Reawakening Miss Calverley. Sylvia Andrew
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and put her in one of his grandmother’s lace-trimmed nightgowns. Her wrists were neatly bandaged and lay on top of the covers, which were otherwise pulled up around her. She was quite still, her eyes closed.
‘She shouldn’t be left alone,’ said Mrs Culver. ‘I’ll have one of the maids sit with her tonight.’
‘It’s all right, Cully. I’ll stay.’
‘You can’t do that, my lord! It’s not fitting—’
‘Cully, you might as well save your breath,’ James said impatiently. ‘You’ve known me long enough to know when I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to sit with that girl tonight. She might recover consciousness at any time, and I must be there when she does. Mine is the only face here she might recognise.’
‘How would she do that, my lord?’
‘She was conscious for a moment or two while you were upstairs, and I spoke to her. She was frightened out of her life. She is obviously in some danger—you must have seen her wrists before you bound them up.
Now don’t argue with me. Just inform all the servants that they are not to talk about our visitor to anyone—anyone at all. Until we know more of the circumstances her presence here must be kept secret. Understood?’
When James spoke in that particular tone, Mrs Culver knew better than to argue. ‘Very well, my lord, I’ll make sure they hold their tongues. I’ll send a maid to you in a while to see if there’s anything you need.’ She went out, closing the door softly behind her.
James adjusted the lamp so that its light did not fall on the figure on the bed, and sat for a while, studying the girl’s face in the dim light. Not conventionally pretty. A short, straight nose, a generous mouth, beautifully modelled cheekbones…The chin was a little too determined for prettiness. She lay so still—what would animation do to that face? Would she simper at him as much as most of the girls he met nowadays? He rather thought not. There was intelligence in the brow and firmness in the line of her jaw. If anything, she might be a touch too independent for most men…
He shook his head and got up impatiently. What nonsense! How could he possibly judge any girl’s character, just from the sculpted lines of a face as white and as motionless as the pillow behind? When she recovered she would probably prove to be no different from all the rest…He stood for a moment, looking down at her. The movement of the covers was almost imperceptible, but there was enough to reassure him. She was breathing.
He walked over to the window. The storm was now quite over, and the fields and hedges were silvered with moonlight. Nothing stirred. He wondered what his grandmother would say if she knew he was standing here in the middle of the night keeping watch over a sick girl, a perfect stranger? Something trenchant, no doubt. She had been annoyed enough with him before he left. Those damned newspapers! He stared at the scene outside with unseeing eyes, even forgot the girl in the bed behind him. He was back in London in his grandmother’s room in London. She was sitting as always in her chair by the window looking out over Brook Street…
The Dowager Lady Aldhurst was an upright figure with a silver-topped cane in her right hand. Tiny as she was, she dominated the room. She was wearing black as usual, but her dress was trimmed with a collar of Alençon lace, and a very pretty cap of the same lace covered her beautifully arranged frosted-black hair. A cashmere shawl was draped over her arms. On a small table next to her chair was a glass of Madeira, together with a plate of small biscuits and a pile of papers, on top of which was a copy of the Gazette.
When James came in she greeted him with no particular warmth, but her expression softened as he walked towards her with his characteristic easy stride. Tall, broad shouldered, with dark grey eyes and black hair, he was the image of the man she had loved and married more than fifty years before, and he had always held a special place in her affections. As James bent to kiss her cheek he smiled appreciatively as he caught a delicate trace of perfume.
‘I see you’re wearing the cap I gave you, ma’am,’
he said as he sat down. ‘It suits you. I swear you look younger every day!’
His grandmother was not to be mollified. ‘No thanks to you, sir!’ she snapped.
He smiled ruefully. ‘What have I done this time, Grandmama?’
‘It’s what you haven’t done!’ She picked up the copy of the Gazette. ‘Between the social announcements and the gossip I have never read the Gazette and the rest with so little pleasure. Read that, if you please!’
James took the paper and read, ‘“Lord Paston has announced his daughter’s engagement to the Honourable Christopher Dalloway…”’ He raised an eyebrow and, handing the paper back to her, said with a puzzled frown, ‘I wish the happy couple every joy, but I am not sure what it is supposed to mean to me, nor why it should cause you such displeasure…’
His grandmother glared and took the paper back from him. ‘That isn’t all,’ she said angrily. ‘Read down the page, sir! Look at the other announcements! Sarah Carteret is to marry someone I’ve never heard of—her mother won’t be pleased about that! And next month Mary Abernauld will marry Francis Chantry—’
This time his tone was more cynical. ‘So Mary is to be a Countess? I hope her father knows what he is doing. Chantry gambled away his first wife’s inheritance in pretty much record time—let’s hope he doesn’t lose his new one’s fortune as quickly.’
‘Arthur Abernauld is no fool, James,’ said his grandmother. ‘He’ll have seen to it that he won’t!’ Then she snapped, ‘Don’t try to change the subject! I haven’t asked you in to talk about the Abernaulds!’
‘I’m relieved to hear you say so. They’re a tedious lot. What did you want to see me about—apart, of course, from the pleasure of my company?’
She tapped the paper with her finger. ‘It’s this. Did Barbara Furness tell you she was going to Scotland? According to the Gazette, her parents are taking her for a prolonged stay at Rothmuir Castle. Does this mean she has given up waiting for you to make her an offer and intends to accept the Marquess after all?’
James leaned back in his chair with a lazy smile. ‘That is something you would have to ask the lady.’ When Lady Aldhurst simply held his eye and waited in silence he added, ‘Surely I don’t need to tell you, of all people, that Lady Barbara has never expected an offer from me. What is more, I don’t believe she would have accepted me if I had made one.’
His grandmother looked grave. ‘That’s not the impression you were giving the world, James.’ She poked her stick at the sheets still lying on the table. ‘And it’s not what the scandal sheets are saying, either. According to them, she has left London with a broken heart. Is that true?’
‘Let me see.’ James picked up the offending newspaper, but after a quick glance he murmured, ‘Barbara has been busy! So this to be my punishment!’
‘Is it true?’
James got up and said impatiently, ‘Of course it isn’t! Barbara is simply playing one of her tricks. She was furious when I told her she was behaving badly to a friend of mine, and thinks she can pay me back through this piece of nonsense. Lady Furness insisted on taking her daughter to Scotland, but I’ll be amazed if Barbara isn’t back in London before the month is out, heart whole and perfectly free of any engagement. Why on earth do you read such unedifying rubbish?’ He looked at his grandmother, and said, surprised, ‘You surely don’t believe it?’
‘I no longer know what to believe, James. And you can stop towering over me like that. Sit down, sir! Sit down and look at me!’
His jaw tightened and for a moment it looked as if he would refuse. Then their eyes met and he shrugged his shoulders and sat down. His grandmother thought for a moment and then said slowly, ‘I can see you’re annoyed with me. You think I’m an interfering old woman, and I suppose you’re right. But I care about you, and I care even more for the good name of the Aldhursts. It’s