Mary Brendan - Regency High Society Vol 1 - A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel

During the past year Sandford had become increasingly aware of the fact that his presence at Beldale was likely to be of a permanent nature and that he would have to set about relearning the task of running the estates. He had grown up here, of course, and had dabbled in such matters before the yearning for a military life had sent him on his travels. He had always loved the place and its people, if not quite as wholeheartedly as Philip had done, he ruefully acknowledged, but was gradually coming to realise that there would be few regrets, especially after all the carnage and suffering he had recently witnessed.

The viscount now became aware that his father’s eyes had opened and were trying to focus upon the figure at his bedside. A frail hand reached out and felt for Sandford’s own and the viscount bent to hear Beldale’s whispered words.

‘The horse—he fell—something …’ His voice tailed off and he sank once more into his drugged slumber.

Sandford drew his head back, puzzled. Chegwin came to the bedside and confided, ‘That is how he has been, my lord, and always the same words. Is he worrying about his horse, do you suppose? Smithers tells me that the poor beast had to be destroyed—two legs were broken, I understand.

His lordship has not been informed, of course. Would that be causing such restlessness, sir?’

Sandford shook his head doubtfully. ‘I should hardly think so, but certainly it is odd that he constantly dwells upon it.’

He stood up, gently unclasping his father’s hand as he did so, saying, ‘I shall speak with Smithers myself. You are doing very well here, Chegwin. Please accept my deepest gratitude.’

The old manservant bowed, concealing his pleasure at the young master’s words. ‘We do our best, sir,’ was his reply, but there was a smile on his face as he closed the door after Sandford’s departure.

The viscount made straight for the stables, seeking out the head groom who was locking up for the day. Smithers confirmed the valet’s story that Cobalt had been destroyed. He himself had attended to the horse immediately after his master had been carried away from the scene of the accident.

‘Threshing about in great pain, so he were, sir,’ he said sadly, shaking his head. ‘ ‘Twere a real shame that—a grand old lad, he were. But both his front legs was broke, you see, sir, so couldn’t do otherwise.’ He looked anxiously at Sandford, knowing that his actions had been correct and wondering where his young lordship’s questions were leading.

‘Absolutely right, Smithers. I am not doubting your judgement. I just needed to clarify a few points in my mind. Did you notice anything odd about the fall?’

Smithers rubbed his chin and frowned. ‘I couldn’t see how his lordship came to fall at all on that path, sir, him being such a bruising rider, and Cobalt could have fetched him home blindfolded, as you know. But there it is, sir, his lordship had shot over Cobalt’s head—that were obvious

from how he was lying—and the horse had gone down on both front legs from the look of the cuts on his knees. Likely a hare or some such startled him is my best guess and I did give it a lot of thought, sir,’ he said, shifting uncomfortably. ‘Even went back the next morning to have a good look round. Still don’t get it, though.’ He shook his head again.

‘Don’t concern yourself, Smithers.’ Sandford clapped the groom on the back. ‘I’m sure that you did all that should be done in the circumstances. You can show me the spot in the morning, just to satisfy my curiosity. As you say, the fact that his lordship fell at all is a mystery. Now, finish up here quickly and get to your supper.’

Turning on his heel, he left, going at once to his rooms where, with Kimble’s disapproving assistance, he quickly changed out of his travel-stained garments before descending to join his mother once more.

The countess was awaiting his return with some eagerness, although she was unable to shed any further light on his father’s accident, describing only the injuries he had suffered. A blow to the head causing severe concussion and a broken ankle were the main problems, but the old gentleman was covered in bruises, too, and it would be some time before he was himself again. She was just too glad that Sir Basil, his lordship’s physician, was now quietly confident that his patient would make a good recovery and she was overjoyed when Sandford informed her of his intention to remain at Beldale and take over his father’s reins until Lord William had fully recovered.

By now, having had ample time to formulate her own ideas for Harriet’s salvation, Lady Caroline then turned the conversation to that particular problem.

Harriet sank gratefully into the luxury of the bath, which had been quickly filled by a procession of maidservants and allowed the last of these, a plump, apple-cheeked damsel, who introduced herself as ‘Rose', to wash and rinse her shorn locks.

‘Rose?’ she asked, in amused curiosity. ‘Isn’t that the name of this chamber, also?’

The smiling maid nodded, dropping a curtsy. ‘Mrs Gibson thought it would be easier for you to remember, miss.’ Wrapping a huge, soft towel around Harriet, she helped her from the bath. ‘I’m to be your maid during your stay, if you please.’

Rose proceeded to carry out her duties with neat, precise actions, fetching undergarments and a gown from various sources within the room and, finally, taking up a pair of scissors from the dressing-table, set about restoring some sort of shape to Harriet’s hair.

‘ ‘Tis a lovely colour, miss,’ she said, brushing back the now shining, red-gold tendrils. ‘Who cut it last I can’t imagine, but I can just about coax it into that new style they call the ‘'Titus''. Luckily you have sufficient curl in it. There!’ She stepped back triumphantly to view her handiwork.

Harriet was amazed at the transformation. The curly crop certainly suited her elfin features and, somehow, made her limpid green eyes look larger than ever. The bronze silk gown Mathilde had ‘found, from somewhere’ accentuated her creamy skin and was of far better quality and design than any she had ever owned. The bruise on her forehead was becoming more obvious and was deepening in colour, but Rose had carefully arranged the curls to disguise it and had woven a spray of artificial lily-of-the-valley through the rest of her hair.

‘How very clever of you, Rose,’ she said in delight. ‘I will be very glad to have you as my maid. It is clear that you have a real talent.’

Rose’s ample cheeks flushed with pleasure and Harriet acquired her first loyal friend in the Beldale household. Trained not to ask questions of their superiors, the servants knew better than to query the unexpected arrival of a young lady in strange garb, without luggage or possessions, and, although Rose was bursting with curiosity about her new mistress’s background, it was more than her job was worth to exhibit such interest. Mrs Gibson had instructed her to bundle up the dirty, rough clothing and hand it straight to her, and Mathilde, her ladyship’s maid, had brought articles from Lady Caroline’s own boudoir, although Rose was sure she recognised some of the items as having belonged to one or other of Lord Sandford’s young nieces who were often in the habit of visiting with their mamas. The gown was certainly one that had belonged to Lady Sophie, Sandford’s youngest married sister, for Rose herself had been set to mend the flounce when her ladyship had discarded it after a recent visit with her young family.