Carola Dunn (23 page)

The dark blue woollen dress she had worn yesterday had been cleaned and neatly pressed while she slept, and was hanging behind the door to air. One other was in the wardrobe, and almost all the rest of her clothes were in her trunk. Captain Hardy had promised to have that trunk delivered to Stafford House last night.

For a moment Rebecca’s heart lifted—it was the perfect excuse to call there. Then she chided herself for her indecision. She already had excellent excuses if that was what she wanted, to take charge of Esperanza or simply to ask after John.

It was
not
what she wanted, she reminded herself fiercely. However good her reasons, she would not give anyone cause to hint that she was chasing after John like a shameless hussy.

She dressed quickly and went down to the dining room.

“Morning, miss.” Donald was on hand with a fresh pot of tea, and breakfast was already laid out on the table and sideboard. Lady Parr always rose late, so someone in the household had remembered Rebecca’s penchant for early rising.

“Good morning, Donald. Just a muffin and marmalade, if you please.”

“Cook’s doing a poached egg for you this instant, miss. Her ladyship’s orders.”

He grinned at her, and she could not help responding despite a slight annoyance with Cousin Adelaide’s interference. She need not eat it, but she did not want to offend Cook and besides, she did need to put on some weight. John might come...

She cut off that unprofitable train of thought.

“Would you mind running an errand for me this morning, Donald? My trunk must be brought from Stafford House.”

“Right you are, miss. I’ll be off this minute and fetch it back afore my lady comes down.”

“Ask how Lord John goes on.”

Rebecca managed to resist the temptation to tell him to inform them of her direction. If he should be asked, or happen to let it drop, it would be none of her doing.

The footman returned within the hour, carried her trunk up to her chamber, and reported to her in the parlour.

“They was wondering what to do with it, miss. That fancy butler arst where you was staying but I didn’t tell ‘im, seeing as you hadn’t and not knowing the sittywation, like.”

Swallowing her disappointment she gave him a half crown, glad that Teresa had insisted on paying her wages. At least she was not completely penniless.

“How is Lord John?”

“Not just what you might call in plump currant, they says, nor yet like to slip the wind. Seems the duchess called in every bone-setter in town though it ain’t broken bones as ails his lordship by what I heard. The gen’ral ‘pinion seems to be as his pa’s right and what he needs is plenty o’ rest and plenty o’ good grub.”

Rebecca was relieved to hear the duke’s sensible prescription and hoped it would prevail. A desperate longing to be at John’s side made her breath catch in her throat. The letter of application she was writing blurred before her eyes.

“Thank you, Donald,” she managed to say, then remembered with a rush of guilt that she had not enquired after Annie. “Did anyone happen to mention a new baby in the house?”

“Yes, miss, I heard talk of a newborn boy. A little black thing they says, mother doing well and Lord John to stand godfather.”

That news made Rebecca smile. John would be pleased to be godfather to Annie’s baby, for his affection for children was as genuine as it was unexpected in a dashing gentleman of the sporting persuasion.

It was one of the things she loved about him.

“Will you go now and then to ask how his lordship goes on? There is no need to tell anyone where you are from; I daresay they will have scores of enquirers.”

“Right you are, miss.” If Donald was puzzled, he did not show it. There was nothing but sympathy in his good-humoured face.

* * * *

A dozen times, as the days passed, Rebecca nearly gave in and sent word of her whereabouts. Pride intervened, and the self-respect John had been partly responsible for instilling in her.

Though it did nothing to salve her unhappiness, the response to her applications for a position was flattering. Most of her letters received answers expressing interest, and one of the agencies provided several interviews with prospective employers. She turned down one offer because her would-be employer was a widower, and another because the gentleman of the house was present at the interview and browbeat his wife.

Lady Parr was not pleased to hear this. “Well upon my word, you are prodigious choosy for a young woman in your situation.”

“I could not like them, Cousin Adelaide. There are still a number of possibilities, I assure you.”

Her ladyship appeared to be placated, but the next evening she announced that she had written to Mr. Exbridge.

“You ought never to have left your uncle’s house,” she said with her usual censoriousness. “I am sure he is the properest person to keep you.”

Shocked at first into silence, Rebecca made a swift recovery. She discovered that she was no longer afraid of her uncle. She did not want to see him, and would not go back to his house, but the horrors of the past few weeks had reduced him in her eyes to a petty tyrant.

“That will not be necessary, Cousin Adelaide. I have had two more conditional offers, which wait only on a letter of reference to decide. I hope you will be so good as to write me one?”

“Certainly!” Her ladyship was only too eager to do anything to assist if it would rid her house of her young cousin. “Emma, fetch my writing case if you please. However, I cannot testify as to your ability with children. You had best ask Muriel for that.”

Rebecca did not want to ask Muriel for a testimonial any more than she wanted to ask her for a job. It was bound to lead to awkward questions, at the least. Yet, in the end, what did it matter?

Nothing could make her more miserable than she already was. To be sure, she had told no one where she was, but she was not so difficult to find if anyone tried.

Yet she had heard not a word from John.

Chapter 19

Not until a week after the
Rochester Rose
docked did John at last realize that Rebecca was not at Stafford House. Utterly exhausted, he slept most of the time and his waking moments were monopolized by a constant stream of medical men. In the drowsy times in between he thought constantly of Rebecca, but to ask after her was more effort than he was capable of making.

He assumed that it was propriety which kept her from him. After all, she was a young, unmarried female and in a dependent position. She could hardly demand to see him.

On the third day Sir William Knighton, the king’s physician, was spared by his royal patient for long enough to look in on the younger son of the Duke of Stafford. Unlike his colleagues, all of whom had prescribed complicated, and different, courses of treatment, Sir William agreed with his Grace that what Lord John needed was nothing more than rest and good food.

From that time he quickly began to mend. By the end of the week he was able to sit up in bed. It was then that his valet, Pierce, restored to him by some magic he did not attempt to understand, brought him a request with his nuncheon.

“It’s Annie Rowson, my lord. The state you was in you won’t remember, like as not, but you did agree to be the baby’s godfather. Annie wants to be sure afore she has him christened that your lordship knew what you was doing.”

“I had forgot,” John admitted, “but now that you mention it I do recall. You may tell her I shall be honoured to stand godfather, but I want to see him first. Ask her to be so kind as to bring him here, and I should like to see Esperanza too.”

Pierce frowned. “Don’t want to overdo it, my lord. Miss Esperanza’s a lively young lady.”

“Just for a few minutes.” If Esperanza came, Rebecca would bring her. John leaned back against his pillows, smugly pleased with his stratagem.

Annie, her figure restored to its usual pleasant roundness, carried in a bundle so swathed in shawls only a little brown face could be seen. For a few moments John was so entranced by its tiny perfection that he noticed nothing else. Then he looked up to share his delight with Rebecca, and she was not there.

Filled with bewildered disappointment, he saw that Esperanza was holding the hand of an unknown nursemaid. The little girl stared at him with round eyes.

“Hello, Chiquita. Where is Aunt Beckie?”

She whispered something.

“I cannot hear you. Come here.”

She broke away from the maid and scrambled, sobbing, onto his bed. “Aunt Beckie isn’t here and you’re ill and they said I must whisper and be good and Mama isn’t here and I
missed
you.”

Waving back the anxious nursemaid, he stroked the blonde hair gently. “I’m getting better every day, and you still have Annie.”

“She was ill too, for three whole days! And then she got a baby.” She sat up, the tears drying on her pink cheeks. “It’s a good baby, mostly, ‘cept when it’s hungry. It’s going to be called Andrew John, after Papa and you.”

“If you don’t mind, my lord?” put in Annie.

“I should hope my godson will bear my name.” John smiled at her, but the tension inside him was sapping his small strength.

Pierce advanced upon the group. “Time to go if we don’t want his lordship in queer stirrups again.”

Esperanza’s mouth drooped.

“Promise you will come and visit me every day?” John begged her.

“Oh yes, Uncle John, and I’ll be good but I mustn’t have to whisper, do I?” She slid down from the bed.

“No, indeed. My ears are working very well. I shall see you tomorrow. One moment, Annie, I should like a word with you.” He waited till Esperanza and the nurse were out of earshot, then demanded, “Where is Miss Nuthall?”

“I don’t rightly know, my lord. I’ve been a bit anxious, but I reckoned she must have told you where she was going.”

“I assumed she would stay here. Someone must know! See if you can find out, will you, without creating a big hullabaloo?”

‘Yes, my lord.” Her dark face creased with worry, she bobbed a curtsy and hurried out, the baby clasped against her shoulder.

John lay back, drained. Where had Rebecca gone? And why? He had been so careful, before his illness, not to press his attentions upon her when she was vulnerable. He did not want her to marry him from gratitude, or because she was dependent on him. Had his love, his deep need for her, shown through despite his care and made her feel trapped?

He drifted into sleep. In his dreams she was once again imprisoned, but this time the bars were there not to keep her in but to shut him out.

* * * *

When he woke, his valet told him Annie had asked to see him. Before he could send for her his mother paid him a visit, bringing an egg flip she had made for him with her own hands. The duchess was a short, plump woman, dressed in the height of elegance and given to threatening spasms when things did not go her way. John was very fond of her, but she was not the person he wanted to see at present.

He sipped the egg flip. “Delicious, Mama, only you left out the brandy.”

“You are roasting me, you naughty boy.” She beamed with pleasure. “When you were ill as a little boy I always knew you were growing better when you began to tease. Now drink it up and I shall leave you to rest as Sir William ordered.”

As she bustled out, a dreadful thought struck John. Perhaps Rebecca had said or done something his mother considered encroaching—perhaps she had in fact asked to see him. Her Grace was shockingly high in the instep and might have insisted on her departure after such a
faux pas.
Yet surely Annie would have heard if anything like that had happened!

“Pierce, fetch Annie, if you please.”

“Too many visitors...” He caught John’s eye. “Right away, my lord. But your lordship knows his Grace will drop by before dinner.”

“Fetch Annie!”

She hurried in a few minutes later, firmly shutting the door behind her with Pierce on the other side.

“Where is my godson?” John demanded, distracted from his urgent purpose.

“Sleeping in the nursery, my lord. Her Grace was kind enough to say I can keep him by me.”

“But you have left him all alone. He is so little, will he be all right?”

She smiled indulgently. “I can’t be carrying him about all the time, my lord. The nursemaid will keep an eye on him, she’s a good girl.”

John could not very well ask a servant whether the duchess had thrown his beloved out of the house. He tried in a roundabout way to find out what Annie knew. “Was she hired especially for Esperanza?”

“No, she’s a parlourmaid really but she helps in the nursery when Lady Danville’s children come to stay. She never saw Miss Beckie, my lord, but Mr. Boggs did, out in the street. She never came into the house, from what I hear. He was expecting her to come in, but she went off when he wasn’t looking. She did send for her trunk though, next day. It seems a footman came for it, so she must be all right, don’t you think? I did wonder if she might have gone back to Lady Parr.”

“Of course! They are cousins, or related at all events. Bless you, Annie, I’ll wager that is where she is.”

John’s relief was so great that it did not dawn on him for some time that he still did not know
why
Rebecca had gone.

His first reaction was to send to her and beg her to visit him. Simply to see her dear face, touch her hand, would be enough for now, until he was well enough to press his suit. His pride revolted. She would come, for pity’s sake, and he did not want her pity. He would wait until he could go to her, take her in his arms and smother her with kisses, promise to take care of her for the rest of her life.

Yet that was not right either. She must have more choice than a simple alternative between marrying him and staying with the objectionable Lady Parr. John remembered that he had asked his brother to find out about her fortune.

“Pierce!”

“My lord?”

“I must write a letter to Lord Danville at once.”

“His lordship is expected next week, my lord. The entire family is coming, I understand, for Christmas.”

“It cannot wait so long.”

“I shall send for his Grace’s secretary, my lord.”