accident.’
‘Miss Amberley, I didn’t for a moment imagine that the wine was hurled deliberately. Lady Hetherington has a rather, er, hasty temper, and is inclined to fly off the proverbial handle. She didn’t mean to say some of the things she did.’
Didn’t she? Blanche was of the opinion that spiteful Athena had meant every unkind shrewish word, and that Sir Edmund Brandon was laboring under a grave misapprehension where hisbeloved was concerned.
He glanced back at the carriage. ‘Well, perhaps I should take my leave of you now. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Good night, Miss Amberley.’
‘Good night, Sir Edmund.’
But as he turned to go, he halted suddenly, putting a hand out to the door to steady himself. She heard his breath catch, and saw the swift glance of pain on his face. His hand moved convulsively , seizing roughly upon the Christmas wreath and wrenching it from the string tying it to the door knocker. There was a deathly pallor on his skin, and beads of perspiration on his forehead as he stood there, his head bowed as he waited for a spasm of deep pain to pass.
She put an anxious hand on his arm. ‘Sir Edmund?’
‘Forgive me, Miss Amberley, I fear I’m not yet in full health.’
‘Can I get you a glass of water? A cognac, perhaps?’
‘There’s no need.’ He drew a long breath and raised his hand. ‘It’s passed now. I’m rather afraid I’ve ruined your Christmas decoration.’ He held out the crumpled wreath.
‘It can be mended, Sir Edmund,’ she replied, taking it.
‘I trust you didn’t labor too long over it.’
‘Not at all, but even if I had, making Christmas decorations is such an agreeable pastime that I would not mind doing it again.’
‘You’re too kind, Miss Amberley.’
She looked at him. ‘Sir Edmund, are you often taken ill like this?’
‘More often than I would wish.’
‘I’m very sorry.’
He smiled. ‘So am I, Miss Amberley, so am I.’ He glanced back toward the waiting carriage, where Lady Hetherington sat with her face still averted from the cottage, having witnessed nothing. ‘Good night again, Miss Amberley,’ he said.
‘Good night, Sir Edmund.’
She remained by the door as he retraced his steps to the gate and the waiting carriage. As he climbed in and closed the door, Richards urged the team forward again, and the carriage bowled across the road toward the armorial gates, which swung open asit approached. The lodgekeeper snatched off his hat as the carriage passed through and then vanished among the evergreen trees and shrubs that formed a screen to hide the park from the road. The drive curved away toward the big house, following a circuitous route that was intended to show off as much of the estate as possible.
Blanche listened until the sound of the carriage dwindled away into the night, and then she turned to lift the latch on the door, stepping inside to find Hannah waiting anxiously with the lighted candlestick.
‘You shouldn’t have dallied on the doorstep like that, Miss Blanche, not after what happened on the way home,’ the housekeeper said, putting the candlestick down on a little table on which stood a bowl of holly and ivy, and then coming to relieve Blanche of the crumpled wreath. ‘Whatever happened to this?’
Blanche explained. ‘I fear Sir Edmund isn’t at all well yet,’ she finished.
‘So it seems. Well, he’ll be even less well after a Christmas spent with that shecat, but that’s his problem.’
Blanche removed her cloak, shivering because the whitewashed hallway with its garlands of festive greenery wasn’t the warmest of places.
Hannah took the cloak. ‘I’ll warm some water for a bath, Miss Blanche, and I’ll put some nettle flower balm in it.’
‘There’s no need, Hannah,’ replied Blanche, putting her reticule and gloves down on the table next to the candlestick.
‘Come the morning you’ll be feeling quite bruised, my dear, so you must take a bath,
‘Miss Amberley, I didn’t for a moment imagine that the wine was hurled deliberately. Lady Hetherington has a rather, er, hasty temper, and is inclined to fly off the proverbial handle. She didn’t mean to say some of the things she did.’
Didn’t she? Blanche was of the opinion that spiteful Athena had meant every unkind shrewish word, and that Sir Edmund Brandon was laboring under a grave misapprehension where hisbeloved was concerned.
He glanced back at the carriage. ‘Well, perhaps I should take my leave of you now. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Good night, Miss Amberley.’
‘Good night, Sir Edmund.’
But as he turned to go, he halted suddenly, putting a hand out to the door to steady himself. She heard his breath catch, and saw the swift glance of pain on his face. His hand moved convulsively , seizing roughly upon the Christmas wreath and wrenching it from the string tying it to the door knocker. There was a deathly pallor on his skin, and beads of perspiration on his forehead as he stood there, his head bowed as he waited for a spasm of deep pain to pass.
She put an anxious hand on his arm. ‘Sir Edmund?’
‘Forgive me, Miss Amberley, I fear I’m not yet in full health.’
‘Can I get you a glass of water? A cognac, perhaps?’
‘There’s no need.’ He drew a long breath and raised his hand. ‘It’s passed now. I’m rather afraid I’ve ruined your Christmas decoration.’ He held out the crumpled wreath.
‘It can be mended, Sir Edmund,’ she replied, taking it.
‘I trust you didn’t labor too long over it.’
‘Not at all, but even if I had, making Christmas decorations is such an agreeable pastime that I would not mind doing it again.’
‘You’re too kind, Miss Amberley.’
She looked at him. ‘Sir Edmund, are you often taken ill like this?’
‘More often than I would wish.’
‘I’m very sorry.’
He smiled. ‘So am I, Miss Amberley, so am I.’ He glanced back toward the waiting carriage, where Lady Hetherington sat with her face still averted from the cottage, having witnessed nothing. ‘Good night again, Miss Amberley,’ he said.
‘Good night, Sir Edmund.’
She remained by the door as he retraced his steps to the gate and the waiting carriage. As he climbed in and closed the door, Richards urged the team forward again, and the carriage bowled across the road toward the armorial gates, which swung open asit approached. The lodgekeeper snatched off his hat as the carriage passed through and then vanished among the evergreen trees and shrubs that formed a screen to hide the park from the road. The drive curved away toward the big house, following a circuitous route that was intended to show off as much of the estate as possible.
Blanche listened until the sound of the carriage dwindled away into the night, and then she turned to lift the latch on the door, stepping inside to find Hannah waiting anxiously with the lighted candlestick.
‘You shouldn’t have dallied on the doorstep like that, Miss Blanche, not after what happened on the way home,’ the housekeeper said, putting the candlestick down on a little table on which stood a bowl of holly and ivy, and then coming to relieve Blanche of the crumpled wreath. ‘Whatever happened to this?’
Blanche explained. ‘I fear Sir Edmund isn’t at all well yet,’ she finished.
‘So it seems. Well, he’ll be even less well after a Christmas spent with that shecat, but that’s his problem.’
Blanche removed her cloak, shivering because the whitewashed hallway with its garlands of festive greenery wasn’t the warmest of places.
Hannah took the cloak. ‘I’ll warm some water for a bath, Miss Blanche, and I’ll put some nettle flower balm in it.’
‘There’s no need, Hannah,’ replied Blanche, putting her reticule and gloves down on the table next to the candlestick.
‘Come the morning you’ll be feeling quite bruised, my dear, so you must take a bath,
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