Runaway Miss (21 page)

She loved him—his revelation had hardly dented that. If only he had said he loved her. If he had asked her quietly if she loved him enough to marry him, she might have…No, she would not have agreed. They had started off on the wrong foot and she did not see how any of that could be wiped out.

She lay there for a long time, while the business of the house and the yard went on without her. She could hear Lizzie humming to herself as she dusted down the stairs outside her room, and Mrs Granger calling to Sam to fill a pail of water for her from the well. The grooms were working on the horses. Through the open window she could hear their feet on the cobbles of the yard, and somewhere the sound of a saw and a nail being driven into wood. And then there was Alex, calling to one of the men to saddle his horse. She sat up as
she heard the animal being brought to the door, its hooves dancing while it waited for its rider. She left her bed and went to the window in time to see Alex throw himself into the saddle and canter off in the direction of Ambleside without looking back. ‘Gone to seek more congenial company,’ she murmured, amid a fresh bout of weeping.

But one could not weep all day. The tears dried at last and she sat up. This would not do, it would not do at all. Whatever name she gave herself, she was her father’s child and he had not been one to lament anything. ‘One has to stiffen one’s spine and get on with it,’ he used to say to her. He had followed his own advice, even when he knew he was sick unto death. He had been out riding, looking after the estate the day before he died. It had been so sudden. Her mother had been bereft, lost without her prop, and when Sir George had come along eighteen months later, charming her with his flattery, helping her make decisions, shielding her from the world, she had succumbed and married him. What an evil day that had been. Emma had never liked him from the start, though she had tried to hide it for her mother’s sake. He was a compulsive gambler and whatever Papa had left was soon gone and Pinehill left to go to rack and ruin. She had said she could not, would not, marry a man who gambled and that included Viscount Alexander Malvers.

She went to the washstand and splashed her face with cold water, straightened her dress and went downstairs. She had duties to perform as Mrs Summers’s companion and that was what she would do, at least until she decided on a course of action that would take her away from here. She would be polite to Viscount Malvers and smile when the occasion demanded and never allow herself to be alone with him again. She would survive.

Having been told Mrs Summers had taken the carriage to Kendal, she spent the rest of the morning helping Mrs
Granger and Mrs Yates, listening to their friendly chatter, and gradually became calm again. She did not see Alex or Mrs Summers until dinner time, but by then she had taken a firm hold of herself and gone back to her self-effacing role of companion.

Amelia looked from Alex to Emma and heaved a huge sigh. Her nephew was looking grim, as if something had annoyed him, even though on the surface he was smiling and jovial, saying his ride had given him an appetite and he was looking forward to one of Mrs Granger’s roast dinners. Emma was looking at her plate as if there were words written on it she was trying to decipher. Amelia wanted to knock their heads together.

‘Well,’ she said cheerfully, ‘what have you two been doing today?’

‘I have been talking to the regatta Committee about the peripheral events,’ Alex answered.

‘I did not know you had formed a Committee.’

‘I couldn’t do it all myself, Aunt. I have enough to do, organising the invasion. Lady Pettifer is in charge of the ball, the shopkeepers together are managing the stalls and I have put Mr Maddox to work organising the races.’

‘Was that wise? Using Mr Maddox, I mean.’

‘I met him in Ambleside this morning. He was most insistent he wanted to help. And as Miss Draper has declined to take the part, I have asked Miss Pettifer to take on the role of the kidnapped maiden.’ He looked towards Emma, expecting her to comment, but she would not look at him and remained silent. ‘She has been pleased to agree.’

Amelia looked sharply at him. ‘Well, you know best, I suppose.’ She turned to Emma. ‘What about you, Fanny? I have not seen you all day.’

‘I have kept myself busy. If I had known you were going
to Kendal, I would have made myself available to go with you.’

‘You would have been bored, my dear. I was keeping a promise I made to old friends at Henry’s funeral to call on them. I should have gone before, but with one thing and another…’ She paused. ‘It is good for you to have a little time to yourself, you know. I would not like you to think I monopolised your time.’

‘Goodness, ma’am, you never do that. I do not earn my keep.’

‘I will be the judge of that.’ She stopped, then went on softly. ‘Did Alex speak to you?’

‘Yes, ma’am, he did.’ She spoke clearly, looking at him. She was not going to be cowed.

‘And?’

‘We are in complete accord. I remain Miss Fanny Draper, companion.’

Amelia raised an eyebrow at Alex. He simply shrugged. She gave up.

Alex went out again as soon as the meal was finished, saying he wanted to make use of the daylight while it lasted. Amelia and Emma had tea in the withdrawing room alone.

‘It is no good you scolding me,’ Emma said. ‘I did not have to tell him. He knew. And you knew he knew.’

‘Yes, but I could not tell you, could I? It was up to the two of you. And now I suppose you have fallen out. How did that come about?’

Emma told her everything, even the fact that she had, in a fit of anger, withdrawn her support of the regatta. ‘It was why he asked Miss Pettifer. I did not expect him to go straight out and do it, like that. He must have been wanting to do it all along. How could he do that and suggest marrying me almost in the same breath?’

‘Oh, dear, he has bungled it, hasn’t he?’ the good lady said.

‘Bungled what?

‘The proposal of marriage.’

‘Did you put him up to it?’

‘No, certainly not! He would not take any notice of me, and I should not expect him to. He is a good man, Emma. Do you not think you have been a little hard on him? He is not a gambler, not in the way that your stepfather is, so addicted he can think of nothing else and ruins the life of everyone about him in the process. Surely you know the difference?’

‘Of course I do, but I was so angry when he said he had taken part in that game, I did not stop to think, but as soon as I calmed down I realised he could not have done anything to help me at the time and since then he has done everything. But is that love?’

‘Well, I do not know what else to call it.’

‘If he bungled it, so did I. And now I do not know if there is any going back. He might never forgive me.’

‘Oh, I think he will,’ Amelia said.

But Emma was not sure she believed her.

The date of the regatta drew nearer and the local people were in a fervour of anticipation. The news of it had been broadcast far and wide and entries for the competitions were coming in from miles away. Jeremy Maddox was in his element, organising the swimming races and the boating competitions, for which a part of the lake would be sectioned off. There were to be races, for rowing boats with one oarsman and two, for canoes, curricles and rafts, as well as the swimming, when the contestants would be required to dive from a platform anchored in the middle of the lake and race to the shore. On the old regatta on Derwentwater it had been done by men on horseback, but Alex had decided not to use horses on the grounds it was cruel to them.

Jeremy was out on the water in a small rowing boat one
day in rough weather, when it overturned, tipping him into the water. It was only when he shouted for help, that Alex, on the shore, realised he could not swim. He stripped off his coat, kicked off his shoes and went to the rescue. The water was very choppy, especially at the point where the overfull river emptied itself into the northern part of the lake. Alex knew the lake was very deep at that end; if the man disappeared, he would never find him. He renewed his efforts and just managed to grab Jeremy’s arm as he was about to go down.

‘Stop struggling, for God’s sake,’ he said, as Jeremy thrashed about in panic. ‘I’ve got you.’ He put his hands under Jeremy’s arms and turned on his back to tow him to the shore, but then realised the man’s body was tangled up with a thin rope. He had to dive several times to free him, not helped by Jeremy’s struggles, before he could take him to safety. He was exhausted by the time he dragged his burden up the shingle to applause from those who had been working there. Jeremy coughed and spluttered and sat up.

‘Good,’ Alex said, evincing little sympathy. ‘You are not drowned, then.’

‘I thought I was going to be.’ More coughing, spitting up dirty water. ‘My thanks, Malvers. Didn’t know a lake could be rough like that.’

‘You know now. We had better get you up to the house to dry out.’ He looked around him. There was a horse and cart standing nearby, which had been used to bring wood down from the workshop to the vessels. He lifted Jeremy on to it and then drove it up to Highhead Hall.

Emma was in the yard with Sam when they arrived looking like two drowned rats. She ran straight to Alex, forgetting their animosity, forgetting everything in her concern for him. ‘Alex, what happened? Are you hurt?’

‘No,’ Alex told her, grinning as he jumped down; he liked the sound of his given name on her tongue—did that mean
he was forgiven? ‘Simply very wet. Mister Maddox decided to take a swim with all his clothes on. I will take him to my room and dry him out. Would you ask someone to bring us some hot water?’ He turned to Jeremy. ‘Can you walk?’

‘If you think I am going let you carry me, you are mistaken, my friend. I am not a sack of potatoes.’ He scrambled down from the cart, but his legs were wobbly and he had to hang on to the side of the cart for a minute before he could proceed.

Alex waited. The concern in Emma’s voice when she ran over to them, and the way she had called him Alex, had heartened him. She did care, after all. But he must be patient. As time passed and no one came to harass her, she would realise her fears had been unfounded and then he would talk to her again. His love for her had nothing to do with saving her from Lord Bentwater, though that loomed large—it was the conviction that she was the only woman for him, the only one he would consider making his wife. All he had to do was convince her. After the regatta.

He ushered Jeremy into the house with Emma following behind. Mrs Yates and Sam took the bath up and Emma and Lizzie carried two large jugs of hot water. Alex came to the door to take them in. He had taken off his wet coat, shirt and hose and stood there in nothing but his pantaloons, big and muscular. He had a towel in his hand with which he had been rubbing his hair. It lay close to his scalp in tight little curls. Emma felt her stomach contract and a shiver pass right through her; though she knew she ought to look away, she could not—he was magnificent. And, oh, how she loved him! She wanted to throw herself into his arms and feel those strong arms enfolding her, his mouth on hers again.

He was not unaware of her little gasp of shock and smiled, thinking it was probably the first time she had ever seen a man half-naked. ‘Thank you, Miss Draper.’ He took the jug from her and the other from Lizzie and stood aside for Mrs Yates
and Sam to take the bath in and set it on the hearth. Mr Maddox was sitting in a chair, wrapped in blankets. Alex handed his clothes to Mrs Yates. ‘If you could do something with these, ma’am. I will lend Mr Maddox something of mine until they are dry. And will you tell Mrs Granger there will be one more for luncheon?’

Emma led the servants back downstairs, leaving them to refill the jugs and take them to Alex, and went to find Mrs Summers to tell her what had happened, the result of which Amelia found herself entertaining Mr Maddox again. Dressed in Alex’s clothes—a white shirt, whose sleeve ends flapped over his wrists, blue pantaloons that came down over his feet, and a coat that swamped him—he looked quite comical. ‘My own fault,’ he said, when they laughed. ‘Shouldn’t have taken the little boat out.’

‘You should learn to swim before you take a dip in two hundred feet of water,’ Alex said.

‘Is it as deep as that?’

‘Just there it is.’

‘Then I have had a lucky escape. I am in your debt, Malvers.’ He turned to Mrs Summers. ‘And to you, dear lady, for your hospitality. And Miss…’ He paused, as if unable to remember her name.

‘Draper,’ she said.

‘Ah, yes, Miss Draper. My thanks to you.’

Alex noticed him smiling and looking at Emma with his head on one side, as if sizing her up. He felt a
frisson
of unease and quickly began asking Jeremy what he was trying to do when his boat capsized.

‘Measuring the course, for the swim,’ he said promptly. ‘I had tied a hundred feet of line to the finish and was paying it out to find the spot for the platform. I was dragging that too, with an anchor on it. The line snagged and I turned to try to free it and then everything started to rock and I had to let go
of the platform and it bumped into the side of the boat and that was it. I was in the water and the line was wrapped around me.’

‘You should not have tried to do it single-handed.’

‘I know that now.’

‘Someone will have to go and secure the platform before it becomes a danger to shipping,’ Alex told him. ‘I will do it as soon as we have eaten.’

‘Do you feel strong enough?’ Amelia asked him. ‘After all, you have just had a gruelling swim.’

‘I am perfectly well, Aunt. None the worse. What about you, Maddox, will you rest here?’

‘If I may.’ He looked down at the clothes he was wearing with a rueful grin. ‘Can’t go out in this rig, can I?’

The result was that the two men parted and Alex did not see Maddox again until he returned for dinner. By then his friend was wearing his own clothes, though they were not as immaculate as they had been before being immersed in lake water. But at least they fitted. He sat in a chair in Alex’s room, watching him while he changed into something more fitting for dinner with the ladies.