Love Rescues Rosanna Page 6

  She watched as he drifted off into an uneasy doze and then turned to find Mr. Digby, the butler, standing waiting for her in the gloom.

  “He seems very weak,” she whispered.

  Mr. Digby nodded.

  “He is indeed, miss. No strength in him at all. He won’t eat, although cook has prepared some nourishing broths. Very upsetting it is to see the Master laid so low.”

  Behind them, the Earl began to mutter.

  “Angel – oh, angel, why don’t you come to me?”

  Rosanna bit her lip and allowed the butler to show her to her room. Obviously there was someone in the Earl’s life who would do him some good. Perhaps it would be in her power to find her and bring him some joy.

  *

  Later that evening, a little shabby figure could be seen walking slowly up the long driveway towards Donnington Hall.

  Edie Robinson had just alighted from the coach down in the village. She had been travelling all day from London and was exhausted.

  ‘Come on, Edie, pick your feet up smartish or my Lady will be wondering where you’re at,’ she said to herself, scowling apprehensively at a little group of black and white cows who were grazing nearby.

  She changed her heavy tapestry carry bag from one hand to the other so she could hit them if they came any closer.

  ‘Cor, fine old place this is,’ she muttered, staring up at the impressive outline of the Hall. ‘Fancy Lady Rosanna owning all this. Wouldn’t like to be a housemaid here. How about lugging coal up to those bedrooms! And bringing the ashes down again!’

  Edie had been Rosanna’s maid for two years now. At eighteen, but small for her age, she was very thin, with a halo of bright red curls which she forced under control by wearing her maid’s hat pulled down tightly onto her forehead.

  She had begun work with the Donningtons as a housemaid, but Rosanna and her mother had been taken by the young Cockney girl’s quickness and ability to get things done and promoted her to be Rosanna’s own personal maid.

  It had been unfortunate that Edie had been away visiting her family in the East End of London when Rosanna fled to Donnington Hall. She had followed as fast as she could, but had no idea of why her Mistress had left town so speedily.

  Edie made her way round to the back of the house and knocked on the servants’ door.

  The butler, Bates, was summoned and she was ushered into the kitchen.

  ‘Your Mistress is not here at present,” Bates told her. “I am not sure when she will return.”

  “Well, that’s a turn up,” Edie replied taking a large mouthful of the piece of cake the cook had offered her. “Where has she gone?”

  “Well, the county of Yorkshire was mentioned,” Bates said, gazing around him in an uneasy fashion, as if he was scared of being overheard.

  Edie stared at him, sensing that something was not quite right, but realising he was not going to tell her anything further just at present.

  “What do you think I should do then, Mr. Bates?”

  The butler hesitated.

  “I imagine it would be best if you perhaps helped with the sewing and laundry until my Lady returns.”

  “Righty ho!” Edie stood up and hoisted her bag into her arms. “If someone could just show me where to leave me bag, I’ll get started.”

  The maid Jenny who had been looking after Rosanna until Edie arrived was called and escorted the London girl upstairs.

  “She’s lovely, your Mistress,” she said as they climbed the steep back stairs to the attic rooms. “You’re very lucky being her maid.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Edie said brightly. “And this is a lovely old house. Do you like working here?”

  Jenny frowned.

  “It was very quiet when old Sir Leonard was alive. But things have got a bit livelier lately and that’s a fact.”

  Just as they reached the top corridor, a door opened and a man strode out. Broad shouldered and red faced, he looked very angry.

  The two girls flattened themselves against the wall as he flung open another door, peered inside and then slammed the door shut again.

  Suddenly he spotted the maids.

  “You, girl, who are you? I don’t recognise your face.”

  Edie bobbed a little curtsy to him. She knew very well who this was – Sir Walter Fenwick.

  “Edie Robinson, Sir. I’m Lady Rosanna’s maid, come down from London.”

  “And do you know where your Mistress is, Edie? I reckon she has told you where to meet her, eh?”

  Edie looked up at him, puzzled.

  “No, sir, I’ve no idea.”

  Sir Walter plucked a small coin out of his pocket and held it in front of her eyes.

  “Here, my dear. Perhaps this will jog your memory!”

  Edie stiffened.

  She had heard a lot of gossip about Sir Walter and was surprised to find him here. But Edie was older than her years. She had a very good idea that Sir Walter had smelled the money that her Mistress now possessed and wanted a part of it.

  “I’m sorry, Sir, I dunno where Lady Rosanna is,” she said, putting on her most simple expression.

  Sir Walter’s face darkened down to a fine shade of maroon.

  “Well, wherever she is, she obviously doesn’t need your attentions. You can go. Get out. Here’s half a sovereign. That should pay your wages for the month. You are dismissed.”

  Edie was stunned.

  “But where shall I go, sir?”

  Sir Walter waved her away as if she was an annoying insect.

  “Just get out of sight,” he snapped. “Go back to London. Go anywhere. You are no longer in service to Lady Rosanna Donnington.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next day, late morning shadows were casting patterns across the great courtyard of Melton Castle. The air was very still. There was the taste of thunder in the air and on the far horizon, towards Donnington Hall, great black and purple clouds boiled in the sky.

  Rosanna had slipped down to the stables to check that her pony had been well cared for.

  The nurse’s dark grey uniform still felt odd and she had no idea how her gold hair gleamed against the subdued colour, even under the hideous cap she had struggled to pin firmly on her head.

  The Earl had been sleeping that morning when she had enquired if she was needed. She found this worrying. Should he sleep so much? Surely if his health was improving, he should be out of bed by now?

  He had not sent for Rosanna the evening before and she had lain in the hard, narrow bed in her little room, wondering what was happening back at Donnington Hall.

  How had Sir Walter reacted to her disappearance? Poor Bates would have had to bear the brunt of his displeasure.

  Breakfast had been an adequate meal, served in the big kitchen. She had sat silently near the head of the table, only speaking when spoken to.

  She was well aware that her accent was different to that of the other staff, but hoped they would think she was a gentlewoman who had fallen on hard times.

  Luckily, Mr. Digby ran below stairs with a rod of iron. He was old-fashioned in his ways and did not approve of chatter at the meal tables.

  In a way it was a relief not to have to act the nurse right away, but she knew she would soon have to change the bandages on the Earl’s leg as they had not been touched for days.

  ‘My goodness,’ she gasped now as she entered the main stable block. Row upon row of beautiful horses stared back from their loose boxes.

  ‘I had no idea the Earl owned so many. No wonder his father and my great-uncle got on so well. How I would love to ride some of these beauties.’

  Rosanna moved down the centre aisle, stopping now and then to pat an inquisitive head or rub a velvety nose that stretched towards her.

  She found one stall with the name ‘Demon’ on a sign above it. Inside was a great black stallion and she knew this was the animal the Earl had been riding when he had suffered his dreadful accident.

  Demon turned to face her, but Rosanna felt n
o fear. She picked up a piece of discarded apple from the floor and, with it flat on the palm of her hand, held it out towards the stallion.

  For a long minute he just stared at her and then something in her manner must have pleased him, because he deigned to take the apple and allowed her to respectfully rub the space between his eyes until he tossed his head and backed away.

  Rosanna smiled.

  “All right, your Majesty,” she said fondly. “I will not presume on your dignity any longer.”

  She found her pony, Smudger, well stabled at the far end. He was wearing a rug and had been fed and watered.

  Rosanna was pleased to see that just because he belonged to the nurse, he was not treated any differently to the thoroughbreds that surrounded him.

  She fondled his rough mane and whispered, ‘oh, Smudger, let us hope we will both soon be back where we belong.’

  As she turned to go, she heard voices and stepped back into the shelter of the pony’s stall. At present she did not want to explain her presence to anyone else.

  All servants tended to gossip and the least number of people who knew that the nurse living at the Castle was interested in horses, the better. Such news could get back to Sir Walter very quickly.

  She was glad she had taken refuge as a few seconds later, John Barker, the head groom she had met when he was exercising the Earl’s racehorses, passed the stall entrance, talking to another man.

  Rosanna bit her lip and pressed herself closer to the wooden sides of the stall. The haynet tickled her nose, but she was determined not to sneeze.

  This was someone she had to avoid for as long as possible. John Barker would know exactly who she was. The nurse’s uniform would not fool him.

  When they had gone, she fled back to the Castle. She thought she heard him call after her, but told herself he was too far away to have seen her face.

  Calming herself, she made her way up to her room to fetch her nurse’s bag, before hurrying down the curving stairway to the Earl’s bedroom.

  A young man with blond hair, wearing a valet’s uniform in the dark blue Melton colours, was standing outside the door, about to enter.

  He looked round as Rosanna approached.

  “Oh, hello. You must be the new nurse. I missed you at breakfast. I was on duty up here. I am Peter Simkins, his Lordship’s valet.”

  Rosanna had the presence of mind to hold out her hand. She must remember that here in the Castle she was a servant, an upper class servant to be sure, but still not one of the gentry as she would be at home.

  “Good morning, Mr. Simkins. I am Nurse Robinson. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Are you about to attend to the Earl?”

  Simkins nodded gloomily.

  “And in a rare bad mood he’s in, too. He’s already thrown a cup and saucer at me.”

  Rosanna felt her heart sink.

  “Perhaps his injuries are paining him badly?” she ventured.

  “Something’s irritated him and no mistake. Can I get you anything, nurse?”

  Rosanna thought for a second and answered firmly,

  “Yes, a bowl of fresh warm water and some soft clean cloths, please.”

  The young man nodded and walked away, obviously glad not to have to face his Master at this moment.

  Rosanna took a deep breath, turned the handle and walked in. This was going to be so difficult and so dangerous. Her very first chance to make the Earl believe she really was a nurse.

  As she entered, the oppressive gloom of the room swept over her once more. Instinctively, she ran to the windows, flung back the heavy blue brocade curtains and thrust open one of the casements.

  The air that rushed in was warm, but smelled sweet, carrying a hint of rain and roses on it.

  “That smells wonderful,” the Earl’s voice broke the silence.

  Rosanna turned and smiled.

  He was sitting up in bed, leaning on his pillows. His lawn nightshirt was open at the neck and she could see the gleam of sweat on his throat. His dark hair was tousled and he still badly needed a shave.

  “I know the fashionable idea is to shut out all chances of catching a chill, but I think a little fresh air helps a patient to recover,” she stated sedately, trying to remember how Nurse Evans, her mother’s nurse, had spoken.

  “Recovery seems a long way off with this wretched leg,” the Earl snarled. “I feel so damned weak all the time. Some mornings I seem a little better, then by the evening, I am exhausted again. Ridiculous! I just want to be strong enough to ride again.”

  Rosanna felt a surge of pity sweep through her. Lying there, he reminded her of a great injured beast, a lion or a tiger, all that strength diminished, lashing out in anger at his own incapacitated state.

  She was sure that much of his failure to recover was caused by the frustration boiling through his veins. A man such as William, the Earl of Melton, would never rest easily in his bed and give his wounds time to heal.

  Just then a knock at the door heralded Peter Simkins with the bowl of water. He placed it on a small table and, without further words, turned back the sheets and blankets from the foot of the bed to reveal his master’s feet and lower limbs.

  Rosanna felt a rosy flush begin to stain her cheeks. She fought to control it. This was dreadful. There was no way a nurse would blush at the sight of a gentleman’s legs!

  She realised that this was the reality of her dilemma. In theory when she had run away, pretending to be a nurse, it had seemed like an easy way out. She was convinced that she could manage. She was sure she had the right skills to tend a wound and bandage and care for a patient.

  But now she had to admit that actually physically attending to a man had never featured in her imagination.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, Nurse Robinson. Remove this wretched bandage and tell me what you think.”

  Taking a deep breath, Rosanna walked calmly up to the bed and selecting her sharpest scissors, snipped away the thick bandage that covered the Earl’s left leg from just below the knee down to his ankle.

  As the covering fell away and revealed the wound, Rosanna realised that the valet, who was standing on the other side of the bed, had gone very pale.

  He was staring down at the jagged flesh and with a muttered apology, rushed out of the room, one hand clapped to his mouth.

  The Earl grunted.

  “Simkins has a weak stomach,” he admitted dryly. “I hope you don’t mind being alone in the room with me, nurse?”

  Rosanna looked up and smiled.

  “Not while I have these scissors in my hand, my Lord!”

  The Earl began to laugh, then stopped and flinched. He lay and watched as the young nurse began to bathe his leg. Her touch was so gentle, it hardly hurt at all.

  “Indeed, that does feel a great deal better,” he said at last.

  Rosanna picked up the clean bandages and then hesitated.

  “If I may make so bold as to say, my Lord,” she said, “I have known other cases where exposure to the fresh air helped the healing process.”

  The Earl glared but nodded.

  “Well, nurse, it cannot get any worse.”

  “I would suggest that just for an hour or maybe two, we leave your leg unbandaged.”

  “And do you have any schemes up your capable sleeve to rid me of this fever and lethargy?” he asked, lying back against the pillows as the weariness overcame him once more.

  Rosanna gazed down at him.

  How broad his shoulders seemed inside his nightshirt. And although his leg was badly damaged, she had seen that it was heavily muscled as well. She could imagine quite clearly what a fine figure he would cut on horseback.

  But she could also see that his face was that of a kind, good natured man. There was none of the dissolution and marks of heavy drinking that marred Sir Walter’s countenance.

  “I am sure that your staff have been preparing small wholesome meals for you – ” she began tactfully.

  “What! That damn slop Simkins and Digby bring m
e. It’s enough to turn a man’s stomach!”

  Rosanna sighed.

  She had been fairly certain in her own mind that most of the Earl’s troubles were caused by neglect.

  His valet seemed too young and inexperienced and Mr. Digby was too old.

  She wished she could send for Bates and Mrs. Bates from Donnington Hall. Their care would soon bring the Earl back to good health, she was sure.

  “Have you no friends or family you could call on to stand by you at this time, my Lord?” she ventured, hoping she would not be thought insolent for making such a remark.

  The Earl’s dark brows drew together in a thunderous glare.

  “I thought – two great friends of mine were here when the accident occurred. Indeed, they took the trouble to have me transported to Bath to see if the waters would help. But nothing worked and my friends have now returned to London.”

  Rosanna said nothing, busying herself in tidying away her equipment and making the room look as pleasant as possible.

  She wondered if it was the female friend whom the Earl had called his ‘angel’, when speaking in his delirium earlier.

  As she turned to leave the room, she said quietly,

  “One of the most important things about being ill is that you must make yourself believe, through your mind and your will, that you are going to get well quickly.”

  The Earl stared at her. This nurse was so very different from the others who had attended him in the last few weeks.

  He thought she seemed a strange girl. He wished he could see her hair clearly – it was covered by the awful cap she wore, but what he could spy was bright golden.

  He did notice that she was tall and slender and that her grey uniform was too big for her.

  He wondered if she, too, had been ill recently. She seemed to impart a deep well of compassion that he had not experienced in nurses before.

  As he looked closely, he could see that there were, indeed, dark shadows under her eyes which were a brilliant blue.

  “Where are you going now?” he asked impulsively, not wanting her to leave.

  Rosanna smiled.

  “Down to the kitchen, my Lord,” she said firmly. “I will oversee your lunch today and I am quite sure it will be something you will enjoy eating.”