Anne Herries - An Improper Companion

The earl sat up, groaning as he felt the pain in his head. He remembered his foul mood on returning home the previous night, the frustration he had felt at being unable to get any nearer to finding Charles Hunter’s sister. He had foolishly started drinking brandy, and this was his just punishment.

‘I shall go,’ Elizabeth said as he gave her what she thought was a look of dislike. ‘I am sorry…’

‘Why? It is I who have reason to be sorry,’ Daniel said, uttering a muffled curse. ‘I had forgotten where I was as I woke. Please do not go. I thought myself in my bedchamber and it startled me when I saw you bending over me.’

‘Oh…’ Elizabeth was relieved—he had seemed so angry at seeing her. ‘I see. It was to retrieve the glass only, but…it would be rather startling had I come to your bedchamber at this hour, sir.’

Daniel caught the hint of mischief in her voice and looked at her sharply. Her eyes were bright with laughter and he realised that underneath her slightly prim manner lurked a wicked sense of humour.

‘Just a little,’ he said wryly, ‘but it has happened, Miss Travers. Let me assure you that you would not be the first, especially when I was in Spain with the army.’

‘I dare say you have been much plagued by eager ladies, sir?’

‘As it happens I have,’ Daniel growled, a little piqued by her manner. ‘You would not believe how often a young lady feels faint when I am near.’

‘If you look at them so severely, I should not be at all surprised, sir.’ Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, and for the first time Daniel realised that she was something out of the ordinary.

‘You have a ready wit, Miss Travers,’ he acknowledged, ‘but you must excuse me if I do not respond in kind—I am not at my best this morning. I must go upstairs and make myself ready before Mama sees…’ He glanced at the beautiful gilt mantel clock. ‘Good grief! What are you doing up at this indecent hour?’

‘I always rise early,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And I thought it a good time to begin the task I have promised to undertake for you. I dare say Lady Isadora will not need me for some hours yet.’

‘I should think not.’ He pulled a face at her. ‘It is but ten minutes past the hour of seven. I like to rise early when I have not spent the night hours indulging in too much brandy—but I seldom leave the house before eight.’

Elizabeth laughed huskily. ‘Oh, dear, I am so sorry. It is a custom I formed when young. I used to ride with my brother before our governess was ready to begin the day’s lessons, and I fear the habit has stayed with me.’

Daniel nodded thoughtfully. ‘So you ride, then? I shall inspect my stables and discover if I have a suitable mount for you.’

‘Oh, no, that is too kind,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have not often ridden since Papa…Our horses were deemed part of the estate, you see, and Lord Wentworth had nothing in his stable that I cared to ride…’

‘Not a good judge of horseflesh?’ Elizabeth shook her head and he gave a snort of laughter. ‘I shall be on my mettle, shan’t I?’

‘Oh, I did not mean…’ She looked flustered and his eyes gleamed in triumph for she had lost her air of unconscious command, which, with a head that felt as if it contained a thousand working hammers, he had found daunting. Now he was back in charge, which was his usual status with ladies.

‘No, of course not. Nevertheless, I shall expect you to ride with me tomorrow morning at eight, Miss Travers. You will not refuse me, otherwise I shall know that you think my cattle not worthy of your skill.’

‘I think you like to mock me, sir.’ Elizabeth gave him a reproving look.

‘My mother says I suffer from an excess of levity,’ Daniel said, though the gleam faded to be replaced by a disturbing expression that sent a little chill down her spine. ‘But this is a cruel world, Miss Travers. If a man may not find something to make him laugh sometimes, it would hardly bear the living.’

He nodded to her and walked from the room, leaving her to stare after him and wonder what had brought that look of near despair to his eyes.

It seemed to her that the Earl of Cavendish was a man of many parts, and she was not sure which was the real man.

After two hours of uninterrupted work, during which she had become rather dirty, Elizabeth went back to her room to change her clothes. She ought to have worn an apron, and would do so in future, she decided, for many of the books had not been touched for years. She had begun on the shelf that had only a few books and was pleased to discover that they were estate journals, which Lord Cavendish had obviously placed there himself in an effort to make his work easier. She had cleaned them carefully and then put them back on the shelf at the bottom—she thought it might be best to have the older volumes at the top and work downwards. It would then be quite simple to reach up for something when some research into the past was needed. She was pleased with her efforts, though as yet she had not attempted to begin the cataloguing. She would get the estate journals into good order first, before she began on the larger project.

She had just finished changing her clothes when a tap came at the door. She answered it to discover an elderly woman, whom she believed to be Lady Isadora’s personal maid.

‘Miss Travers,’ the woman said. ‘Her ladyship asks if you would be kind enough to visit her in her room this morning.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Am I right in thinking it is the room at the far end of the landing?’

‘Yes, miss, that’s right,’ the woman smiled at her. ‘I am Jean Phipps, and I’ve been with her ladyship since before she was married.’

‘Then you must know her very well,’ Elizabeth said. ‘May I come to you if there is anything I need to know concerning Lady Isadora’s preferences?’

‘Yes, miss, of course. I shall be only too pleased to help you if I can—but her ladyship is well looked after. It is young company she needs, if you ask me. It would have been Miss Jane’s eighteenth birthday this year and she has been brooding over it. With Miss Melanie being mistress of her own home, and a mother herself, it has left her ladyship at a loss.’

‘Yes, I can understand that,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Well, I am here now and I shall endeavour to take her mind from her unhappy thoughts.’

‘Oh, she seemed much more cheerful this morning,’ Jean Phipps said. ‘I do not doubt that she will throw off the megrims now that you are here and start to entertain once more.’

Elizabeth nodded to her. They had walked together to Lady Isadora’s rooms, and Miss Phipps indicated that she should go in, which she did, though her companion turned away. As she went into the little sitting room, her ladyship called to her to come through to the room directly behind it. She was sitting at an elegant little desk in her boudoir, a pen in her hand. She rested it on an exquisite French boulle tray, which was made with patterns of intricate silver and gold inlaid into tortoise-shell, and smiled at Elizabeth.

‘I trust it is not too early for you, my dear?’

‘Oh, no, I have been working in the library,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have made a start with the estate records, which should help Lord Cavendish to find what he needs more easily.’

‘You have been working?’ Lady Isadora looked surprised and then slightly put out. ‘My son is a slave driver. I did not ask you to come here to work yourself to death, Elizabeth dearest.’

‘No, no, I shall not,’ Elizabeth told her with a smile. ‘You must know that I have been accustomed to being busy, and I enjoyed myself. Books are so fascinating, are they not?’