Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption (33 page)

By the end of the week it became very apparent that Strand's
earlier
misgivings had been justified. The task would take a deal more time
than he appreciated. In an effort to expedite matters, he drove himself
and his small crew hard. Bolster and Norman were thoroughly enjoying
themselves, but by the end of the day they were all so tired and dirty
that they took to remaining at Silverings, just as Judith had foretold.

Strand
Hall seemed quiet and subdued with
no gentlemen
about, and Lisette commenced to feel a grass widow, for once again her
husband had vanished from her life. She was grateful for Judith's
company and wanned by the knowledge that her brother was undoubtedly
having the time of his life.

On Friday of that week, Bolster succeeded in severely
wrenching his
elbow while carrying a heavy board. Strand accompanied the casualty
back to the Hall. He was mildly surprised not to be met by Brutus, whom
Lisette had insisted on retaining "for protection." The dog usually
staged a welcoming ritual that might have led the uninitiated to
suppose he was suffering severe convulsions. Today, however, although
there was not the slightest breeze, Brutus was noticeable by his
absence. The entire house, in fact looked deserted and, assisting
Bolster from the saddle, Strand was relieved to find Best and a
stableboy running to greet them and take charge of the horses.

"I'm glad to see there's someone about," he said. "What's to
do, Best?"

"The mistress and Miss Judith has gone to a fete at Park
Parapine,"
said the groom, looking worried. "They was expected back afore this."

"Then they will undoubtedly arrive at any moment. Mrs. Strand
is
very punctilious in such matters. I've left Green at Silverings with
Mr. Norman. Is Fisher here? Or Mrs. Hayward?"

"Mr. Fisher and Lang do have goed to Dorking for supplies,
sir. And Mrs. Hayward be all on end."

"The devil! Well, then, you must come. Let the boy take the
horses.
Lord Bolster's knocked himself up a trifle and will need our help."

With the stableboy obediently leading the horses stableward,
Best
accompanied his master and Lord Bolster to the front door, at which
point Strand said curiously, "Dorking? Why Dorking?"

"Fer supplies, sir. Mrs. Hayward said Horsham would not do."

"Why ever not? Have we company?"

They stepped into the deserted hall. Strand thought to hear
voices
upraised in dispute, and Best nodded toward the back of the house and
muttered, "I'll help his lordship upstairs, sir. Belike you'll wish to
greet your people."

Bolster grinned, but his eyes were strained; the ride he had.
insisted would be child's play had not only taxed him, but had served
as warning that the foolish little accident had done more than wrench
his elbow. The old wound in his shoulder was making itself felt in such
a way he would be obliged to take himself to Town and let Lord Belmont
prod and poke about again. "Go-go on, Justin," he urged. "Cannot
neglect your—ah, people."

Exasperated, Strand fumed, "Of all times for the house to be
empty as a confounded drum! Who the deuce do we entertain?"

"Your lady's family, sir," Best offered glumly.

"Oh, good God!" groaned Strand. "My apologies, Jeremy, but I
must welcome them. Should you wish that I send for the midwife?"

"
Midwife
?" Bolster echoed in a
near-scream. "What the d-devil—?"

"'Fraid it's the best we can do, my dear fellow. There's no
doctor
close by. Old Bellows always visits his mother in Wales at this time of
year."

"Oh. Well, I'll have n-no midwife laying her hands on my
p-poor
elbow! Matter of fact—" Bolster paused on the stairs and resting one
hand on the railing, said reluctantly, "M-may have to go back to
T-town. Dreadful of m-me, but… there 'tis."

Strand's heart sank. He had hoped, selfishly, the Bolster
would, in
his good-natured fashion, bear Norman company for a week or two, so
that he himself could come back here occasionally during the process of
rebuilding the boat. Norman was working well, but he should not be left
down at Silverings alone. It was utterly reprehensible, of course, that
he'd even entertained such inhospitable notions, but dear old Jeremy
had seemed to enjoy the work, and it might have taken his mind off his
own troubles. Scanning his friend's face, he saw the strain in the
hazel eyes and, his scheming forgotten, said sharply, "Damn it! You
twisted that shoulder! I should have driven you straight to Town! What
a gudgeon I am! I'd clean forgot! I should never—"

"Confound you, Justin!" Bolster interrupted angrily.
"Will
you b-be still? I shall d-do nicely if I rest a little." He lifted one
hand to quiet Strand's impassioned attempt to intervene, and went on,
"You forget I was in a b-blasted great brawl with St. Clair last year,
without no trouble. Except I lost a tooth. I'd have d-done well enough
had I not't-tripped over my own f-feet. Now get on about your
business." He winked, took another step, then threw over his shoulder,
"And do not
dare
let that m-midwife near me!"

Best aided his lordship up the stairs, listening with
amusement to
the young nobleman's indictment of friends who threatened their guests
with such fiendish ploys as to visit midwives upon them.

Strand stood for a moment, listening to this profane monologue
and
watching his friend anxiously. What Bolster said was true; the war
wound had not bothered him for a long time. He should have remembered,
though, and would have given a good deal not to have been responsible
for Bolster being plagued by a resumption of the trouble. A muffled
shout recalled him to his present obligations and, accepting the
inevitable, he ran a quick hand through his rumpled locks and hurried
along the hall.

Turning the corner, he halted, astonished. The under-footman
knelt
with one eye pressed to the keyhole of the book-room door, while the
lackey hovered mirthfully beside him.

"There he goes!" whispered the footman, waving his arms
excitedly. "Oh, what a sight! I wish—"

"You had best wish I do not send you packing!" Strand's
thunderous
growl brought the footman springing up so hurriedly that his head
slammed against the lackey's nose. Two horrified faces whipped toward
their employer. The lackey gave a gasp and fled. Scarlet, the footman,
opened the door, but was too unnerved to utter a single word of
announcement. Fixing him with a smouldering glare, Strand walked in,
only to again check. his eyes widening.

The Van Lindsays had arrived some time earlier, and Humphrey
had
decided not to waste his time. Holding several sheets of paper in one
hand and gesturing dramatically with the other, he paced the room,
blasting forth his rhetoric while his wife trotted around and about
him, alternately cajoling, raging, and scolding, all to no purpose.
Brutus pranced along beside her, thoroughly enjoying his new indoor
sport. Even as Strand, his lips curving to a grin at this scene,
entered the room, Philippa halted and cried in a voice of martyrdom,
"Humphrey, desist! You'll not tramp holes in my daughter's house!"
Snatching up a straight-backed chair, she set it behind her retreating
husband's back, trotted over to claim another, and placed it beside the
first, then stood grimly awaiting the result.

Brutus deduced there could be only one reason for her efforts.
He sprang onto the nearest of the deterrents and sat panting.

In full cry, Mr. Van Lindsay swung around and advanced at fair
speed. Strand's jaw dropped. Behind him, the footman peered in joyous
anticipation. Brutus was a large dog. Crashing into something, Van
Lindsay lowered his page, roaring an irate "What in thunder?" and came
nose to nose with a grinning canine countenance and a large pink tongue
that flapped around his face. With a startled yelp, the orator leapt
away, collided with the second chair, and fell into it. Brutus jumped
companion-ably into his lap. Philippa shrieked with laughter. Humphrey
howled his indignation. Nothing loath, Brutus joined in the chorus.

It was too much for Strand. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he
tottered backward. Weeping but faithful, the footman pulled the door
to. Master and man leaned against the wall and succumbed together,
their mirth the more delicious since it must be smothered.

"Had
I dreamt you were here, Mama, I
would never have
allowed Judith to remain at Park Parapine!" Already dressed for dinner
and seated on the sofa in her mother's room, Lisette said remorsefully,
"I feel dreadful, and Judith will be disappointed beyond anything."

"With no cause, my love," Mrs. Van Lindsay smiled fondly,
adjusting
her pearls as she sat at the dressing table. "Papa and I will drive
down and collect her, for we've a standing invitation to visit the
Drummonds."

Watching Sanders arrange a fine lace cap over her mother's
luxuriant
hair, Lisette asked, "Do you mean to take Judith back to Town with you,
then?"

"I most certainly do! Both she and Norman have been from their
studies for too long. Besides, the Season will be commencing, and I am
thinking it time for Judith to attend a few parties. Nothing more
daring than country dances and such, but she will be fifteen next
month, you know, and I have never held with taking a girl straight from
the schoolroom and throwing her into Society. I do hope she has not
been allowed to enlarge herself during my absence."

"You will scarce know her," smiled Lisette. "How very fetching
you look. A new gown, Mama?"

Marriage, Mrs. Van Lindsay decided, suited her beautiful
daughter.
There was a subtle difference in the girl's manner. Not so much a
lessening of poise as a relaxing of formality; a new assurance and
warmth that made her seem infinitely more approachable. And yet, also,
there was something at the back of those great eyes that might almost
be sadness. Disturbed, Philippa nodded, "Thank you, Sandy. That will do
nicely. Lud, but I missed you when we was in Scotland!" She waited
until the door had closed upon her gratified minion, then turned to her
daughter and added, "And should have taken her had I known Judith would
not need her! What on earth was Beatrice about to have brought the
children to stay with a bridal couple? I dare swear I was never so
vexed as when we reached town and Sandy told me of it! And what your
grandmama will have to say to me I dread to contemplate. I have had a
dozen letters if I've had one, warning that Beatrice was up to no good,
and that wretched old hag Monica Hughes-Dering had the gall to say flat
out she had heard Bea has taken a lover, and that fool Dwyer properly
into the hips over it!"

"I assure you, Mama, we did not object to hosting my brother
and
sister," Lisette evaded. "Indeed they have been a great delight, and
Strand has been so good with them."

"Has he, indeed?" said Mrs. Van Lindsay, a grim set to her
mouth. "And as good with you, child?"

Her face hot, Lisette faltered, "That—would depend, ma'am,
upon—upon what you have heard."

"What I have heard is a proper Cheltenham tragedy, and likely
holding less truth than would fill a flea's thimble! I am assured you
would never be so gauche as to spread such vulgar scandal!"

With a wan smile Lisette said, "Thank you for that, Mama. I am
grateful that
you
believe me innocent."

"More to the point, your husband does." Lisette's heightened
colour
alerting her, Philippa probed sharply. "He does, does he not? You
did
assure him you are guiltless?"

Never had Lisette lied to her parents. She found it horrendous
to do
so now and hung her head, stammering, "Well I—er, of course—"

She was rescued by a scratch at the door, presaging the
entrance of
Norman, his dark young face none too clean, his clothes rumpled, but a
son such as Philippa had longed to see.

"Mama!" he cried joyously, coming to sweep her into a hug with
a new
assurance that further bewildered her. "Oh, but this is famous!" He
dropped a buss onto her astonished face. "Wait till you see the boat
Strand and I are renovating. How long do you stay with us? Did my poor
Great-Uncle go to his reward?"

"No." she gasped faintly. "Norman, my heaven, but you have
changed
!
Lisette said—but I never thought—good heavens!"

Pleased, he laughed, and bowed with theatrical grace. "Did you
not
tell my mother, Lisette? I collect you were too busy chattering of—er,
other matters! Egad, what a family. You two up here, and my father
downstairs, probably giving poor Strand beans over the duel!"

"Duel?" echoed Mrs. Van Lindsay, aghast. "What duel?"

"You
may count yourself fortunate there
was no duel!"
Humphrey advised, holding up his glass so that Strand might refill it
for him. "Garvey's a fine shot and, I'll be honest, I'd not care to be
in his black books. Were I you, my boy, I'd watch my back. If Sanguinet
won't allow him to call you out, he's not above resorting to other
means to even the score."

Much restored after a few hours' rest, Bolster agreed.
"Pre-pre- just as I said, sir.''

"I thank you both for the concern." Strand smiled, returning
to
stand by the drawing room fire. "But surely you judge him too harshly.
Garvey is a womanizing lecher and runs with a set I'd want none of, but
save for his extraordinary behaviour when I challenged him, I know of
nothing to cause me to question his honour."

Humphrey sipped his cognac appreciatively and, frowning into
the
flames muttered, "I'd thought more along the lines of his pride. The
fellow was wild for Lisette before you won her, and regrettably, we
encouraged his suit until—but you—ah, probably know all about that.
From what I heard you emptied a wine bottle over his head."

"A glass, merely, sir."

"Even so, I'd never have believed Garvey would swallow that!"