Rushton’s valet, Victor, arose shortly after Henry’s arrival and began to quietly light fires in his master’s bedroom and the sitting room. From years of experience he chose the clothing he would propose for the day’s toilette, laying the items lovingly over a chair in such a way that no wrinkles would result. A stack of cravats, neatly folded and glistening whitely, he left on the chest of drawers while he set out the shaving kit. It was too early to fetch hot water for his master, who lay sprawled on the bed unconscious of the movement about him, but Victor was never begrudged his own luxuries, so he made his way to the door with every intention of going to the kitchen to obtain a can for himself. If it had occurred to Victor that someone would be sleeping in the doorway, he would of course have carefully stepped over the recumbent form. Unfortunately, such a thought never occurred to him, and Henry had slipped down in such a way that he was practically invisible in the dark corridor outside.
Thus Victor stepped squarely on poor Henry’s most tender part, and stumbled on his face in addition. The resulting commotion—Henry’s scream of anguish, Victor’s yelp of terror as he careened toward the gaping staircase—might have awoken anyone for some distance around, and it certainly woke Rushton. Unaccustomed to being startled from his bed by such pandemonium, he leapt up in confusion and raced for the doorway in his nightshirt. The sight which greeted his eyes did nothing to alleviate his mystification, for Henry lay rolling on the floor and groaning, while Victor clung precariously to the bannister which appeared in imminent danger of giving way.
“What the hell is going on?!” Rushton cried as he attempted to pass Henry in an effort to save his valet from peril. Not particularly alert yet, he failed to notice that Henry was struggling to stand in his presence. Henry’s head caught him at the back of the knees, throwing him forward against his hapless valet, and the bannister promptly gave way. Henry watched horrified as the two men disappeared from view.
It was a short stair, but neither of the victims was in any mood to rejoice at this lucky circumstance. The broken piece of bannister, under their combined weight, careened down the stairs and stopped abruptly at the bottom, where their momentum caused them to smash against the opposite wall. Momentarily dazed, Rushton did not notice that his nightshirt was caught up about his chest, but the bedchamber maid who was carrying fresh linens along the lower hall was struck by it first thing. She screamed, and, dropping her burden, fled in the opposite direction. Henry looked over the remaining bannister and groaned.
People began to converge on the scene of the accident with gratifying speed. Chambermaids, guests, and eventually Mr. and Mrs. Evans themselves stood staring at the two shaken men. Rushton was the soonest to regain his senses, and his concern was more for his valet than for the gaping throng. He felt for Victor’s pulse and found it beating steadily, but there was a gash on his forehead and his fingers were bloodied. “Here, give me a hand with him,” he rapped out to the innkeeper, who stepped forward immediately at the command, but, out of decency, first
tugged down Rushton’s nightshirt before laying hold of Victor.
By the time they had carried the valet up to his bed, past the shaking Henry, Victor’s eyes were beginning to flicker open.
“Lie still,” Rushton ordered, as he busied himself dipping two of his lawn handkerchiefs into the ewer and wringing them out. “His fingers will need professional attention. Will you send for Dr. Turner?” he asked Mr. Evans.
“Right away, sir,” the man responded as he backed toward the door.
“And see to the boy. If he’s all right, have him come here.”
Henry, still shaky on his feet, had remained in the hail as the procession passed, but he assured Mr. Evans that he was fine and would go to Mr. Rushton. Unable to break himself from the grip of this nightmare, Henry stumbled uncertainly into the suite of rooms, where he could see Rushton bent over a bed in a small room off the sitting room. Carefully he placed one foot before the other to traverse the distance, but once he stood beside Rushton he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Are you all right?”
“I…I think so. How is your man?”
“He’ll do well enough,” Rushton grunted as he finished wiping away the blood from the fingers. “The gash on his forehead is not serious, but some of his fingers may be broken. What happened?”
“I don’t know, exactly. I fell asleep in your doorway and I think he stepped on me.”
The valet, who had again opened his eyes at the sound of their voices, turned his gaze to Henry and whispered, “I am very sorry, sir. I did not see you.”
“What the devil were you doing sleeping in my doorway?” Rushton demanded.
“I didn’t want to wake you. That is, at first I thought I would, and I came here shortly after dawn. Then I was afraid you would think I was being a child again, and only thinking of myself, so I decided to wait outside your door until I heard you get up. But I didn’t sleep much last night and I fell asleep just outside.”
Rushton regarded him sharply. “Is there something wrong at Shalbrook? Is your cousin ill?”
“No, well, she wasn’t feeling well last night but I suppose she’ll be better this morning.” Henry cast a glance at the valet. “I must talk with you but this is not the time. I never meant to cause any trouble.” He shrugged helplessly. “This is what I get for trying to be patient. I should have woken you when I got here.”
“I’d have wrung your neck,” Rushton informed him casually. “Wait in the sitting room.”
After half an hour the doctor came and went into the valet’s room where he stayed for some time. Rushton showed him out and then returned to take a seat near Henry’s. “Victor has two broken fingers which Turner says will heal without impairing his use of them.” He fingered a sticking plaster on his cheek. “He also informed me that my own slight cut will undoubtedly leave a scar.”
Nothing more was needed to complete Henry’s desolation. If he had not been sixteen he would have burst into tears.
Rushton laughed. “When I was your age I wanted a scar more than anything else, I think. Romantic, you know. Of course, I visualized receiving it in a duel where I was the champion of a lady’s virtue or a gentleman’s honor. Well, who’s to know how I received it?” he asked cheerfully. “I’d best get dressed. You can come in and tell me your problem while I’m at it.”
Henry stammered, “I... I can wait until you’re done.”
“Lord, Henry, everyone in the damn inn has seen me naked this morning, so what odds? But please yourself. I thought you were in a hurry.”
“Well, I am.” Henry followed his host into the bed-chamber and stood by the window looking out. The black depression settled on him again, so that he began to fear that even Rushton could not help him. “I’m frightfully sorry about what happened this morning. Tell Mr. Evans that I will take care of any damage. No, I shall tell him myself so he knows I’m responsible for the whole.”
Rushton sighed. “I expect he will manage to take me aside and ask if I don’t think I would find myself more comfortable at some other hostelry. Imagine being thrown out of a country inn! It will be a first, my boy.” He inspected the fit of his pantaloons and asked abruptly, “Am I likely to be returning to Shalbrook with you?”
“I hope so,” Henry said fervently.
“Hmm. Then I’d best wear the Hessians. You have not come yet to your problem, young man,” he reminded his guest as he tugged on one of the boots.
“Last night Selina said she would probably send me to Lord Leyburn. He’s my guardian.”
With a muffled oath, Rushton tossed the second boot back onto the floor. “Nonsense! There is nothing she wants less.”
Henry turned around to face him. “That’s true, of course, but she talked about it being best for me. She wasn’t angry about yesterday afternoon. That’s to say, she did reprimand me, of course, but she started to apologize for her acting. Fancy! When I made such a fuss, she apologized for embarrassing me. We were just sitting there discussing what had happened, when all of a sudden she said I should go to Lord Leyburn, and talked a lot of rubbish about how I would see my estate, and maybe I would come to visit her sometimes. I don’t want to go!” Henry wailed. “I want to stay with her. I can’t even remember Lord Leyburn. Don’t you think she is being too severe? Couldn’t you speak to her? Tell her that I am not so different from other boys? I promise I will do better! She shall have all the respect due her. I needn’t learn about the farming after all, or at least, I could do so only after my regular lessons. And I won’t complain about them, or say anything derogatory about Dr. Davenport. Only, please, help me to convince her not to send me away!”
“Now, hold on, Henry,” Rushton advised, unaware that he had fallen so easily into calling the boy by his Christian name. “I want you to tell me exactly how all this came about. You say she wasn’t angry with you. Did you try to excuse yourself?”
“No, I don’t think so. But I did try to explain.”
“Explain what?”
Henry flushed. “Why I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think she was strange or anything.”
Rushton’s lips twisted awry. “And what did she say to that?”
“She said you always had…thought she was strange,” Henry mumbled.
“Hmm, yes. And then what happened?”
“Oh I don’t remember exactly. She scolded me and told me my scene had been just as uncomfortable as her play-acting, but said she wouldn’t do that again in company. I wouldn’t let her apologize for it! I told her you’d said you didn’t mind.”
“Now we are getting somewhere. What did you tell her about our talk?”
“Just that you had rung a peal over me. I didn’t have a chance to say anything more. That was when she started to talk about my going to Lord Leyburn. You will speak to her, won’t you? I know I am asking a lot, but yesterday you seemed to understand. If you would do this one thing for me, I…I would not hold you to the boxing lessons. That is, I would be so greatly in your debt that I should not wish to impose on you further. Just please convince her not to banish me!”
“Is she likely to be up yet?” Rushton asked curiously.
“Ordinarily she would be, but after last night... Still, we could go there, couldn’t we, and see? I don’t want her to have a chance to get it firmly implanted in her mind, you know. She can be very stubborn when she thinks she’s doing the right thing. Did that sound as though I was criticizing her? I wasn’t! Mostly she is right, anyhow. Would you come now? We could have breakfast after you talk to her.”
“Or even before I talk to her,” Rushton murmured.
Henry flushed again. “Of course. Before you talk to her.”
“Very well. Go down and have my curricle brought round. I’ll just have a look at Victor before I come along.”
Chapter Sixteen
Selina was seated at the breakfast table when she heard the sounds of arrival in the courtyard. When she had heard that Henry was not in the house, and learned from the stables when she sent for word that he had gone out shortly after dawn, she had been somewhat alarmed. Counseling herself to patience, she had sat down to an array of delicacies which she did not find in the least tempting. Now that he was home, her appetite improved sufficiently for her to spread a glob of jam on her toast and pour another cup of tea. Her appetite deserted her once more when the breakfast parlor door opened, and she found not only Henry but Mr. Rushton standing there.
Even the most casual observer would not have declared her to be in looks. She was dressed in a dark blue morning dress that was unexceptionable, but her face was pale and drawn and her eyes, especially when they rested on Mr. Rushton, looked haunted. Her visitor appreciated her distress at a glance, and with one longing look at the sideboard heaped with a half dozen dishes, said curtly, “Have your breakfast, Henry. I am going to take your cousin for a drive.”
Not disposed to argue this summary command, Selina promptly rose to her feet. Best that everything was settled now, rather than drag it out for any period of time. He had no right to order either of them, of course, but at this moment he wielded a power neither would dispute. “I’ll get my wrap,” Selina said.
The royal blue pelisse she chose only served to make her face look more pale, but she was not aware of the fact. In silence they made their way to the stables, and waited while the curricle was once more prepared. Not until they were driving easily down the lane did Rushton speak. “Your cousin said you were talking of his going to his guardian. Did you think because I spoke with him yesterday that I would have him removed from your care?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Easterly-Cummings, how could you possibly leap to such a conclusion?”
Surprised, Selina regarded him with enormous eyes. “Why else would you speak with him, except that you thought I could no longer handle him myself? And I suppose I can’t,” she said, her voice strangled. “There is no reason you should believe me capable. Not only did I put on a ludicrous show, but I had hysterics as well yesterday. The only thing you didn’t see was my fit of temper when I could not mount Starlight with Scamp in my arms.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t wish to harm you?” he asked exasperatedly.
“It’s not a matter of harming me, I know. You like Henry, and you want to see that he fulfills his promise as a man. I understand, Mr. Rushton; don’t think I blame you.”
“You don’t understand anything, my dear Miss Easterly-Cummings. First, I spoke to Henry because I wished to save you the trouble after your exhausting bout of tears. Second, I don’t know Lord Leyburn from a hole in the ground, have no intention of communicating with him, and don’t believe he would benefit Henry in any case. Third, I
do
like Henry, but I would not presume to be the arbiter of his fate. All I ever intended was to offer you some advice. That was unwise of me, I now realize, and even then I realized it was presumptuous. Perhaps I was driven to it by my irritation with you, or by my concern for the boy. In either case, I should not have involved myself in any way. I ask your pardon.”