The Dangerous Lord Darrington(15)

       
           



       



Guy should have been pleased-he had done his best to avoid Beth  Forrester and so far he had succeeded admirably. A full day's riding  yesterday had meant he had not seen the bewitching redhead at all and so  far today he had shared only a few words with her over breakfast. He  had spoken with Dr Compton when he had arrived to see Davey and made it  very clear that he was now anxious to get his friend home with all  speed. The good man had not failed him and all was now arranged for them  to leave in the morning.

He was enjoying a lively game of Halfpenny Loo with Davey and Sophie in  the drawing room; Lady Arabella was dozing in her chair and Beth had  excused herself, saying she had work to attend to. With luck, thought  Guy, he would only have to endure one more dinner and supper in her  company before leaving the Priory for good.

Guy caught himself up. Endure? He was being unfair; that was not the  way to describe what he felt in her company. No, her company was not a  penance. It was the loss of it that would be difficult.



Having seen Davey taken carefully back to his room and delivered into  the hands of his valet, Guy changed into his dark coat and satin knee  breeches in readiness for dinner, but he did not hurry downstairs. Beth  had shown little desire for his company since their walk together in the  ruins of the old church and, much as he wanted to see her, he decided  it would be better for them both to spend as little time together as  possible. He therefore remained in his room until he judged it almost  time for dinner to be announced. His soft-soled shoes made little noise  on the boards and his descent into the great hall was not noticed by the  two people deep in conversation there. Beth and her butler were  standing to one side of the staircase, talking earnestly. Their voices  were hushed, but the bare stone floor and walls of the chamber meant  their voices floated up the stairs to meet him.

'He's very restless, ma'am,' Kepwith was saying, an anxious note in his  usually expressionless voice. 'I don't think he should be alone.  Perhaps Miss Sophie … '

'No.' Beth's reply was emphatic. 'We will not worry Sophie with this. I  will go down to him as soon as we have finished dinner.'

'I wish you would let me send for Dr Compton, madam.'

'And so I shall, if the situation warrants it, but I do not think it is  so very bad. You will let me have the keys after dinner and I shall  attend-' She broke off when she became aware of someone on the stairs  and glanced up at him.

Good God, what have I done to deserve such a look?

It was gone so quickly that Guy could almost believe he had imagined  the horror in her eyes. Not for the world would he be so uncivil as to  mention it. He said, 'I beg your pardon. I could not help  overhearing-has Mr Davies suffered a relapse? He was well enough when he  was taken back up to his room … '

'No, no, I was merely reassuring Kepwith that Mr Davies is going on  very well.' She turned back to the butler: 'You may go now. And announce  dinner as soon as possible, if you please.'

With a bow the old retainer walked away and she watched him in silence  for a moment until the chiming of the clock recalled her attention. She  said, 'I feared I should be the last to come down to dinner.'

He knew her society smile was designed to keep him at a distance and he  responded in kind, holding out his arm to her. 'Shall we go in together  then, ma'am, and brave Lady Arabella's wrath?'



Guy watched Beth during dinner. She looked serene enough, but he  noticed that she merely toyed with her food and seemed distracted,  almost impatient for the meal to be over. It did not surprise him,  therefore, when he returned to the drawing room after spending the  minimum amount of time enjoying his brandy in solitary state, that only  Sophie and her grandmother were waiting for him. They were playing  backgammon and Guy declined their invitation for him to take a turn and  very soon he excused himself, saying there were letters he wanted to  write.

He made his way directly to Davey's room, where he found his friend sleepy after enjoying a good meal and a bottle of wine.

'Has Mrs Forrester been here?' asked Guy without preamble.

'Not since this morning, when Compton called,' returned Davey, yawning.

'Are you sure you are telling me the truth?'

'Of course I am! Why should I lie to you?'

Guy frowned. 'Your leg is not paining you? Or mayhap your ribs hurt, after being carted downstairs today?'

'Nothing out of the way,' replied Davey. 'In fact, I would have been  happy to be carted downstairs, as you phrase it, to join you all for  dinner, only Compton would not hear of it. He said I could only be  brought down to the drawing room in the afternoon as long as I promised  to rest after that, ready for our journey tomorrow.' He sighed, wincing  as the breath pulled at his ribs. 'You know Guy, glad as I shall be to  get back to Highridge, I shall miss the company here.'                       
       
           



       

'One young lady's company in particular, no doubt.'

Davey grinned, his boyish face flushing.

'Miss Sophie is an angel, is she not? So accomplished, witty, delightfully unspoiled-'

'Have a care, Davey,' cried Guy, startled. 'She is also very young.'

'Eighteen.' Davey nodded. 'I shall have to go slowly, but I am in  earnest, Guy. And I think she likes me, too. I wonder if my sister would  come and look after me? There could be no objection then to Sophie  visiting … '

Guy laughed and clapped him on one shoulder. 'You must write and ask  her, once you are safely back at Highridge! But for now you must rest,  my friend. We have a long journey tomorrow.'

Reassured on one point, Guy left, but other questions nagged at him as  he made his way back to his room. If Kepwith was not referring to Davey,  then who was he concerned for? A servant, possibly, but if that was the  case why should Beth want him to believe they were talking about Davey?  He rubbed his chin. She had distinctly said she would go down to him  and had asked Kepwith for his keys.

He stopped. A sudden memory came to him of the night Miles Radworth had  demanded more wine. Beth had been at great pains to ensure that he did  not fetch it himself.

Guy began to walk again, past the door to his allotted room and through  the winding passages that led to the back stairs where he had surprised  Beth a few nights ago. There was no one in sight, but the clatter of  dishes and voices echoing from below told him that the servants were  busy. He hesitated for only a moment before setting off down the stairs.  However unusual it might look, he was determined to get to the bottom  of this.

He descended into darkness, for the warren of service rooms that ran  beneath the main house was underground with only a few windows high in  the walls of the kitchen and servants' hall, and no natural light at all  in the central passageway. A single lamp glowed on the wall and it took  a few moments for his eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom. The passage  stretched away before him with several blocks of light spilling out on  to the floor from the open doorways. There was no one in sight, but  shadows occasionally fell across the doorways and the noise and chatter  he could hear suggested it was the kitchens. An open door opposite the  stairs showed him the lamp room and he quickly helped himself to one of  the bedroom candles that were arranged neatly on a narrow shelf.

Lighting his candle from the lamp, he headed away from the kitchens to a  door beneath the stairs, leading back under the older part of the  house. He reasoned that the stone undercroft of the old building would  make an ideal wine cellar. The same reasoning told him that if the door  did indeed lead to the wine store then it would be locked and Kepwith or  Beth would have the key. Nevertheless, after coming this far it was  only natural that he should try the door.

It opened easily.

Guy slipped inside and closed the door behind him. A quick glance  showed that his guess had been correct. He was in a large stone vault,  the walls of which were lined from floor to ceiling with bottles of  wine. The lower racks were grey with dust. He remembered Beth brushing  the dirt from her skirts and nodded to himself. There was a chaotic  pattern on the dusty floor indicating that the butler had made  innumerable trips to the cellars to collect wine for the table. As Guy  moved away from the door he could see more distinct footprints on the  floor. The wine racks ended and he found himself walking between neatly  piled trunks and boxes and the occasional piece of heavy wooden  furniture, no longer required by the family upstairs. As he held his  candle aloft the soft glow showed him a heavy wooden door in the stone  wall ahead of him. Cautiously he tried the handle. It turned easily,  silently, as if it had been recently oiled. He opened the door an inch  and paused, listening intently. From the far side of the door he could  hear the murmur of voices then, louder, a distinct groan. Gently he  pushed the door and it swung open with a whisper to reveal another  gloomy vault. This one looked as if it had at some stage been used as a  stable, for there were high wooden partitions projecting halfway across  the floor. A soft glow of lamplight could be seen between two of the  partitions. Guy extinguished his candle, closed the door behind him and  moved forwards silently, stopping for a moment as he heard Beth's voice.