“I would’ve saved you,” Edmund said gently but firmly.
“I didn’t keep Charles safe.”
“You did; he’s here and, apart from a few cuts and an impressive black eye, he’s perfectly safe and probably a lot wiser.” Edmund received an embarrassed smile from Charles.
“I promised, and he could’ve been killed!” Clara said, beginning to shake.
“I’m here, Clara; please don’t upset yourself,” Charles pleaded.
“She’s in shock. Is there any laudanum in the house?” Edmund asked, standing and walking to the bell pull at the side of the fireplace.
“I think there might be,” Charles replied.
Edmund gave his instructions to the housekeeper and sent her on her way to find the drug. He then approached Clara. “You need to sleep. Everyone is safe, but I’m not happy about your health. Come with me.”
Clara did not place her hands in the two hands outstretched towards her. “I’m not leaving Charles.”
Edmund moved swiftly and easily picked Clara off the sofa and held her in his arms. “Baker, lead the way to your sister’s chamber. She needs to sleep.”
Clara protested but could not fight the firm hold that encompassed her. She eventually lay her head against Edmund’s shoulder, watching Charles as he led the way upstairs.
The group entered the bedchamber, and Edmund carefully laid his precious cargo on the bed. He went to Clara’s feet and unfastened the laces of her boots, removing them. He then pulled the eiderdown folded at the bottom of the large bed over Clara.
They were interrupted by the housekeeper, bringing the requested draft. She handed it to Edmund, and he supported Clara’s head while she drank the liquid.
Clara was so meek that Edmund was really concerned. The fire had gone from her, and he was terrified that she would make herself ill if she did not soon rally. Charles had held his sister’s hand since their entrance into the room.
“You need to rest,” Edmund said quietly to Charles.
“Soon,” Charles replied. He seemed to have aged during the evening, Edmund noticed that the young, carefree eyes that had looked at everything as a bit of fun, had a new maturity in their gaze.
Milly entered the room, looking flushed and a little upset. Edmund looked at her with a frown, but she seemed to be purposely avoiding looking at anyone or offering any explanation for her discomfort.
“Is everything well?” Milly asked, not quite meeting Edmund’s eyes.
“Yes. I’ve given some laudanum to your cousin in the hope for some much needed, undisturbed sleep. You look a little out of sorts, Miss Holland; are you feeling ill?”
“No. I’m fine, thank you, My Lord.”
Clara looked at Charles. “Will you stay?”
“I’ll stay as long as you wish.”
“I promised I would protect you.”
“And you did. You reached my knife, and that freed us,” Charles said gently. “I couldn’t have done it without you, my lovely sister. You saved me.”
“We saved each other,” Clara said, before her eyes became heavy, and she drifted into sleep.
“I’ve never seen her like this,” Milly said, frowning. “She’s always been so much in control, so confident.”
“It’s been a shock, hopefully she’ll awaken more herself,” Edmund assured her. “Baker, you need to rest as much as your sister does.”
“I don’t know if I’ll sleep for a long time,” Charles admitted. “I can’t shake off the feeling of stupidity, of being so wholly taken in by Joshua. Do you know he admitted that when I was set-upon by some thugs a few months ago, it was all arranged in order for an acquaintance to be developed? How foolish was I to be taken in so easily?”
“They are professionals at what they do,” Edmund admitted. “Don’t be too hard on yourself; if you’d have become suspicious, they could have hurt you or your family. In this case it was better to remain unawares.”
“So I should be thankful for my stupidity?” Charles said roughly. “I doubt that will help make me sleep better this evening.”
“I will stay with Clara to make sure she’s settled,” Milly said.
“Might I call tomorrow–later today to see how you all are?” Edmund asked, realising just how late it was.
“You are welcome here whenever you like,” Charles said with feeling. “I’m glad you were there tonight.”
“I did very little; it seemed you had the situation under control from what I saw.”
“Thank you for having confidence in my ability, but in reality I wasn’t capable of being able to fight off any of them.”
Edmund put his hand on Charles’ shoulder and squeezed it with sympathy. “You did well tonight, Baker; don’t try to convince yourself that you didn’t.”
Charles nodded, and they left Clara’s bedchamber together. Edmund left the house reluctantly. He wanted nothing more than to stay by the side of Clara’s bed until she awoke but, once again, he had no real right to be so near.
Chapter 20
Clara awoke to an empty bedchamber. She felt groggy and, for a while lay still, drifting in and out of sleep while the effects of the drug wore off. Eventually, she felt awake enough to pull back the covers and sit up. She groaned at her state of dishabille; her clothes were creased and dirty from their exertions the night before. She sighed, it was no exaggeration to feel that these clothes would be irreparable.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed she felt a little dizzy but shook her head in an effort to clear it. She was not going to faint; the more movement she could do, the better. Standing, she rubbed her hands across her face, thinking about what had happened.
There were so many ‘what ifs’ that her mind reeled, but she managed to get herself under control; they were safe, Joshua was gone and Edmund had cared for her.
The events made her shudder and would haunt her for a long while but, at the same time, she felt proud. Charles had not been the frightened little boy who had surfaced when their mother died; he had been a capable man, prepared to get them both out of the danger they were facing. She smiled with pride at the thought that her little brother was now a man; it was just a pity they had been forced to go through such an extreme circumstance for the adult to emerge.
Clara took off her clothing, not caring that she ripped some of the material. She did not want to face her maid just yet. Fresh water had been left, and she washed, scrubbing off the sand that still managed to cling to her body.
She was dressed in a clean petticoat when a knock disturbed her. “Yes?” she shouted, from behind her screen.
“It’s Milly.”
“Come in!”
Milly entered the room and was relieved to see the signs of Clara being up and about.
“Milly, please help me into my dress; I’m not quite ready to face the speculation of the servants.”
Milly smiled and walked around the edge of the screen, picking up the dress that Clara had chosen and helping her cousin into it as she spoke. “They all had such late nights that I think they’ll be too tired to gossip about anything today. You are looking well; I sat with you for a few hours last night, but you appeared to be in a deep sleep with no nightmares, so I confess the call of my own bed was too irresistible to ignore.”
Clara smiled a little. “Apart from a dull headache, I’m perfectly fine; I’m just relieved that we survived unscathed.”
They were disturbed by raised voices downstairs. Looking at each other questioningly, Clara sighed. “What now?” before moving to the door.
Clara made her way quickly down the stairs, realising at the last minute that she had not tied her hair up, and it draped across her shoulders. The hallway was filled with Mr and Mrs Beresford and Charles. There seemed to be a dispute going on.
“Is there anything amiss?” Clara asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ll say there is!” Charles exclaimed. “Mr Beresford has decided that I’m not the sort of person he wishes his daughter to marry!”
“Really? Why ever not?” Clara exclaimed, looking between the pair.
“I refuse to have my daughter put in danger, whether she loses a title or not!” Mr Beresford responded hotly.
“Mr Beresford, there would be no danger to Miss Beresford if she should marry my brother,” Clara said reasonably.
“You can say that after the goings on of last night? You are as deluded as he is! I heard the gunshots; I saw the explosion. I’m not a fool; this is obviously a smugglers paradise, and I’m not having my girl involved!”
Charles sat down heavily on the stairs. “I can’t lose her; I just can’t,” he moaned pitifully.
Clara decided they had performed enough for the servants who might be hovering close by. “Mr Beresford, I would be grateful if I could have a word with you in the morning room; I don’t think we’ll achieve anything standing about in such a fashion.”
“We are leaving.”
“
Please,
Mr Beresford. I won’t keep you above a few minutes.” Clara walked towards the door, opened it and entered. It was a relief when Mr and Mrs Beresford followed. “Charles, please give us a moment,” she instructed before leaving Milly to deal with her distraught brother.
“You’re wasting your breath,” Mr Beresford blustered.
“I can understand your concern, but I want to reassure you that Charles is sincere in his adoration of Miss Beresford.”
“Of course he’s smitten; she’s a pretty little thing, but I’m not having her put in danger.”
“I completely agree with your sentiments, but I can assure you that what happened last night has never happened before, nor will it happen again,” Clara said a little more confidently than she felt.
They were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Milly appeared and gave Clara an apologetic look. “Lord Chertsey is here, my dear. Charles has told him what is going on, and he is insisting that he be allowed to speak to Mr Beresford.”
Clara flushed. She did not wish to see Edmund whilst she was still in such a state of undress, her hair being loose about her shoulders was most inappropriate. The situation had required her attendance quickly rather than waiting until she was appropriately dressed; but if he thought he could help Charles’ cause, she would take the risk. “Please allow him entry,” she said and stood to greet the caller.
Edmund walked into the drawing room and faltered. He had expected to see a pale, withdrawn Clara as a result of her exertions the night before, but he saw a woman, slightly flushed with hair framing her face that had obviously not been brushed. The thought of seeing her dishevelled in his bed flashed in front of his eyes, but he tried to push the image away. Yes, he had come to see how she was, but in a rare moment of compassion, he was intent on pleading Charles’ case.
Bows and curtseys were made and Edmund seated himself in a position where he could look at Clara without making it obvious that he was watching her. He started to speak, “Mr Beresford, I can only imagine what you thought about the events of last night.”
“I’m struggling to reconcile the events with the fact that, if married, my daughter would be forced to live here, My Lord,” Mr Beresford said. His tone was still defensive, but the appearance of Edmund had seemed to calm him a little.
“I can only imagine your level of concern. It is an unfortunate consequence of coastal estates that sometimes they are targeted by smugglers, but the incident last night was unique and, in fact, young Baker showed just how capable he was of protecting his land and his family.”
“Well, that may be the case, but…”
“I cannot guarantee that the beach will never be used again; none of us can until this war with the French is over, but what happened was an unusual situation and, if I were a smuggler, I would ensure that I avoided Glazebrook beach like the plague!” Edmund said, his tone pleasant and charming.
“But you aren’t a smuggler,” Mr Beresford persisted. “You don’t know what goes through their minds.”
Edmund flashed a look at Clara. She met his gaze as if wondering whether or not he would reveal what part he had in the escapade. He took a breath, “I don’t know what drives them, but many were captured last night and will be hanged for their involvement. That will send enough of a message out to those thinking of becoming involved with smuggling and those considering this part of the coastline; no one wishes to risk hanging. Other areas will be used, rather than risking capture on this beach.”
“I’m not happy, My Lord. Not happy about the whole sorry episode.”
Mrs Beresford, who had been silent throughout the exchange reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. “Let them be, Mr Beresford. You know Dorothea wants nothing else but to be married to Charles. We can’t let our fears stand in the way of their happiness.”
Mr Beresford looked at his wife and sighed. “I know; I just don’t want her to be hurt.”
“Charles won’t let her be hurt; he adores her,” Clara said quietly.
“I’ll agree to the wedding, but we are still leaving this morning. I want the wedding to happen in London. I, at least, want to be as far away from this coastline as possible.”
The two ladies smiled at each other, both relieved for the sake of their relations. The group stood, and the Beresfords left the room to impart their news.
Clara turned to Edmund. “Thank you for your assistance last night. I remember enough to know you took charge and ensured we came home safely.” She recalled clearly the memory of being held in his arms, and the recollection made her flush.