At this point in his musings, she reentered the room, bearing a tray from which arose mouth-watering aromas. She smiled at him as she set it down. The familiar actions involved in producing a meal had completely restored her composure. She had no reason to be concerned for his opinion of her. He was simply another chick to be taken under her wing until he could fly by himself. It was seven years since her stepmother had succumbed to a putrid sore throat, and mothering was the role that came easiest to her by now.
“I have made you a ham omelette,” she announced as she helped him sit up and propped pillows behind his back. “A Hamlet, as Robbie still calls it. I trust it has not suffered on its journey from the kitchen. I thought you had best eat something light, as you will be lying down again soon.”
The Hamlet, he found, was accompanied by a large slice of apple pie and a tankard of ale. Suddenly thirsty, he took a long drink.
‘Home-brewed,” he commented, “and excellent. Surely you do not . . .”
“Oh no, that is Brakspear’s. We do not consume much ale. Jamie likes it occasionally, and Geoff after he has been digging. I prefer cider myself.”
“I dare swear you know how to brew, though.”
“It is not at all difficult. My father used always to have ale made at the manor.”
“An omelette is difficult, however. I have rarely tasted such a light and flavourful one. My compliments, Miss Godric. Do you keep hens and pigs?”
“I am sorry to disappoint you. Geoffrey would like to do so, but our space is limited, and I confess to a strong dislike of the inevitable odours and noise.
“You do disappoint me. Now you will tell me that you do not make all the family’s clothes and teach Jamie his Latin into the bargain.”
“Alice is our seamstress, and an excellent one. I have as little taste for stitchery as for hog-keeping, I fear. Nor do I profess to know any Latin, though I do teach the girls and Rob. Indeed, I have no elegant accomplishments, for though I was studying music and sketching, since my stepmother died I have had no time for such things.”
“You mentioned your father . . .”
“Ralph Godric, Esquire, of Hilltop Manor, Henley-on-Thames, in the County of Oxford,” she quoted at him.
“I believe I must have met him, in town. Was he not married to a Hawthorpe?”
“Yes, Alicia, my stepmother. Do you know the family?”
“My sister is acquainted with Henrietta Bardry, I believe,” he replied cautiously.
“So you do have a family, then! I was beginning to think you had none since you did not mention anyone. Surely I had better notify your sister of your whereabouts before she begins to worry?”
“Ariadne is not in the least likely to wonder where I am. She is a good deal older than I, and we avoid each other as much as possible. I can think of no one who need be informed.” Ruthlessly, he dismissed from his mind an entire household of servants who would doubtless be frantically wondering what had become of their master. It would not be the first time he had disappeared for a couple of weeks without notice, so let them think he was off enjoying himself with some high-flying bit of muslin.
Hester was looking distressed.
“She is your only relative? What an unhappy position to be in!”
Lord Alton’s hopeful heir, a quartet of other nephews and nieces, and a variety of more distant relations followed his servants into limbo as he basked in Hester’s sympathy.
“Yes,” he said mournfully, “like you I am an orphan. I am alone in the world.”
To his surprise, she laughed.
“As I am not,” she pointed out. “And judging by the cheerful tone in which you spoke of your estrangement from your sister, you are by no means distressed by your solitary situation. At any rate, for the next few weeks you will have family a-plenty, unless you mean to bar the door or to remove to the White Hart or the Bull. The children are bursting with curiosity, and I am sure I cannot guarantee your peace and quiet. I beg you will tell them to leave when they try your patience.”
“It will be a novel experience,” he assured her sincerely. “I have never dealt with children in my life.”
“As to that, only Rob and Susan are really children. The older three are shockingly offended if I refer to them in that way.”
“I will remember,” he promised. “I look forward to meeting them.”
The conversation was distracting his attention from the pain in his leg, but he bethought himself that while he would spend the morrow enjoying his enforced leisure, his nurse would doubtless have numerous tasks to accomplish.
“Had you not better retire, Miss Godric?” he suggested with the consideration that was part of his charm. “I am sure you have a busy day ahead of you.”
“Perhaps I should. Shall you sleep, do you think?” Testing for fever, she laid her cool hand, quite unselfconsciously, on his forehead. He realised that she had, with an equal lack of embarrassment, spent half an hour in a man’s bedchamber in the middle of the night, and in her nightgown.
“No fever,” Hester announced. “Are you sure you will not take a little more medicine? I own I think it best that you should not, but I can see that your leg is very painful.”
“And I thought I was bravely concealing my agony! No more laudanum, I thank you. If you can spare me another candle, I shall occupy myself with one of Jamie’s less abstruse tomes. Or has he none?”
“He does run to philosophy and logic. However, I have some volumes of travellers’ tales that might amuse you. I’ll not offer you Alice’s romantic novels!”
Hester took the tray and left. She returned presently with a bundle of candles and another of books.
“Do you not wish to lie down?” she asked, as she placed them near him.
“Should I decide to do so, I am sure I can manage if you do not object to having your pillows thrown upon the floor. I am very wakeful at present. Thank you, Miss Godric, for your books, your cooking, and your company.”
“You must ring the bell if you need me. I shall hear, and it is not likely to rouse the others. I hope you will get some sleep, Mr. Fairfax.”
“Goodnight, and happy dreams.”
She went out and pulled the door to, then popped her head round it.
“Oh, I do have one elegant accomplishment,” she said mischievously. “I speak French.
Bonne nuit, monsieur, et dormez bien!”
Much to his surprise, Mr. Fairfax did fall asleep before dawn, and did not awake until near midday. When he opened his eyes, he found himself being subjected to a severe scrutiny by a large and regal grey-and-white cat, which was seated on his windowsill.
“Good morning,” said Mr. Fairfax, after a few moments of mutual inspection. “I don't believe I have your name?”
The cat merely blinked its great yellow eyes, but from the corridor outside the chamber came a double thud, the sound of running footsteps, and a youthful voice crying:
“Hester, Hester, he’s awake! Hester, Mr. Fairfax is awake! I heard him talking. Jamie, can I help you get your books? Hester, can I . . . ?” The sound died away.
Hester was alarmed to hear that her patient had apparently been talking to himself. He had seemed quite
compos mentis
in the night, but maybe he had relapsed and was delirious. Shushing Robbie and hurrying up the stairs, she knocked on his door.
“Come in,” said a cheerful voice.
The first thing she saw on entering was the cat, which was now washing himself in a dignified. way.
“Oh!” she exclaimed in relief, “you were talking to Gumby. When Robbie told me he heard you speak, I was afraid you were wandering.”
“My wits may wander, but I’ll not go far with this leg,” grimaced Mr. Fairfax. “Good morning, Miss Godric.”
“Good morning, sir. Is your leg very bad?”
“In general it has subsided to a mere throbbing ache. However, when I try to move it is . . . considerably more painful, shall we say.”
“And your head?”
“Truth to tell, I had forgot it,” he admitted, raising his hand to touch the bandages. “It is a little tender, but I have no headache.”
“Good. In spite of the appalling amount of blood, I did not think it a serious injury.”
“And did you not swoon at the sight of the bleeding corpse at your door?”
“I should not be of much use to the children if I were such a ninnyhammer,” answered Hester, amused. “Robbie is forever falling off things, and only last month Geoff stepped on a rake in the garden. That was far worse than a mere cut forehead.”
“Spare me the gory details,” shuddered Mr. Fairfax. “You are a remarkable woman, Miss Godric.”
“Oh no!” she said in surprise. “I only do what any mother does for her children.”
He refrained from pointing out that they were not her children, and thought of his own mother who had rarely seen him, let alone comforted his hurts. He changed the subject.
“You have mentioned Geoff and Robbie this morning,” he said, “but I have the impression that last night you told me of several more. I fear I do not remember the details.”
“Three more. You were half-asleep when I told you. I’ll not confuse you now, for I daresay you will meet them all today. Now, Mr. Fairfax, do you care for some breakfast, or would you prefer luncheon?”
“Is it so late? My midnight Hamlet has faded to a dim memory. I will devour anything you have available.”
“You are easy to please, sir. Let me help you sit up, and then I shall see what I can produce.”
As she bent over him, he was very conscious of the fresh scent of lavender. He raised himself on his elbows, and her arm went round his shoulders. Once again he was astonished at the strength in her slim body as she helped him lift himself and tucked pillows behind his back. He could not suppress a groan as the movement disturbed his leg, and Hester looked at him in concern.
“It’s all right,” he reassured hastily. “Just a momentary twinge.”
For a moment she dubiously regarded his pale face, then accepted his assurance.
“Are you comfortable?” He nodded. “Then I’ll return shortly.”
The tap on the door, some fifteen minutes later, heralded not Hester but a dark-haired vision of beauty followed by a small and slightly grubby boy with a laden tray.
“Here’s your breakfast, sir,” announced the latter proudly. “I carried it all the way upstairs and didn’t spill a drop.”
Mr. Fairfax managed to tear his eyes away from the vision.
“Thank you,” he answered. “You must be Robbie, I think?”
“Robbie, mind your manners,” reproved the vision. “I’m Alice Godric, sir, and this is my youngest brother.” She seemed quite unconscious of the effect she had produced.
“How do you do, sir,” said Robbie, “and I can’t bow, Alice, ‘cos I’m holding this tray, so there.”
“Set it on the table by the bed, you gudgeon, so that Mr. Fairfax can reach it.”
“Don’t call me a gudgeon,” Rob objected pugnaciously. “Hester said you’re not to.” He carefully deposited the tray, then turned and bowed. “There! Can I stay and talk to you while you eat, sir? Alice says I’m not to, but Hester said I might if I asked politely and you did not mind.”
Alice heaved a sigh, which did wonderful things to her figure. “Please excuse him, sir,” she begged. “He’s only little.”
Warned of the coming explosion by the stormy look on Robbie’s face, Mr. Fairfax hastily intervened.
“I shall be happy to have company,” he assured Alice. “Please thank Miss Godric on my behalf. She seems to have provided enough to feed an army.”
“Hester is a wonderful cook. Are you sure you want Rob to stay? Very well, but toss him out if he bothers you.” Alice left before Robbie could retort.
“They all pick on me because I’m youngest,” he explained bitterly. “I won’t bother you, and I’m not little, am I, sir?”
“How old are you?” queried Mr. Fairfax around a mouthful of cold beef. “Eight? I have a nephew of that age, and I would say you are a head taller at least.” Too late, he remembered that he had denied any family other than his sister. At least Robbie seemed pleased with his answer.
“What’s his name?” he asked eagerly. “Does he like ships? Has he ever been boating? Can he row? I can. Does he live by the sea? If he does, I should like to know him.”
“His name is Frederick, I believe. He does not live by the sea, and I fear I do not know his interests. Am I right in thinking you want to be a sailor?”
“Oh yes! I have wanted to forever, and Hester says I may become a midshipman when I am old enough. But let’s talk about that later. I have an important question I have to ask you. Pray do not answer if it mortifies you!” he added anxiously.
“Whatever do you want to know?” asked Mr. Fairfax, somewhat startled.
“Well, I do not see why you should be mortified, but Hester said you might. Were you ever at a university?”
“Why, yes, I was at Oxford. I suppose the question might conceivably have embarrassed me if I had not. However, I cannot imagine of what interest it can be to you, Robbie. Sailors do not customarily go in for studies of that sort.”
“It’s not for me. Jamie wants to go to Oxford, and the vicar has not opened a Greek book for a century, and he hoped you could help him.”
“And why did Master James not ask me himself?”
“He would have, only he was dreading it in case you were offended or did not wish to teach him. Should you wish to?”
“I don’t see why not, since I am to be confined to bed. It will help to pass the time.”
“Good. I’ll tell him to stop worrying. You will not tell Hester I asked for him, will you? She says he must strive to overcome his shyness.”
“No, I’ll not tell. And may I ask what it is that you must strive to overcome?”
“I must mind my manners, and Geoff must mind his tongue, and Alice has excessive sensibilities, and Susan is . . . sancti-something. It means she prays all the time.”
“I see,” said Mr. Fairfax gravely. “It seems Miss Godric has an amazingly difficult family to manage.”
“Oh no, she says we are helpful and commonsensical and . . .” He noticed the twinkle in Mr. Fairfax’s eye. “You are bamming me,” he declared with severity. “Are you finished eating? I’ll take the tray and go and tell Jamie not to worry. Good-bye, sir. I’ll come and see you again later.”
“Thank you, Robbie. Tell James I am at his service.” With much manoeuvring, Rob managed to get himself and the tray out of the room and shut the door.