Chapter Eleven

THE SCENE IN Harry’s room did not augur well for the future of the new relationship between Nell and her moody host. But to her surprise, he appeared at dinner that evening in a cheerful mood and spent the hours before bedtime with the two ladies in perfect amiability. The next day, which was unexpectedly bright and sunny, brought Nell an invitation to ride with him. Then, on the day following, during a rainy afternoon, he invited her to assist him in his researches into the military strategies of Marlborough. Before a week had passed, they found themselves enjoying a stimulating and pleasantly friendly intimacy.

Nell kept a strict guard on her tongue. As Mrs. Penloe had learned before her, Harry was immovable in his determination to cut himself off from his previous life, and Nell wisely decided to abide by his wishes. Once it became clear that neither would try to influence the other’s life, they were able to discuss even their pasts without embarrassment. During the following weeks, they spent part of each day in each other’s company. They talked incessantly. Nell told Harry about her feelings when she’d learned about her parents’ death in a terrible accident in their coach, and about the difficulties of life with Lady Sybil. She revealed, to Harry’s hearty amusement, the shocking facts of her three broken betrothals and the resulting ruin of her reputation among the ladies of Quality. On his part, Harry kept Nell fascinated with tales of his exploits on the Peninsula, the battles, the customs of the Spanish people he’d met, and the strange sights he’d seen. And one day, to his own surprise, he revealed to her the story of how he’d been wounded, how he’d hobbled for miles, delirious, parched and agonized, until he’d been found by a Spanish peasant who’d taken him in and whose wife had nursed him back to health. It was the first time he’d told the tale.

It had happened on a morning which was gray and threatening. Ignoring the ominous clouds, they had decided to ride. With Harry on Caceres and Nell on the mare, they had ridden out along the cliffs and finally stopped in the sheltered area that Nell had found so many days before. Sitting on the rocks and staring at the churning sea, Harry had found it soothing to tell the wide-eyed girl of his experiences—experiences that he’d relived so often in nightmares. As he spoke, his eyes fixed on the water below, he almost forgot she was there. Details of those terrible days, things he’d thought he’d forgotten, came back to him. He remembered the heat, his parched lips, the excruciating pain in his leg as the wound slowly festered. He’d found a tree branch to use as a crutch, but it was so rough that his hand and underarm were cut and blistered. After a while, his delirium took over. He imagined he was on a fox hunt, that he’d been unhorsed, and when he’d come upon the Spanish farmer he’d shouted, “Which way, man? Which way have they gone?”

There had been no doctor, and, in a moment of lucidity, he’d realized that his wound had become gangrenous. Under his direction, the Spanish farmer had been the surgeon. He had no doubt that the surgery had saved his life.

A low moan from Nell brought him back to the present. Aghast that he’d revealed so much, he stared in horror as she dropped to her knees beside him, her eyes brimming with tears, and laid her head gently on his left knee. “Oh, Harry,” she sobbed, “thank God you had the courage.”

“Confound it,” he muttered, trying to lift her head, “what a crack-brained fool I am! I should never have let my tongue run on so. It’s no tale for a young female to stomach. Forgive me, Nell.”

But she merely stared up at him, her eyes wide and full of something he refused to acknowledge to himself. Neither of them seemed able to move. At that moment, the storm which had been threatening all morning broke around them, the rain and wind whipping at their heads and backs. He put his hands on her shoulders to urge her to her feet, but their eyes remained locked, and she did not budge. There seemed to him to be nothing else to do but cup her face in his hands and bend his head to hers. It was natural to kiss her, as instinctive and artless as the violent waves below and the rain beating down on them.

After a long moment, a trickle of rain found its way behind his coat collar and ran down his back, bringing him back to sanity. He let her go abruptly. “We’re both crack-brained,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “Get up, girl, quickly! Let’s get back before you’re drenched through!”

She let him throw her on her horse without a word. He jumped on Caceres with an agility she always found amazing, and they galloped for home. By the time they dismounted in the stable, his manner had so completely reverted to pleasantly cordial friendship that she almost believed she’d dreamed the incident. Wet and shivering, she followed him back to the house, trying to ignore the feelings of confusion and anguish which his unaccountable behavior had roused in her.

During the morning, Amelia and Mrs. Penloe had also been having an intimate conversation. The weeks since Lord Thorne had revealed his presence had brought the two women into a close friendship. Initially, it had been their mutual affection for and interest in the young Earl that had brought them together, but time had revealed other compatabilities. Mrs. Penloe, well aware that her Cornish cooking had severe limitations, was delighted to learn that Lady Amelia was a collector of unusual recipes, and Amelia was only too happy to share her knowledge. The sharing of recipes soon led to a sharing of knowledge of medicinal and cosmetic concoctions, both women feeling a growing respect for the other’s aptitudes. And when Amelia discovered that Mrs. Penloe felt it necessary every few hours (just as Amelia did) to restore her spirits with a cup of hot tea, the budding relationship flowered into friendship.

It became their habit to cease their activities at mid-morning and take their tea together. Amelia insisted that Mrs. Penloe ignore her position as housekeeper, take off her apron and sit down at the tea table in the morning room as if she were one of the family. The tea was served by Gwinnys who was too ignorant of the ways of the gentry to be at all surprised by the procedure. After Gwinnys was dismissed, the two women enjoyed a comfortable “coz” on one or more of their various mutual interests. This morning, however, the topic had been Harry.

Mrs. Penloe had felt positively euphoric over Master Harry’s emergence from seclusion, but when day after day had passed without a real change in his attitude toward his inheritance, his responsibilities and his London life, she began to feel discouraged again. “I see nought to make me b’lieve he’ll ever take up his old life again,” she confided to Lady Amelia.

“Tush, woman,” Amelia objected, refilling both their cups, “you’re worrying needlessly. I have no doubt that he’ll come round in a month or two.”

Mrs. Penloe shook her head. “The boy can be stubborn as any nogglehead when he sets his mind to somethin’.”

“Rubbish! When Nell and I go back to London, I have no doubt at all that Henry will go with us.”

Mrs. Penloe peered over her spectacles at the lady opposite. “Be’ee plannin’ to leave soon?”

Amelia shrugged. “We’ve had no word from Lady Sybil and Lord Charles since we arrived. I tell you, Mrs. Penloe, a more ramshackle, thoughtless, irresponsible pair than they do not exist! But they can’t leave poor Nell to wither away here indefinitely. Not that I think she’s withering away at all, but as far as Charles and Sybil know she is. In any case, they are bound to relent and send for her sooner or later.”

“An’ you reckon Master Harry’ll go wi’ ’ee when you’re called back?”

“It’s my guess that something will happen before Charles and Sybil relent. Nell will persuade Henry to take us back as soon as she’s had her fill of Cornwall. With Henry with us, Charles and Sybil’s permission is completely unnecessary. Henry is the head of the family, after all.”

“Seems he’s the head of the family only if he wants to be. An’ he don’t want to be.”

“Don’t underestimate Nell’s influence with him, Mrs. Penloe,” Amelia said with a knowing smile. “She’s a strong-willed, persistent chit with taking ways. She’ll manage him, see if she won’t.”

“She hasn’t managed him yet,” Mrs. Penloe said dubiously.

“Give the girl a little time,” Amelia insisted. “A little more time is all she’ll need. We’re not in the suds yet, Mrs. Penloe. Just leave it to Nell.”

But Nell herself had no confidence that she had any influence with Harry. The times when she felt close to him occurred only when they discussed their pasts. The subject of the future was closed. If ever she broached it, his manner would become icy and she would retreat in haste.

When they returned from their rain-drenched ride, she quickly parted from him, claiming the necessity of changing her wet clothes. But she needed time to think, to try to understand the meaning of his conduct and the state of her own emotions. But Gwinnys hovered solicitously over her, prattling distractingly about the problems caused by her naggy relationship with Mrs. Penloe and her irritation with Jemmy, who was always under foot and who taunted her with the unmerciful glee of a little brother. By the time Nell was able to dismiss the abigail, she realized that it was time for luncheon and Amelia would be waiting.

Harry did not join the ladies for luncheon, but he found Nell soon afterward and bore her off to his study to show her a new map he’d discovered of the land surfaces of Blenheim, and she found herself alone with him without having had a chance to sort out properly the confusion of her feelings. Harry had obviously decided to treat the events of the morning as if they had not happened. Nell, however, had no wish to follow his lead. She had been kissed by several men in her rather wild past, but no kiss had so disturbed her equilibrium. She had no intention of ignoring so momentous an occurence. She fixed her eyes on him determinedly. “Are you going to spend the entire afternoon prosing on about Blenheim?” she asked bluntly.

He was standing opposite her at his work table, pointing out places of significance on the map he’d spread out between them. He looked up from the map in some dismay. “I didn’t know I was ‘prosing on.’ I’m sorry to be such a bore,” he said, mildly affronted. “I thought you were interested.”

“Of course I’m interested, ordinarily. But not today.”

“Oh?” he asked curiously. “Why not today?”

She frowned at him irritably. “Today was a bit unusual, was it not?” she asked candidly. “It’s not every day that I’m kissed like that.”

He glanced quickly at her, flushed and dropped his eyes. “Oh. I … I’m truly sorry about that. I hope you’ll forgive me. Can’t think what came over me, but I assure you I’ll not let it happen again.”

“Why not?”

This time he looked up at her incredulously. “What do you mean?” he asked, arrested.

“You heard me, my lord. Why won’t you let it happen again?”

His stare became suspicious. “Come now, Nell, don’t run sly with me. What mischief are you brewing?”

“No mischief at all. I’ve asked a simple question. Why, sir, is kissing me such a blunder that you must apologize for it? I can name several gentlemen who would give much for such a chance.”

“You needn’t bother to name them—I have no doubt their number is legion,” he said drily. “Now let us have done with this conversation. I find it most improper.”

“Do you indeed? Well, I’m not accounted a very proper young lady, so I don’t intend to ‘have done.’” She put her hands on the table and leaned across toward him. “The matter is important to me, Harry,” she said earnestly. “Why can’t you answer me?”

Her sudden seriousness discomfitted him. “You know the answer,” he muttered, turning his back on her and sitting on the edge of the table. “Why do you taunt me with it?”

“But I don’t, Harry, truly!” She sighed helplessly. “Is it … has it anything to do with Miss Manning?”

He lowered his head. “It has to do with me, don’t you see?” he said miserably. “I have nothing to offer to you or Edwina.”

“Nothing to offer?” Nell asked incredulously. “What do you mean? Good heavens, Harry, are you speaking of your leg?”

“I am only part of a man. You deserve more, my dear. Much more. And when you go back to London, you’ll realize I’m right.”

She clenched her teeth, strode around the table and confronted him. “You are a fool, Lord Thorne,” she said flatly. “A complete fool! You’ve exaggerated the significance of your impediment out of all proportion. And when you go back to London, you’ll realize that I’m right.”

He met her eye with a sigh of patient but dogged stubbornness. “I shan’t go back to London, girl. It will avail you nothing to keep insisting upon it. Do you think the ton would enjoy the sight of a cripple marring the festivities of their balls and squeezes—?”

“A cripple?” She winced at the word.

“Yes, a cripple. You’ve grown accustomed, here in our isolation, to my crutch and my clumsiness—”

“Clumsiness? I’ve never seen a sign of clumsiness. I constantly marvel at your adept management of your movements!”

“Perhaps, here in my own home, where my activities are limited to what I can easily manage. But can you truly see me at Almack’s? Or making my way through the crowds at Drury Lane? Or hobbling along the red carpet they roll out in front of Carlton House when a ball is in progress?”

“Yes, I can see you in all those places! Why not?”

“I’ll tell you why not,” he said bitterly. “Because the ton of London are frivolous pleasure-seekers. They do not want their amusements sullied by reminders of war and mutilation. Just as the blemishes on their faces are covered over with cosmetic waxes and the distortions of their figures are masked by girdles and braces, the sick, the ugly, the deformed are at best pitied and tolerated, but are more often hidden away or covered over or ignored. I want no place in such a world.”

Nell was pale and shaken by his words. “You cannot believe what you are saying! How can you think so little of the people of your own class—your own family, even. It would not be at all the way you think. People would honor you, admire you, seek you out! You would be welcome anywhere!”

Harry smiled mockingly. “What a romantic, childish bit of nonsense that was, my dear. You really should try to grow up a bit.”

“You may ridicule me if you like, my lord,” Nell said furiously, beginning to tremble at the knees, “but I think it is you who should grow up. You are like a spoiled little boy, sulking because his perfection has been impaired. I think you’re nothing but a coward!”

Harry laughed. “A coward, ma’am? You think to rouse me into changing my mind by infuriating me? It won’t work, you know. I’ve too many battles behind me—”

“Bravery in battle is child’s play compared with the bravery of facing one’s peers when one feels at a disadvantage,” she said quietly. “To go to London, now, feeling as you do—that would be true courage.”

“Perhaps,” he said and turned away from her with a deep sigh, “but I have no wish to test my courage in that arena. Have done, girl. This conversation is too painful for both of us.”

“Yes, I’ve done,” she said, clenching her trembling hands behind her. She went slowly to the door. “But I cannot stay here and watch you hide from the world like this.” She turned to face him once more. “I shall return to London as soon as it can be arranged.”

“As you wish,” he said with a nod, his lips compressed tensely. “It will no doubt be best for us both.”

“B-best?” she asked, dismayed, blinking her eyes to keep back the tears. “It’s the very worst that could happen to us, as you’ll f-find out to your sorrow before very l-long. But I … I d-don’t know what else to d-do.” She ran out, closing the door quickly behind her so that he would not see the tears which she could no longer keep from spilling over.

The next two days were the most painful Nell had yet lived through. Her abrupt decision to depart caused an almost hysterical flurry throughout the household. Gwinnys burst into tears at the news and would no sooner calm down when some reminder—seeing an open trunk in a bedroom, or overhearing a discussion of travel plans—would bring on a fresh outbreak of waterworks. Amelia took the news calmly enough but felt it was too precipitate, and she tried to urge Nell to postpone action for a while. Her suggestions were listened to politely—and ignored. Mrs. Penloe was beside herself with disappointment. Her beloved Master Harry had retreated to his apartment, and she was convinced that he was now in worse condition than before.

Harry kept to his rooms, insisting on the strictest privacy. Knowing that Mrs. Penloe couldn’t face him without haranguing him to accompany his aunt to London, he requested firmly that she refrain from bringing him his meals until she could accept his decision with complaisance. In the meantime, the only persons permitted to enter his rooms were Will and Jemmy, neither of whom saw anything amiss in his lordship’s desire to remain at Thorndene, and neither of whom would have dreamed of taking the liberty of discussing the matter with him.

Even his Aunt Amelia was denied permission to visit him. As a result, she spent the greater part of the few days left in trying to find a way to confront him. Finally she decided to write a letter to him. The day before they were to depart, she composed a lengthy letter which she slipped under his door. The letter, full of tear-spots and cross-hatched deletions, pleaded with him to Reconsider his Responsibilities, predicted that his continued Withdrawal would bring Dire Results for the Family, and begged him to do Something to prevent his Shockingly Cruel Aunt and Uncle, Lady Sybil and Lord Charles, from Forcing her Beloved Nell into an Unwanted Betrothal.

As a result of her emotional epistle, Lord Thorne emerged from his apartment on the morning of their departure. He found the members of the household gathered in the great hall. Before announcing his presence, he stood in the shadows watching them. Mrs. Penloe, red-eyed and overwrought, was embracing Lady Amelia fondly but despairingly. Jemmy, who had made Miss Nell a bouquet of evergreens, clutched the greens behind his back until he could work up the courage to present them to her. Will was assisting the coachman of a hired hack to carry out the trunks. The only cheerful countenance belonged to Gwinnys, who had managed to convince her mistress that she was indispensible and, to her unbounded delight, had been granted permission to accompany the ladies to London. The prospect not only of remaining in her mistress’s employ but of seeing the Great City, was so thrilling that even her beloved Miss Nell’s obvious unhappiness could not dampen her excitement.

Nell, enveloped in a numbing misery, stood near the open doorway, staring at nothing. Harry watched her from the shadows. She was dressed for travel in a hooded blue fur-trimmed cloak, her hands hidden in an enormous muff. The blue of the cloak and the dark fur circling her face suited her. It seemed to him he’d never seen her look so lovely. But he knew that it did him no good to stand there staring at her like a goggle-eyed schoolboy, and he roused himself abruptly. With an embarrassed cough, he came forward. The eager cries with which his appearance was greeted by his aunt and Mrs. Penloe made him brace himself with fist-clenching fortitude. “I’ve written a letter to Mr. Prickett,” he said to Nell, holding it out to her. “It authorizes him to pay Charles’ and Sybil’s debts and to increase their allowances. It also provides for an independence for yourself.”

Nell, her expression stony, shook her head and refused to take the letter. Harry shrugged and turned to Lady Amelia. “Here, my dear, you take it,” he said, smiling a little at her eager acceptance, “but I hope you’ll warn the Thornes that this does not mean I will countenance any communication from them, or any visits either. If they must reach me in an emergency—and please, Amelia, make it clear that only the most dire of circumstances should make this necessary—they should do so through Mr. Prickett. Oh, and most important of all, Amelia—no one else is to be told of this. No one at all!”

He accepted his aunt’s grateful embrace, wished them both a safe journey and stepped back. Will ushered Gwinnys out to the coach and helped her aboard, while the coachman performed the same service for Amelia. Jemmy, realizing that time had run out, thrust the bouquet into Nell’s arms and ran out the door, his ears red. Mrs. Penloe hugged the girl and turned away, weeping. Then Nell lifted her eyes to Harry’s. They stared at each other wordlessly, and she turned and walked swiftly out the door. Harry didn’t move until he’d heard the coach begin to crunch down the drive. Then he turned on his heel, hobbled quickly down the hall and up the stairs to his rooms, shutting the door behind him with a loud, reverberating slam.