Courting Lord Dorney (9 page)

‘Hold on!’ Alexander yelled, but before he could bring his own restive horse under control Lord Dorney had passed him at a gallop, and was rapidly overhauling the runaway.

All would have been well if the mare had not put her foot in a rabbit hole. Lord Dorney was only a few yards behind when the mare stumbled, staggered, but could not recover her balance and fell heavily.

Fortunately the girl was thrown clear, but when the rest of the party arrived to find Lord Dorney bending over her, she was ominously still.

‘Felicity! Oh, my God, is she dead?’ Alexander exclaimed.

‘Of course not!’ Lord Dorney snapped. ‘Stop panicking and see to the mare. Leave the girl to her sister,’ he added, and Alexander backed away at the tone of command.

To their relief Felicity soon began to stir, weeping and complaining her head hurt. When her sister tried to help her into a sitting position the child, for she was little more, gave a moan of agony and swooned again. Lord Dorney frowned and looked at her more closely.

‘Her arm may be broken. I think it’s nothing worse. Alexander, go into the village and find a hurdle or a gate we can carry her on, and blankets. Sir John, will you ask at the inn who is the nearest doctor and ride for him?’

‘Can I help?’ a new voice broke in over the lamentations of Alexander and Lady Andrews, and Lord Dorney glanced up to find a lady, accompanied by a groom, approaching.

‘I was riding the other way and saw what happened. Those wretched animals should be better controlled. But Wally here can ride for the doctor, and my house is just beyond those trees. She’ll be more comfortable there than at the inn. If two of you come with me I can give you a hurdle, and I’ll make a room ready.’

‘Ma’am, my grateful thanks,’ Lord Dorney smiled at her, but with a brisk nod she had turned and ridden swiftly away towards the trees. Alexander and Sir John had to mount hurriedly and set their horses to a gallop in order to follow.

By the time they returned Felicity had recovered her wits and was being comforted by a rather tearful Lady Andrews. Bella and Jane had dismounted and were waiting at a little distance with the Mrs Dudley, while Lord Dorney and Mr Dudley were leading the mare slowly up and down and examining her to make certain she had no injuries other than a few scratches.

‘She isn’t lame, fortunately,’ Lord Dorney concluded, but Felicity was far too wrapped up in her own misery to be interested.

Matters were soon arranged, with their involuntary hostess, who introduced herself as Mrs Ford, in smooth control. Felicity was installed in a large pleasant bedroom at the back of the square, stone-built house. The hastily-summoned doctor pronounced her to have a simple fracture which he soon set, and a few bruises which would fade within a day or so. Lady Andrews was invited to stay until her sister felt able to travel in a carriage.

‘May I offer you some refreshment before you leave?’ Mrs Ford asked the rest of the party, waiting in some embarrassment in her shabby but comfortable parlour.

Bella inspected her with interest, admiring her calm competence. She was in her mid-twenties, tall and slender. She had pale, almost luminous skin, russet hair and huge green eyes. The black habit she wore was old and darned, but it fitted so well that in it she appeared elegant as well as startlingly beautiful.

They accepted small saffron cakes and wine, but refused to impose so large a party on her for a more substantial meal.

‘It’s excessively kind of you, but we ought to return to Bath before it grows dark,’ Lord Dorney said.

‘I’ll come tomorrow if I may and see how the child does?’ Sir John said.

‘Bring her mother, and if the child isn’t well enough to return with you her mother could stay here too, I’ve far too many rooms for my own use.’

‘Her mother is unfortunately dead, but if I may I’ll bring my wife’s maid, who can help with the nursing if she has to stay with you.’

So it was arranged and a rather silent, depleted party returned to Bath. Alexander had clearly wished to remain, but could find no excuse for so doing, merely making sure that the invitation to visit Felicity on the following day extended to him too.

Mrs Dudley had attached herself to Jane, and Lord Dorney was unusually silent as he rode with Mr Dudley at the head of the party. Bella brought up the rear with Alexander, who was full of recriminations against himself for not taking better care of Felicity, threats against farmers who allowed wild dogs to harass travellers, and speculations on how soon Felicity would be restored to full health.

Bella found him exceedingly tedious by the third repetition of his complaints and unanswerable questions. She wanted to discover from him whether his cousin had any intention of removing to London. It was not a question she could ask without an appropriate opportunity, but her attempts to direct the conversation in that way foundered on Alexander’s self-absorption.

Chapter 6

‘So please will you ask around for me?’ she said to Jane as they sat at breakfast the next day.

Jane promised to do what she could, as discreetly as possible, and Bella had to be content.

Felicity returned to Bath a few days later. Jane and Bella met Mrs Ford, dressed this time in a stylish black pelisse, the same day while she was shopping in Milsom Street. Mrs Ford waved in a friendly fashion.

‘I took the opportunity of driving in while bringing Miss Hollings home, to obtain some necessities,’ she explained.

‘She is better?’ Bella asked.

‘Pale and wan is how I would describe her, especially when young Alexander haunts the house,’ Mrs Ford laughed. ‘I shall not be sorry to have my house to myself again, since I have much to do before I go to London.’

‘When do you go?’ Jane asked.

‘In two weeks. My mourning will be over then, and my sister has invited me to stay in Mount Street for the rest of the Season. My husband died last year,’ she explained, seeing the puzzled expression on Jane’s face.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Jane said.

‘You need not be,’ Mrs Ford said briskly. ‘He was much older than I am, and it was an arranged match when I was barely sixteen and didn’t have the wit to refuse. I wasn’t unhappy,’ she added quickly, ‘nor did he treat me badly. I only began to realize afterwards that there ought to be something better to life.’

She refused Jane’s invitation to return to Henrietta Street for a nuncheon, saying she had too much to do before setting off for home, and they parted with hopes of meeting again when Jane herself moved to London.

‘What a delightful person,’ Jane commented. ‘So sad to be widowed so early.’

‘She didn’t seem grief-stricken,’ Bella commented. ‘It was almost as though she couldn’t wait to be rid of her blacks.’

‘And they suit her so well, with her colouring. I suppose she’s looking for a more agreeable marriage now. Come, we still have to choose those ribbons for your new ballgown.’

Soon they were deep in discussion of the relevant merits of different shades of pink. They forgot Mrs Ford, although the encounter had reminded Bella of her fears, never long dormant, that Lord Dorney might soon be going to London himself, and she urged Jane to redouble her efforts at discovering his intentions. He showed no signs of departing, however, and the next few days passed swiftly. The astonishment caused by his attentions to Bella changed to avid speculation on whether and when a betrothal would be announced. Sly hints were dropped, Mrs Eversley demanded outright to be told the truth, and Bella fumed and fretted inwardly as day after day went by. Did he intend to speak, and if so, when? For once in her life she found herself incapable of resolving her uncertainty by directly questioning someone. Even plain-speaking Rosabella Trahearne balked at the notion of asking a man if he meant to offer for her.

* * * *

Lord Dorney was walking towards the Abbey early one morning, when his attention was drawn to a minor disturbance. A pair of schoolgirls, clutching each other’s arms, stood watching a small, somewhat plump man dressed in breeches and a rather tight-fitting riding coat berating a lad who looked about ten years old. He held the child by the arm, and Lord Dorney was close enough to hear the words.

‘How many times have I told ‘ee what I’ll do if ‘ee ruins any more clothes? Well, go on, tell me!’

The lad’s nankeen trousers were, Lord Dorney could see, muddy and torn at one knee. He was staring up into the man’s face, and the resemblance between them was obvious, despite the man’s heavy jowls and red cheeks. He was manfully trying to prevent tears from falling, but his lips were trembling.

‘I dain’t mean to, Pa! I tripped on summat! Please don’t thrash me! It ‘urts real bad!’

‘I brings ‘ee into Bath for a treat, and look how ‘ee repays me! If ‘ee ‘adn’t bin running wi’out lookin’ where ‘ee was going, ‘ee wouldn’t ‘ave tripped. I’ll teach ‘ee!’

On the words he twisted the lad round with one hand and forced him to bend over, then lifted his other hand. Lord Dorney saw he carried a heavy cane. It came crashing down on the lad’s posterior and the child let out a wail and began sobbing and wriggling in earnest.

As the cane was lifted again a small whirlwind rushed forward and without a great deal of surprise Lord Dorney saw Bella Trahearne grab the man’s arm and try to prevent the second blow from landing.

‘What the - ? ‘Ere, what do ‘ee think ‘ee’s doing? Let go, ye blasted interferin’ besom!’

‘I’ll let go if you stop beating him! How dare you, a great hulking brute of a man, use your strength on a child?’

‘It be none o’ your business what I do wi’ me own lad! Look at the mess ‘e’s made of ‘is new breeches! If you’m not careful I’ll be thrashin’ you next!’

Lord Dorney moved closer, but before he could reach them a small crowd of people coming from a service in the Abbey had begun to hover, wondering what the commotion was about, and the man began to bluster. One of the schoolgirls, glancing uneasily at the interested spectators, moved forward.

‘Pa. let’s go! Do come on, let’s go home!’

He glanced round and his cheeks became even redder. ‘See what ye’ve done!’ he hissed at the lad, who was crouched in a miserable heap at his feet, sobbing and rubbing at his injured behind. ‘Caused a blasted fuss, ‘ee ‘ave!’

Bella was delving into her reticule. She tugged out a purse and took some coins from it, which she handed to the older of the two girls.

‘Here, make sure your brother gets some new breeches,’ she said. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Brimmer’s farm, miss, on the Bristol road,’ she stammered, too overawed to ignore the note of authority in Bella’s voice.

‘Well, I’ll come and see you one day, and I’ll want to make certain your brother has his new breeches, and that money hasn’t been spent on drink,’ she added, turning to the man.

Glaring at the spectators, he grabbed the lad by the arm, yanked him to his feet, and marched away. The two girls scurried after them, and the small crowd began to disperse. Opinion, as far as Lord Dorney could overhear, seemed equally divided into admiration for Bella’s action, and disapproval of her interfering between a man and his son.

She herself turned away, and at that moment saw him. She blushed, and looked steadily into his face.

‘Do you condemn me?’ she asked bluntly, then sighed. ‘I may have stopped that beating, but perhaps the poor lad will get an even bigger one when they’re out of sight. I didn’t think of that. I just had to do something to save the poor lad from being hurt. Oh, how I’d like to pay back vicious brutes like that in their own coin! Then they might not be tempted to use their strength against those weaker than themselves.’

* * * *

As he prepared for the ball Lord Dorney wondered at his inability to leave Bath. Every day he told himself he must accept no more invitations, must reply to Dan’s letter asking when he meant to be in London, and forget the girl who had taken such a hold on his imagination.

He was determined not to marry, after Robert’s example. He had an heir, Alexander, who looked likely to provide him with another generation soon enough. If he married and had sons it would put Alexander’s nose out of joint, but he gave his cousin credit for not being jealous in that event.

It all came back to Robert’s disastrous marriage. Selina had indirectly caused Robert’s death, and for that he could never forgive her. Yet she hadn’t seemed to care, telling him that Robert was a fool, and she wished she had never married him. Almost immediately after his death she had departed to France, at last free of Napoleon’s grip, with another lover. She had soon disposed of him, for now she was living openly back in London, with some Italian Count she had met somewhere on the continent.

He heard often about her doings from friends, though he’d never encountered her on his own visits to London. Ostracized by decent society, she flaunted herself in outrageous clothes. ‘More like a cyprian, the necks cut so low they leave almost nothing to the imagination,’ one had written after encountering her at Vauxhall.

He told himself firmly that not all girls were like Selina. She had used her fortune, and the huge settlement her father had insisted on, to do exactly as she pleased, knowing that her money protected her from the normal restraints a husband might put on her activities. Girls more dependent on their husbands would not have that sort of choice. He sighed. He was not wealthy. He had Dorney Court and his title, but he would be struggling for years to bring the estate back to what it had once been. Could he ask any girl to share the sacrifices that would entail? There would be no lavish pin money, no gifts of jewels, few visits to London, and probably none of the advantages any girl would have a right to expect.

Bella Trahearne would not be mercenary enough to care, he told himself. She might even be a great support in his efforts around the estate. Briefly he smiled as he thought of her tackling some of his more difficult tenants, perhaps instructing them on how best to farm the land, or treat their children and animals. Did he have any right to ask a girl like Bella to share such a life? Yet could he be parted from her?

* * * *

Bella was looking her best that evening. Her rose-coloured ballgown suited her dark looks better than the insipid pinks and blues most young girls favoured. Lord Dorney’s marked attentions had, as usual, brought a sparkle to her eyes and a gentle curve to her lips which caused more than one gentleman to remark that he didn’t know what it was, she wasn’t beautiful, but the little Collins girl was a deuced attractive wench.