The Village Spinster (3 page)

It was more than a mile to the Hall. He could leave Aria and go for a doctor, or go for a cart to bring her home. But the idea of leaving her alone in the field was horrifying to him. She might awaken in terrible pain and not understand what was happening. She might even try to rise and make her way home. The village was closer than Kinsford Hall. He could more easily carry her there and send for a doctor, as well as a cart to take her home. But was it wise to carry her with a possibly broken wrist?

There really didn’t seem to be much choice. Kinsford stripped off his coat and his cravat, wound the former around the shoulder to hold it in place and bound the wrist with the latter. His sister moaned softly as he lifted her from the ground into his arms, tucking her shoulder tightly against his body. The horses could make their way home or follow him into the village; it was a matter of total indifference to him.

He was a man of average height and solid, athletic physique. Carrying the girl was not a particular strain for him, but trying not to jostle her complicated matters somewhat. When he lost his hat in picking her up, he left it where it fell. His boots were soon muddy from the damp fields, even though he managed to find a footbridge across the stream. His breeches were splattered and his shirt crumpled by the time he reached the outskirts of Pennwick village.

It had been Lord Kinsford’s intention to take the girl to Mrs. Luden, who lived behind her shop, but the first cottage he passed was that of Miss Driscoll and something made him hesitate there, before her door. The argument he’d had with his sister had involved Miss Driscoll and it seemed to Kinsford that his sister would have chosen her over Mrs. Luden to offer succor at such a time. Doubtful as he was himself, he determined for his sister’s sake to seek help there. With his elbow he managed to bang gracelessly on the door.

Meg’s eyes widened when she saw his lordship with Lady Aria in his arms. “Oh, my lord!” she exclaimed. “What’s happened? Bring her in straightaway. Miss Driscoll! Miss Driscoll!”

The urgency of the summons brought Clarissa almost instantly into the tiny hallway. She took in the scene at a glance and pointed to the sitting-room door. “Bring her in here. Meg, send Jimmy for Dr. Lawrence right away, please.”

“What happened?” Clarissa asked as she carefully loosened the neck of Lady Aria’s riding costume. The girl was still unconscious, her face pale, and her breathing shallow.

“She fell from her horse. A dog frightened Firebird as they were just beginning a jump.” He touched the swollen area on the side of Lady Aria’s head. “There were no rocks in the area. Still, she must have hit the ground hard enough to do this.”

“And her shoulder?”

“It was dislocated, but I’ve restored it. Unless the walk here has thrown it out again.”

“Let’s have a look at it.” Clarissa unwound the coat and ran her fingers along the shoulder. She made a moue of distress. “There’s a lot of bruising, but it seems to be in place now. She’s fortunate you knew how to do it. It will save her a great deal of pain.”

He nodded. “Her wrist is swollen, too. I can’t tell if it’s broken.”

Clarissa removed the cravat and felt along the wrist. “I’d guess not, but it’s hard to tell. I’ll prepare a poultice in hot moist flannels for her head and we should keep her warm because of the shock. You’ll find a blanket in the closet at the head of the stairs.” She seemed to recollect herself. “Or you may wait a moment and Meg will get it. If Jimmy isn’t off somewhere, she won’t be long.”

Lord Kinsford didn’t hesitate. “I’ll get the blanket.”

She nodded and tucked a stray curl of brown hair up under her cap as she pushed through the door to the back hall. Kinsford frowned down at his sister briefly, then moved to the front hall. Just as he began to climb the stairs, there was a knock at the door. Realizing that Meg was out of the house and Miss Driscoll in the kitchen, he returned to open the door.

“The new butler, I presume,” said the young man who stood there, his eyes twinkling. “My own butler generally wears a coat and neckcloth, which I believe my wife insists upon. Miss Driscoll, however, is singular enough to have a butler who answers the door in his shirtsleeves,” the fellow mused. “Is she home, by any chance?”

Lord Kinsford gave the man a stony look. “Miss Driscoll is occupied at the moment. Please call another time.” He began to close the door.

“Here now! Tell her Mr. Traling is here. I’m sure she’ll see me. We’re quite good friends.”

“You are, are you? Then you may wait in the hall until she’s free to speak with you.” Beneath his breath he muttered “impertinent young pup” as he took the stairs two at a time. There were several blankets in the closet and Kinsford decided to bring all of them. He threw a black look at the fellow still standing in the hall when he returned downstairs.

“Is there some difficulty? Perhaps I could help,” the man suggested, though diffidently.

His lordship dismissed him curtly. “I very much doubt it.”

He carried the blankets into the sitting room, not realizing that the young man had followed him until the fellow said, “My word! She’s not dead, is she?”

Kinsford gave him a fulminating look but just then Miss Driscoll appeared in the doorway with a steaming flannel. “Mr. Traling,” she said when her gaze fell on the newcomer. “I had no idea you were here. We’re a bit disorganized at present. I’m afraid I shan’t be able to talk with you."

As Kinsford tucked the blankets around his sister’s still form, he was annoyed to see that Traling showed no sign of taking the hint.

“Two blankets will make her too hot,” Traling said. “It’s a warm day.”

The earl glared at him, but Miss Driscoll merely shook her head. “Not to worry. The doctor will be here soon, and Lord Kinsford has already seen to the dislocated shoulder.”

“Is this the artist?” Mr. Traling asked Miss Driscoll. “I recognize her from your drawing.”

“Yes.” Clarissa placed the warm poultice over the swollen and bruised area of the girl’s head. “And this is her older brother, the Earl of Kinsford. Lord Kinsford, Mr. Steven Traling.”

“Very pleased to meet you, my lord.” Mr. Traling held out his hand, which it seemed for a moment the earl would refuse. After a barely acceptable pause, Kinsford shook hands peremptorily, his eyes narrowed first at Traling and then at Miss Driscoll, who ignored his inspection.

Lady Aria was coming around now, making little mewling sounds like a kitten. The two men turned to look at the girl, Traling with curiosity and Kinsford with concern. Clarissa soothed the girl’s forehead. “You’re here with me, dear,” she said softly. “At Miss Driscoll’s house. Your brother has brought you after a riding accident.”

Lady Aria blinked her eyes open but allowed them to drift shut again with a moan. Kinsford’s hands clenched at his sides. “I really think Mr. Traling will be in the way when the doctor comes,” he said.

“I think I’ve missed the worst of it, if you’ve already fixed her dislocated shoulder,” Mr. Traling mused. “Once, when I was a small lad, I dislocated my shoulder and it was incredibly painful when the doctor and my father rammed it back into place. I thought they were trying to snap me in two.”

“Miss Driscoll, I really must insist!” Kinsford exclaimed, just as there was a loud pounding at the door. “What the devil is going on here?”

“I’ll take care of that,” Mr. Traling offered, obviously unoffended by Kinsford’s insistence. “At least I’m not in my shirtsleeves.’’

Chapter Three

To Clarissa’s disappointment, it was not Meg with the doctor, but the Honorable William Barrington, Lady Aria’s other brother. “What are the horses doing loose?” she heard him demand in the hall. “Where’s Lady Aria? She would never let Firebird run wild. Who are you? Where’s Miss Driscoll?”

Though Mr. Traling did attempt to answer these questions, he didn’t have many answers and William became impatient with him. The newest visitor strode into the sitting room, demanding Miss Driscoll’s attention. When he saw his sister lying pale on the sofa, he must have known a moment’s terror.

“You’ve killed her!” he yelled, apparently at Kinsford. “How could you do that? You’ve only been home two days!”

While Clarissa realized that he spoke out of shock, his older brother looked stunned at such an accusation. “She fell from her horse,” he said stiffly.

“But she’s an excellent rider!” Master William exclaimed.

Clarissa tried to point out the most pertinent fact. “She’s not dead, Master William. She’s been unconscious most of the time, which is fortunate, since her shoulder was dislocated. Meg is sending Jimmy for Dr. Lawrence.”

At which statement Meg herself appeared in the doorway to announce, “The doctor’s gone to Stanton Prior and they don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Both Mr. Traling and William offered to find him. William was an even more daring rider than his sister, but he was naturally the earl’s choice. “William, you go. I’ll stay here with Aria.”

“I’ll take Firebird, then, shall I?” William asked, distractedly drawing a hand through his blond curls. “I’ve been galloping Rannoch pretty hard this morning."

“Take Longbridge. Firebird may still be too nervous from the accident.”

“Take Longbridge?” William repeated, astonished. “You’ve never let anyone ride Longbridge.”

Kinsford gritted his teeth. “Just take him. Get a move on or I’ll go myself.”

“Yes, sir,” William replied, almost snapping to attention, as if his brother were still in the army with Wellington. “I’ll be back in no time.”

He had flung out of the room before Kinsford could say, “And don’t do anything reckless.” The front door slammed so hard it rattled the whole house.

“I’ll heat another flannel,” Meg said, and left. Clarissa continued to sooth the partially conscious Lady Aria’s forehead. Kinsford paced restlessly. Mr. Traling stood far back but the earl encountered him in his pacing and threw Clarissa a scowling look. “I wonder, Mr. Traling, if you would do a favor for me,” Clarissa asked after a moment. “I feel certain the doctor will prescribe a black draught immediately and I haven’t any. Would you see if Mrs. Luden has any from the apothecary?”

“What’s a black draught?” he asked, curious. “Will she know what to give me?”

“Yes. There are two ways to make it but either will be fine. I myself prefer the tincture of senna with cardamom and spirit of lavender, but the epsom salts and coriander seed work just as well, I believe.”

“I’m more than happy to get it,” Traling said. “If Mrs. Luden hasn’t any, shall I go to the apothecary in Bath?”

“No, we’ll make do,” Clarissa assured him.

Mr. Traling left cheerfully, just as though he hadn’t been snubbed by his lordship several times since his arrival. Clarissa turned to the earl.

“Would you help me with her riding boots? She might be more comfortable.”

Kinsford stepped forward to help. The boots were tight and Lady Aria moaned when he attempted to remove them. Kinsford desisted, saying, “It’s too painful for her.”

“No, no. Let’s get them off. It will be easier on her when she’s half-conscious than when she comes fully awake.”

Kinsford regarded her doubtfully for a moment and then nodded. It was, after all, precisely his reasoning when he had relocated his sister’s shoulder. When the boots were eventually off, he ran his fingers along the ankle. “I don’t feel anything broken, just the swelling. The boots probably protected her.”

Lady Aria’s eyes flickered open again. “What are you doing to my foot?” she whispered anxiously. “I hurt all over. Where am I?”

Clarissa stepped into the girl’s line of vision. “You’re at my house, dear. You’ve taken a fall from your horse.”

“Firebird! Is she all right?”

“Perfectly,” Kinsford replied.

“I should hate myself if anything had happened to her,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt..."

But her voice failed from the effort and her eyelids drooped with fatigue. Soon she seemed to be asleep.

Clarissa took a pillow from the spindle-back chair and tucked it under Lady Aria’s foot. Meg placed a warm poultice on her head. Though the two women said nothing, a glance passed between them which indicated their mutual knowledge of Lady Aria’s starts. Neither of them looked to Kinsford for an explanation, and it would not have occurred to him to provide one.

They heard a discreet knock at the door and Meg ushered the doctor and William directly to the sitting room. Clarissa offered the older man her hand. “Thank you for coming, sir. I hope Master William hasn’t pressed you too hard.”

Dr. Lawrence was a short, stocky fellow with an incurably genial face. “He did no more than protest the urgency of the matter.” His hand had already gone to take Lady Aria’s wrist and her eyes fluttered open. “And how are you doing, my dear? Feeling wretched, I dare say.”

“Yes,” she admitted. Her voice was alarmingly weak.

“Do you know what year it is?” the doctor asked.

“Eighteen-nineteen.”

“And where you are?”

“In Miss Driscoll’s sitting room.”

“And who you are?”

“Lady Aria Barrington.”

“Good.” The doctor smiled. “Already I’m encouraged. We should apply a lotion to the scalp here over the blow, however. Sal ammoniac and vinegar in whisky, diluted. Perhaps it would be best to shave the area first.”

Silent tears pooled in Lady Aria’s eyes. Dr. Lawrence relented. “Well, it is not absolutely necessary. Now, what I would like is to clear the room so that I may examine my patient. You may stay, Miss Driscoll.”

Though Kinsford looked skeptical, he joined the others without protest. Dr. Lawrence winked at Clarissa. "Rather a lot of company for you,” he suggested. “If you’ll give me a hand here.”

He allowed Clarissa to serve as his assistant as he did a thorough examination of his patient. Lady Aria groaned in protest at the pokings and proddings. “Good girl,” he said, patting her hand and turning to Clarissa. “I’m fairly certain the ankle isn’t broken, but Lady Aria should stay off it as much as possible for a few days to let it mend.”

He considered his patient thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “I’m not sure I can recommend your removal to Kinsford Hall as yet, my dear,” he told her. “The blow to your head could be significant. We want to see that you remain as still as possible for a while. Any conveyance would be very painful for your shoulder, and unwise for your head. Should you mind very much?”