Authors: Dilly Court
Kate received the news with a sinking heart, but there was nothing she could do other than to follow Mrs Trevett upstairs to the first floor, where she was shown into a room at the back of the house. ‘I think you’ll be quite comfortable in here, miss,’ Mrs Trevett said, holding the candle higher so that its flickering light slid round the bedroom creating monstrous shadows on the walls. ‘This was the room that Lady Hardy, his reverence’s mother, liked best in the house. She always slept in here when she came to stay.’
‘It’s very pretty,’ Kate said, glancing round appreciatively. Even in the dim light, she could see that the
floral
wallpaper matched the curtain material, and the frilled bedcover was of a similar pattern. Bowls of dried lavender and rose petals filled the air with their fragrance, and a fire crackled merrily in the grate.
Mrs Trevett paused with her hand on the porcelain door knob. ‘If you need anything, just ring the bell.’
As she placed her candle on the washstand, Kate looked up into the wistful blue eyes of a young woman, barely more than a girl, whose portrait hung on the wall. It was so lifelike that it made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. ‘Mrs Trevett, before you go. Who is the lady in the picture?’
‘She is lovely, isn’t she? She was the Reverend’s sister, who died young. I never knew her, but I believe it is a good likeness. Will there be anything else, miss?’
‘No. No, thank you.’
A thin smile flitted over Mrs Trevett’s severe features as she left the room. Kate dragged her gaze from the portrait and began to unbutton her blouse, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that those haunting blue eyes were watching her and following her round the room. She knew she was being ridiculous; it was just a painting, and she was probably over-tired. She took off her clothes and laid them neatly on a chair. Mrs Trevett had left a white, cotton-lawn nightgown on the bed, but as she picked it up Kate realised that the material was yellowed with age and smelled strongly of mothballs. She couldn’t help wondering if it had belonged to the young woman in the portrait, and she put it aside, preferring to sleep
in
her shift. She was about to climb into bed when she was startled by a loud scream which seemed to be coming from the adjoining bedroom. She snatched up the candlestick, but as she opened the bedroom door a strong breeze extinguished the flame and she found herself in darkness. Another scream shattered the silence.
Chapter Eight
KATE BURST INTO
the room and found Josie lying in bed with the sheet pulled up to her chin. Illuminated by a shaft of moonlight filtering through the diamond windowpanes, Josie’s face was ghostly white and her open mouth a dark hollow. ‘Shush,’ Kate said, holding her finger to her lips. ‘You’ll have everyone rushing upstairs thinking you’re being murdered. What is it, Josie? Are you in pain?’
‘Of course I’m in paid, stupid.’ Sounding more like her old self, Josie made an attempt to sit up and groaned, falling back on the pillows with tears trickling from her eyes. ‘Where am I? What happened? I’m sore all over and my head aches.’
‘We had an accident. The chaise overturned and you hit your head. The doctor didn’t think you’d broken any bones but you’ve got to rest.’
‘I want Hickson. Tell her to run my bath for me, and …’ Josie’s eyes focused on Kate as if seeing her for the first time. ‘Where are your clothes? Oh, my head aches so badly and I think I’m going to be sick.’
Kate made a grab for the washbowl and held Josie’s head while she vomited. When the spasm had passed she dipped a piece of cloth in the jug from the washstand and bathed Josie’s face and hands, whispering
soothing
words as if she were dealing with a small child. She sat with her until Josie drifted off to sleep and then, overcome by sheer exhaustion, Kate went to her own room leaving the door ajar in case Josie awakened and called out to her. She climbed stiffly into bed, curled up and, almost instantly, fell into a deep sleep.
When she opened her eyes next morning she could not at first remember where she was. Sunlight poured in through the open curtains and a young housemaid had just placed a ewer filled with hot water on the washstand. She bobbed a curtsey. ‘Good morning, miss. Mrs Trevett’s compliments and she said to tell you that breakfast is at half past seven. The vicar likes to start the day early.’
Kate pulled the coverlet up to her chin, hoping that the girl had not seen the discarded nightgown on the floor. She did not want Mrs Trevett to think that she was ungrateful. ‘Thank you, er – what is your name?’
‘Hester, miss.’
‘Thank you, Hester. Please tell Mrs Trevett that I’ll be down directly.’
She nodded and scuttled from the room, putting Kate forcibly in mind of a small, brown field mouse. However, having a maid bring hot water to her room was an unheard of luxury. It was a far cry from her days as housemaid in Bedford Square when it was she who had to wait hand and foot on the family. Even now, at home on the farm, she would have been up at least an hour earlier, and if Molly had not fetched a bucket of water from the pump in the yard she would have had to do it herself.
Kate stretched her bruised limbs and climbed stiffly out of bed. As she washed her hands and face in the rose-patterned bowl, she found herself glancing up at the portrait. In daylight, she could see clearly that the young woman was about her own age, and the artist had captured a hint of mischief as well as sadness in those expressive eyes. A faint tapping on the wall made her jump, almost spilling the water. ‘All right. I won’t be a moment.’ Two more taps on the wall expressed Josie’s customary impatience. She was obviously on the road to recovery. ‘Hold on, Josie. I’m coming.’ She slipped her gown over her head and hurried into Josie’s room, struggling with the buttons and laces. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I’m unwell, Kate,’ Josie said plaintively. ‘My head aches, and I’m sure I have a fever. I hardly slept a wink last night.’
Kate knew this was untrue. She was a very light sleeper and she would have heard Josie had she been tossing and turning. She laid her hand on her forehead. ‘You are a bit hot.’
‘I’m burning up, I tell you. I want to go home and be looked after properly. I’m sure these sheets are damp. I shall die of lung fever if I have to stay here any longer.’
‘Nonsense. You’ve probably just caught a cold.’
‘You must send someone to Damerell Manor. Hickson may be an old witch, but she’ll know what to do. She’ll send the carriage for me.’
Kate could see that there was no point arguing with her in this mood, and she patted Josie’s hand. ‘I’ll go downstairs right away and speak to the Reverend.’
‘Yes, do that. And send the maid up with some hot chocolate and toasted muffins. I’m starving.’
Kate eyed her speculatively. There could not be much wrong with Josie if she was hungry. She bit back a sharp rebuke, realising that it would be wasted on her imperious friend.
She found John Hardy already at breakfast in the morning parlour. He stood up as she entered the room. ‘Good morning, Miss Coggins. I trust you slept well?’
‘I did, thank you, vicar. But I am afraid Miss Damerell is rather poorly, and she wondered if a message could be sent to Damerell Manor asking them to send the carriage for her.’
‘Perhaps we’d better wait until the doctor has examined her again, in case she is not well enough to make the journey. I’ll send Ethan to fetch him, but in the meantime won’t you take a seat and join me for breakfast?’
‘Thank you.’ Kate sat down, feeling slightly unnerved. She was more used to waiting on other people than being treated as a house guest. The vicarage might be small when compared to Damerell Manor or the house in Bedford Square, but it was furnished with taste and elegance.
He rang the bell. ‘Mrs Trevett will bring fresh tea and toast, but if you would prefer a boiled egg or …’
‘Thank you, but toast will be sufficient, and I should take something up to Josie as she cannot come downstairs.’
‘Don’t worry about that. My housekeeper will look after Miss Damerell.’ He looked up as Mrs Trevett came in answer to the bell. ‘Would you be kind enough to send Hester upstairs with a breakfast tray for our guest, please, Mary?’
Mrs Trevett sniffed and folded her arms across her flat bosom. ‘I’ve already done that, sir. What can I get you?’
‘More toast, please, and a fresh pot of tea.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Mrs Trevett picked up the silver teapot.
‘And Mary, would you be kind enough to send Ethan for Dr Drage? I understand that Miss Damerell is not too well this morning.’
‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ Mrs Trevett’s tone was neutral, but her tight-lipped expression and disapproving sniff spoke volumes. She left the room, muttering beneath her breath.
‘I’m afraid we are putting you to a great deal of trouble, Mr Hardy,’ Kate said, frowning.
‘Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all.’
‘I could drive the chaise if there is a delay in sending the carriage.’
‘I’m afraid it suffered a broken axle amongst other things, and it will be some days before it’s roadworthy again.’
‘That is bad news. But I’m sure that Lady Damerell will send their carriage for Josie, if she’s well enough to travel.’
‘We’ll just have to wait and see what the doctor says. In the meantime you must feel free to treat this house as you would your own home. It’s very nice to
have
young company for a change. I sometimes feel that I am sliding fast into middle age and becoming a crusty old bachelor.’
Kate shot him a sideways glance. His smile was infectious and made him look years younger. Last night she had thought him to be quite old but she could see now that he was probably in his early forties, although it was hard to be exact. Perhaps it was the greying of his hair at the temples that had given her the false impression of advancing years, or the lines of worry etched on his aquiline features, as if he had taken the cares of his parishioners on his own shoulders. Above all, he had a kind face, and a sympathetic manner. It would be easy, she thought, to tell him anything without fear of being judged. ‘You’re very kind, but I have to get back to the farm as soon as possible. My father is a widower and he relies on me.’
‘He’s a very lucky man to have such a caring daughter. I, alas, was never married and am never likely to be now that I am set in my ways.’ He folded his napkin into a precise square. ‘I don’t know if you like to read, but I have a library filled with books.’ He hesitated and his long, thin fingers drummed nervously on the table top. ‘And there is a pianoforte in the drawing room. Do you play at all, Miss Coggins?’
‘Not very well, I’m afraid. I did have lessons with Josie, but Miss Brooks rather gave up on me. She said I had two left hands and was tone deaf.’
‘How unkind of her. I’m sure that you were a very good pupil, and if you would like to play the
instrument
while you are waiting to hear from home, then you are most welcome.’
‘Thank you, but I hope we won’t have to trespass on your hospitality any longer than necessary.’
He rose to his feet. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a sermon to write.’ He was about to open the door when Mrs Trevett entered carrying a rack of toast and the teapot.
‘I’ve sent the boy for the doctor, sir. And Miss Damerell has cleared her tray, so I don’t think there is very much wrong with that young person.’
John’s eyes twinkled, but his expression was grave. ‘We can’t have our guest fading away, Mary. I’ll be in my study. Let me know when Dr Drage has seen Miss Damerell.’
Mrs Trevett set the teapot down on the table and put the toast in front of Kate. ‘In my opinion, it’s just a bump on the head, but I can see that the young lady is used to being waited on hand and foot. I’m afraid she won’t get any of that here, Miss Coggins. And perhaps you could tell her so.’
‘Yes, Mrs Trevett, I certainly will, and I hope we will be able to go home later today.’
‘I don’t hold out too much hope of that, miss. Dr Drage has only two remedies that I can see – bleeding and bed rest. I shouldn’t be surprised if the young lady gets both.’
Ethan returned to say that the doctor was attending a particularly difficult confinement and he would be unable to visit until mid-morning at the earliest. When he finally arrived it was closer to midday and Kate had
been
sitting with Josie, trying to keep her entertained, but she was in pain from her contusions, feverish and irritable; in fact, a difficult patient. Dr Drage examined her head, listened to her chest, took her pulse and temperature and diagnosed a feverish chill, although the concussion was not as bad as he had feared at first. ‘You must stay in bed for a week at least, young lady.’
‘But I want to go home,’ Josie wailed.
‘I would not advise going out in this damp weather.’ Dr Drage pointed to raindrops running down the windowpanes. What had begun as a bright sunny day had rapidly deteriorated into thick cloud and heavy showers. ‘You must stay in an even temperature, Miss Damerell. Drink plenty of fluids and sweat out the fever. I will call again tomorrow, when I will bleed you.’
‘Oh no you won’t,’ Josie said firmly. ‘You can forget that, doctor. I’m not having leeches anywhere near me.’
He snapped his bag shut. ‘We’ll see about that, Miss Damerell.’ He was about to leave the room but he paused in the doorway, beckoning to Kate. ‘May I have a word?’
She hesitated, gazing anxiously at Josie. ‘I’m sure your mama will insist on your being brought home as soon as possible.’
‘Go downstairs and tell him that I shall die if I am forced to stay here,’ Josie said, scowling. ‘I’ll die of boredom, never mind the fever. Why, I feel better already.’ She sat upright, clutched her forehead with her hand and fell back against the pillows. ‘Well, maybe not completely better.’
‘You heard what the doctor said. You must rest.’
‘I want to go home. Go and speak to him, Kate.’
Kate hurried downstairs and was about to enter the parlour when she overhead Dr Drage, speaking earnestly. ‘For the young lady to go outside in this inclement weather would be to court disaster, John.’