Her Ladyship's Companion (19 page)

“As you say, my lady. The servants’ hall wishes you to know how happy we are that the young master’s been found.”

Lady Dorothy sighed. “Of course. Tell them he’s well, quite recovered. Oh, and all the men from the farms and from Wheatcross ... See that they have, ah, ale and cakes, whatever you think is appropriate. And thank them for me. Try to remember who came. I’ll want to know later. Not now, though.”

The little nurserymaid, harried out of the room by Nanny Babcock, craned her head around the corner of Robbie’s bedroom to see him as she left.

Bedford cleared his throat. “So his young lordship is quite recovered. Everyone will be glad to know that.” He hesitated, then asked, “If I might inquire, how is Master Robert really?”

“If we can get him through the night without a fever developing, I think all will be well. He was chilled clear through, though, for hours.” Lady Dorothy’s voice trailed off uncharacteristically.

For an instant their eyes met, the great lady and the servant. Then Bedford was bowing himself out of the schoolroom. “Very well, my lady.” Down the hall in the distance he could be heard shouting, “You, Charlie, look sharp there. Another load of wood for the nursery, and don’t fall all over your feet like the clumsy dolt you are when you bring it in.”

Nanny Babcock uncovered the tray of food suspiciously, muttering, “What do they think the boy is? Some heathen Cornish savage? Meat pastries at this time of night? That cook, trying to kill the boy, she is. Muffins, chocolate. It should be hot broth, by rights, and so I’ll tell her. But this is better than nothing. Chocolate will do. Warm him up inside.”

Melissa nodded. “He may be sick later on. Nothing too heavy, I think.”

“Right you are. More sense than some people have, miss. And them that’s supposed to be taking care of him, too.”

Melissa threw the blanket off and stood up to help Nanny pour steaming chocolate into a flowered mug. She was too keyed up to sit still.

“Would you care for any, Lady Dorothy?” Melissa inquired.

“Hmm? No.” Lady Dorothy was staring into the fire absently. “Have some yourself, gel, if you won’t stay wrapped up. They didn’t think to send up tea, naturally, just that catlap.” Then, to Nanny: “What’s that stuff?”

Nanny had fetched a dull brown bottle from the pocket of her apron. “Just a drop or two of composer, I thought. Seeing as he’s taken so badly.”

“Laudanum. I don’t hold with it for children.”

“Just a drop for the toothache. I agree with you, my lady. I quite agree. They do say terrible things about it.” Nanny Babcock had a stubbornness of her own, and even as she spoke, she was deliberately measuring the drops into the chocolate. “With Robbie so excited like, I think it’s best. He’ll never sleep with all this bustle going on.” Her disapproving gaze was centered on the two gentlemen, who, it was obvious, she
felt had no place in a sickroom.

Melissa poured herself some chocolate and set it aside to cool, next to Robbie’s cup.

Anna chose that moment to confirm Nanny’s poor opinion of visitors by breaking into great choking sobs over her plate of buttered toast. “I can’t help it,” she wailed. “I just think of that poor baby, lost and alone out there. He might have
died.”

All this, Melissa noted, must be extremely edifying to Robbie as he lay with flapping ears in the very next room. “There’s nothing to get excited about now,” she snapped, hoping she’d forced a bit of sympathy into her voice.

“The poor child. And even now we don’t know whether there is some permanent—”

“That will be enough,” Lady Dorothy said sharply. She’d been extremely tried that night. Anyone but Anna would have shriveled before that hawk-like pair of eyes.

Anna responded by jumping up and rushing into Robbie’s bedroom. She threw herself across the bed where Robbie was, at last, drowsily beginning to relax. “Oh, Robbie, Robbie,” she said, sobbing. “How could you frighten us so, you wicked boy?” The sleeves of her trailing wrapper became entangled with the candle-stand by the bed to such an extent it almost brought the flames toppling across him.

“Can’t you be quiet?” Giles said, exasperated. “You can see he’s safe now. Pull yourself together.” He righted the stand. Robbie looked puzzled and even, reprehensibly, a little pleased to be the object of such transports.

“What a frightful experience for you,” Anna lamented in accents audible through several neighboring rooms. “Poor baby,” she cooed, with her arms around his neck.

Robbie bore the embrace with natural good manners and considerable stoicism.

“I’m fine,” he stated.

“And will be more fine, I’m sure, when you’re left alone,” Lady Dorothy said from the doorway, silencing Anna’s protests. There were scores of people better qualified to sit by the sickbed than Anna, but it took the combined efforts of Giles, Melissa, and Nanny Babcock to detach the limpet-like and decorously weeping girl from the invalid at last.

In all the confusion one person, at least, had taken Lady Dorothy’s word literally. By the time they returned to the schoolroom Harold had reduced the confusion by stealing silently away. Once again Melissa marveled at his tact. As much as anyone, perhaps more than most, he was anxious about the boy, so he had quietly left.

“You may,” Lady Dorothy directed Anna sternly, “give me your arm to my room. It has been an exhausting day, and I begin to feel my age.”

Anna had no choice but to acquiesce. Besides, with Harold gone the audience for her display of affection was woefully depleted.

It was wondrous the great feeling of peace that settled over the nursery as soon as she left. Nanny Babcock piled a plate high with plain buns and brought the chocolate in for Robbie. Giles sat on the bed next to him and offered the food in no uncertain terms, watching him closely as he ate. Robbie was unlike himself, fretful and subdued, picking at the food. When the mug came, Robbie took a single sip and rebelled.

“I don’t want that. It tastes nasty. Take it away.”

“Come on. Drink up.” Giles commanded. Robbie took only a small taste and pushed it away firmly.

“It tastes bitter,” he said positively. “I don’t want any.”

Giles seemed about to resort to brute force, so Melissa intervened. Robbie was, after all, sick and hurt. Giles had all the gentle ways of a dray horse. Taking the cup from him, she coaxed, as to a much younger child, “Robbie, drink the chocolate. It’ll make you feel better. There’s nothing wrong with it.” She put her lips to the rim. “See, it’s quite ...”

Her voice died away, and she took another exploratory sip. “You know? You’re right. It does have a funny taste. The milk must have turned.” No wonder, in all the excitement tonight. Or maybe the cup had been dirty.

She moved to set the cup aside, but Giles forestalled her and took the chocolate himself. He frowned, tasted it, then smelled the mixture. “I don’t see any reason why Robbie should drink this if he doesn’t want to.” He smiled at his nephew. “I’m letting you off easy this time. I can’t imagine why I’m so lenient. But I advise you not to try my patience any further. Get under the blankets. Yes, I know it’s too hot. That’s an affliction you must bear patiently. Think of it as penance. Nanny will sit up with you for a while. I may look in later if this damn sawbones shows up before dawn.”

Robbie smiled sleepily. “G’night, Uncle Giles. I’m awfully sorry.”

“It’s already forgotten, boy. Go to sleep now. Remind me to show you the barn roof your father and I fell off of when we broke three bones between us.”

Robbie grinned broadly.

When they left Robbie’s room, Nanny closed the connecting door tightly behind them with an eloquent click. A gigantic footman peered stealthily in from the hall. He crept in and, with immense care, began to fill the woodbox.

“Good,” Melissa said encouragingly. He ducked his head bashfully and knocked over the firedogs.

Melissa winced. “You’d better build up the fire in here and let Nanny take care of the one in the bedroom,” she advised.

Melissa busied herself collecting the dirty dishes as the man mended the fire. Charlie could take the tray down at once. Giles was no help. He stared at a piece of wall until she interrupted his reverie to retrieve the mug of chocolate he was still holding.

“Please, may I have that?” she asked as he stared. “The cup you’re holding. It has to go back to the kitchen.”

“Very well,” he said courteously, coming to life and emptying the mug carefully into the slop bowl. He put the mug with the rest of the dishes on the silver tray. Then he changed his stance and for a while stood staring down at the dish-cluttered tray.

It was more interesting than the wall anyway, Melissa supposed. She picked up the cup of chocolate she’d poured for herself. It was stone-cold, but it tasted fresh and sweet. However, like Robbie, she found that the sticky mess wasn’t really what she wanted anyway. So that cup also went onto the tray, barely touched, with all the meat pastries and pieces of toast with the crusts cut off. Melissa folded the blanket that she’d huddled in and laid it neatly over the back of a chair. She retrieved the chocolate pot before the footman shattered it. Then she took the bottle of laudanum in her hand. It should go someplace where Nanny would find it but not, she was sure, on the table here.

Giles snapped to attention and put out a hand. “Here, I’ll take that. It belongs back in the housekeeper’s room. It’s nothing to keep in the nursery.” He slipped the bottle quickly into his coat pocket.

The footman caused another spectacular crash. He was clumsier than usual, trying to be so quiet. Giles growled, “That’s good enough. Leave it be.” The footman retreated in disorder, plates skittering dangerously around the tray as he carried it out.

A great shudder grabbed Melissa by the back of the neck and shook her as a terrier shakes a rat. She became keenly aware of her bedraggled appearance. It was long past time for bed.

Giles was now staring fixedly and grimly in her direction. Melissa had an attack of acute self-consciousness added to her physical discomfort. It was an impossible hour to be closeted alone with a man, be there ever so many respectable nannies in the next room.

Obviously Giles had no improper intentions. In his eyes there was no awareness of her as a woman. And Melissa, who’d prayed for this solution to her problem, was miserable with it. Her last defenses had fallen. She was afraid she would cry. “I’ll say good night, Mr. Tarsin,” she said. It was bad enough to fall for the wiles of a practiced seducer. But to feel this way about a man who was totally indifferent to her ...

Before she could reach the door, Giles demanded, “How did you find Robbie?” In the general excitement nobody had asked her that yet. “If you knew where he was, why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was as cold as Melissa’s clammy skin was beginning to feel. Melissa spread her hands in a helpless fashion. “It was Jamie’s idea. I didn’t really believe him. It seemed a useless gesture, but—”

“You mean you went out in the middle of the night, crawled across that damned unsafe bridge, and got yourself soaked to the skin and half-drowned as a gesture?” he demanded bitingly. As if reminded by this that Melissa was still soaking wet, he pulled her roughly across the room to stand closer to the fire. He knelt down and made a skillful job of transforming the smoldering logs into a neat blaze. He said angrily, “I suppose I must thank you for saving my graceless nephew’s life. But what a way. You put yourself into a ridiculously dangerous situation. Muttonheaded, brainless, impetuous ...” From the direction of this tirade he might have been criticizing the andirons, but Melissa was correct in taking it personally.

“It’s your own fault.” She whipped herself up into anger so she wouldn’t cry. “If you’d listened to Jamie when he first came to you instead of playing the high and mighty Lord Infallible and sending him back to the house, we might have gotten Robbie back a lot sooner.”

“I don’t need to be reminded of that. I was told the island had been searched. Come to think of it, I was told by—”

“If you’d been willing to listen to Jamie, he wouldn’t have had to come to me,” Melissa continued angrily. “So you have no one to blame but yourself. I assure you I wouldn’t have gone traipsing over to that godforsaken island if there’d been any other way. We have a lot to thank Jamie for.” Melissa scowled. She hadn’t expected extravagant praise, but to be scolded for what she’d done, besides getting wet to the bone and filling her hands with splinters and ruining a perfectly good pair of shoes. It was just too much.

“Jamie is doubtless in his bed over the stables, or I would thank him, and in a most substantial manner,” Giles said. “I still wish you’d sent for me instead of taking this upon yourself.” In the firelight there was no softening of the harsh cast of his features. His eyes were little bits of flint. Melissa was aware of an anger that he barely suppressed. “For God’s sake, Melissa, you should have come to me. Forget your wounded sensibilities for a minute. I have to ask you something. I’m very much afraid—” There was a knock at the schoolroom door. Giles stopped. “Yes, what is it?” he snarled in vexation.

Sir Adrian was there. “Good. I’ve found you.”

Giles said sarcastically, “Wonderful. How perfectly marvelous. What do you want?”

Adrian looked from Giles to Melissa’s angry face. “I always seem to be interrupting at awkward times,” he piped blithely. “But good news, Giles. I got him for you.”

“Here? Now? What the devil?”

“One of the searchers, would you believe?”

“Tonight I’d believe anything. So the game is up then. I’ve got to talk to him. Now.” Giles glanced at Melissa. Amazingly his eyes softened. His voice was warm and kind. “You look completely played out.” She was leaning against the mantelpiece, drooping with weariness. “Go to your room and get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning. Really talk. And for God’s sake, get out of those wet clothes. I’ll have some tea or something sent up to your room.”

Then he appeared to forget her entirely. “So, Adrian, where have you put him?” He stormed out of the schoolroom.

Chapter 16

I
don’t like what you’ve been telling me of the events at Vinton. A monstrous suspicion enters my mind. You would be well away from there.