Lady Phillipa's Peril: Regency Romance Suspense Series ( Book 3) (Lords of Sussex 4) (15 page)

Struggling with her, he puffed ‘Tis time you grew up – time you felt the whip.’

Pushing open the door, he threw her into the room closing it behind him.

Glaring at her, he dragged her to the bed, ‘And after your beating, I shall claim you here and now. He won’t want you then.’

As he raised his hand, he heard a roar behind and found himself in a stranglehold, ‘Loose her now Thurston, whilst you still have breath.

Pulling away from his grasp; Phillipa stood appalled, as Damien let him go and raised his fists.

Panting Hector yelled, ‘How dare you, you fatwit – she is mine to do with as I please, you break the law my—’

‘Call your seconds Thurston.’

Horrified, Phillipa cried out ‘Stop it stop it now. Think what you are doing to your mama, the twins. Would you spoil their lives, would you bring ruin down on us all for your pride?’

Panting, Hector glared at her. ‘Damn you Pippa.’

‘Come Hector, we were friends; will you wreck it all now? Please desist.’

Damien stood to one side allowing her to speak. His pride was wounded, and he was about to demand satisfaction, but he realized she talked sense.

Muttering, Hector slumped down on a chair. ‘Damn it all – damn it.’  Getting out his handkerchief, he wiped the sweat from his broad forehead. ‘Can’t see me way out of this.’ He looked up at Phillipa, his eyes full of remorse, ‘Damn temper of mine, beg pardon duckie, beg pardon, didn’t mean ter hurt you.’

Phillipa felt the tears spring to her eyes; this was her amiable Hector again. The vision of him as a boy rose in her mind, a boy with whom she’d played, a boy who protected her throughout the years. ‘Oh Hector, let us be friends again, let us not be bitter. I wish – I just wish – but I can’t.’

‘Don’t cry Pippa, don’t cry.’ Puffing, Hector rose and bending, gave her a little hug, before crossing to the mirror, on his dressing table. Picking up a brush, he tidied his tousled locks. Phillip even felt a bit of a grin tugging at her lips, vain as ever. At least, he was more interested in his looks now.

She saw Damien’s jaw bunch, as he now stood nonchalantly against the door, his arms crossed. Going to him, she placed her hand on his arm. ‘Come let us go see the dowager.’

The manor was still fairly quiet, with many of the guests still abed. Maids and footmen bustled to and from the breakfast room serving early risers. Hector peered in, his stomach rumbling, nodding as he greeted some of his fellow huntsmen.  Turning to Damien and Phillipa, he said, ‘Stay here, and I will find mama.’  He walked to the long drawing room expecting his mother to be there with some of the guests, but it was empty. Summoning her personal maid, he enquired as to the dowager’s whereabouts.

‘My lord, ‘ the maid said with a short curtsey, ‘the dowager, is away to the haberdashery shop and the milliners with the ladies Amelia and Lily, they needed things as they are going away soon after the wedding.’

Biting his lip, he frowned, how on earth was he going to tell the twins? He wilted at the thought of their displeasure. There would be another hysterical scene. Oh dear, the things a man must suffer at the hands of the ladies. He frowned, their plans to find a suitor in Brussels, will be dashed.  There was no way a bachelor could take his twin sisters into the social whirl of Brussels, and the lecherous officers without the help of a redoubtable female.

He returned to Damien and Pippa, ‘We’re too late, seems the twins have dragged mama off for last minute shopping. We’ll have to catch her when she returns.’

Phillipa nodded; she resolved to go in search of Venetia, to apprise her of the latest events.  She was in sore need of a friend, to support her in such a traumatic time. Later, she would have to face her parents.

‘Well, I’m not hanging around, I’m off to the hunt,’ Hector said, a Corinthian to the last. ‘Can’t keep the guests waiting.’ Looking up at Damien, he said, ‘Join us – might as well bury the hatchet as they say. Better have something to eat. Come on I say, shake hands old chap.’

Damien paused, wanting to give the man a good hiding, but there was Phillipa to think about and even so, they all had a future together. Now was the time to try to make amends. Shaking the proffered hand, he gave a tight smile, before turning to Phillipa. ‘Will you be alright my sweet?’

‘Yes of course, I will seek out Venetia; I think we shall ride, there is a good bridle path through the woods to the west.

‘Good – won’t be in our way. Have a pleasant afternoon m’dear.’ Hector said graciously, and then turned away, but to her joy, he stopped and turning his head, raised his hand, and waggling his fingers said, ‘Quack – quack.’

Phillipa could not help but laugh, and waggled hers back.  Her whole body almost crumpled with relief, he was back, her dear friend was back in her life. They’d had their childish fights through the years, as he was governed by that quick temper of his, but he always sprang back very quickly. Although this was a violent altercation, his sunny nature prevailed.

Watching her walk away, Hector made haste to Lady Amaryllis’s room. Knocking on the door, he straightened his cravat.  A maid answered the door, ‘Lord Thurston to see the lady Amaryllis, if you please.’ Curtseying, the maid stepped back to allow him in

Lady Amaryllis rose hastily from her chair, casting her stitching aside. ‘’May we have some privacy m’dear?’

‘Of course my Lord, ‘Hilda – leave us please.’

Once the door closed on the maid, Hector turned to Amaryllis grasping both her hands. ‘I know this is rushed, but I cannot let you suffer a moment longer. Will you do me the honour of becoming Baroness Thurston?’

Astonished, she blustered, ‘You mean you really wish to—’

‘Marry me Amaryllis. I am quite taken with you. You are a good horsewoman, talented and a damn clever card player. I think we could be very happy together; we suit you and I. Egad you even love the pugilism. So what’s it to be eh?’

‘Oh Hector, yes – yes – yes. Oh dear I am so happy. I promise not to beat you at whist too often.’

Hector clasped her in his arms, then swung her off her feet, ‘Damned if I haven’t got the most beautiful woman in the whole of Sussex. Egad what a time we’ll have. After we finish off old Boney, the first thing, I’ll do is take you to Paris, Florence and then Rome.’  He danced her around the room, his anger swiftly forgotten.

‘Oh Hector, why you take my breath away. Oh I do love you.’

Hector beamed and kissed her soundly on the lips. ‘Another surprise for Mama.’

Returning to her room, Phillipa sat down at the escritoire to pen a note to Venetia. She just hoped that Horatio had joined the hunt; they were two love birds and very rarely apart. However, hopefully this afternoon Venetia was free for them to ride.  Summoning Mary, she handed her a note, bidding her to return to help her change.

On her return, Mary helped Phillipa with all the ribbons and laces; however, her mistress instructed her that she did not wish for even the lightest of corsets, she wanted her body to be free, so she could enjoy the ride without becoming breathless. ‘I would wear the rose twill, the wrapped skirt over pantaloons; matching gloves and the white stock.’

‘Very well milady. Shall I dress your hair?'

‘Yes, take down the hairpiece; I want to wear the boxed hat.’

Yet even as Mary fussed and preened, Phillipa’s heart was low; she was about to bring such anguish to the dowager and wished there was some way she could avoid it. However, it was impossible. All she wanted now was to escape, to fling herself on a horse, legs astride and just ride, forgetting all, feeling the wind through her loosed hair. Mary stopped her chatter and said hesitantly, ‘Are you troubled milady? Can I help you?’

Nodding, Phillipa said, ‘Yes, Mary, I am sore at heart at the moment, Lord Hector became inflamed over it all. On top of that the dowager was out with the twins when we went to tell her of our decision not to marry. Now I must wait for hours and am much afeared of her response.’

‘But she is so kindly a person milady; I am sure her heart will be sore for you and Lord Hector; she will forgive you both.’

‘Yes, I pray it is so.’

‘Mary you are a blessing.’ She was so fortunate to have Mary, and looked upon her as the friend she was. Many treated their servants without respect or politeness; employers looked upon them as mere automatons without feelings, dreams or hopes; they were to be wound up and then put away out of sight until the next task. Many were not allowed to marry or have a beau whilst in service. However, many more did not even enjoy an afternoon off once a month and went years without seeing their loved ones, except be it for a funeral. When they signed to their mistress or master, they were bound twenty-fours a day, seven days a week.

For some servants, it was a heaven, as compared to the poverty-stricken  abode they endured. No more for them the vermin infested rooms, no more did they have to endure sharing their one living room with the family cow, pig and chickens, if they were indeed fortunate enough to have livestock. Why some slept with the animals for warmth in the cruel winter months, when fuel was scarce.

To her, Mary was a friend and confidante. She was far more aware of Phillipa’s feelings and moods,  than the family and friends, except for Isabella, Henrietta and Venetia.

‘Hah milady, I pray God all will be well for you.’

Sighing again, Phillipa picked up her whip, and hooked her reticule to the wrap-over  skirt.’

Mary gave her a quick hug and opened the door for her. Resigned, Phillipa said, ‘Pray for me.’

‘Tis like the angels draped lace over the tops of the trees, tis quite ethereal.’ Venetia said gazing up at the branches of trees hanging over the bridle path, forming a lattice work of delicate green and golden leaves. 

Phillipa looked up, hearing the songs of finches and thrushes, alongside the cooing of  doves and wood pigeons. ‘Yes, indeed I can feel the warmth of the sun on my skin.  Oh Venetia, I so wish, we could stay in this moment, just to be free of all care.’ She leant forward to stroke the glossy coat of the little bay mare. ‘Betsy is so tranquil a filly; she never argues or rears. Although I hear she does give the groom a kick now and then, just to remind him to give her a treat.’

Venetia rode on quietly for a few minutes, and then turned to Phillipa, ‘Tell me dearest, what ails you?'

‘Oh dear. I so needed you last night, or early this morning rather, but I knew you would have only just gone to sleep. I wish I did not have to give you another tale of woe. But so much has happened.’

‘Please Phillipa, you know I would follow you to the world’s end if I had to. Don’t hold back dearest. I am here for you. Goodness knows you have helped me out time and time again. Come, it is quiet and so private here, we will not be overheard or interrupted. Let us dismount and sit in that sunny clearing, the grass is so green and looks soft.

‘That is a good idea. I did actually bring a small cover with me, as I thought we should sit somewhere.’  Having tied their mounts to a silver birch tree, Phillipa spread the blanket on the grass. Once comfortably seated, she began, whilst Venetia stretching out, lolled beside her. Phillipa went on to recount the events from when she last saw her at the rout. Her friend listened in a sympathetic silence, without interruption or remarks.’

As she finished, she looked over at Venetia, ‘So you see, in a strange way, it is a happy ending, I must marry him Venetia, I know what love is now, I know what you feel for Horatio.’

Venetia sat up and put her arm around her friend. ‘Oh my dearest, I am so happy for you. There is no way to explain the depth and height of love. The other day when we walked along the promenade, I was saddened that you were condemned to a life without this love; I believed you were imprisoned for the rest of your life. Now you are free, and have so much to look forward to.’

‘I hope so, I am anxious for it all to be over. As I said, we have yet to apprise the dowager. But there is—’

A series of shots rang out over the woods, Phillipa said, ‘Tis the hunt, you know I feel so sad for the birds. That is the reason I will never go on the hunt.’

‘Me too. I know some women cannot wait to be blooded at the fox hunt, and consider it an honour, a great achievement. They show no—’

Shouts nearby cut off her words. They scrambled to their feet as horses came into view, their hooves thundering over the path.

‘What on earth…?’ Phillipa peered through the trees, to see  another  group of men trekking across  the meadow towards the manor.  Something is amiss, they said they were hunting to the north. Look some are on foot running madly.’

‘Come let us follow.’

Ignoring the niceties, Phillipa leapt into the saddle legs astride, following Venetia, as they galloped  after the men. Phillipa caught up with one runner, his arms pumping, his florid cheeks now beetled. ‘Sir, sir, is something amiss?

‘Yes milady,’ he gasped, his breath belaboured as his stout short legs thrashed through the grass. ‘Been shot he has.’

‘Stop – tell me who?’

‘The master, been shot dead he has. Can’t wait ma’am I have ter go.

Venetian caught her up, ‘What’s wrong?’

Hector – Hector’s been shot. Oh God, he’s dead.’  ‘Kicking into Betsy’s sides, she galloped towards the manor. 

Reaching the entrance to the manor, Phillipa leapt off the horse, throwing the reins to a footman. Venetia caught up with her, as she ran through the stone portico into the huge baronial hall. She thrust through people milling about, their voices raised,

‘Send for the physicker.’

‘The master is shot.’

‘The master is dead.’

‘Oh the blood – the blood.

‘Where is he ?’ Phillipa asked one lady sitting by a suit of armour, ‘I think they took him to the long drawing room.’

‘No they didn’t.’ another lady interrupted, ‘he is in the main kitchen, he is bleeding so.’

Phillipa and Venetia picked up their skirts and raced through the stone corridors, jumping down the stone stairs to the basement. They were met with more people crying and gesticulating, whilst others moaned into their handkerchiefs. 

‘Damien.’ Phillip cried out, seeing him bent over a body on the massive kitchen table.

‘Phillipa, don’t come near – stay away.’

‘Is he … is he—’

‘He is alive Pippa, never fear, he lives. This was no accident; whoever did this was a poor shot.’

‘Oh thank God – thank God.’ She felt Venetia’s arms about her and clung on. Gathering her wits, she took the handkerchief Venetia offered and rose from her seat. Gulping down a breath, she walked over to Damien now busy cutting off Hector’s shirt and trousers. She gazed down at her dear friend, wincing at the sight of the savage wound in his shoulder, the jagged gash in his upper left thigh.

Damien looked to Horatio on the other side of the table, ‘Get these people out of here.’ Turning to Phillipa he said, ‘Are you up to it? 

‘To what?’

‘A moment please.’ Wrapping some sheeting into a ball, he pressed it into the wound, immediately the blood trickled around it. ‘Hold it there for me.’ 

Phillipa leant over, biting her lip as the blood seeped over her hand.  She hated the sight of blood, had a morbid fear of it, but she was not going to faint now. Hector needed her.  Phillipa swallowed in a dry throat, She looked over to Venetia, who came across and looked down at the wounds, only to fall to the ground in a dead faint.

Hurriedly, one of the men lifted her and carried her limp form out of the room.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Phillipa asked, her face pale, ‘

‘Your petticoats and hot water, buckets of it. Get the maids to supply me with clean sheets, tear them up for bindings. I need more to put under him and over him.’

Phillipa raised her eyebrows, but seeing the used tea cloths scattered on the table and floor, she mutely went to a corner of the room and removed her petticoats of fine crinoline.  Horatio took them with a grim smile, and began tearing them into strips.

Going over to the cook Phillipa requested clean sheets. ‘Clean sheets, whatever next? The housekeeper would not be too pleased if we asked for her linen sheets.’ 

Bending over a bucket of soiled rags she handed a few to Phillipa, ‘You’d best be having these, tis all we ‘ave down ‘ere.’

Phillipa grimaced but took them back to Damien.

‘Sorry, cook said the housekeeper would be angered, if we asked for her sheets.’

Damien glanced at the rags scowling. ‘Take those filthy rags back to her, and demand clean sheets. I don’t give a damn what she thinks.’