk.”

She could feel the warmth in her cheeks and she didn’t know how to look him in the face. “I - I wanted to think about something, so I dismissed the groom.” She moved incautiously and winced.

He knelt beside her. “You’re hurt. Where exactly?”

“I’ve twisted my ankle.”

“Let me see it.”

She drew back “It’s just a sprain. There’s nothing you can do about it.” The thought of exposing her leg to his gaze made her feel suddenly shy.

“I hadn’t expected you to be missish. Let me see it. You may have broken something.”

“Of course I haven’t! I’d know if it were broken. It’s just a sprain, I tell you!”

“Nonetheless, I prefer to check for myself.” He pushed her hand aside and raised her skirt to remove her boot.

“I can remove the stocking myself, thank you.” She could feel herself blushing furiously.

He grinned and averted his gaze, then, when she said she was ready, he turned to examine her ankle. With gentle fingers he palpated the joint, which was swelling rapidly. “No, you’re right. It’s not broken. But I think we should bathe it in cold water or it will continue to swell and become very painful. There’s a rock by the pool that you can sit on while you dangle your foot in the water. Put your arms around my neck.”

Without waiting for an answer, he picked her up.

For a second time, she found herself being carried in his arms, pressed closely against his chest. She was filled with the same urge to nestle against him, but this time resisted it sternly.

He walked across to the rock and set her down gently. The pain of moving her foot made her draw in her breath and forget everything else.

“It’ll feel better when you’ve held it in the water, I promise you,” he said encouragingly. He helped her to immerse her ankle, noting that she was rather pale and seeing how she gritted her teeth as the coldness of the water began to penetrate. “It’s uncomfortable, I know, but there’s nothing quite so good for a swelling. Bear with it for as long as you can, my dear.”

She nodded, unable to speak, for the ankle had started throbbing and shock was now setting in. Had he really called her “my dear”? No, she must have misheard.

“Are you all right, Miss Dencey?”

“Yes,” she managed after a while. But the pain was making her bite her lips.

“Of course you’re not!” His voice was warm and sympathetic. “That ankle must be hurting abominably and will hurt more when we try to move you. Here, lean against me.”

Before she could protest, he had put his arms around her, upon which she forgot everything but the closeness of him. Slowly she raised her eyes and found him gazing earnestly down at her. She couldn’t seem to look away and when he bent to kiss her gently on her cheek, she couldn’t even protest, for she wanted quite desperately for him to do it again.

“What were you thinking of to ride so far on your own?” he asked, his warm breath fanning her face. “You’re in my grounds now, you know, not Boris’s!”

It was an effort to speak. “I hadn’t realized this was your land.”

A picture of her lying there injured and alone made him suddenly say harshly, “You could have been killed and no one would have known!”

She was hurt by the tone of his voice and could only look down, blinking the tears from her eyes.

He didn’t notice, but continued, still in a scolding tone. “Boris’s guests don’t usually behave in such a bacon-brained manner.”

She burst into tears.

He was horrified. How could he have bullied her like that when she was in pain? Without thinking of the consequences, he took her in his arms and kissed her cheek again, then her lips. “Ah, don’t cry, Bea! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to rip up at you.” Neither of them noticed till afterwards that he’d used her pet name.

“I don’t - don’t normally cry like this,” she gasped, clutching him as if he were her only support in a harsh world. “I despise women who cry for nothing. It must be the - the shock.” She tried to stop weeping, but the effort only made her sob harder, her worries having left her feeling very low. And the embarrassment of having to be rescued a second time by Justin Serle made everything worse, somehow, for she’d crossed his name off her list and he didn’t deserve that insult.

When she had eventually hiccuped to a halt, still leaning against his chest and clutching his sodden handkerchief, she tried to apologize for making such a fuss, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

“It’s my fault. I was far too sharp with you. I should have realized you were in a state of shock. And that ankle must be hurting like the devil.”

“It is,” she said in a small voice. “But it’s my own fault, after all. Getting myself into a scrape again! What an idiot you must think me!” She scrubbed furiously at her eyes and tried not to think of the way he’d kissed her.

“I don’t think that of you in that way at all.”

“Don’t you?” She raised her eyes again and couldn’t believe the tenderness she saw on his face.

Silence whispered around them and neither spoke, but the looks they exchanged said a great deal, as did the colour in Beatrice’s cheeks.

In the end he was the one who broke the silence. “Let me look at that ankle again.” He knelt to remove her foot gently from the water and hold it in his warm hands. The swelling had gone down, but the leg was blue with cold and the swollen ankle was now showing signs of bruising. He could feel her shivering slightly.

“How on earth are we to get you back to Lymsby?” he worried as he put his arm round her again.

She laid her head on his shoulder, giving in to temptation to lean against his wonderful masculine strength just for a moment more. “I - I can perhaps limp along - if you will help on one side and if you can find me a piece of wood to lean on.”

“Impossible! That ankle will start throbbing once you begin moving around. We’ll have to get you back to my house, but it’s too far for me to carry you, so I must seek help.”

She didn’t want to see anyone else, just wanted to stay here with him, feeling safe and cherished.

“Mrs. Powis will be delighted to have someone to fuss over.”

“Mrs. Powis?” Bea’s voice was soft and dreamy.

“My old nurse.” He raised one hand to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. “She’s a tartar, but her bark is worse than her bite.” Beatrice’s eyes were, he decided, even more beautiful when bright with tears. He wanted very much to kiss the tears away, to kiss her properly this time, with the passion that was welling in him, but he was afraid of frightening her. “She - my nurse - is excellent with all manner of hurts. I gave her plenty of practice when I was young, as she never lets me forget. Now,” he put temptation resolutely aside, “let me help you away from the water. Your ankle’s quite blue with cold, but it has stopped swelling.”

The rock was small and he was already balancing on its edge where water had dripped from her foot. As he helped her to rise, his foot started to slip and before either of them could do anything to prevent it, they had both fallen into the water. Luckily, it was only a couple of feet deep at that point, but as they both surfaced, Justin was betrayed into a curse and Beatrice couldn’t help spluttering and splashing as she tried to right herself.

He caught hold of her almost immediately and held her head above the water. “Are you all right? My God, I’m so sorry! Of all the clumsy things to do!”

She was shaking in his arms as they sat there in the water.

“Beatrice! Miss Dencey! Please - it’s all my fault - but I’ll soon get help and - “ He broke off as he realized she was laughing, not crying.

“Look at us!” she spluttered. “Did you ever see anything so ridiculous? What a comedy of errors! Oh, my goodness, you do look silly! Your hair, Mr Serle, is covered in green weeds.”

The humour of the situation began to dawn on him. “And you, Miss Dencey, are also wearing a coronet of water weed.” Chuckling, he knelt in the water beside her and helped her remove the clinging green strands. But what he really wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly, not those gentle touches he had risked before, but passionate kisses. The desire was so strong it shook him. Instead, he offered to pull her up on to the rock, and she burst out laughing again. How lovely she looked when her face was lit up with amusement!

“I hardly dare let you help me!” She chuckled again. “We’ll probably wind up under the water. Oh, oh, my stomach hurts from laughing.”

Very gingerly, he assisted her out of the water and drew her back to the rock. It was at that moment, with her cool wet hand in his, that he admitted to himself that he loved her. How splendid she was! What other woman would have seen the humour in this situation? Now, still standing on the rock staring at her, he realized that one could enjoy sharing one’s life with a sensible woman like this. That one’s life would, in fact, be blighted beyond redemption if one was not able to spend the rest of it with her.

Their laughter tailed off as they both began to shiver. “I think it’ll be best if I run back to the house for help, rather than expecting you to limp along.” He looked at her in anxiety, for she was quite pale now and was shivering violently. “You mustn’t jolt that ankle. Will you be all right on your own for a few minutes?” He helped her to sit down.

“Yes, of course.” The ankle was throbbing again, she was freezing cold and her urge to laugh had completely faded, but she saw no use in complaining. She watched him run off through the woods, her expression bemused.

The memory of his laughing face as they sat spluttering in the water made her smile briefly, then the smile vanished again as she remembered the kisses and realized how attractive she found him. And that was followed by the further realization that he was the one man she had met whom she could love. Did love, in fact.

No! She mustn’t think of that! She had no right to love him! He was Aunt Marguerite’s first choice for Eleanor. He was the only one on the list whom Beatrice herself could think at all suitable as a husband. She had made a promise to the Dowager, a most sacred promise to a dying woman. One couldn’t betray such a promise.

She drew a deep breath and began to give herself a severe talking to. By the time, he returned with help, she was able to face him with reasonable calm, relieved that her shivering hid any feelings she might betray, relieved that the presence of others prevented him from saying anything personal.