Читать книгу Reunited With Her Viscount Protector - Mary Brendan, Mary Brendan - Страница 11

‘Oh, Eleanor! Why did you not write and let me know you have been poorly? I would have come far sooner to care for you.’ Dawn felt a pang of guilt, wishing she had responded to her stepdaughter’s letter promptly. But she had preferred to spend time with her friends in Mayfair than take up her invitation to visit her stepfamily in Essex.

Eleanor made a feeble gesture from the bed upon which she was resting. ‘You have your own life to live in town, Mama. It is nothing too bad...just a little breathlessness making me feel giddy. The babe is probably lying in the wrong position, but will surely soon move and give me some relief.’

Dawn wasn’t convinced about that. Her stepdaughter didn’t look as though she were merely suffering discomfort, but a proper illness. Eleanor’s complexion was greyish, yet spots of scarlet were on her cheekbones and a film of perspiration beaded her hairline.

Dawn wished she had some experience of childbirth to draw on. She hadn’t been present at Lily’s birth. After being advised of the happy news she had travelled to Essex a week later to see the new arrival. On that occasion Eleanor had looked quite perky, telling her that a midwife had attended her and all had gone as well as was to be expected. ‘Have you been like this for a while? Might it be the baby coming early, do you think, my dear?’ Dawn picked up a hanky from the nightstand and dipped it in the water jug, then cooled her stepdaughter’s brow with it.

‘I felt more myself last week. I doubt it is the baby.’ Eleanor frowned. ‘It is over a month too soon and the pain seems different.’

From the moment Dawn had entered the house and been advised by the vicar that his wife and child were napping and shouldn’t be disturbed, Dawn had sensed something wasn’t quite right. Peter had carried on to say, in a way that seemed to brook no refusal, that Dawn should also rest after her journey. He had ushered her up the stairs and carried her bags for her to deposit in the guest room. But she sensed he was being dictatorial rather than solicitous. Once she’d spotted him from her window, striding along the cinder path in the direction of the church, she had hurried to find her stepdaughter.

A first glimpse of Eleanor’s ashen face and dishevelled appearance had made Dawn’s heartbeat accelerate in alarm. Her stepdaughter might not be a beauty, but she was pretty enough and had always taken pains with her appearance. But it wasn’t just her lack of grooming—the young woman had a look of sadness and defeat about her, too.

‘Has Peter sent for the physician to attend you?’

‘He says there is no need for the doctor to be summoned and that it is a natural ailment to be expected close to a woman’s confinement. I don’t recall feeling so feverish last time, though, Mama.’

Dawn picked up her granddaughter as she tried to climb on to the bed to lay beside her mother. She jigged Lily in her arms to quieten her as she grew fretful. ‘I have some presents for you, young lady. But first you must promise to be good. Will you be?’

Lily solemnly nodded her head, becoming still. She was bright as a button and had remembered that her grandma brought her nice things from London when she visited.

‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t up to greet you,’ Eleanor wiped a tear from the corner of an eye. ‘What a feeble sort of woman I am turning into.’

‘Don’t say that! Of course you are not.’ Dawn guessed that her stepdaughter was repeating criticism. It sounded like the sort of snappish remark Peter Mansfield might make.

He had been impatient with her earlier. At the Cockerel he had not waited outside while she finished her meal as he’d said he would. He had come to find her and made it clear he was ready to set on the road immediately now her luggage had been transferred to his gig. His bullying had been polite, but Dawn had felt under pressure nevertheless to say an immediate farewell to the Broomes and go with him.

Thereafter he had driven at reckless speed, bouncing over ruts on the road to Wivenhoe, with little conversation passing between them. That had suited Dawn. She found little to say to him at the best of times. Yet on that journey of almost an hour he hadn’t once mentioned his wife other than to give a throwaway answer to Dawn’s question of how her stepdaughter was. Eleanor at times felt a little under the weather, he’d said.

‘I should get up now,’ Eleanor said, struggling to rise on her elbows.

Dawn gently pressed her back down. ‘You must rest. And, whatever Peter says, I think the physician should attend you,’ she added firmly. ‘Sometimes women have more of an intuition about these things than men do.’ She gave Eleanor a smile of encouragement. Her stepdaughter was loyal to her husband, but he needed to be overruled on this. ‘A professional opinion is needed. If Peter is right and I am wrong, then I shall feel so much better for having worried over nothing.’ Dawn approached the door of the bedchamber with her granddaughter still in her arms. ‘I saw Peter go out some time ago, but he might have returned. If he has, I shall speak to him about fetching the doctor. Would you like some tea...or something to eat, Eleanor?’

‘I’m thirsty...some lemonade would be nice.’ Eleanor put out her hand for her daughter. ‘You can leave Lily with me. She will be good now she knows you have some treats for her.’ She gave her little daughter a fond smile.

Dawn went quickly downstairs, hoping Peter had returned because she was determined to make the daft man see sense and immediately go in his gig to fetch the doctor. Or she would go herself into the village and find the fellow.

‘Do you know if the vicar is due to return soon, Mrs Grove?’ Dawn had looked into the downstairs rooms, and knocked on the door of Peter’s study, but found no sign of him. She had headed to the kitchen in the hope of discovering his likely whereabouts from the cook. They had met before when Dawn had made previous visits, and Dawn had always thought her a pleasant woman.

‘He’ll probably be up at the church, Mrs Fenton, or he could have gone into Wivenhoe.’ Mrs Grove carried on rolling out pastry. ‘I expect you’d like some tea, wouldn’t you, m’m, after your journey?’ She wiped floury hands on her pinafore. ‘I would’ve brought a tray up to your room, but master said as to leave you to rest after your journey.’

‘I would like tea, thank you,’ Dawn replied. ‘And I’ll take Mrs Mansfield a glass of lemonade.’

Enid Grove avoided Dawn’s eyes at the mention of her mistress.

‘For how long has my stepdaughter been feeling ill?’

‘For too long,’ Enid replied pithily. ‘The poor lass needs a doctor looking at her.’ She slipped a glance at Dawn from beneath her lashes. ‘I’m that glad you’ve come, Mrs Fenton.’

‘And so am I,’ Dawn replied in a heartfelt way. ‘Why has the doctor not examined her?’

‘Why indeed! I told the master my feelings on it and was told in return to mind my own business.’ Enid shook her head. ‘’Course polite fellows don’t use those words, but I knew his meaning. I’ve done what I can for the poor lass, to ease her discomfort, but now that the day girl doesn’t come I’m run off my feet trying to cook and clean and nursemaid the little ’un.’ She sighed. ‘I’m turned two score years and ten and that Miss Lily needs a young pair of legs to keep up with her.’ Enid blew a defeated sigh. ‘Truth of it is, m’m, I’ve had enough and shall soon give notice. I don’t want to leave the mistress, but I’m feeling so fagged out that I might end up ill in bed myself and what help can I be to Mrs Mansfield then?’

Dawn had listened in amazement. None of the letters she’d received from her stepdaughter had hinted at a crisis. ‘I had no idea that things had got so bad.’ Dawn frowned. ‘What on earth has happened since my last visit?’

‘Not my place to say, m’m...’ Mrs Grove turned away and busied herself with rattling the crockery and boiling the kettle.

‘As things are serious I think you must speak up or how will I know what to do to help?’ Dawn said bluntly.

‘What is it you wish to know, Mrs Fenton?’

Dawn’s stepson-in-law had come into the kitchen, unseen and unheard. She noticed at once that Mrs Grove looked nervous. The older woman turned away and busied herself with the tea things.

‘There is so much that I wish to know, sir, that our conversation will be lengthy and better conducted upstairs,’ Dawn answered firmly. His lips had grown thin. She hadn’t pleased him with her outburst in front of his servant. But Dawn didn’t care for coddling his ego. Eleanor and Lily were the only ones that mattered. ‘I shall just take your wife her drink, then join you in your study, if that is convenient.’

‘It is not,’ he said on a sigh and gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I am sorry to sound too busy to properly welcome you, but I’m due to meet a parishioner at the church. We can converse later on when we dine.’ He would have left the kitchen, but Dawn stepped after him.

‘Just a moment, sir. One important thing must be said now. Please fetch the doctor with you when you come back. Your wife is very ill.’ She knew vicars led full lives administering to their flocks and had imagined that he must be too preoccupied to fully appreciate how sick Eleanor actually was. Dawn had hoped her concern might rub off on him, making him feel guilty and neglectful.

‘My wife is young and strong and has had a baby before. She is used to the rigours of childbirth...unlike you, madam.’

His voice had been soft, almost gentle, but Dawn knew the remark had been intended to wound and remind her of her miscarriage. ‘I might not be a mother, but I know well enough what a person in pain looks like. Eleanor should be examined by a doctor in case the babe is coming sooner than expected—’

‘My wife needs no fussing over. She doesn’t like that sort of thing.’ His voice was slightly raised now. ‘She was up yesterday and playing with her daughter. It is to be expected that there will be occasions when she feels tired as her time nears. She was like this before Lily was born.’

Mrs Grove gave a cough...or perhaps it was a snort, Dawn thought, on glimpsing the woman’s angry profile. ‘Nevertheless I insist that the doctor comes here today, to put all our minds at rest.’ Dawn’s voice was controlled but full of grit.

‘As I have said, we shall talk later, Mrs Fenton.’ Peter turned to the cook. ‘Let me have my wife’s drink. I shall take it to her. If she’s left undisturbed for the rest of the afternoon, then I’m sure she will feel better and be able to get up at dinner time.’ With a nod for Dawn he left the kitchen with the glass of lemonade Mrs Grove had thrust at him.

For a moment Dawn could only stare at the closed door, at a loss to know what on earth was wrong with the man for him to hold such a callous attitude. And why had he banned her from seeing her stepdaughter until dinner time? She knew that was what he had done. A weight settled in her stomach as she realised she had a battle on her hands. She wouldn’t give up on getting Eleanor the help she needed and hoped to glean some information from the cook as to what had recently happened. ‘Mrs Grove...’ she said, but was halted by the woman putting a finger against her own lips. A few seconds later Dawn heard footsteps receding along the corridor.

Dawn felt a chill creep over her. So Peter had been loitering to eavesdrop and from the way Mrs Grove had reacted she guessed he had done so before. Perhaps when a conversation had been taking place with her mistress. Did the vicar spy on his wife?

Dawn had never liked him, but never before had she felt uneasy in his company, or in his house. Now she did. Having observed Mrs Grove’s caginess, Dawn knew his servant felt the same misgiving as she did about the Reverend Peter Mansfield.

‘Don’t ask me questions about the master’s business. I’ll not gossip even if I have an answer to give.’ Enid shook her greying head.

‘Well, tell me this at least. You have had children, Mrs Grove. Is this a normal malaise for a woman in her condition? My stepdaughter looks so very ill.’

‘Some women do have a hard time of it. But he’s right about one thing: she’s young and once she was healthy, too. To my mind, there’s unhappiness in this house,’ Enid whispered. ‘And that can be as harmful as plague. But now that you’re here, m’m, things will be better. I know the mistress will be taken care of and little Miss Lily, too. Mrs Mansfield must be that glad you’ve turned up at last to help her.’

Dawn winced at that hint at her tardiness. ‘I wish Eleanor had put more in her letters. I would have come directly had I known she was ill.’

‘He reads her letters...them that comes and them that goes.’ Mrs Grove gave Dawn a significant glance.

Dawn started to question the woman, but Enid shook her head.

‘I’m sorry, m’m, but I’m done with it all.’ She looked sorrowful, but ploughed on. ‘I’ll leave your dinners on the stove before I go home, but I’ll hand in me notice now you’ve arrived to take care of things.’ She agitatedly resumed rolling pastry. ‘I expect he’ll find another cook quick enough. Plenty of women in the village want part-time work.’

Dawn had listened in astonishment. ‘What has caused Eleanor’s unhappiness?’

‘He’s the trouble she’s got,’ Mrs Grove muttered. ‘And the trouble the vicar’s got is to be found out there. Maybe the recently departed are playing on his mind.’ The woman pointed towards the graveyard that lay to the east of the church. ‘This warning I will give you and you’d best heed it: don’t be venturing out after dark that way, Mrs Fenton, ’cos you don’t know what you might meet.’ With finality the woman turned her back and busied herself with cups and saucers. ‘I’ll bring a tray to your chamber when the tea’s brewed. I must get on and get this pie in the oven. He likes his dinner on the dot. Six of the clock sharp.’

Dawn felt rather angry with the woman for talking such tosh. She knew that country folk could be superstitious and believed in gremlins and ghosts. But she didn’t! And she wouldn’t be taking heed of any warning. She believed the trouble in this house was most definitely of this world rather than the other.

Dawn could cook and clean...but why should she when the vicar was perfectly able to pay for a couple of servants? She knew she couldn’t do everything herself any more than Mrs Grove could. ‘Will you at least stay on until another cook is found and I will help with other tasks?’

‘Very well... I’ll do it for the mistress. I’ll stay until she’s back up on her feet and the new babe in the nursery. She’s been good to me, has Mrs Mansfield,’ Enid Grove said. ‘God bless her.’

* * *

‘You must tell your stepmama that you are simply feeling tired, my dear, and do not need the doctor to come. Mrs Fenton is fretting about your health.’ The vicar gave his wife a smile. ‘Now that you have rested in bed all afternoon you feel much better, don’t you?’

‘I do. My headache has gone,’ Eleanor said and rearranged the cutlery in front of her.

‘But, you don’t look better...’ Dawn fell silent, having noticed her stepdaughter’s startled look. Eleanor didn’t want her husband to be gainsaid.

‘I am quite well, I assure you.’ Eleanor picked up her soup spoon.

‘We will say grace,’ her husband reminded her before making a steeple of his fingers and closing his eyes. His wife rested her spoon on the bowl and copied him. Dawn simply bowed her head, glaring at pea soup.

Eleanor was still flushed and unsteady on her feet, needing to be escorted to the table by her husband. Earlier Dawn had gone to her stepdaughter’s room despite Peter’s veiled demand that she stay away. She had tried the door, but it had been locked and when she’d softly called through the panels Lily had whimpered to be allowed to see her grandma. Eleanor had then admitted she didn’t have a key to open it up.

The knowledge that Peter had locked his wife in her room increased Dawn’s feeling that something sinister was going on. But she wasn’t frightened, as Mrs Grove appeared to be. She was angry and determined to protect Eleanor and Lily. She wasn’t afraid of what was ‘out there’ as the cook termed it. But she knew there was a real danger from men who believed they knew what was best for their womenfolk when clearly they didn’t.

The prayer at an end the vicar poured them all a glass of ruby wine as though he were the most solicitous and amiable of fellows.

Dawn noticed that Eleanor glanced her way several times with a look that seemed to silently beg her not to again raise the subject of her health. So Dawn decided she would not. She’d deal with the matter herself, with or without his assistance.

The moment the meal was over Peter excused himself saying he had to go back to the church for a meeting with the verger.

‘Do you feel well enough to come into Wivenhoe with me tomorrow, Eleanor?’ If the doctor could not be brought here, then Dawn would take her stepdaughter to his house.

‘I can’t face travelling. And Lily can be quite mischievous.’

‘I expect she is bored being cooped up. She went to bed quite early.’

‘Peter likes her to be kept to a routine. Mrs Grove settles her while we dine.’

About to tell her stepdaughter that the cook was on the point of quitting, Dawn thought better of it. She imagined Mrs Grove had already told her mistress she was unhappy...and so was Eleanor unhappy. Dawn sensed Eleanor would never admit to it, though. Peter Mansfield had warned his wife not to mention whatever secrets they had. Eleanor should be anticipating the arrival of her second child with joyousness as Dawn’s friend Emma was. But there was no joy in this house.

‘Shall we play cards?’ Dawn suggested brightly.

Eleanor shook her head. ‘I’m sorry to be such poor company, but I think I shall go and say goodnight to my daughter, then return to my room.’

‘You’re not poor company. Just being with you and Lily is a delight for me.’ Dawn wished there was more truth in that statement. She had come to Essex in high spirits, but now felt utterly deflated. But she must stay cheery for Eleanor’s sake. ‘I’d like to say goodnight to Lily, if I may.’

‘Of course... I’ll call Mrs Grove in to clear things away.’ Carefully Eleanor rose from the table, but before she reached the sideboard to ring the bell she tottered. Quickly she recovered her balance and clattered the brass implement.

‘You’re still feeling giddy?’ Dawn had risen immediately and gone to her aid.

‘I’ll be fine by morning.’

‘I very much hope you will. Your dress is very stylish,’ Dawn said, wanting to boost her stepdaughter in some way. She fondled a blue-dimity sleeve. And your hair looks very pretty. She was encouraged to think that as Eleanor had presented herself looking neat at dinner, she was feeling better. She had declined Dawn’s offer to lend a hand with buttons and curling tongs.

‘I’ll be off home when I’m done here, m’m.’ Mrs Grove had come into the room to start collecting the used crockery.

Dawn gave the woman a questioning glance.

‘I’ll see you in the morning, usual time, Mrs Mansfield,’ the cook added before departing with a loaded tray.

‘Will you retire early, Mama, or stay up after saying goodnight to Lily?’

‘I think I’ll play solitaire in the sitting room, just for a little while.’ Dawn had found the cards in a bureau drawer in that room earlier and had whiled away an hour while waiting for dinner to be served. She glanced at the window. ‘The sun has made an appearance at last.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Just before it is due to set.’ Heavy cloud had covered the heavens for most of the day, but had parted to allow a narrow strip of blue to be visible. But still it was bitterly cold. ‘Perhaps tomorrow, if it is fine, we could walk in the garden. Once I’ve unpacked my things I can give Lily her presents.’

‘She’ll like that. You are good to her and to me, Mama.’

They had been slowly walking the corridor towards the stairs, but Dawn suddenly halted and put an arm around her swaying stepdaughter. ‘Hold on to me!’

Eleanor was no lightweight now she was big with child, but Dawn managed to guide her to a chair in the sitting room. She would have preferred to get her to her bedchamber, but knew she would struggle to support her up the stairs. ‘I’ll fetch Peter,’ Dawn said determinedly. ‘Enough is enough. You are sick, my dear, and urgently need a doctor’s care. If he still refuses, I will fetch the fellow myself!’

Eleanor put out a feeble hand as though to detain her, but Dawn ignored her, dashing out into the corridor and then out of the house.

Picking up her skirts, she flew along the cinder path towards the church. It was about a quarter of a mile distant and she arrived breathless, but burst in through the heavy oaken doors, calling her stepson-in-law’s name. The place seemed deserted. Nothing stirred in the cold, eerie space and the only sound was her voice echoing back at her.

Dawn’s heart was in her mouth as she hurried outside. Usually she would be happy to avoid the dratted man; now when she needed him, he’d disappeared. She had a feeling of dread rolling in her stomach. Intuitively she knew that Eleanor was in immediate need of a doctor’s care.

‘Mrs Fenton?’

Dawn whipped around at the sound of that familiar baritone...a voice she had heard recently after a long, long silence from him. She stared almost without breathing as a tall male figure approached along the path. The pale sun behind his head was burnishing his fair hair with a silvery halo, making it impossible for her to read his expression. But she imagined her shock at seeing him was plain on her face.