Beatrice (4 page)

She
glanced at him, a little abashed at his concern. “I should have
asked you, I know. I am sorry that I allowed my stupid pride to get
in the way.”

“It is
all sorted now, so don’t worry about it,” he sighed. If he was
honest, he wasn’t angry with her because he was so relieved that he
had finally managed to get her to talk to him.

When he
glanced up, he was more than a little disconcerted to see the
rooftop of her house in the distance and calculated that they had
about another ten minutes together. It was a little shocking to
realise just how much he regretted the fact that their journey was
going to come to an end before he could find a way to get to see
her again. He lapsed into thoughtful silence as he steered the
horse out of the field and back onto the lane while he tried to
come up with a way to extend the journey.

“Thank
you for coming back for me, Mr Addison,” she said as she tried to
keep her attention on the lane before them rather than the man who
seemed to be wrapped around her.

“Please
call me Ben, and you are very welcome. I am glad that I was
passing.” He didn’t tell her that it wasn’t happenchance that he
had been in the lane. Like some besotted, lovelorn fool, he had
been trying to catch one last glimpse of her before she had gone
home for the day but, luckily, this time Fate appeared to be
smiling down on him and he had been able to ride to her rescue.
“Let’s try to get out of this rain before the thunderstorm strikes,
shall we?”

He
smiled down at her. As if to prove that Fate was indeed on his
side, a large rumble of thunder swept through the sky directly
above their heads. Ben glanced up at the dark clouds and knew that
the rain was about to get considerably worse. He nudged the horse
into a faster walk and kept his gaze trained on the end of her
driveway. However, before they got half-way there, the low rumble
of carriage wheels intermingled with the sound of the
rain.

She gaze
locked with Ben’s and she turned to study the lane in front and
behind them in search of the source of the noise.

“Jesus,”
Ben swore as a large black monstrosity sped around the corner and
raced toward them. He barely had the time to manoeuvre his horse to
the side of the road before the carriage raced past them at
breakneck speed.

“That’s
the carriage,” Beatrice cried as she stared over his shoulder after
it. “That’s the same one that nearly ran me over.”

Ben
glanced behind him and hoped it would fall over if it attempted to
take the corner at the end of the lane at that speed. The reckless
fool deserved to have an accident. He nudged his startled horse
into a trot and gritted his teeth when Beatrice began to bounce
against his already painfully aware body. To test his resolve
further, her arms tightened around him as she clung on for dear
life, which in turn pressed her delectable curves against him more
fully. In spite of the rain, he felt beads of sweat pop out onto
his brow, and kept his gaze locked firmly on the front door of her
house while silently praying that he could keep control until he
got her to safety.

Lord, save me,
Ben prayed and he
clenched his jaw while he tried desperately to think of something
else. The only outward sign of his inner struggle was the muscle
that ticked slowly in his jaw. All thought of the carriage was
temporarily forgotten while he tried to retain some semblance of
control over the physical effect she had on him, but it was a close
run thing, especially when he glanced down and saw the pink tip of
her tongue slide nervously over her luscious lips.

Beatrice
almost wept with relief when Ben guided the horse into the
driveway. The sight of her front door ahead of them had never felt
so wonderful to her but, before she could ask him if he would like
a cup of tea before he left, he quickly dismounted and helped her
down. She had taken no more than a couple of steps before he
immediately swept her off her feet again, and carried her to the
front doorstep.

“You
don’t need to carry me,” she grumbled awkwardly.

“You
need to stay off that ankle,” he replied. “Will you be alright for
a minute? I want to see if I can catch up with that carriage.” Upon
receiving her nod, he turned and vaulted into the saddle, but
paused long enough to point one long finger at her. “Go inside and
get warm. I will come back to help you get the boot off that foot.
I shouldn’t be long.”

She
opened her mouth to speak only to watch him wheel his horse around
and race out of the driveway. With a sigh, she turned around and
went inside.

Ben
raced down the lane as fast as he dared given the wet conditions,
and scoured the lanes surrounding the property for any sign of the
black carriage. He stopped once or twice to listen, but couldn’t
see, or hear, the reckless road user who had nearly claimed victims
for the second time that day.

“Damn it
to hell,” he growled when he had gone as far as he dared given the
thunderstorm was now directly overhead. It was incredibly foolish
to be outside still with the damned thing so close, and so turned
and headed back to Beatrice’s house. He almost wished that the
carriage would pass by again, because he knew that the cretin
wouldn’t get away for a second time. Still, at least the
thunderstorm, and Beatrice’s foot, gave him a perfect excuse to
stay with her for a little while longer.

Although
it was a struggle for Beatrice to get inside by herself, at least
she only had to manage a few feet rather than nearly a mile. Still,
she was panting heavily by the time she hopped and sidled through
the front door into the blessedly dry interior of the
house.

As the
front door closed, a jagged streak of lightning lit the sky
outside. She winced and hoped that Ben was alright, and Maud had
the wisdom to remain at her friend’s house. It was something of a
relief to be able to get home at last. However, now that she was
here she was a little disconcerted at what she found.

Rather
than being warm and welcoming as expected, the house felt
incredibly cold and empty. She shivered and, in spite of it being
soaked, drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she studied
the darkened interior of the hallway. Logic told her that it was
dark inside the house because of the thunderstorm that raged
outside. Unfortunately, that didn’t help her control the feeling
that the house felt as though it was waiting for something sinister
to happen.

Don’t be a fool, there is nothing wrong. This is
home
, she chastised herself sternly as she
shuffled and hopped her way into the sitting room to light the
fire. It was difficult to kneel down to light it given that her
ankle throbbed mercilessly but, if she didn’t get some warmth into
the room, then her ankle was going to be the least of her
problems.

It took
too long to get her shaking hands to light the spill but she
eventually managed it, and sat back to enjoy the warmth of the
roaring flames for several moments while she contemplated whether
to try to get upstairs to change her clothes.

Suddenly, a dull thud in the hallway broke the silence. Her
heart leapt into her throat and she turned her head to stare in
horror at the sitting room doorway. She wished now that she had
taken a moment to light a candle out there because there were too
many shadows for her liking.

“Hello?”
Beatrice called. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on
end when silence greeted her. “Who is there?”

Her
stomach churned at the thought that she might not be alone in the
house, and she silently pushed to her feet. She took a moment to
carefully slide a heavy iron poker out of the pot beside the fire
before she turned back around to face the hallway. Her ears were
tuned to any sound of movement, but she could hear nothing except
the frantic hammering of her own heart. Was she being foolish? Was
her imagination running wild because of the fright she had
earlier?

When she
finally made it to the hallway, she studied the doors leading to
various parts of the house, and hefted the poker higher while she
listened for the strange noise again.

“Is
anyone there?”

CHAPTER THREE

Several
loud thumps suddenly landed on the front door. She screamed and
clutched a hand to her racing heart while she stared in horror at
the door and tried to decide what to do.

“Who is
it?” She stood frozen in horror as she waited.

“It’s
Ben. Beatrice? Are you alright?”

Beatrice
quickly propped the poker against the wall, and stumbled awkwardly
to the door where she yanked it open with such an overwhelming wave
of relief that she almost wept.

“Thank
heavens you are here,” she murmured fervently as she waved him
inside.

“Are you
alright darling? What is it? What’s wrong?” He frowned at the sight
of the paleness in her cheeks and studied the empty hallway behind
her in alarm.

“I just
thought that I heard something, that’s all,” she replied, and felt
rather foolish for being so skittish. The sight of him so tall and
strong, even if soaking wet, was so wonderfully reassuring that she
had to fight to keep the tears at bay as she closed the door behind
him.

“I am
sorry, I just –” She frowned down at the package he held in his
hand. “What’s that?”

“I don’t
know,” Ben replied and nodded to a spot just beside the door. “It
was on the doorstep.”

“Here?”
She glanced at him with a frown. “Are you sure?” The words were out
before she could prevent them and she smiled ruefully when he threw
her a teasing look.

“Maybe
you missed it when you got here,” he suggested
helpfully.

“I could
have sworn it wasn’t there when I got here a few minutes ago,” she
murmured. “I would have seen it, I am sure.”

“Maybe
it was delivered between when you got home and I
arrived?”

“Yes,
maybe that’s it,” she replied doubtfully. She frowned down at the
package he handed her and wondered if the noise she had heard had
been someone’s half-hearted attempt to knock on the door. She
jumped in alarm when a particularly loud rumble of thunder
reverberated around the house. “I am sorry, please come on through.
I am sure it is just me being silly because of everything that has
happened this afternoon.”

She
turned to lead the way into the sitting room, and only then
remembered that her foot wasn’t able to hold her up. Her cry of
pain remained locked in her throat when Ben immediately swept her
off her feet. Within seconds she was being placed carefully on the
sofa, and only then realised that she still held the
package.

“Stay
here, I will go and put a pot of water on to boil,” he murmured
tenderly. “When is your housekeeper due back?”

“She has
gone to a friend’s house in Tipton Hollow to sort something out for
the jumble sale, and won’t come back until the storm has
passed.”

Ben
nodded. “Given the look of the sky, the storm is going to be here
for a while. The clouds are as black as the ace of spades for as
far as the eye can see.”

Beatrice
groaned and glanced out of the window. “What about your
horse?”

“I have
put him in the stable for now. At least he is out of the rain.”
With that, Ben disappeared into the kitchen.

While he
was gone, Beatrice turned her attention to the mysterious package
on her lap. Now that she had someone to keep her company, she felt
a little silly for her earlier fear. The noise she had heard had
been nothing more than someone delivering a parcel; that was all.
There was nothing to be fearful of. That being the case though, why
did she still felt as though something was wrong?

While
Ben clattered pots in the kitchen, she removed the packaging paper
from the parcel and studied the equally dull and boring box. She
scowled at it for a moment, but there was no note, and no markings
on the box to indicate what was inside. She lifted the lid and
gasped as she was assaulted by the most unforgettable smell she had
ever encountered in her life.

“Good
Lord above,” she whispered, and wrinkled her nose up in disgust as
she lifted the large flowering plant out of the box.

“What is
it?” Ben asked when he re-entered the room. He was more than a
little put out that she had received a plant from someone, and felt
his hackles rise as he studied the surprised delight on her face.
Unfortunately, that wondrous look soon evaporated and was replaced
with wary disgust when the odour that came with the unusual plant
started to fill the room.

“It is a
flowering plant of some kind, although I have never seen this
particular variety before,” Beatrice murmured. She placed it
carefully on the table before her, not because it was heavy, but
because the smell had started to make her feel a little
sick.

“Is it
intended for your uncle, do you think?” Although Ben hadn’t known
Matthew Northolt personally, he had heard through the grapevine
that he had been a well-respected, if a little eccentric,
botanist.

“I am
not sure,” she replied with a frown and peered into the gloomy
depths of the box. Unfortunately, there was no note or anything to
tell her who the plant might have come from. “How
strange.”