Reunited With Her Viscount Protector. Mary Brendan

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СКАЧАТЬ so sorry I wasn’t up to greet you,’ Eleanor wiped a tear from the corner of an eye. ‘What a feeble sort of woman I am turning into.’

      ‘Don’t say that! Of course you are not.’ Dawn guessed that her stepdaughter was repeating criticism. It sounded like the sort of snappish remark Peter Mansfield might make.

      He had been impatient with her earlier. At the Cockerel he had not waited outside while she finished her meal as he’d said he would. He had come to find her and made it clear he was ready to set on the road immediately now her luggage had been transferred to his gig. His bullying had been polite, but Dawn had felt under pressure nevertheless to say an immediate farewell to the Broomes and go with him.

      Thereafter he had driven at reckless speed, bouncing over ruts on the road to Wivenhoe, with little conversation passing between them. That had suited Dawn. She found little to say to him at the best of times. Yet on that journey of almost an hour he hadn’t once mentioned his wife other than to give a throwaway answer to Dawn’s question of how her stepdaughter was. Eleanor at times felt a little under the weather, he’d said.

      ‘I should get up now,’ Eleanor said, struggling to rise on her elbows.

      Dawn gently pressed her back down. ‘You must rest. And, whatever Peter says, I think the physician should attend you,’ she added firmly. ‘Sometimes women have more of an intuition about these things than men do.’ She gave Eleanor a smile of encouragement. Her stepdaughter was loyal to her husband, but he needed to be overruled on this. ‘A professional opinion is needed. If Peter is right and I am wrong, then I shall feel so much better for having worried over nothing.’ Dawn approached the door of the bedchamber with her granddaughter still in her arms. ‘I saw Peter go out some time ago, but he might have returned. If he has, I shall speak to him about fetching the doctor. Would you like some tea...or something to eat, Eleanor?’

      ‘I’m thirsty...some lemonade would be nice.’ Eleanor put out her hand for her daughter. ‘You can leave Lily with me. She will be good now she knows you have some treats for her.’ She gave her little daughter a fond smile.

      Dawn went quickly downstairs, hoping Peter had returned because she was determined to make the daft man see sense and immediately go in his gig to fetch the doctor. Or she would go herself into the village and find the fellow.

      ‘Do you know if the vicar is due to return soon, Mrs Grove?’ Dawn had looked into the downstairs rooms, and knocked on the door of Peter’s study, but found no sign of him. She had headed to the kitchen in the hope of discovering his likely whereabouts from the cook. They had met before when Dawn had made previous visits, and Dawn had always thought her a pleasant woman.

      ‘He’ll probably be up at the church, Mrs Fenton, or he could have gone into Wivenhoe.’ Mrs Grove carried on rolling out pastry. ‘I expect you’d like some tea, wouldn’t you, m’m, after your journey?’ She wiped floury hands on her pinafore. ‘I would’ve brought a tray up to your room, but master said as to leave you to rest after your journey.’

      ‘I would like tea, thank you,’ Dawn replied. ‘And I’ll take Mrs Mansfield a glass of lemonade.’

      Enid Grove avoided Dawn’s eyes at the mention of her mistress.

      ‘For how long has my stepdaughter been feeling ill?’

      ‘For too long,’ Enid replied pithily. ‘The poor lass needs a doctor looking at her.’ She slipped a glance at Dawn from beneath her lashes. ‘I’m that glad you’ve come, Mrs Fenton.’

      ‘And so am I,’ Dawn replied in a heartfelt way. ‘Why has the doctor not examined her?’

      ‘Why indeed! I told the master my feelings on it and was told in return to mind my own business.’ Enid shook her head. ‘’Course polite fellows don’t use those words, but I knew his meaning. I’ve done what I can for the poor lass, to ease her discomfort, but now that the day girl doesn’t come I’m run off my feet trying to cook and clean and nursemaid the little ’un.’ She sighed. ‘I’m turned two score years and ten and that Miss Lily needs a young pair of legs to keep up with her.’ Enid blew a defeated sigh. ‘Truth of it is, m’m, I’ve had enough and shall soon give notice. I don’t want to leave the mistress, but I’m feeling so fagged out that I might end up ill in bed myself and what help can I be to Mrs Mansfield then?’

      Dawn had listened in amazement. None of the letters she’d received from her stepdaughter had hinted at a crisis. ‘I had no idea that things had got so bad.’ Dawn frowned. ‘What on earth has happened since my last visit?’

      ‘Not my place to say, m’m...’ Mrs Grove turned away and busied herself with rattling the crockery and boiling the kettle.

      ‘As things are serious I think you must speak up or how will I know what to do to help?’ Dawn said bluntly.

      ‘What is it you wish to know, Mrs Fenton?’

      Dawn’s stepson-in-law had come into the kitchen, unseen and unheard. She noticed at once that Mrs Grove looked nervous. The older woman turned away and busied herself with the tea things.

      ‘There is so much that I wish to know, sir, that our conversation will be lengthy and better conducted upstairs,’ Dawn answered firmly. His lips had grown thin. She hadn’t pleased him with her outburst in front of his servant. But Dawn didn’t care for coddling his ego. Eleanor and Lily were the only ones that mattered. ‘I shall just take your wife her drink, then join you in your study, if that is convenient.’

      ‘It is not,’ he said on a sigh and gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I am sorry to sound too busy to properly welcome you, but I’m due to meet a parishioner at the church. We can converse later on when we dine.’ He would have left the kitchen, but Dawn stepped after him.

      ‘Just a moment, sir. One important thing must be said now. Please fetch the doctor with you when you come back. Your wife is very ill.’ She knew vicars led full lives administering to their flocks and had imagined that he must be too preoccupied to fully appreciate how sick Eleanor actually was. Dawn had hoped her concern might rub off on him, making him feel guilty and neglectful.

      ‘My wife is young and strong and has had a baby before. She is used to the rigours of childbirth...unlike you, madam.’

      His voice had been soft, almost gentle, but Dawn knew the remark had been intended to wound and remind her of her miscarriage. ‘I might not be a mother, but I know well enough what a person in pain looks like. Eleanor should be examined by a doctor in case the babe is coming sooner than expected—’

      ‘My wife needs no fussing over. She doesn’t like that sort of thing.’ His voice was slightly raised now. ‘She was up yesterday and playing with her daughter. It is to be expected that there will be occasions when she feels tired as her time nears. She was like this before Lily was born.’

      Mrs Grove gave a cough...or perhaps it was a snort, Dawn thought, on glimpsing the woman’s angry profile. ‘Nevertheless I insist that the doctor comes here today, to put all our minds at rest.’ Dawn’s voice was controlled but full of grit.

      ‘As I have said, we shall talk later, Mrs Fenton.’ Peter turned to the cook. ‘Let me have my wife’s drink. I shall take it to her. If she’s left undisturbed for the rest of the afternoon, then I’m sure she will feel better and be able to get up at dinner time.’ With a nod for Dawn he left the kitchen with the glass of lemonade Mrs Grove had thrust at him.

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