The Dashing Miss Fairchild (29 page)

"Of course,” Clare replied instantly, knowing the trip would prolong her contact with Richard.

"We would not think of permitting you to make the journey alone,” added Richard, smiling for reasons of his own. “With Jenny and Priddy, not to mention Mrs. Dow—for I feel sure you will wish her with you for a time—we shall be a comfortable party, and you shan't have to fear a thing."

Placing her hands to her face, Lady Millsham wiped away a few stray tears of joy, then gave them a watery smile. “You are very good, sir. I can only pray you get your heart's desire.''

Richard's face slowly lit up with a grin, his eyes quite unfathomable pools of deep green. “I quite agree."

The air simmered with tension, Clare thought, as the carriage bound for Millsham Hall made its way out of West Overton. Some distance ahead, her coach with Jenny, Priddy, Mrs. Dow, Lady Millsham, and Baby William could be seen, a trail of dust in its wake. She rode with Richard in his new curricle.

"Nice to see the scene of the crime, so to speak, again."

"There was no crime committed against you in West Overton, sir."

"I recollect a particular young woman giving me a dose of laudanum enough to make me sleep for a long time. My wound was not sufficiently bad for that. Why did you do it?"

"You had a fever and were restless. Truly, your arm did not look good.” Clare fidgeted with the cords of her reticule in her lap. Taking a surreptitious glance at the man next to her, she wondered what went on in his mind. Why bring up ancient history now?

"You make a very tender nurse,” he mused. “And you are good with children, too."

At that moment a dray turned onto the road a short distance ahead, requiring Richard to maneuver his horses and carriage around them. Clare knew better than to chatter while this was in progress, though she longed to ask him what point he wished to make.

Then Marlborough came into view and the Castle Inn in particular. Clare's coach stood in front, and the party wandered about, Jenny and Mrs. Dow debating on what to do to stop the baby's crying.

Priddy met the curricle, taking note of Clare's flushed cheeks and Mr. Talbot's glum expression.

"Fine day,” she observed to no one in particular.

Clare ignored her, rushing to see if there was anything she might do to help. Taking William from the two arguing nursemaids, she patted his back while strolling around the inn yard, crooning a tuneless lullaby.

Within a brief time, William had sobbed himself to sleep. Richard had ushered the others in for restoring tea, and now he came back for Clare.

"You look fetching like that, although I daresay your bonnet will never be the same again. At least it will need new ribands.” He stretched out a hand to touch her bonnet, and succeeded in gently caressing her cheek.

Clare grimaced, suspecting the baby had mangled her pretty ribands in his distress. “I shall require my very own milliner if this keeps on.” She moved away from Richard's highly disturbing touch.

"Can you not put him down in the coach so you may enjoy a cup of tea and a biscuit? Or shall I take the lad?"

One look at Richard's dubious expression and Clare smiled. “Hardly, sir,” she reproved. Seeing Jenny scurry across the yard, Clare carefully handed the sleeping infant to her, admonishing with her eyes that the girl take care not to wake him.

"However,” Clare continued as she watched Jenny return to the coach with her precious burden, “I believe the best thing to do is to separate Mrs. Dow and Jenny. I suggest Mrs. Dow drive with you, and I shall go in my coach. You may again thank Mrs. Dow for her most efficacious medicine."

Richard gritted his teeth as Clare gave him a saucy look before waltzing off to enter the inn, then return to the coach. He didn't know what she had said to Mrs. Dow, but the lady came out beaming and marched straight up to the curricle. She accepted his reluctant hand up, then spent the remainder of the journey telling dear Mr. Talbot about every treatment in her vast store, offering to send him whatever he needed by way of repayment for helping her dear little girl.

Never had anyone been so glad to see the gates of Millsham Hall.

The atmosphere at Millsham Hall was not welcoming. The butler permitted the group to enter, giving a frosty nod of recognition to Lady Millsham. Not one footman stood in the entry; no one else was in sight. The house might have been empty, but for the knowledge that only a staff could have kept it in such excellent condition. Yet it was oddly silent.

First, Lady Millsham directed Jenny, Mrs. Dow, and Priddy to see to various needs, William's in particular. Then she turned to order a light repast.

She bravely led the way up a flight of stairs to the drawing room. Once Clare, Lady Millsham, and Richard were safely inside with the doors firmly shut, they drew together.

"This is a fine kettle of fish,” murmured Richard, taking note of the pale cheeks and worried eyes of both women. “What can they be thinking of, to give you a snub like that?"

"I cannot help but wonder if Mr. Kibbler actually crossed the Channel as Timms reported. Perhaps he only appeared to go, then means to return here to do away with us all!” Lady Millsham whispered. She placed a trembling hand against her mouth, her fear a palpable thing in the quiet room.

"I vow I did not dream you would receive such a reception. Although word was sent ahead, not a soul came to greet you, not even the housekeeper!” Clare whispered back, darting a frightened look at Richard. “I am very glad we decided to come with you. Where do you suppose everyone is? And why are they behaving so oddly?"

A click of the door brought the trio about to stare as the butler entered bearing a massive tray. It contained the light repast Lady Millsham had ordered. He placed it on a side table, then lit a spirit lamp beneath the kettle. Since the water had been hot, it boiled within minutes. He poured the water over the tea leaves, then replaced teapot lid and kettle. “Will that be all, my lady?"

Lady Millsham glanced timidly at Clare, then nodded, unable to speak.

"Do you suppose we dare eat the food?” wondered Lady Millsham as she hungrily surveyed the dishes on the tray. “I did not eat on the journey, lest I upset my stomach. Now I am starved."

"Mr. Talbot shall taste it first,” Clare said with a defiant look at him. “And I shall as well,” she amended at the dangerous sparkle she glimpsed in his eyes.

Feeling no ill effects, they loaded their plates with an assortment of salads, cold meats, and dark bread. Clare poured out the tea as Lady Millsham looked as though she might faint if asked to do so.

"I simply do not know what to do.” Lady Millsham nibbled at her salad, glancing at Clare and Mr. Talbot as she did.

"I think the sooner we get to the bottom of this mystery, the better,” Richard said. “If you like, I will approach the butler on your behalf. He may tell me something, whereas he is reluctant to speak to you."

"Again I must trespass on your good nature, Mr. Talbot. What a good husband you will make some lady."

As there was absolutely no guile in her face, nor any flirtation in her voice, the others accepted it as a compliment.

"I trust so, dear lady,” he quietly replied, sending Clare into a flurry of speculation.

Once they were reasonably satisfied, Clare replaced the plates on the tray, then drew a chair close to where the others sat. In a soft voice, she said, “We must have a plan."

Richard murmured, “I believe I have heard that before."

"Hush,” she reproved. “I shall search out the housekeeper while Richard speaks to the butler. Who were you closest to while here?” she inquired of Lady Millsham.

"The upstairs maid, I suppose. I did not live here all that long, nor were the servants ever forthcoming in the least while I did,” she apologized. “I shall see if
she is
about.” She timidly left the room in her quest.

Clare untangled the mess of riband on her bonnet, surveying the ruin with resigned eyes. Placing the bonnet on the table, she glanced up to meet Richard's amused gaze.

"You were correct, I fear. I shall require another trip to a milliner."

"A man would have to be deep in the pockets to keep you in bonnets,” he observed.

"I have a competence of my own sufficient for that, I daresay. My husband, should I ever marry, will have more important things to secure.” Then she blushed as she realized the interpretation he might place on her words.

"You do have a way with words, my love."

She would have scolded him but for Lady Millsham's return. “She has gone. In fact, I do not see any familiar faces about.''

"I shall see what the butler says. Evenson is his name?"

Lady Millsham trailed after Clare, reluctant to be alone, while Richard sought Evenson. When Clare at last located the housekeeper, she turned to Lady Millsham, saying, “Jane, dear, what was it we wished to know? Oh, yes, where is the little upstairs maid who was here before?"

"Gone, my lady,” said the dour woman in response.

"Why did you not come to greet her ladyship and the new earl when we arrived?” Clare demanded. “And where are the others who worked here when Lady Millsham was here?"

Clare spoke in a pleasant tone, but one she had used over the years in dealing with fractious children, thieving servants, and social enemies.

The housekeeper delved into a capacious apron pocket to pull out a handkerchief with which to dab her eyes. “They were all fired, my lady. Only Evenson and I were retained, so as to know the running of the place. We feared, that is, the new staff thought you would fire them as well. As soon as your letter came, they all sought other positions. Like as not, they forged letters of recommendation,” she concluded bitterly.

"That is why the house is so silent, then?” Lady Millsham said at last.

"Aye, milady. ‘Tis unnatural, but there you are. I fear there is no one to prepare a thing for you, other than what Evenson and I can manage.” Clare took stock of the woman dressed in black bombazine and white apron. She was thin and on the shady side of forty, with her graying hair tucked neatly beneath her cap. Not formidable, more like capable.

"Do you suppose it is possible to find the previous staff, the ones Lady Millsham remembers? Otherwise, I fancy you will wish Evenson to hire new people,'’ she added to Lady Millsham.

Grateful for this suggestion, Lady Millsham nodded. “Oh, yes. We must have a cook and maids and footmen, not to mention the others. Enough to keep the house tidy and in good repair without being extravagant.” To Clare she added as they walked away from the interview, “I do not mean to beggar my son's inheritance."

"I see you found out the truth of the matter,” said Richard as he joined them. “I believe Evenson will confer with the housekeeper, then ask those he can find to return. What a jumble."

"The staff might have waited,” Lady Millsham mused.

"Yet you would have felt uneasy at keeping on those who had worked for Mr. Kibbler. Could you have trusted them?"

Lady Millsham nodded at these words of wisdom from Clare.

The following hours were a trial for all. Priddy bustled about in importance, settling in the two ladies and establishing herself in the upper region.

Mrs. Dow and Jenny reached a truce between them regarding the baby. No one was informed as to what it was, but as long as the two were satisfied, it was doubtful anyone cared.

Clare was everywhere, helping with this, assisting with that, her years of experience at aiding her family standing her well.

By evening Richard had had quite enough. He sought out Clare in the kitchen where she endeavored to assist the housekeeper with arranging for something to eat.

"There is something I wish to see,” he said with an air of mystery that Clare found intriguing.

She went along with him, tossing an apologetic glance at the housekeeper as she left the room. He drew her along to a side door that led to a grand terrace that stretched across the back of the house. They quietly made their way down an impressive flight of steps to an expanse of grass that had not been scythed in some time.

"What is it?"

"I have had quite enough of this."

"What?” she said, wrinkling her nose at the harsh tone in his voice. “Millsham Hall? I daresay it will be a week or more before we can leave, what with all that needs doing. That poor, darling girl."

"You had best take notice of this poor, darling man, my dear, or I shall be forced to take matters into my own hands."

"Really?” she mocked him, feeling immeasurably better for some odd reason.

"It's a good thing you've no bonnet on, or I fancy it would end up crushed.” With which he proceeded to indeed take matters into his highly capable hands. He scooped her up in his arms, then carried her off to a pretty garden he had scouted out shortly before.

"Mr. Talbot, er, Richard, this is most improper!” she cried, though not very loudly.

He found the stone bench he sought, then sat, placing her carefully on his lap.

"Well?” She tried to keep a saucy note from her voice and suspected she failed.

"For some time now I have held my tongue, though goodness knew it took the patience of a saint, but this is the final straw. I refuse to wait another moment."

"For what?” she prompted.

"You.” As a reply it lacked in originality, but this was more than compensated for by his direct approach to the subject. She nestled in his arms, thinking she had never been so content in her entire life. As kisses went, and she had known a few, his was by far the best.

"Um,” she murmured as he at last released her a second time. “I fear I have compromised you well and truly, sir."

"Have you, by Jove? And here I have been doing my best to achieve that goal since the day we met."

"You might have merely asked me, you know,” she reproved.

"Every time I got near the sticking point, some woman would interfere. Be warned, I intend to keep you here until you agree to marry me. I'll not take a no for an answer, either.” He searched her eyes for a clue to her feelings.

"Yes,” she promptly replied, for which she was rewarded with another highly satisfactory kiss.