Her Heart's Captain (17 page)

“Thank you, ma'am,” Tris said, “but I shan't be able to stay to tea.” He took his wet greatcoat from the butler's arm and threw it carelessly over his shoulders. “I only came in to inquire about your son's condition.”

“Robbie is quite well, thank you,” Lady Garvin said complacently. “He sustained a bruise to his left arm when the carriage collapsed, but it's of small moment. But, Captain, you
must
stay to tea. You're soaked through and are bound to catch a chill if you don't warm yourself.”

The captain's mouth was tight and a small muscle worked just under his left cheek. “You'd do better,” he said coldly, “to concern yourself about Miss Garvin, ma'am. She suffered exposure to the elements for a much longer period than I.”

Lady Garvin looked at Jenny with sudden alarm. “
Did
she? Oh, my poor dear child, you
do
look dreadfully bedraggled. Are you much chilled? Go along to the sitting room, love. There's a good fire there, and I'll have a tea tray sent to you directly.”

“I'll see to it at once, my lady,” Cullum said and went off.

Jenny, before obeying her mother's directive, turned first to the captain. “Please stay for tea,” she urged shyly. “It would be much more sensible to give your clothes a chance to dry before setting out again into the weather.”

His expression softened, and he smiled down at her, a look of intimacy coming into his eyes which Lady Garvin did not miss. “But it's such a remarkably fine day for December, as I've pointed out to you before,” he said with a glint in his eye.

This time Jenny did laugh. “Nevertheless, I wish you would stay.”

“It's kind of you to concern yourself about me, my dear,” he said in a voice meant only for her, “but I've only two more miles to go. My mother was expecting me to return by three, and I don't wish to cause her more anxiety than necessary.”

Jenny nodded and offered him her hand. “Then I'll say goodnight, sir. I haven't properly expressed my thanks for all you've done, but I think you know how grateful I am to you.”

He kept his eyes on her face as he lifted her hand to his lips. “I know,” he said softly. “Good night, ma'am.”

Lady Garvin looked speculatively from one to the other. Just
what
was going on here? A thrill of excitement coursed through her breast. Had her daughter caught the eye of the famous, wealthy, sought-after Captain Allenby? It was too good to be true. But if it
were
true, Sally Clement would be
livid
. It had been clear from the moment the Clements' London relatives had announced their intention to visit that Sally intended to match Allenby with her Andrea. If Jenny managed to steal Allenby from under Andrea's nose, it would give Lady Garvin the greatest satisfaction. But even better, if Jenny snared the captain, what a stroke of luck it would be for
Robbie
! The boy's career would be
made
.

As if on cue, Robbie appeared at the top of the stairs. “Did I hear Captain Allenby's voice?” he asked.

“Yes, you did,” his mother clarioned. “Come down, Robbie, dearest. The captain has brought your sister home.”

“Oh, that's famous!” Robbie said, running down. “However did you manage to—?” He stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of their drenched dishevelment. “Oh, I
say
! What's happened?”

“What's happened, you clodpole,” Tris said, all softness disappearing from his face, “is that you left your sister unattended at the side of the road, exposed, defenseless and vulnerable to attack from man and nature. I've spoken to you once before on this very subject. I didn't think I'd have to do it again.”

Robbie whitened about the mouth. “But I had an accident—”

“I know all about your accident. You weren't crippled by it, were you? You still had your horses … and your two healthy young legs. Why didn't you use them?”

“Well, I … you see, it started to sleet … and I'd bruised my arm and was a good deal shaken up … and I was certain that, when she saw the change in the weather, she'd spend the night with old Mrs. Boyce. Damnation, Jenny, why
didn't
you—?”

“Are you going to shift the blame to
her?
” Tris demanded, enraged.

Jenny interfered hastily. “I thought of going back to Mrs. Boyce's,” she said to her brother, “but it was three miles from the crossroad, and I was afraid I'd miss you.”

“Well, it was damned silly of you,” Robbie said, now reddening as quickly as he'd paled. “Is it my fault if you didn't use your head?”

“Keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to your sister!” Tris barked, his years of awesome authority ringing in his voice. “I had not intended to dress you down before your family, but your reluctance to face up to your callous behavior disgusts me. Whether your sister had decided to seek shelter at the home of her friend or to wait for you at the crossroad makes little difference. If you had a smidgeon of character you'd understand that it behooved you to make certain she was safe before you slunk home to your own warmth and comfort. Your behavior this afternoon was irresponsible, thoughtless and completely reprehensible.”

“Now,
really
, Captain,” Lady Garvin interjected, putting a protective arm about her son's shoulders, “aren't you being a bit hard on the boy? He only—”

“
Hard
, ma'am? This tongue-lashing is nothing! When I think of the torment to which his sister was subjected because of his neglect—and the even worse possibilities which might have come about had she not managed to protect herself and I not happened on the scene—I'd like to thrash the puppy within an inch of his life! However, I'm not captain here, nor do I have any familial rights to punish the boy, worse luck. I have no choice but to leave the resolution of this matter in your hands. But if you'll heed my advice, you'll give the boy as severe a punishment as you can contrive. Good night, ma'am.” And he turned on his heel and stalked out.

“
Well
!” Lady Garvin exclaimed, staring at the door with eyebrows raised.

Robbie was trembling. “Damn you, Jenny,
now
see what you've done!” He turned and kicked helplessly at the balustrade of the stairway. “I'll never get on his right side now!” His voice was thick with tearful animosity, and he ran up the stairs, pausing at the top only to throw his sister a last, blistering look.

His mother and sister gazed up after him from the foot of the stairs until they heard his door slam. Then Lady Garvin heaved a deep, troubled sigh. “I must say, Jenny, you might have been a bit more discreet. Did you
have
to tell Captain Allenby that Robbie was supposed to come for you?”

“I don't see how I could have avoided it, Mama. How else could I have explained why I was standing at the side of the road all by myself?”

“You shouldn't have
been
standing there. I don't see why you went to Winchcombe in the first place. This entire matter could have been avoided if only you'd stayed at home as you were supposed to do.”

Jenny hung her head. “Yes, it was foolish of me to have gone. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry words won't fill a sack,” her mother recited, unwilling to show even a touch of forgiveness. “And as for your Captain Allenby, I don't care if he's interested in you or not. The man's a perfect
brute
! If I had any doubts before, I've certainly lost them now. To speak to my Robbie in that frightening way—it was
monstrous
! I'd better go upstairs and see if I can console the poor dear.”

Without waiting for a reply, Lady Garvin mounted the stairs, leaving Jenny, wet and shivering, to take care of herself. The girl remained motionless until her mother disappeared, and then she went slowly down the hall to the sitting room. The hem of her dress dragged soddenly along the floor, and the ice that had accumulated on her hair, now melting, dripped slowly down her face and the back of her neck. Her teeth chattered with the damp cold that seemed to have penetrated to her very bones. The deserted hallway and the quiet of the house only added to her feeling of aloneness.

Her mother had accused Tris Allenby—as her brother had accused
her
—of being at fault in this incident. Jenny didn't feel at fault, nor could she see anything particularly monstrous in Captain Allenby's behavior to Robbie this evening. As far as she was concerned, this time at least, the captain's harsh scolding had been absolutely justified.

In the sitting room, a fire was blazing and a tea-tray awaited her on the table near the window, but Jenny felt no inclination to take tea all by herself. Instead she huddled near the fire and waited for an onset of the depression which she was certain would come. During the last few months, that depression had often attacked her spirit whenever her mother had stung her with disapproval or neglect.
If ever an onslaught of depression can be justified
, she thought,
tonight should be the time
.

But no depression came. Quite the contrary. A feeling that was the opposite of depression seemed to be spreading, like the warmth of the flames, right through her. What
was
it? As the heat of the fire worked its way into her bones, the last vestiges of her self-pity vanished. Despite the shock of Robbie's resentment and the ring of her mother's scolding in her ears, she felt … she struggled for a word to describe it …
euphoric
!

She didn't have to look far to discover the source of her euphoria. It was really quite obvious. Tonight she'd had a champion. Yes, like a beseiged lady in a medieval romance, she'd had a champion—and one with the most awesome powers. He'd come riding, totally unexpectedly, from out of the south and had exercised his mighty powers for her protection and
hers alone
.

It was ridiculous, she knew, to imagine herself as a Guinevere or an Elayne of Astolat; there was not a jot of the romantic heroine in her nature. But in this instance—this one time in her life—she'd had a champion every bit as strong, as powerful, as unyielding as any Arthurian knight. And the recollection of all his deeds bubbled inside her with joyful satisfaction. For once, someone had taken her side in a struggle. For once she hadn't been second best. After a lifetime of taking second place, she'd been, for this one time at least, somebody's very first concern. And oh, how very satisfying being first had been!

Chapter Fourteen

Tris expected everyone at the Hall to fall on his neck in relief when he returned, but his arrival caused barely a ripple. Even his mother failed to greet him with the expected eagerness. “I'm delighted to see you safe, my dear, of course,” she said, taking his arm and walking with him to the drawing-room fire, “but I wasn't worried about you. You've sailed across oceans in the most fearful storms, so I had no doubt you could maneuver safely through this shower of sleet. It's Andrea we're concerned about. She's not yet returned from her outing to Cheltenham. Sally and Alfred are quite beside themselves.”

Despite their agitation, Lord and Lady Clement took pains to make Tris warm and comfortable. Lady Clement ordered a mulled brandy to be prepared for him, while his lordship urged him into a chair near the fire and made him put his feet up on the hearth. Andrea's little dog, Lumpkin, lying on the hearth, gave him a woeful glance. Even the dog appeared to be worried about the missing girl.

Tris tried to calm everyone with assurances that the roads were not impassable and that the downpour of sleet was letting up, but the pair was not comforted. They paced about the drawing room, their faces tight with apprehension. But when Tris rose and offered to go out and search for the carriage, they would not hear of it. He was already soaked through, they noted, and they insisted that he go upstairs and dress for dinner. It was finally agreed, after much debate, that they would all dress for dinner and carry on as usual until the meal was over. If the missing Andrea had not returned by then, a search party would be organized.

An hour later they reassembled in the drawing room, but Andrea had still not appeared. Dinner (which because of the weather was to be taken quietly at home for the first time in six days, with only the family and the two guests at the table) was put back an half-hour in the hope that Andrea might still arrive on time. Then it was put back another half-hour. When that, too, passed, Lady Clement, afraid that the cook would fall into an apoplexy, led the party into the dining room. But no one felt much inclined to eat.

The second course had just been laid when they heard a commotion in the hallway—the sound of voices, laughter and Lumpkin's joyous barking. They all rushed out to find that Andrea and Toby had finally arrived, hungry, cold, laden with parcels and perfectly safe.

The girl was greeted with not a word of rebuke. Her mother and father embraced her with effusive expressions of loving solicitude, and then both of the travelers, with Lumpkin leaping and racing wildly about their feet, were ushered into the drawing room and settled at the fire with comforters thrown about their shoulders. They were plied with tea, hot brandy, soup from the dining room and a dozen exclamations from the Clements of their relief and delight. The contrast between the reception which Andrea received from her parents and that which Jenny had received from her mother made Tris gnash his teeth.

It was decided that Toby (who, because he'd been riding all afternoon on the driver's box, had been too long exposed to the elements) was not to venture out again but was to spend the night at the Hall. One of the stable boys was dispatched to take word of these arrangements to the vicar and Mrs. Boyce. With that matter arranged and Toby supplied with a dry coat from Lord Clement's wardrobe, the entire party returned to the dining room and fell upon the repast with renewed appetite.

“Despite my pleasure in seeing you safe, Andrea,” Lord Clement remarked while slicing the roast, his voice revealing mild disapproval, “I must admit that I cannot be completely sanguine about your conduct. It seems to me that you—and especially
you
, Toby—showed a want of sense. As soon as you saw the sky darken, you should have turned about and started for home.”