“I am not at all fatigued, Annabel. By all means, introduce Miss Fell now so that she may retire.”

  The ladies proceeded to the drawing room, followed by Richard, who would far rather have hidden in his library. He would be needed to carry Miss Fell up again, however.

  Miss Fell rose as they entered. She was presented as the daughter of a mythical Charlotte Fell, nee Davis.

  “I do not remember a Charlotte Davis,” remarked Miss Carstairs as Miss Fell curtseyed rather shakily. “Sit down, child, before you collapse.”

  “Oh, she was married from home, immediately she left school. A childhood sweetheart she was forever talking about. She never did come up to Town; her husband’s father was an invalid, and then she had children. I don’t suppose you ever met her; but she was my dearest friend, and we have corresponded constantly.” Lady Annabel, startled by her own powers of invention, hated lying to her sister-in-law, but to tell her she was being asked to chaperone a stranger who had been found alone at dawn on the moors was unthinkable.

  “Indeed,” pronounced Miss Carstairs, bowing her head regally. “Most generous of you to sponsor her daughter for a Season, my dear Annabel.”

  “Oh, no, Florence, Miss Fell is past the age of being brought out in form and presented. She will merely visit us in London and help me take Lucy about.”

  “I see. Well, child, you look to be exhausted. You had best take Richard’s arm and retire to your bed. How unfortunate that you should have had an accident at such a time.”

  Miss Fell was indeed looking white and tired. She had just realized that she must spend ten days or two weeks alone with this formidable old lady, and how was she to answer the questions that must inevitably come?

  Lady Annabel was not worried. Miss Carstairs was little interested in other people’s affairs and not at all inquisitive. She generally divided her time between endless petit point and the perusal of equally endless books of sermons. She was more likely to discourse on missionary work in India than on anything closer to home. Unfortunately, Lady Annabel had not thought to reassure Miss Fell on that point, and it was a nervous young woman who murmured, “Thank you, ma’am, my lady,” and took Richard’s proffered arm as instructed. With his aunt’s eye upon him, Richard did not dare to pick her up, but lent her as much support as he could to the door.

  Fortunately, it was not far. As he closed the door behind them, she swayed and he turned just in time to catch her. Full of concern, he furiously, if silently, damned his aunt and picked up the burden that was becoming so familiar to him.

  Miss Fell was not unconscious, merely dizzy.

  “I should not have let you walk,” Richard said ruefully. “You can see how terrified I am of my aunt.”

  She gave him a wavering smile.

  “It is good of her to come all this way to care for me,” she replied, “but I am a little afraid of her also.”

  “I shall not let her eat you,” he promised lightly.

  A maid was waiting in her chamber, alerted by the butler. The bed was folded back and Richard laid Miss Fell upon it, then tucked her in. He remembered doing the same for Lucy when she was four or five, and the deed made him feel very brotherly.

  “Sleep,” he ordered, “and do not let anything worry you.”

  Sleepy already, she watched him leave the room and wished, very deliberately, that she had a brother like him. She could not allow herself to wish for anything more.

  The following morning, Lucy popped in to see her early.

  “I’ve brought you Count Casimir’s Castle, Clara,” she said after inquiring whether she had slept well. “I fear I shall not have time to read to you today. There are a thousand things to be done, for we depart tomorrow. So I will leave it for you to read.”

  “Oh no, you must take it with you. Indeed, I believe that if you do not continue reading of her adventures you will lie awake nights wondering what fearful events have befallen the fair Melisande. You shall write and tell me the end of her troubles.”

  “I do not see how she is to escape the wicked Count. Clara, do you think you were running from such a sinister fate?”

  “I cannot think so. This, after all, is England and the nineteenth century, not Transylvania in the fifteenth. Our time is much more prosaic, I fear. I shall miss your reading, Lucy dear, and your cheerful presence. What shall I do without you?”

  “Shall I bring you some other books? If you are unoccupied, my aunt may offer you her sermons, and I am sure I can find you something more amusing. I shall ask Richard if there is anything in the library you might like. What kind of reading do you prefer?”

  “That is more than I can tell! Lucy, do not bother Mr. Carstairs. He must be very busy today.”

  “Well, I shall tell Tony to select you some volumes.”

  Miss Fell’s protests were unheeded. Lucy went off to help her mother prepare for the three-day carriage ride and several months’ absence from home. Midway through the morning she reappeared with an armful of novels and poetry, followed by Richard and Lord Denham each bearing a load of histories, biographies, travelers’ tales, books of prints and a variety of other volumes.

  “Here you are,” announced Richard cheerfully. “Whatever your taste, you must find sufficient reading matter here to last for months.”

  “Indeed, you should not have troubled, Mr. Carstairs.”

  “Miss Lucy painted such a pathetic picture of your lying in your sickbed surrounded by sermons,” explained Lord Denham, “that we could do no less.”

  Lucy surveyed the scene with disapproval.

  “We cannot leave these all over the floor. I think there is an unused bookshelf in the room beside yours, Lord Denham. Pray come and help me find it.”

  They departed.

  “You are very kind, Mr. Carstairs,” Miss Fell thanked him. “I confess I cannot appreciate Count Casimir as I ought without Lucy’s exclamations and comments as leavening. These will be a most welcome alternative.”

  “We shall place them where you can reach them from your bed,” said Richard seriously, “but I trust you will soon be strong enough to make use of the library. When you are able to be about, I beg you will treat this house as your home: the library, the music room, the gardens. I believe my mother has instructed Mary to wait on you, so if there is anything you need, tell her. I shall return in about a fortnight; and if you are well enough, I shall escort you to London. In the meantime, do not let my Aunt Florence browbeat you.”

  “Miss Carstairs came to see me this morning and she was most cordial and sympathetic. Everyone is so kind to me. I cannot hope to repay it; I must study to deserve it.”

  “Be a friend to my sister and a companion to my mother, and we shall be your family as long as you need us. The Carstairs do not abandon those in trouble.”

  So, thought Miss Fell sadly as he left her, I am nothing to him but a family obligation. Well, I am lucky to be that, in truth. I could have been found by anyone. Or no one.

  Her reverie was interrupted by a heavy tread in the passage, a crash, and a thump on the door, which heralded Lord Denham and a footman, James, bearing between them a large carved oak bookcase, hideously ornate. Moving a chair, they placed it by the bed. Lord Denham sat down on the chair with a groan and wiped his forehead, while James started putting books on the shelves.

  “Whew! That must weigh half a ton!” complained his lordship, fanning himself. “I hope only that it will not give you nightmares, Miss Fell. Look at those devilish dragons climbing the sides!”

  “Lord Denham, you should not have been carrying that. Surely there is another servant…”

  “Lucy’s orders.” He grinned. “Thomas was called away to sit on a trunk that could not be closed and since he was to take it downstairs thereafter, I decided the bookcase would be lighter. I do not think it is, however. What a frightful piece of furniture! But Lucy would have it that you could not have books cluttering up your chamber a moment longer. I’d have made her do it had her mama not summoned her.”

  Miss Fell laughed.

  “Lucy cannot have been serious, my lord. Though she is so excited about going to London that I am sure she cannot think straight. I believe she has not sat still for a moment all morning.”

  Richard popped his head round the door.

  “There you are, Tony. Let us get out of this madhouse before my mother finds me anything else to do. Begging your pardon, Miss Fell. Your room is a haven of quiet in Bedlam, but we are not safe even here. You will excuse me if I take Tony to inspect the stables before we are caught.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Carstairs. I give you my word I will not reveal your whereabouts. My lips are sealed.”

  They had not been gone five minutes when Lucy reappeared. “I thought Richard was here,” she said crossly. “I want him to persuade mama to let me ride part of the way instead of traveling in that stuffy carriage.”

  “He is not here, as you see, my dear. I daresay you will find him shortly. Are you still very busy?”

  “Mama says I am just in the way,” was the disconsolate answer. “Only because I cannot decide whether to take my blue riding dress or the brown one with yellow trim. I shall have new ones when we reach London anyway, so I cannot see that it matters. Oh, Clara, have you ever been to Town? I suppose you do not know. I cannot wait to see the shops and theatres and the wild beasts at the Exchange. To go to proper balls instead of parties with just three or four couples in someone’s drawing room, or those stuffy assemblies at York. Oh, do not tell Richard I said that. He does not know that when mama and I went to stay with my Aunt Blanche last winter, we went to the balls at York. Mama said he would disapprove of mixing with hoi polloi, but what the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over. You will not mention it?”

  “I am very good at keeping secrets, chatterbox,” assured Miss Fell. “Tell me about the ball gowns you will have made up.”

  A discussion of silks and satins and sarcenets ensued, of the relative merits of matching and contrasting ribbons, of embroidery and lace. Lucy fetched copies of La Belle Assembleé and brown head and copper bent together over the fashion plates in earnest consultation.

  Before they had grown tired of this occupation, Mary arrived with a tray for Miss Fell.

  “There be luncheon in the breakfast room, Miss Lucy,” she announced. “My lady says tha mun come soon, if tha wants to eat.”

  “Thank thee, Mary,” said Lucy. “I’ll see thee later, Clara.”

  “Oh, Miss Lucy do be a caution,” giggled the maid. “Does tha want owt else, miss?”

  Miss Fell dismissed her and turned to her tray. Her appetite was returning rapidly, and indeed Chef Pierre’s creations would have tempted the most jaded of palates. Every tray she received bore new delicacies, yet contrived to offer nothing that might offend an invalid’s touchy appetite. She thought it fortunate that the master of the kitchen would be traveling to London on the morrow, or she would soon grow quite plump.

  After luncheon Lady Annabel came to see her and was delighted to see the empty tray.

  “My dear,” she said, “I am so pleased to see you eating well. You were nothing but skin and bones when Richard found you, you know. When Dr. Grimsdale examined you, I could count every rib.”

  “I am so well fed, Lady Annabel, I shall grow fat if I am not soon able to exercise”

  “You must rest and grow strong. I hear you had visitors all morning. You had better sleep for a while now. If you should not dislike it, Miss Carstairs will come and sit with you after her nap. You need not fear that she will ask you questions you cannot answer, she has the greatest horror of gossip and of prying into other people’s concerns. I daresay she will read you a sermon or two, but you will bear that.”

  “May I get up later, ma’am?”

  “The house is all at sixes and sevens at present. You shall come down after dinner, on condition that you allow Richard to carry you. He told me that you fainted yesterday.”

  “If Mr. Carstairs does not object…”

  “Of course he does not, child. After today, however, you must rely on Thomas to help you about. Let that be an inducement to you to recover quickly. Now rest.”

  By dinnertime the entrance hall was piled high with trunks and boxes and bundles. Richard had always kept only a skeleton staff at the house in Cavendish Square, as his mother had not ventured to London since his father’s death. Besides Monsieur Pierre, two abigails, a valet, a maid, a footman and two grooms would precede or accompany the party, not to mention Old Ned, the coachman. The huge old traveling carriage, once the height of elegance, had been reupholstered and polished till it shone.

  “It is. quite out of date,” stated Lucy disparagingly. “I shall be ashamed to ride in such an old-fashioned contraption. I should think it would need six horses to pull it.”

  “It was good enough to take you to Arnden, and it will get you to London,” said her brother without sympathy. “Unless you had rather postpone your journey until I can order a new vehicle from the coach-builder?”

  “It is not very comfortable, nor fast,” Lady Annabel agreed with Lucy. “Perhaps when we reach Town we might look at some of the newer carriages, Richard?”

  “As you please, mama. Had you suggested it several months ago, we might have had one by now.”

  “Oh, a London carriage would be far more elegant, I am sure,” cried Lucy. “In Leeds they only know how to build hideous things like this. Let us find a new one at once in London, and then Richard may fetch Clara in it.”

  “I hope you will find my town carriages unexceptionable, Lucy, or you will be so busy at the coach-maker you will have no time for the dressmaker.”

  The evening seemed endless to Lucy who was full of impatience to be off. Richard also found it passing with excruciating slowness. He had been ordered to take a hand at piquet with his aunt, who had no reticence about criticizing his play in acid tones.

  Miss Fell watched them both with amusement, which was shared by Lord Denham.

  “I do not know how Lucy will survive till bedtime,” he whispered to her, as Lucy jumped up and wandered restlessly around the room. “And as for Richard, he is generally considered an excellent player at piquet.”

  “It is strange, is it not, how Miss Carstairs sets him all at sixes and sevens? To me she has been perfectly amiable.”

  “She is not your aunt, Miss Fell. I have just such an aunt myself. She would put the fear of death into the devil himself.”

  “Lucy, you had better go and play the pianoforte if you cannot sit still,” said Lady Annabel crossly. “Tomorrow will come no sooner for your jumping up and down.”

  “I should like to hear you play,” Miss Fell said. “Lord Denham, perhaps you would help me to the music room. No, do not carry me, I must try to walk. It is not far”

  Richard watched anxiously as she moved shakily into the next room, leaning heavily on Lord Denham’s arm. His inattention to his cards drew a biting rebuke from Miss Carstairs.

  When Miss Fell was guided to a couch and settled on it, she seemed none the worse for her effort, though she could feel her heart beating rapidly. She thanked Lord Denham, who said, “You must excuse me, if you please. I am no musician, as Miss Lucy knows, so I shall go and sit with Lady Annabel.”

  Lucy pouted a little, but she was not vain about her performance and did not protest. She played several lively tunes with great vigor and considerable charm and then started on a pavane. The slow, stately dance emerged mangled from her fingers. Miss Fell winced. In the next room, Richard and his mother exchanged despairing glances, and Miss Carstairs looked up in outrage.

  “Annabel, if your daughter can play only gavottes and gigs, she should not offend our ears with such distressing incompetence. Let her cultivate a light style and leave pieces requiring sensitivity to those who are sensitive!”

  “Indeed, Florence, I constantly remind her to play only lively pieces in company. There, it is nearly over.”

  Lord Denham, though unable to comprehend their horror, went over to the piano and said tactfully, “Let us have a jolly tune, Miss Lucy. Such solemn stuff does not suit your sparkling eyes.”

  “Fie, Lord Denham,” she replied, looking up at him archly through her lashes. “You said yourself you are no connoisseur of music.”

  “But I am a connoisseur of young ladies’ eyes, and yours make me think of waltzes, not dirges. Come, will you promise me your first waltz at Almack’s?”

  “La, sir, I daresay the lady patronesses will not permit me to waltz.”

  “What, with every gentleman in the room begging for an introduction?”

  Lucy blushed. The evident admiration in Lord Denham’s face was very flattering, but used only to the clumsy compliments of provincial beaux, she was unsure how to answer.

  Lord Denham, amused, accepted the blush as sufficient reply. “I shall haunt Almack’s so as not to miss the fateful moment.” He lifted her hand and kissed it lightly. “Now play me a waltz that I may dream we are dancing already.”

  Miss Fell had followed the conversation with interest. She wondered if Lord Denham had serious intentions. They would make a charming couple, she thought, but she had been acquainted with Lucy long enough to know that she needed a strong hand on the reins to check her liveliness at times. She suspected Lord Denham was far too lazy to curb her high spirits, and sooner or later that might lead to trouble. However, it was not her problem, though she must take an interest in the fate of one who was becoming as dear to her as Lucy undoubtedly was.

  Richard, his game over to his vast relief, watched the tête-à-tête with very different feelings. Lord Denham would be an extremely eligible husband for his sister, and how delightful to have his best friend become his brother-in-law. He had always stood as much in the position of father to Lucy as a brother, and though her vivacity sometimes led her into mischief or beyond the line of what was pleasing, he had always been able to quell her with a word. He made his way into the music room now with unalloyed pleasure in the hope of her marrying the heir of a marquis and such a good fellow.