Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Daphne awoke rather late. A maid named Sadie brought her chocolate and a roll, then helped her into a jonquil muslin gown, chattering about how brightly the sun was shining after all the rain.
Daphne thanked her, then went down the hall toward Lord Ravenswood’s room. There, she encountered Eugene. “Good morning. How is the earl?” she asked anxiously.
The older man had circles of fatigue under his eyes. “In the night my master was restless, but about an hour ago, the fever broke, and he is asleep.”
Daphne felt her spirits lift. “That is good news, Eugene. I am sure Lord Ravenswood will be grateful for your good care.”
Eugene snorted. “Mrs. Tinkham would not let me near my master! I sat uselessly in a chair at the edge of his bed all night, while she bathed his head and persuaded him to take liquids. She is a managing sort of female.”
Daphne suppressed a chuckle. “Will you try to get some sleep for yourself now that his lordship is out of danger?”
Eugene sighed. “Yes, I must. May I ask you to tell Miss Shelby I will speak with her later today? I would find her myself but—”
“I shall tell her,” Daphne interrupted. “Off with you, and please do not get up until you are refreshed.”
Eugene nodded his thanks and moved away.
Daphne hesitated outside of the earl’s door. For some nonsensical reason she wanted to see for herself that his color had returned to normal and that he rested peacefully.
Chiding herself for being silly, she turned and retraced her steps to her room and took out her cloak. Running lightly downstairs, she found Miss Shelby and gave her Eugene’s message.
“It appears to be a lovely day, Leonie. Such a change from yesterday. I mean to inquire after James and then explore the grounds. Will you come with me?”
“No, dear, you run along,” Miss Shelby said. “I shall pass the time in Lord Ravenswood’s excellent library until I have a chance to speak with Eugene.”
Daphne nodded. She sensed Miss Shelby and Eugene had much to talk about.
* * * *
She was not to know just how many topics were covered when Eugene ran Miss Shelby to earth in the library. It was late in the afternoon. The shadows were growing long and candles had been lit. Miss Shelby sat reading in a comfortable gold-and-white-striped chair in front of the fire.
“Oh, Eugene, here you are at last,” she said, putting aside her book.
The manservant sat down nearby in a matching chair. “I am sorry not to have spoken with you earlier, Leonie. I was awake all night, and after I slept today, I wanted to make sure my master was properly cared for before coming to you.”
“How is Lord Ravenswood?” Miss Shelby asked with concern.
“Much better,” Eugene said. Then he leaned forward. “We do not have much time. I have thought of a plan.”
“Heavens,” Miss Shelby exclaimed, “never say the earl has truly affianced himself to Miss Blenkinsop.”
Eugene smiled with satisfaction. “No, he was to call on her father yesterday morning, but he told me he did not take the time to do so. He rode directly out to find us, as I had intended.”
Eugene explained what had transpired the morning after Miss Shelby’s disappearance and about how he had written a dramatic note to which his master could not help but respond. Miss Shelby clapped her hands with glee over the tale.
“What I am thinking now,” Eugene said, “is that you and I must make an excuse and return to Town, leaving Miss Kendall and Lord Ravenswood here alone. Naturally, once back in London, I shall be certain Miss Blenkinsop learns they are at Raven’s Hall together.”
Miss Shelby nodded eagerly. “Excellent. But what reason shall we give for going back without them? Daphne was saying only last night that she wished to return to Town.”
Eugene thought hard. “It might be best not to tell her we are going. Instead we shall escape and leave a letter telling Miss Kendall we wanted to report the break-in at her town house to the authorities. We believed she would prefer to remain here until Lord Ravenswood is well. It is not much of an excuse, and we shall not be going to the authorities, but it may answer.”
Eugene spent a moment ruefully contemplating the fact that this would be the second time he had left his master. He decided the end justified the means.
He looked up and was startled to see tears glistening in Miss Shelby’s eyes. He reached over and grasped her hand. “What is wrong, wise lady?”
“Oh, Eugene,” Miss Shelby said miserably. “It is my fault that awful man broke into Daphne’s house, and now all of this.” She spread her hands expansively.
Eugene was assailed by a terrible wave of guilt. He gripped the arms of his chair. Leonie thought it was the ivory cat figurine Mr. Phillips sought, when, in fact, it was Bastet.
As he gazed into Leonie’s kind blue eyes, Eugene realized how very much he loved her. Her pain hurt him. He must tell her how he had taken the Bastet statue and why, and pray that the uncommon knowledge and understanding she had always exhibited in the past would serve him now.
“There is something I need to tell you, Leonie.” He drew her over to a sofa and sat close to her while he explained about his quest to be free, about Bastet’s guidance, and about Vincent Phillips’s desire to wrest the statue from him for evil intentions.
Through it all, Miss Shelby listened intently, asking an occasional question and holding Eugene’s hand.
At last, the story complete, Eugene squeezed her hand and said, “So you see, Leonie, I cannot beg you to share my life until I am free of my obligation to Lord Ravenswood, and Bastet is returned to the museum.”
Miss Shelby’s eyes glowed. “Did you say you would want to spend your life with me?”
Eugene nodded. “I love you, my wise lady, and want to protect you always.”
Miss Shelby felt a surge of pure joy. “And I love you, Eugene. But do you only wish to protect me?” she asked coyly.
Eugene’s earnest expression brightened, and his face creased into a sudden smile. “No, Leonie. There is much more.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips tenderly to hers.
* * * *
Daphne knocked on Lord Ravenswood’s door about six o’clock that evening. A maid answered and informed Mrs. Tinkham of her presence.
The housekeeper appeared at the doorway. “Yes, Miss Kendall?”
Daphne wished she could dispel the suspicious look in the woman’s eyes. “I wanted to inquire as to my host’s condition before dinner.”
“He is tolerable. The fever broke this morning, and after he rested I was able to convince him to lake some porridge.”
“Tinky!” Lord Ravenswood called. “Tell this silly maid I may get up. The goose is nigh to tears because I want to leave my bed.”
Mrs. Tinkham whirled around and fled to her patient’s bedside. “I shall do no such thing, Master Anthony. You have a visitor, so I suggest you get back under those bedcovers and make yourself respectable.”
Daphne flushed. She had not thought she would be able to see his lordship at all, much less be given access to his bedchamber. But here was Mrs. Tinkham leading her into the masculine room, muttering, “Take care not to tire him.”
Lord Ravenswood’s dark brows rose when he saw her. He wore a paisley banyan and a frustrated expression. Daphne curtsied. “Good evening, my lord. How are you feeling?”
The earl scowled. “Like the veriest blockhead. I do not know how a little rain could have made me so ill.”
Daphne smiled tentatively, although her heart pounded at the sight of the handsome earl propped in bed. She noticed his complexion no longer looked flushed—in fact, it was paler than usual. “I shall take that to mean you are recovering. When one is strong enough to be grumpy, it is always a good sign.”
Mrs. Tinkham chuckled. “You have the right of it. Miss Kendall.” She sounded almost friendly.
“Am I to be taken to task by the two of you, then?” his lordship asked mockingly.
Daphne found it impossible not to grin. There was something warm and enchanting in his good humor. “I shall not keep you, my lord. I only wanted to inquire as to your progress before going downstairs to dine.”
Lord Ravenswood shot a playfully ferocious took at Mrs. Tinkham but addressed Miss Kendall. “One can only improve so much when one is being starved. I daresay you, Miss Kendall, will be treated to a fine capon or even some roast beef while I am forced to sip thin gruel.”
Mrs. Tinkham twitched the bedclothes into place and began to fuss over her charge’s pillows. “Don’t be ridiculous, Master Anthony. Broth is not gruel, and you are still weak.”
“I ask you, Miss Kendall,” he said with the air of someone done a great injustice, “how is a man supposed to regain his strength on broth? Can I persuade you to have your dinner sent up on a tray so I might at least see food, please?”
Discerning the light of amusement in his lordship’s eyes, Daphne laughed.
“Booberkin,” said the one who had known his lordship from his cradle. Mrs. Tinkham’s sharp gaze went from Lord Ravenswood to Miss Kendall. She seemed to like what she saw. It was past time for Anthony to bring home a bride in the housekeeper’s opinion, and while this Miss Blenkinsop he spoke of earlier sounded biddable, Mrs. Tinkham shrewdly judged the girl would never make Anthony happy. “I’ll have Byron set up a table by the fire, and you two can eat there.”
Before anyone could respond to this statement, Mrs. Tinkham sped from the room, leaving Sadie in attendance for propriety.
Daphne felt uneasy at the thought of taking her dinner with the earl under these circumstances. “My lord, I never meant to intrude on your peace this way. I shall go and tell Mrs. Tinkham that I shall dine downstairs.”
Lord Ravenswood leaned forward and caught her hand. “Are you joking, Miss Kendall? Without you, I would not be getting a meal, and I confess I am weak as a kitten. You would be doing me a great favor to remain.”
Daphne withdrew her hand from his. It trembled from his touch, and she reminded herself sternly that the earl had no romantic interest in her. Still, she supposed there was no harm in sharing a meal with him. “Very well. I shall stay.”
Soon enough they found themselves comfortably seated by the fire at a table laden with chicken, vegetables, bread, and wine. Their main topic of conversation was Raven’s Hall.
“I very much enjoyed wandering the grounds today, my lord. The gardens are especially beautiful.”
Anthony sipped his wine. “Thank you. Capability Brown is the artist who designed them. He had definite ideas as to how nature should look.”
Daphne pulled apart a piece of bread. “I noticed there are few horses in the stables, other than workhorses, that is.”
“True. One of my tasks before I can finally return home is to replenish the stables. Tattersall’s ring is the only place to find good horseflesh.”
Anthony laid down the fork. His voice grew sad as he reflected on the past. “You met Isabella, Miss Kendall. The woman did a thorough job of ruining the estate with her willful, selfish spending. My father indulged her to the bitter end, and yet she left him.
“After he died and I returned, it made me ill to see what had become of my home. The gardens and hedges were wild and overgrown. The tenants lived in poverty, and their houses barely stood upright. All the farm buildings were dilapidated, for the estate had been badly managed for years. And that fact, combined with Isabella’s constant draining of its funds, brought a once rich property to its knees. Initially I had to sell off the horses and many of the furnishings to keep things going until I began making money in Egypt.”
Daphne was thoughtful. “How terrible for you to have to take on the responsibility of restoring the estate. It must have been a daunting proposition, indeed. I admire the way you obviously prevailed. Raven’s Hall is a place of great beauty and peace and prosperity.”
Anthony studied Daphne carefully. Her words, her tone of voice, and her expression appeared to reflect her honest opinion. “Those are the very qualities that I have been striving for, Miss Kendall. Keeping the estate in good heart is an everlasting job. Unlike my father, I shall not allow any intelligent schemer—no matter how pretty a face she possesses—to destroy Raven’s Hall in my lifetime.”
At these words something clicked in Daphne’s mind. She suddenly felt the need to be alone with her thoughts.
She placed her napkin on the table, and rose. “My lord, you must forgive me for keeping you from your rest. I fear Mrs. Tinkham will give me a scold should you suffer a relapse.”
Anthony stood as well and gazed at her steadily. “On the contrary, Miss Kendall. The meal and your company have revived my strength. I believe that in a day or so more I shall be ready to return to Town. May I beg your indulgence until then?”
Daphne wanted to tell him she would stay with him forever. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and yearned to be his partner in life, in love, in caring for this marvelous house and its grounds and people. “The day after tomorrow will suit me fine, my lord.”
She curtsied to him and nodded to Sadie, then quit the room. Anthony sank back down in his chair and stared into the fire for a long time after she left.
Daphne sought her bedchamber. Gaining that room, she crossed to the window and drew the curtains back to gaze out into the darkness.
His lordship’s words regarding his stepmother and Raven’s Hall had been an awakening experience that left her reeling. His family’s ordeal with Isabella had obviously left Lord Ravenswood suspicious when it came to women, hence his pursuit of a quiet, compliant bride and his subsequent choice of Elfleta Blenkinsop.
But what of love? Was the earl prepared to sacrifice love and instead choose a tediously submissive woman because he feared any lady of intelligence and spirit might turn out to be another Isabella?
But he had it all wrong. A lady who loved him would cringe from deception. Was he not putting himself more at risk by not choosing to make a love match?
Daphne sighed and let the curtain fall. Though this new insight helped her understand Lord Ravenswood better, it did not change anything. The earl had set his course and offered for Miss Blenkinsop. It seemed no amount of love or understanding on her part could change that fact.