The Heiress Companion (7 page)

The kitchen by now was the scene of general pandemonium; the
unaccustomed nature of the exercise adding considerably to the hilarity of
those involved. When the first batch of sweets was safe in the oven and the
next laid out in tidy rows across the pan, there came a period of breathless
anticipation, as everyone waited to see the product of their labors. Rowena saw
Margaret, standing
very
close to Ulysses
Ambercot, blush deeply and go to sit by the fire again. When by Mr. Bradwell’s watch
and Rowena’s eye the proper time was gone, it was Miss Cherwood who exchanged
the first pan for the second, and placed the hot pan on the rack to cool.

Everyone pressed forward to look, since Rowena had strictly
adjured them to leave the ginger nuts for teatime. Only Margaret hung back
shyly and, when Ulysses Ambercot sent a glance in her direction, turned back to
the fire so suddenly that, without noticing, the skirts of her muslin dress
swept through the coals.

In a second the skirts were smoldering, then blazing.
Margaret gave a terrified shriek and would have run from the room but for Jane
Ambercot, who efficiently grabbed up the kitchen rug, and without looking to
her own danger, wrapped Meg up in it and stifled the flame.

With a moan, Margaret dropped to the floor in a faint, and
Jane fell with her.

It took a moment for Rowena to realize that it was Eliza who
was screaming; she moved toward the girl and struck her a quick, sharp blow
across the cheek. Eliza retreated in sullen hiccups to watch confusion take
over the denizens of the kitchen.

Everyone seemed able to move again — Lyndon Bradwell and
Ulysses Ambercot came forward at once, and would have scooped up both injured
ladies to move then, but Rowena stopped them. “If one of you gentlemen will
fetch the doctor as quickly as possible — thank you, Lully.” She was fumbling
through the shelf Amy had pointed out as Cook’s personal place, discarding an
empty gin bottle and a tuppence broadside, and came upon a bottle filled with a
green, oily substance. Sniffing it once, she turned to the victims. “Mr.
Bradwell, will you fetch a blanket or two, and tell Mrs. Coffee I shall require
her? And bandages, too.” The tone and words were polite, but the voice one of
absolute command, and Bradwell was surprised to find himself obeying instantly.
“And Lord Bradwell...” she spoke to him sharply, for he was looking stunned,
and greener than before. “Will you take Miss Eliza up to the morning room,
please?”

Lord Bradwell acceded a trifle dazedly, and shepherded the
still-shaking Eliza from the room, Lyn Bradwell left to find the housekeeper,
and Miss Cherwood liberally treated all the burns that she could reach with
Cook’s marigold-oil salve. Margaret and Jane were taken to chambers
abovestairs, where Mrs. Coffee and Rowena bandaged the girls as best they could
and put them to bed.

When Dr. Cribbatt arrived half an hour later, escorted by a
nearly frantic Ulysses, he found the situation much in hand. Jane’s hands had
been rather badly burnt, and the pain was such that he immediately produced a
sedative draught to augment Mrs. Coffee’s tisane. As for Margaret, the doctor
at first had grave fears for her, and said that in the least he expected her to
be badly scarred. A little closer inspection, however, and consideration of
what restoratives were available for such a case, made his prognosis a little
more optimistic. The burns were not so extensive as he thought at first, and in
the main were less severe than he expected; with attention and rest, Miss Margaret
might avoid being seriously marked. He expressed dismay that such a dreadful
accident had come of mere foolishness, prescribed a powder, laudanum, and
frequent application of the marigold salve (with perhaps a touch of gillyflower
or crushed wheat kernel in the preparation), and left, promising to return the
next day, or to send his assistant, Greavesey.

After seeing the doctor to the door, Rowena went in search
of the rest of the party. Lord Bradwell had retreated to the gun room, and even
the news that the ladies stood a good chance to recover did not improve his
harried, shocked look. Mr. Bradwell and Mr. Ambercot, however, expressed their
relief feelingly, and even Eliza, sipping tea and murmuring softly about her
poor nerves, professed herself delighted that poor Jane and Miss Margaret
Cherwood would be all right.

“Of course, Jane ought not to move for a few days. Mr.
Bradwell, do you think your mamma will mind...?” She trailed off.

“What a ridiculous question. You know Mamma as well as I do,
Miss Cherwood.”

“I shouldn’t like to exceed my authority, Mr. Bradwell,”
Rowena countered gently. “And Margaret — well, she will be laid up for several
weeks at least, I’m afraid, but it seems that luckily I did the right thing in
applying Mrs. Teggetbury’s salve. And now, I am going to look in again on both
of them, and see if Lady Bradwell is awake. If you will excuse me?”

“Rowena, for God’s sake, take care of her,” Ulysses murmured
fervently.

Leaving the room, Miss Cherwood was unsure whether it was
his sister or Margaret he meant.

o0o

Once assured that her patients were sleeping as deeply as
laudanum and their injuries would permit, Miss Cherwood went to look in on Lady
Bradwell. Far from being asleep, Rowena’s mistress was sitting up, fired with
curiosity and extremely irritated that no one had thought to advise her of the
calamity — whatever the calamity was.

“Hadn’t you thought to ring and ask, ma’am?” Miss Cherwood
inquired mildly, after Lady Bradwell had done ringing a peal over her.

Lady Bradwell assumed a face of injured virtue. “I didn’t
want to
trouble
anyone.” She sighed
heavily. If she had hoped to dismay Miss Cherwood with this, pronouncement she
was disappointed. Her companion smiled a little ruefully and settled herself on
the foot of the bed.

“Well, to tell truth, Lady B, it’s been sixes and sevens
with us all this afternoon, and I did hope you’d sleep off last night’s
fatigues” — Lady Bradwell sniffed ungraciously — “before I had to trouble you
with today’s disasters. I’m afraid you will have to surrender your invalid’s
title for a while, ma’am. And worse, it really is my fault.” Rowena proceeded
to tell her employer, in terms as level and undramatic as possible, just what
had transpired in the kitchen.

“Neither one is in danger?” Lady Bradwell asked at last.

“The doctor swears that with proper care both of them will
be right as tops in time. Jane’s burns are not too serious, although she
sustained a shock. She’ll be wearing mitts for some time, I’m afraid. Poor
Margaret — my God, ma’am, I don’t know if I shall ever forgive myself. If Jane
Ambercot hadn’t acted to save her — I shall never forget that scene if I live
to be ninety. I blame myself. If I’d not suggested that stupid game of making
cakes in the kitchen —”

Lady Bradwell would not allow her the luxury of
self-reproach, however. “And if I had not gone to give Katie Lester’s child
that blanket I should not have caught the scarlet fever that was in the
village, and you would not be here at all, let alone messing in my kitchen, so
the whole affair becomes entirely
my
fault.
Silly child. Now, Rowena, I wish you will take yourself to your room and lie
down for a while. And stop your fretting. It won’t do any good, and the Lord
knows, with me only half on my feet, we cannot afford to have you working yourself
into the vapors. Now go on,” she commanded briskly. “I vow I shall not worry
you by reading in the dark or staring at the sun for half an hour on end.
All
your patients are abed, Renna. Do you get
some rest as well. And tell Lyn and Jack that I shall dine with you all this
evening.”

“Very well, ma’am. I think Mr. Bradwell may be along to see
you sometime later, in any case.”

“Send him along. And I wish you will call him Lyn, my dear,”
the lady admonished from her bed, sinking again into the pillows.

Rowena, musing that her address of the prodigal son of Broak
Hall was certainly the least of her problems, gently shut the door and returned
to the library. Lyn Bradwell was alone, making a poor attempt to read the
sporting papers.

“Ambercot went off to inform his mother that Miss Ambercot
would be all right, and staying here for a short time,” he informed her. “And,
I collect, to counteract Miss Eliza’s hysterics as best he might. Aside from
the manner of a Tunbridge dowager, the chit has a habit of
clinging
. She’s thrown a dreadful crease into the
sleeve of this coat.” He smiled, a little wanly, and flicked at an imaginary
crease with one finger. “That
was
meant to
be a pleasantry, you know,”

“Thank you,” Rowena answered gently, and dropped with no
further ceremony into a chair.

“How do the invalids go on?”

“They’re fast asleep, which Dr. Cribbatt insists is the best
thing for them. And your mother wished me to tell you that she will dine
downstairs with you this evening. If you wish to go up and see her —” Rowena
left the suggestion hanging.

“I collect you have already told her it was my intention to
do so?” Bradwell asked dryly.

“Do you mind, sir?”

“Of course not. Thank you for reminding me, in fact. For a
—” He hesitated.

“For a Managing Female?” Rowena suggested helpfully.
Bradwell had the grace to blush as he continued.

“For a Managing Female, if you insist, ma’am, you are a
remarkably able manager, and a light-handed one, too. In most cases.”

“For shame, Mr. Bradwell, just when I was prepared to accept
that as a compliment, however ill phrased!”

“Come now, Miss Cherwood. You took charge with the air of a
sergeant-major in the kitchen and a very good thing, as the rest of us loobies
were completely unable to move.” He poured a glass of sherry from a decanter at
his elbow and offered it to her. “You do seem a trifle young to have developed
that air of authority.”

“Years of following the drum gave me an excellent training.
But I think I assume my sergeant-majority only when it seems that’s all that’s
left to do. Certainly, what I wanted to do in the kitchen was sit down on the
floor and cry, or scream as Eliza Ambercot was doing. Which would have been
very little to the purpose. And after all, it was my notion to mess about in
the kitchen.” Again, remorse growled in Miss Cherwood’s lowered voice. “My
cousin and Jane Ambercot lying upstairs, all for the sake of ginger nuts for
tea!” She spilled a drop of sherry on her dress. “Damn!” she said and gave
assiduous attention to rubbing at the spot. Bradwell tactfully ignored both the
slip of her tongue and the tremor in her voice.

“Poor Miss Cherwood,” he drawled at last. “You’ve been so
busy handling everyone else’s hysterics you’ve had no time for your own.”

“Nonsense,” Rowena countered a little more briskly. “I verily
thrive on adversity, Mr. Bradwell.”

Before Lyn Bradwell had a chance to dispute Rowena’s
statement, the door opened barely a hair’s width and Lord Bradwell was peering
around the door. “Are they gone?”

“Lully and Eliza? Yes, certainly my lord. Come in and take a
glass of sherry for your nerves,” Rowena offered kindly.

“Thank you.” He breathed definitely. “It — O damme, I might
as well be blunt. Miss Ambercot, Miss
Jane
,
that is. Is she going to be all right? She don’t give a fig for me, but I — I
used to be, well, rather fond of her. Like a brother, you know. Still am. She’ll
recover?” However unremarkable this speech might have sounded to an
inexperienced ear, both Mr. Bradwell and Miss Cherwood were aware that coming
from Lord Bradwell it was practically a declaration. His face turned a fiery
red, while his brother’s mouth twitched wildly and Miss Cherwood fought a smile
which threatened to enlarge into quite unbecoming laughter.

“Certainly she will, my lord,” she reassured him. “But — ?’

“But?” he prompted.

“Well, when she awakens, we must all of us strive to keep
her, and my cousin, well amused. It’s very important to the healing process,
you know. If you and Jane shared some common interests — horses perhaps? — it
would be a kindness in you to chat with her now and again to keep her spirits
up. As a
brother
might.”

“O, yes, well,” Lord Bradwell stammered blankly. Then, after
a moment’s consideration, “Why, yes, I s’pose I could do something of the sort.
Good idea, Miss Rowena. Very good idea.”

“I’m glad you find it so, my lord. Now, if you gentlemen
will excuse me, I have promised your mamma that I would lie down for a while
myself. I trust I shall see you at dinner.”

Miss Cherwood sailed from the room, her spirits a little
lightened. She did not see Mr. Lyndon Bradwell raise his glass to her departing
form with an appreciative smile on his lips.

o0o

To say that Ulysses Ambercot became a frequent visitor at
Broak is to do him an injustice. From the morning following the accident Mr.
Ambercot became so frequent a visitor that once, meeting him in the hall, Lord
Bradwell was heard to observe that they had as well set up a cot in the pantry
if Ambercot meant to keep cheering the sickroom party this way. In fact,
Ulysses’ visits to his sister, while most dutiful, were also remarkably brief.
While he was determined to stay and amuse her, Jane was likely to cast him out
after half an hour, saying that his fidgeting would drive her to distraction.
He then would remove to Margaret Cherwood’s room. Meggy was in considerable
pain still, and relied greatly upon the doctor’s laudanum draught to ease her
discomfort. Still, she smiled sweetly on Mr. Ambercot no matter when he
appeared, and told him when he left that he had made her forget her woes for a
while. She did not seem to find his fidgeting unbearable, and with such
encouragement it is hardly extraordinary that Mr. Ambercot would find greater
and greater pleasure in her company. Often Rowena would chase him out with
ridiculous threats, to Margaret’s amusement. Ulysses was unaware that Miss
Cherwood would be sternly upbraided by her young cousin for treating the
visitor in such a fashion once he was out of earshot.