A Season for the Heart (5 page)

“Milord,” she began.

“Yes, child?” answered the Earl. “What do you wish for now?”

“I wish for nothing, Milord,” replied Pommy stiffly, “except to assure you that if, now or at any later date, you find my presence an embarrassment to you, you will kindly tell me so, and I shall arrange to find some other work.”

“But I distinctly understood you to say that there was, in fact, no other work for an educated young lady.”

“There is always the tavern, which need not be low.” Pommy hurried to insert that qualification. “In fact, I have been thinking that I might prove quite useful to a proprietor of a portside inn, where persons from foreign countries could be expected to need an interpreter.”

The Earl was regarding her with a look in which amusement and horror were equally blended. “A portside tavern! Miss Melpomene, you cannot realize what you are saying! For one thing, the patrons of such places are invariably Quints and Jibs, or worse, and for another, the number of travelers who would need to be greeted in the Latin tongue could hardly justify the wages your employer would have to pay you.”

“You are funning me,” Pommy said darkly. “Again.”

“What is really worrying you, child?” the Earl asked with a gentleness which would have surprised most of his associates.

Pommy faced him honestly. “I was thinking that you might be regretting having saddled yourself with me, or perhaps you are worrying about my appearance in your sister’s fashionable drawing room?”

“There you have it near the heart of the matter,” admitted the Earl. “I must make you an opportunity to spend your two pounds for a suitable dress, and also provide you with a woman to chaperone you at the inns where we shall rest between here and London.”

So that was all he had been anxious about! Pommy nodded soberly. “I see the problem. Shall we be going through any sizable towns on this road? Perhaps I might acquire a decent garment in an establishment which caters to companions, ladies’ maids, and indigent females.”

The Earl glanced sharply at her to see if she were being sarcastic, but met only a clear, guileless, steady look of inquiry.

“There should be opportunities in Exeter, which we should reach late tonight. I feel sure we can find someone to put us in the way of purchasing all you require,” he said firmly. He then proceeded to distract her mind from the problem by directing her, in a rhetorical manner, to observe the varied beauties of the country scene. Since it was nearly dusk and still raining heavily, Pommy was forced to chuckle at his raptures, capping them with absurd “appreciations” of her own. A lively contest developed to see which of them could discover the more repulsive example of rural unsightliness to eulogize. This entertained them both for almost an hour.

The Earl was too busy being amused by Pommy’s pseudo-enthusiasm for mud-draggled sheep and tumbledown sheds to wonder what freakish impulse had induced a man of his controlled nature and impeccable reputation to offer to escort a deplorably Romantic young female to London in his carriage. To say nothing of sponsoring this country nobody to the position of companion to the exquisite and lachrymose Aurora, Lady Masterson! He could only conclude that it was Boredom, that deadly creeping disease which afflicted the more intelligent of his associates in the
Ton
, which had made him willing to involve himself in the affairs of Miss Melpomene Rand. Damn it! the child was a delight, and honest to a fault! Discounting his own innate chivalry, which had rebelled at the obvious brutality and selfishness of the girl’s natural guardians, the Earl wondered whether his pleasure in her freshness and spirit had led him into creating an imbroglio which would embarrass them both. Was he about to stir up a scandal broth in the polite drawing rooms of London’s
Haut Ton
? The imperturbable, elusive, untrappable Earl of Austell with a country maiden? He shrugged. It should, he decided, be quite possible for a man of his resources, both social and financial, to handle the business of the Romantic Victim without brouhaha. He found himself grinning. He had not approached any project with this much anticipation for donkey’s years! It would be almost a shame when he had her affairs in good order, and would no longer need to put himself out for her!

Four

Their game of matching rural scenes with inappropriate quotations was summarily interrupted by harsh shouts from both the coachman and the footmen, immediately followed by a jolting stop.

“What the devil—?” snapped the Earl, leaning forward and pulling down the window at his side of the carriage. A single glance was enough to bring him out into the road beside his servants, inspecting a slight body which lay near to the restless hooves of the Earl’s highbred horses. Pommy lost no time in climbing down to join them. The Earl was helping his footman to lift the body, which proved to be that of a young woman, and to carry it to the coach.

“Do get in and take hold of her when I lift her up, Melpomene,” instructed the Earl. “Place her upon the forward seat. Spread my cloak first—she’s dripping with rain and mud.”

In a remarkably short time they had the girl safely inside the carriage and were bowling along at a fast pace toward the next village, where the Earl had instructed his coachman to stop at the most presentable inn. Then he turned his attention to his new passenger. Pommy had already wiped the girl’s face dry and clean with her best handkerchief, and was smoothing her wet hair gently back from a pallid brow. The Earl drew in his breath sharply. Even in the gloom of the carriage the face had a striking purity, a rare beauty which seemed to radiate light.

Pommy had managed to whip off the wet shawl before she laid the girl on the seat, and had tucked her own warm cloak about the other girl’s body. Now she knelt in the swaying vehicle, chafing the cold hands and peering carefully at the blue-white face.

“I think she is hungry, exhausted, and possibly badly frightened,” she announced.

The Earl glanced at her. “You keep your head in an emergency, Melpomene,” he commended. “Can you infer anything more about our Heroine? Her name and station, perhaps?”

Pommy’s glance flew to his enigmatic countenance. With a sinking of heart she thought.
He is mocking me!
and then,
he called
her
the Heroine!
She had no desire to pursue the latter idea; for some reason she dared not acknowledge, it was painful to her. Gathering her pride and her wits to the task, she very carefully examined the face and hands of the rescued girl and said quietly, after a moment:

“She is gently bred. Her hands are soft and free of calluses. Her shoes were expensive; they are well made but not intended for tramping muddy roads. Her stockings are sheer silk, very fine. I do not wish to uncover her to examine her clothing, since she is already chilled, but it is plain her garments are of good quality, in good taste, and suitable for a young woman of fortune. And she is the most beautiful girl I have ever set eyes upon!”

The Earl had been watching her face, rather than the unconscious girl’s. “Well done, Pommy! I cannot fault either your judgment or your powers of observation. Nor your heart,” he added softly. He sighed. “Well, we shall soon have her in a warm room. Will you continue to care for her?”

“Of course,” agreed Pommy stoutly, and wondered why she had been given green eyes, a short, slightly upturned nose, and a mouth too large for the rosebud charm which was the present standard of beauty. Could she ever forget Ceci’s mocking chant when first they met as children at a vicarage party? “Green eye, pick a pie, turn around and tell a lie!” And how Lydia had shrieked with laughter?

Fortunately interrupting this unpleasant train of thought came the bustle of their arrival at an inn. It was not long thereafter before the Earl had arranged everything with efficiency and dispatch. The still-unconscious girl had been carried gently to a warm and well-lighted bed chamber; Pommy and the innkeeper’s wife had undressed her and installed her in a four-poster with hot bricks to her feet and an extra down comforter around her. Then the good woman hurried off to prepare a hot posset, while the innkeeper sent a manservant to fetch the doctor. Pommy had just finished bathing the face and hands of the unfortunate young woman with hot water, and was drying and gently untangling the long blonde hair, when the Earl entered the room.

“I see you have everything in hand, Pommy,” he remarked, with the rare, warm smile which flustered her senses.

At this moment the girl in the bed stirred, moaned softly, and said, in a breathy small voice, “Where am I? Oh, what has happened to me?”

The Earl came at once to stand beside the bed, but Pommy had already taken the groping slender fingers into her own warm clasp.

“You are in bed in the Turtle’s Nest Inn at Belford on the road to London. There is nothing here that can hurt you. I am Pommy Rand, and I will stay with you as long as you wish me to.”

The Earl cocked one eyebrow at this masterly assumption of kindly authority. “You put me strongly in mind of my old nanny,” he said with a smile. “I daresay it is the best way to handle this rather unconventional situation.”

Pommy found she could not meet his teasing eyes. Alas for her tentative dreams! She had been quickly relegated—or had relegated herself—to the position of kindly old nanny to this beautiful girl.
When will it be my turn to be the admired, the beloved?
cried a lonely voice deep within her. Still, there was much satisfaction to be gained from the role of ministering angel and Confidante to the Fair Unknown. Pommy squared her shoulders and faced the Earl with a smile whose sturdy sweetness she herself was not aware of.

“We shall do nicely. Mrs. Ainton is bringing a warm posset, and I shall keep our invalid from too much activity until Dr. Stewart has seen her.”

“Mrs. Ainton, Dr. Stewart,” repeated Lord Austell. “You are quick to pick up the relevant details, Pommy. It appears you would make a good comrade in adversity.”

Small comfort, when her secret fantasies had been much different, but Pommy had told herself to accept it gratefully. The entrance of Mistress Ainton with the posset helped her to maintain her attitude of cheerful competence. She went to the girl’s head and lifted it gently to her own shoulder, supporting the slender frame warmly against her own body.

“Now you must permit good Mrs. Ainton to give you a little nourishment, and soon you will be going on famously,” she encouraged.

“You are too kind,” murmured the breathy voice, and the big, pale blue eyes sought hers with shy gratitude. “May I know your name? I know you told me, but I—I do not quite remember.”

“I am Pommy,” she said gently. “Now do not attempt to greet us all in proper form, or we shall be exchanging introductions all evening, and you will not have taken your nourishment before Dr. Stewart arrives!” With a gentle smile she took the spoon from Mrs. Ainton, who was glad to surrender it, and began spooning the hot milk curdled with spiced ale into the invalid’s mouth. By the time Dr. Stewart walked into the bedroom, there was a trace of color in the beautiful face, and some animation in the blue eyes.

The Earl, who had been standing in the shadows near the window, came forward quietly and explained what had occurred. Nodding, Dr. Stewart walked to the bed to make his diagnosis. Pommy began to release the girl’s hand, but the latter cried out and gripped it tightly, her eyes on the doctor’s face.

“Hush now, my dear, you must be very good and quiet, and answer Dr. Stewart’s questions, for he cannot decide what is to be done unless you tell him what he needs to know,” said Pommy.

The Fair Unknown shed a few tears, which, Pommy observed with strong envy, did not serve to redden her perfect little nose, and then promised to be very good if Pommy would stay beside her and hold her hand. This plan the doctor agreed to, and conducted his examination, both physical and verbal, with gruff kindliness.

A few minutes later he walked over to the Earl and said, “There is really nothing wrong with the young lady which rest and proper diet will not cure. She may of course suffer a slight inflammation of the lungs due to exposure in the storm, but that should not create alarm if reasonable care is taken.” He eyed the tall nobleman keenly. “I take it from Ainton’s servant that you found the young lady lying in the road?”

“I believe she was running across the road as my carriage approached, and slipped and fell, frightening my horses. They are highbred, and tend to take alarm at the least provocation,” the Earl explained by way of apology.

“Women will never understand these matters,” said Dr. Stewart. “The gel should have waited to cross the road until you had got past.”

“Have you any idea who she may be?” asked the Earl. “The Aintons do not seem to be able to identify her, and my niece has not dared to question her until we had your opinion on her state of health.”

Pommy, who had been listening carefully, nodded her head at the Earl’s sensible nomination of herself as his niece. He caught her eye at just that moment, surprising her, and a quirk of amusement pulled his lips as he read her unqualified approval of his ploy.

The doctor was speaking. “No, I have never seen the young woman before—and believe me, I would have remembered
that
face! She is a stranger to these parts. I would say a sheltered female, possibly from one of the larger cities, if the ornate quality of her garments is taken into account. Everything silk,” he explained, with a conscious smile.