Nicola Cornick (22 page)

This did not have quite the desired effect. There was just the right degree of hauteur in Alicia’s raised eyebrows to make him feel uncomfortable, and Annabella was quick to capitalise on this.

‘I have no secrets from my sister, sir,’ she said in honeyed tones, ‘nor indeed from any of my friends. You may speak freely.’

It was obvious that the Captain did not wish to speak freely before everyone. He ground his teeth. ‘If you would grant me a private interview, ma’am—’ he began, but this time it was Alicia who intervened.

‘Come, come, sir, it would not be at all proper for me to permit my sister to speak with a gentleman alone,’ she chided. She settled herself more comfortably in her chair as Annabella gestured the irate Captain to join them, turning wide, innocent eyes on the Captain she did so.

‘Well, sir? You find me positively agog…Have you had any success in your hunt for Sir William Weston?’

Captain Harvard swallowed hard. ‘No, ma’am, we have not. Which is why I am here once more. You did not disclose last night that you are betrothed to Sir William! We have reason to believe that he is
hiding here and I have a warrant to search these premises!’

This assertion was met with veiled amusement by Caroline and Alicia, and James turned aside to hide a smile, as though they thought Harvard was playing a part in a bad melodrama. Captain Harvard looked put out.

‘This is no matter for jest, madam—’

‘No indeed!’ Annabella tried to look suitably grave. ‘I do apologise! Only you see, sir, we have so little excitement out here in the country that I fear you have quite overset us! Please search to your heart’s content! You will find the attics sadly dusty, I fear, but you must not neglect them! And we have cellars, too…Oh!’ Inspiration hit her. ‘And make sure you include the farm outbuildings in your search! Mr Linton will not mind!’

Larkswood was a relatively small house, but Captain Harvard was determined to be thorough and the search took three hours, during which time he became progressively more bad-tempered as his men found nothing. Nor could he get Annabella on her own as her guests settled down to play a game of whist in her drawing-room.

From the house they progressed to the farmyard where a furious Owen Linton, protesting volubly, was ordered to give the sailors access to his outbuildings. Annabella’s confidence in him was not misplaced as he deliberately forgot to warn them of the uncertain temperament of the horse tethered in the far barn. Having sustained bruised shins from kicking, and painful bites to arms and shoulders, the search party shot out of the building straight into the cow byre
where the floor proved unpleasantly slippery. Liberally smeared with dung, they assembled in the yard under the frosty eye of the Captain, who certainly could not see the funny side of the situation.

‘I did warn you last night that it was all a hum,’ Annabella remarked helpfully after Captain Harvard had admitted defeat and was standing in the hall calling his men to order. She brushed some straw and a few cobwebs off his uniform, smiling sympathetically at him. ‘You will not find Sir William Weston here, sir. You would do better concentrating your attentions elsewhere!’

‘I will be over tomorrow morning to pay my respects to Admiral Cranshaw,’ James said, appearing in the drawing-room doorway and giving Harvard a civil nod that made him feel even more uneasy. ‘I shall be interested to hear of the progress of your enquiries!’

Harvard shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. To have his incompetence rehearsed before his senior officer was almost more than he could bear, but he could not afford to antagonise a man of James Mullineaux’s position and influence. He swallowed hard.

‘You will find the Admiral at The Old Crown in Faringdon, my lord,’ he said, as politely as he was able. ‘I shall hope to join you there with good news of the hunt as soon as I am able.’

James allowed the faintest flicker of a disbelieving smile to lighten his face. ‘Good man! Then we must not keep you from your search, Harvard! Have you tried the caves on the far side of Weathercock Hill?
They used to be used by highwaymen preying on travellers from Lambourn and might be worth a look!’

The Captain nodded his thanks and marched off down the drive as James said softly, ‘What a pity I forgot to warn him about the marshes over that way! My tiresomely bad memory…’

It was late when Annabella trod softly down the garden, across the yard and up to the farmhouse door. A full moon had risen, shedding its bright white light across the gardens and accentuating the black shadows. Susan was waiting for her.

‘He’s still feverish, ma’am, I’m afraid.’ Somehow she still managed to sound reassuring. ‘If you could sit with him for a few hours, ma’am, Owen will come along to be with him through the night.’

‘Of course.’ Annabella paused, her hand on the doorpost. ‘What happened when the sailors came, Susan?’

In the candlelight she saw the maid smile. ‘Oh, Owen showed them round the farm before they went out to the barns…He had secured the door somehow—he claimed it was bricked up and even kicked it to prove his point! He’s a fly one, is Owen! I could hear them talking outside, but they didn’t suspect nothing, and Sir William never stirred. All’s well, ma’am!’

Annabella looked at her, wondering at the unquestioning loyalty the servants seemed to have towards Will Weston. They had slipped into connivance without a word, just as James and the others had done earlier. It was extraordinary, considering that Will
Weston was a wanted man, yet no one, it seemed, doubted Will’s innocence…

‘Sir William is a good man,’ Susan said stolidly, in answer to Annabella’s unspoken question. ‘Owen says that he was always a fair and just man, and his father the same before him. And Frank says that any friend of Lord Mullineaux must be in the right of it, so that’s good enough for all of us, ma’am.’ She bundled up the soiled bandages and picked up the lantern. ‘There’s fresh candles over by the wall, ma’am, and some water in the pitcher. If he wakes, give him some more of that draught. And if he’s too hot, try sponging him down!’

The attic room of Owen’s farm was painted white with a makeshift bed against one wall, tucked under the sloping eves. Annabella knelt down beside Will, attempting to bring some order to his tumbled sheets as he tossed and turned uneasily. Each time she tucked him back in he would throw the covers back as though burning up with the fever and desperate for cooler air. His skin was scorching hot. Try sponging him down, Susan had said. Annabella picked up the sponge a little gingerly. She had never considered herself to be a missish girl, but bandaging Will’s wound the previous night had shaken her, and now she was not sure she could help him.

Will threw his covers off again, intolerably hot, and Annabella stared transfixed at his powerfully muscled torso, tapering with perfect symmetry to the flat stomach and narrow waist. Just like the previous evening, his smooth, tanned skin fascinated her. She began to gently soothe it with the cool sponge, encouraged as his restless movements slowed and he seemed calmer.
The blankets lay low across his flat hips and a little colour came into Annabella’s cheeks as she tried to continue her ministrations and preserve his modesty at the same time. For a widow she was very prudish, she told herself severely.

The change in Will happened abruptly. It was not cold in the little room, for the evening was mild though clear, but suddenly he started to shiver violently as though all the heat had drained from his body. Annabella hastily pulled all the blankets over him, wrapping him up as tightly as possible, but it did no good. He was racked with shaking, his teeth chattering. Try as she might, Annabella could not kindle any warmth in him.

‘I’m so cold…’ Will’s eyes had not opened, it was not possible to tell if he were really conscious, but the pitiful whisper seemed all too true. Without thinking, Annabella lay down beside him, wrapping her arms about him in an attempt to put some warmth back into his body. She burrowed under the covers, pulling them back over both of them to cocoon them around. It was not long before she was very hot indeed, whilst Will appeared scarcely less cold. Her clothes, whilst keeping her warm, prevented the heat from reaching Will. Annabella sighed with irritation. There was only one solution to both problems.

She got up, blowing out the candle and taking off her dress with brisk, practical movements. Her shawl made an excellent additional blanket, and in her shift she was able to curl up closer to Will and transmit her body heat to him. It was cosy and relaxing in their retreat and Annabella felt herself drifting into sleep. At the back of her mind she was wondering what on
earth Owen Linton would think when he came in to sit with Will, and what Miss Frensham would say if she found her missing. Neither thought seemed to trouble her sleepy mind much. She slid into dreams.

Annabella woke to find herself cradled in Will’s good arm, her face turned into the curve between his shoulder and his neck. His skin felt cool and fresh, and he was not tossing with fever or shivering with cold. Bright daylight was creeping into the attic room and with horror Annabella guessed it must be at least seven in the morning.

Worn out with emotion and worry, she had slept the night through and never even stirred. But Will seemed better, and that was the important thing. Better still, he had not woken and she was likely to be spared any difficult explanations of her presence. Annabella slid carefully out of his warm embrace, wincing as her bare feet touched the cold boards of the floor, and bent a little stiffly to pick up her dress.

‘What the
devil
is going on?’

She had not heard Will move, but now she saw that he had raised himself a little against his pillows and was regarding her with amazement and disbelief in the pale light. Annabella was acutely aware of her semi-naked state, the transparent lawn of the low-cut shift. She clutched her dress in front of her.

‘Oh! I had no notion you were awake! Are you feeling better now?’

‘I feel much recovered, thank you!’ Will’s tones were clipped, but with a hint of puzzlement as though he could not recall precisely what either of them were doing there. ‘Annabella—’

‘I am so glad the fever has broken,’ Annabella gab
bled desperately. ‘You have been ill for a day and night and we feared you would remember nothing—’

‘I remember nothing of the past day, but I am not so ill as to think I am imagining the sight of you standing there in your shift,’ Will said sharply. ‘What’s going on, Annabella?’

‘I…we…’ Annabella made a hopeless gesture with the dress, saw Will’s gaze follow the curve of her breasts as revealed by the flimsy shift, and gave a squeak of desperation.

‘Please, Will! Could you look the other way whilst I put my clothes on?’

‘It seems a little late for modesty,’ Will said grimly, but he turned over heavily and waited whilst Annabella fumbled clumsily with the fastenings.

‘Now—’ he turned swiftly back and caught her wrist as she would have scuttled past him ‘—you will oblige me by explaining exactly what you are doing here!’ He looked at her scarlet, defiant face, and added, ‘It does not take much thought to realise that you have just spent the night in my bed!’

‘You were cold,’ Annabella said crossly, ‘and I could think of no other way to help you!’ She saw his raised eyebrows and added, ‘I did not expect my ministrations to be met with such ingratitude!’

‘You were fortunate not to be in receipt of any ministrations from me!’ Will said dryly. ‘I may be sick, but you are enough to tempt a saint!’

Annabella snatched her shawl up. ‘I am glad to find you so restored to health and bad humour!’ she said, still cross. ‘I will send Owen in to help you wash. I have no wish to offend your sense of propriety still further!’

‘Mrs St Auby!’ Miss Frensham’s thin figure was stiff with outrage. ‘As your companion, I feel I must make a stand against these night-time walks you persist in taking! I sought you out last night only to find you gone—’

‘And I explained to Miss Frensham that you had thought to take the air, ma’am!’ Susan finished, her impishly pretty face for once expressionless.

Miss Frensham rustled her magazine irritably. ‘I shall be glad to see you married and off my hands,’ she said, as though Annabella was a troublesome sixteen-year-old. ‘Your sister was just as difficult—I fear it is the Stansfield blood!’

‘So I have been told, ma’am,’ Annabella returned politely, slipping into her seat at the breakfast table and applying herself to her food with enthusiasm. The sight of Will recovering from his fever had lifted such a burden from her that she felt ravenous.

‘Sir William fancies himself recovered, Susan,’ she later told the solemn-faced maid. ‘Please ensure that Owen keeps him indoors for at least another two days to give his wound time to heal. I shall stay here to allay Miss Frensham’s concerns and in case Captain Harvard returns.’

The day dragged by as slowly as the previous one. Annabella, prudently keeping out of Will’s way to give his temper time to cool, went riding in the afternoon and came across a small party of sailors toiling through the heather on the hill, gloomy and streaked with mud and slime. She greeted them cheerfully and watched in satisfaction as they headed away from Larkswood. That night she resisted the urge to go to
see how Will progressed, and slept soundly alone and in her own bed.

‘He’s asking for you, ma’am,’ Owen Linton said the next morning, and with a little apprehension Annabella thought it was perhaps time.