Toblethorpe Manor Read Free

guess from a recent severe beating. No sign of previous beatings. Such things usually leave permanent marks.”
    Dr. Grimsdale had left a sleeping draught and a concoction to be administered in case of fever. The stranger slept deeply, watched over by Lucy’s old nurse.
    Richard and Tony sat down to plates piled high with ham and eggs, kidneys, muffins and smoked haddock. Their hot chocolate at dawn seemed long ago. Lucy’s plate was only slightly less heaped, but Lady Annabel contented herself with a piece of toast and a cup of weak tea.
    “Lucy, my dear,” she protested, “it is most unladylike to eat such an amount.”
    “But, mama, I am so hungry. You would not have me starve, I am sure.” Her mother sighed.
    “Richard,” she said, “I cannot continue to refer to the young woman above stairs as ‘the young woman above stairs.’ We must decide what to call her before I can discuss the matter any further.”
    “Clarissa!” cried Lucy. “She is just like the heroine of a novel.”
    “I cannot think it necessary to provide her with a Christian name that she might well dislike excessively,” reproved her brother. “For the present a surname will be adequate. Any suggestions, Tony?”
    Lord Denham disposed of a mouthful of muffin. “What was the name of that place where we found her?”
    “Daws Fell.”
    “Why not call her Miss Daws, or perhaps Miss Fell?”
    “Such dull names,” protested Lucy.
    “Lucy!” Lady Annabel called her wayward daughter to order. “Either name seems unexceptionable, Lord Denham.”
    “Clarissa Daws, that sounds so common,” remarked the irrepressible Lucy, considering the choice. “Clarissa Fell has a more…a more romantic sound.”
    “Miss Fell let it be then,” decided Richard, “but I beg you will drop ‘Clarissa.’ Well, mama, now you are able to put a name to ‘the young woman above stairs,’ let us by all means discuss the situation.”
    “I cannot fault you, Richard, for rescuing Miss Fell, but it does complicate our plans. Lucy and I must go to London next week or there will be no time to order new clothes before the first parties of the Season. We have already received invitations, you know, as I informed dear Maria Allenby of Lucy’s coming out, and she is the greatest gossip in town.”
    “I would not for the world have you alter your plans, mama. I think Lucy would never speak to me again.”
    “But Miss Fell is very ill and needs a great deal of care, and how can I leave a young lady alone in the house with only the servants?”
    “We do not know that she is a lady. Certainly her clothes would suggest otherwise. I suspect she may be a governess or something of the sort.”
    “No, Richard, how can you be so prosaic,” said Lord Denham, grinning. “I am sure Miss Carstairs has recognized in Miss Fell a princess in disguise, or at the least, the daughter of a duke.”
    “You are teasing, my lord,” said Lucy crossly. “Richard, I do not wish to seem unfeeling, but I could not bear it if my first Season were to be spoiled. I have been waiting seventeen years for this moment.”
    “I shall send for Florence,” declared Lady Annabel in a voice that announced the ultimate solution.
    “Do you think my aunt would come?” queried Richard. “I cannot like asking her to nurse a stranger who, after all, was found in the most ambiguous circumstances.”
    “I shall not ask her to do any nursing. I hope my housekeeper and Nurse are capable of that! Your Aunt Florence has often mentioned to me how she would enjoy being invited to an empty house for once, with no necessity for entertaining or being entertained. Of course, she was funning,” (Richard and Lucy here exchanged speaking glances: Miss Florence Carstairs had never been known to joke) “yet I am sure she would find it restful after living in my brother-in-law’s house with his six children.”
    “I daresay you are right as always, mama. Jem can ride to Arnden with a note and return with an