Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 05] - Nanette (24 page)

In the act of complying, Nerina checked, stared with horrified
eyes at her friend's bloody hand, and crumpled into a dead faint.

Dismayed, Harry started up, but sat back hurriedly as Nanette
tightened her grip on his arm and ground out, "Do… not… dare!" She
accepted the neckcloth gratefully from Mr. Chatham's wavering hand and
added a heartless, "She does it all the time."

Harry directed an indignant glance at her. "Samuel—would you
please help the lady? Perhaps—" But again his breath was snatched away,
and for some moments he was quite unable to speak as Nanette bound his
arm tightly.

Mr. Chatham essayed the trip to the cart, returning via an
erratic route but bearing one of Diccon's clean shirts and a flask of
brandy. Harry was by this time feeling not at all the thing and thought
this an excellent notion, but Mr. Chatham's plans did not include the
matador. He knelt instead beside the recumbent Beauty and began to pour
the brandy between her teeth.

The bandage was knotted at last, and refusing aid, Harry
insisted that Nanette turn her back while he changed into the clean
shirt. Buttoning the left cuff clumsily, he asked, "Are you all right,
little shrew?"

"Yes…" she whispered. He reached out and, turning her chin,
said, "Poor little girl. You won't forget you promised not to faint… ?"
She buttoned the right cuff and answered with a shaky smile, "If I do,
you may box my ears, Tyrant!"

He winked jauntily and clambered to his feet. The trees tilted
oddly, and he felt breathless again, but fought off the weakness and
crossed to where Mr. Chatham sat with Nerina's head pillowed in his
lap. "Ah, but she be a treat fer the eyes, don't she?" wheezed the old
man. "Just to look at, a'course."

"You wicked old rascal," grinned Harry.

The dark lashes fluttered then, and those enormous blue eyes
peered up at him. "Where… am I?" asked my lady predictably.

Harry leaned closer. "You are quite safe. Are you better now,
ma'am?"

She blinked, managed to sit up, and gulped, "I… fainted."

"Yes, but I don't think you hurt yourself. Can you stand if I
help you?"

He extended his hand. She scanned it anxiously, put her
fingers gingerly into his grasp, and came to her feet, only to sway and
clutch her brow. "Oh! I feel… drefful. An' I can taste…" Her eyes
opened very wide and she spun on Nanette, who sat staring rather
blankly at her stained hands. "Dear God! You—did nothing! My
frien
!
They have made me… drunk!"

"No, no," Harry reassured her. "But since you are better now,
you must at once go back to Alfriston."

This ill-judged remark unleashed a torrent of slurred
dramatics. Lady Nerina was
not
better! She had,
she sobbed tragically, been abandoned by her faithful steed and further
betrayed by her alleged frien' who had callously allowed her to be
Drenched, Degraded, and Besotted with Spirits! The risks she had taken
in Nanette's behalf were itemized and elaborated upon through a
veritable tempest of tears. Harry listened patiently, but at length he
turned away and, ignoring her protests, went to touch Nanette's untidy
head very gently. "Are you all right, my shrew?" She managed a rather
shaky smile and said she was perfectly all right. "But—poor Mr. Fox!
Harry, you must explain to him!"

The little donkey's bowed head rocked rhythmically back and
forth as he uttered his sounds of distress. Harry went to him at once,
followed by wails of indignation from the ill-used Beauty. Mr. Fox let
it be known that his sensibilities had been deeply offended but was
restored, fortunately, by Diccon's letter to Nanette.

Harry joined then in the efforts of Nanette and Mr. Chatham to
calm my lady, efforts that were interrupted as a wagon jolted around
the bend. The driver of this equipage was a ruddy-faced, middle-aged
man of stocky build and a shock of red hair that stood up all over his
head, giving him a rather startled appearance. It developed that he was
Mr. Chatham's youngest son, and upon being adjured by his sire to "get
down here smart-like, and mind yer manners!" he clambered from the high
seat. Cap clutched in hand, he nodded respectfully to the ladies, shook
Harry's hand while viewing the discarded shirt with eyes that were very
round indeed, and enquired if there was anything what he could do.

"Six sons I had," beamed Mr. Chatham. "One died o' the pox;
one was killed at Assaye—served under Lord Moulton, he did! And one got
blowed ter smitherins at that there Spanishy place where you come a
cropper, S' Harry. This here's me Henery, wot's come to stay wi' me and
me daughter fer a bit. Landlord over to "The Red Bull" in Cerne Abbas,
'ee be. Though," he grinned broadly, "maybe I'd best not say
that—seein's ye've had yer fill o' bulls terday, S' Harry!" He gave a
cackle of mirth at this fine joke and dug his son in the ribs. "S'
Harry went and got hisself gored by Willyum Brown's bull."

"Did ye now?" Henry's eyes clouded with alarm. "Bull's horns
be nasty-like. Sir Harry. Ye'd best come and let me sister have a look
at it."

"Thank heaven!" sighed Nanette. "Then I shall not have to risk
going to the village. These gentlemen will take you back to "The Star,"
Nerina, and—"

My lady, who had been holding her head and staring
distractedly from one to the other of them, now cried shrilly that
sooner would she be dead than ride into the village like a bumpkin, in
that "hideously ditty wagon!" She turned to 'Henery'. "Can you not
understand… Mr. Red… ? They have…
ruined
me!"

Harry, torn between amusement and vexation, threw a look at
Henry. That worthy, however, was surveying his venerable sire in
outright, goggle-eyed disbelief. "
Father…'"
he
gasped, when he could get his sagging jaws together. "What has you…
gone and
done .
. . ?"

Nanette clapped a hand over her mouth. Harry, tears of mirth
coming into his eyes, fought desperately for self-control. A crafty
look creeping into his rheumy eyes, Samuel pulled back his shoulders
and, with a markedly jaunty stagger, covered the distance to his son's
side and hissed at him to shut his fool mouth afore he let the cat
outta the bag!

Blinking rapidly, Harry turned to Nerina and pointed out that
her servants must be worried since her hack had returned without its
rider, and she
must
go back with Chathams. My
lady lapsed into near hysterics and a long diatribe through which he
tried in vain to reason with her, at length saying rather wearily that
were Nanette to accompany her, there would be little danger of her
reputation being impaired.

"Oh, no!" Nanette put in worriedly, "But I
cannot
,
Harry! That is why poor Nerina came, you see. To warn me that my
father's men are searching everywhere. You escort her and she will feel
more comfortable." She turned to the cart. "I will—"

In two swift strides he caught her arm and said sternly, "Do
you imagine for one instant that I shall allow you to journey alone,
ma'am?"

"No. Of course not, sir." Her tone softened and a smile lit
her eyes. "But I can wait for you in those trees over there. Harry,
that is truly a dreadful gash. You must see a doctor as soon as
possible, and—"

"Bean't a doctor in Alfriston," put in the younger Chatham.

"Nor in Lewes neither," nodded his sire. "We has a foine
dentist, though. Jeremiah Maxwell, what does surgicals fer folks in his
chair.I seed 'un sew up young Charlie Tanner arter he nigh cut his leg
orf with his own scythe."

My lady swayed, and Nanette hastened to put her arms around
her.

"Poor Charlie," sighed Henry. "He died in that chair, as I
recollect."

"Ar, so 'ee did," Samuel admitted. "Come to think on it, Bill
O'Hara died, too, arter Mr. Maxwell sewed him up!" He brightened. "
That
were a bull, ye'll mind, Henery. Old man Dean's bull got him proper. In
the srummick."

"I am going to be sick!" sobbed Lady Nerina, pulling away from
her friend. "What a dreadful day! I am all dust, and—Oh! My
feather
is broken!" It was, indeed. She held it up and raised her drenched eyes
to Harry so tragically that he had to fight a wicked urge to laugh, not
mitigated by her anguished plea that he take his pistol and put a
period to her. She might as well be dead, she wailed, as to be sent
back to the village in a '"ebriated condish'n, having been in the
wilderness, unchap'roned… with an ex-soldier! Word will spread'n
spread… and who will want to marry me then?"

"Harry will," said Nanette tartly. "Without hesitation! So
enact us no more Cheltenham tragedies, I do implore you!"

Harry had begun to appreciate that marriage to the glorious
Beauty might be a decidedly mixed blessing and held his breath. Nerina
merely uttered another heartrending wail, followed by renewed sobs.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he murmured to Nanette, "And that will be
just about enough sauce out of
you
, my girl! Lady
Nerina, this is quite ridiculous. And—"

"And so are you!" Nanette again took her friend into her arms
and, patting her shoulder comfortingly, went on, "It is of no use,
Harry. If you try to talk sense to her when she is like this, she will
only fall into strong hysterics. Now—Nerina love, you know I care for
you… Be brave."

Bravery, however, was noticeably absent as the sobs increased
in volume.

"Good God!" Harry grated. "Why do I not simply pick up the
foolish girl and toss her into their wagon?"

Nerina's reaction was loud and, having repeated references to
libertines, military rattles, and violated innocence, caused the
Chathams to eye one another uneasily.

"Hush, dear," said Nanette, drying her friend's tears. "I know
this has all been very dreadful, and I am truly sorry. But Mr. Chatham
is a good man and well known to Sir Harry. He will be glad to—"

"Stop!" cried Harry, running after the 'good man'.

"Sorry, sir!" called Henry, whipping up his horse. "But we be
late for dinner already, and me sister will be powerful upset. Good day
t'ye."

"Oh… damme!" muttered Harry, holding his throbbing arm as he
watched the wagon disappear around the bend in the lane.

A shout drifted back to him. "Don't'ee let that there cut go
too long—else ye'll have some dentist a'hacking at ye!"

Coming up beside him, Nanette said with anxiety, "That is
quite right! You should have gone with them—well, you'll have to go
into Alfriston."

"And leave you out here alone? Absolutely not! Yet—our foxed
Beauty must be conveyed to safety. Jove! What a mess! Where does her
confounded sister live?"

"Just beyond the village of East Bourne. But we cannot go
there, Harry. It will take you miles out of your way again."

It would do just that, and he was seething with impatience to
reach Chichester, where he might, with luck, find both Mitch and
Anderson awaiting him. There was little doubt, however, that Lady
Nerina was in a difficult situation, and besides, her sister might
offer Nanette the chance of a warm bath and a decent bed, and she
looked wan and tired, poor little shrew… Her dirty face was upturned to
his, her eyes wells of tenderness. She seemed prettier than ever, the
parted lips softly irresistible… He bent to her.

"
Oooh
!" she squeaked furiously. "She is
the most selfish girl in nature!"

Harry turned round and gave an involuntary laugh. Lady Nerina
had succumbed to the exhausting events of her 'dreadful day'. She was
curled up in the back of the cart fast asleep, her head pillowed on
Diccon's violin case, a blanket pulled snugly around her. As
dishevelled as she was, she contrived to look angelic, but the soft,
purring little snores that escaped her would have thoroughly horrified
one slightly intoxicated Beauty.

Harry leaned back from the scat so as to pull the blanket
closer about my lady's shoulders. Slanting an anxious glance at him,
Nanette muttered, "I should not have allowed you to turn back. And
you
are the one who should be resting!"

"Well, I've no intention of doing any such thing," he grinned,
straightening, and urging Mr. Fox to hasten. "Do you take me for a
little old lady, to have a nap in the middle of the afternoon?"

She giggled. "I shall tell her what you said!"

"Yes, you would, you vixen! As though she has not had enough
to bear! Inebriated, and in the wilderness with a 'mere baronet' . . !"
He exploded with mirth. "Gad! What an awful fate!"

Nanette laughed with him but then sighed, "I was wicked to say
she is selfish, for she really isn't, you know. Or at least—not very.
It's just… she is so very beautiful. And—well, she's not very—"

"What you mean," he chuckled, "is that she's thoroughly
spoilt, very missish, and a total henwit. Though not
deliberately
unkind."

"Poor Harry. Are you dreadfully disillusioned?"

"Devil a bit of it! Happens all the time. I paid court to the
loveliest little London debutante for over a year, thinking I was
fixing my interest, but—
she
thought we were only
flirting."

He had spoken cheerily, slanting his whimsical grin at her,
but suspecting that he made light of something that must at the time
have been crushing, she looked away and said softly, "It sounds as if
you have never met the right one."

"You're likely right. And if I do, shall probably be too
stupid to realize it in time, and she'll be snatched away from under my
nose by someone else. Which might be just as well," he added, some of
the laughter leaving his eyes, "since I've not a feather to fly with!"

"Nor has Nerina," chuckled Nanette. Harry looked down at her
questioningly, and she said, "Hers broke—do you not recall?"

The memory of the Beauty's tragic dismay over that minor
disaster properly set Harry off, and they laughed together as Mr. Fox
trotted placidly around the bend of the lane.