Toblethorpe Manor Read Free Page B

years at Cambridge and a couple of seasons in London under the aegis of his uncle, Lord Mortlake, had smoothed the corners of his character. He was able to hold his own in any society, though he relaxed only among close friends and family. His essential arrogance was blunted by courtesy, but it was not diminished, nor, indeed, would Lord Mortlake, a high stickler, have approved of anything less. He had introduced his nephew to the ton and made sure that he frequented only the best society. He had watched indulgently as the young man had gone through the usual discreet liaisons with opera dancers, but when Richard had seemed to be attracted by a most ineligible young person, the daughter of some obscure country gentry, he had promptly nipped the affair in the bud.
    Not that it was necessary. Richard was perfectly aware of the unsuitability, and was merely being kind to the distant cousin of a particular crony.
    Lady Annabel could not complain that Richard was not kind. He was a perfect son and brother and always ready to come to the aid of anyone in distress. He spent a good deal of time at home, supervising and improving his estate, and was on easy, though far from intimate, terms with the neighbors. He had friends to stay occasionally, especially Lord Denham, and went visiting in the hunting season. Lady Annabel would be perfectly satisfied with him for months at a time.
    Yet she had listened in repressed horror as he had discussed cold-bloodedly whether Miss Fell were well born or not, as if it were the only important point, as if she were not desperately ill a few feet above his head. Hurrying up the stairs, she wondered what revelations lay in store for her in London. She had not seen her son in Society, and rather dreaded the prospect. Finding a husband for Lucy, she suspected, would be a far easier task than finding a bride who would satisfy her son’s stringent requirements as to birth. She did not begin to know what he might expect in the way of beauty or character. However, she was determined to find a wife for him. Her mother’s eye had pierced the shell of self-sufficiency surrounding him and saw within the loneliness and lack of assurance that were so well masked by his arrogance.
    “He must marry,” she decided, “and he must marry for love.”
    The door of the Blue Bedchamber was ajar. It had not warranted its name for years, being decorated in cheerful yellow and russet. The bed hangings of buttercup silk were pulled back, and Nurse was sitting on the edge of the bed, bathing with lavender water the hot face that tossed and turned on the rumpled pillow. She rose and bobbed a curtsy as her mistress entered.
    “She’m bin this way a half-hour, my lady. So quiet and still as she was to start, then all of a suddenlike she were a-mutterin’ away, an’ the flush come to her face. I give her the doctor’s medicine, but it don’t seem to do no good.”
    “What did she say?” asked Lady Annabel eagerly.
    “Well, I can’t rightly tell you, my lady. I couldna make out the words till she cried out: ‘Oh pray, uncle, don’t!’ then she were incohairem again.”
    Lady Annabel sat down and felt the burning forehead, careful not to touch the court plaster on the left temple.
    “Nurse, have Mrs. Bedford tell Cook to make some barley water.”
    “Indeed, my lady, that Cook is a great ignomalous. Them furriners don’t know how to prepare a nice barley water for a sick young lady. I better make it wi’ my own two han’s.”
    “Now, Nurse, you know how upset Monsieur Pierre gets if anyone invades his kitchen. Just give the message to Mrs. Bedford, and then I will need your help here. You had better call one of the maids; Mary will do.”
    “Very well, my lady. As you says.” Nurse heaved a heavy sigh and went on her errand.
    Lady Annabel was at last able to turn her full attention to the patient. The thin face was not that of a young girl. The red hair and firm chin suggested a certain strength of