Chapter 4
It was cold out on the terrace, Caroline realized.
And suddenly she felt rather tired, and yes, a little confused.
Why was she circling the terrace in the dark in the arms of a man who was practically a stranger to her?
Even worse, why was she humming a tune so loudly as though she had quite lost her wits?
She tipped back her head and regarded him critically. “Lord Atherton,” she began sensibly, then forgot what she was going to say. She yawned, which was terribly rude of her as she could not cover her mouth. One hand was in his and the other rested on his shoulder.
“Tired?” he asked sympathetically.
“Not at all,” she answered with dignity, then realized she could barely keep her eyes open. She blinked them in rapid succession to try to dispel the feeling.
“Did something fly into your eye?” he asked.
“Um, no. Actually, do you think we could stop twirling? I feel suddenly rather dizzy.”
“Nothing could be simpler,” he said, and brought them to an abrupt standstill. So abrupt, that Caroline’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. She gasped and clutched at him. “Are you going to be sick?” he asked casually, steering her toward the balustrade.
“Oh, I do hope not,” she answered fervently, grasping at the stone parapet and leaning over it to take large gulping breaths.
“It might be better if you are,” he observed impartially, then stood in companionable silence as Caroline filled her lungs with the cold night air.
She was not sure how long they remained thus but gradually she became aware of the warm, heavy feeling of his hand resting on the back of her neck.
Strangely, she did not mind it. It felt like he was tethering her to the spot, so she did not get lost.
Caroline shuddered. Her brow rested on the stone surface.
She must be mad to be out here in the frigid night air with no coat and no hat!
Glancing down with surprise, she saw she still wore her green day gown from this morning.
She squinted sideways at Lord Atherton. He was wearing full evening dress.
Why was that? Something was not right here.
She clutched at her head. She felt so bewildered.
“I… Where—?”
“I don’t think you’ll find any answers tonight,” he answered smoothly. “A good night’s rest is what you need. Things will appear clearer in the morning.”
“Do you think so?” she asked doubtfully.
Her eyes were closing again. She felt as though she could fall asleep where she stooped with nothing but cold stone for her head pillow.
Indeed, she was not entirely sure she could straighten up unaided.
“Do you think you could help me to my feet?” she ventured. “If it is not too much trouble.”
Unceremoniously, Lord Atherton grabbed her under her arms and hauled her upright. Caroline squeezed her eyes shut and prayed she would stay that way. After a moment she ventured to open one eye. He swayed before her.
He sighed. “Miss Halperston, I think it might be best if you too succumbed to one of the fainting fits that has afflicted the company at large this evening.”
“I don’t think I quite—?”
Her whole world lurched again, and Caroline found herself suspended in midair. Then she realized she was once more in Lord Atherton’s arms.
“Just go to sleep,” he recommended.
With a sigh, Caroline let her heavy eyelids droop. She was not entirely asleep though. She heard him open the double doors which led back into the dining room, and then she heard Edgar, exclaiming, “Lord, not Caro too! They’re going down like skittles!”
“You had better accompany me, Needham,” she heard Lord Atherton answer. “If you lead the way I’ll carry her straight up to her room.”
Edgar made some token protest that he could carry his own sister but soon allowed himself to be overruled. The next thing she knew she was being placed on her bed.
“If you can hear me,” she heard Lord Atherton mutter under his breath.
“I’m catching the mail coach from St. Ives tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.
I will pause at the bottom of this drive at seven thirty sharp, and I will wait there for precisely two minutes.
If someone should happen to climb on board the carriage conveying me to St. Ives, then I will be disposed to turn a blind eye to a stowaway. ”
Caroline’s thoughts raced. What was he saying? She heard someone clearing their throat from across the room and guessed Edgar was still holding the door open there.
“I had better remove her shoes,” Lord Atherton said in a bored voice. “Unless you want to do it, Needham?”
Caroline could not make out her brother’s mumbled response, but she guessed it was a refusal.
Next, she heard the thud of her ankle boots hitting the floor, then footsteps on the carpet and the door quietly closing after them.
Then she was all alone, except for the muddled thoughts whirling about her poor head.
She woke some hours later in the gray morning light, her heart racing and her mouth dry.
She was frozen in terror, from a horribly vivid nightmare.
No, not a nightmare, she realized, catching her breath.
It had been a memory of earlier in the day when she had walked in the garden after lunch. She remembered now what had happened.
She had dallied for a while in the kitchen garden, picking sage for dinner, and then she had walked down to the pergola. Someone had recommended she took a stroll there, she could not remember who. Edgar perhaps, or Mama. And there she had seen something.
She had seen herself lying face down in a crumpled heap in the Dunstable bonnet she had donated last Christmas and wearing that old green shawl she kept on a hook at the kitchen door which came in so handy for garden visits.
The shock of it had caused her to drop her bouquet of sage leaves onto the ground. Somehow Caroline had known straightaway that she was dead. But for some reason she had not been afraid. Not then. She was now though. Now she felt terrified.
In the moment, she had felt strangely detached, as though she was somehow living in a dream. She had lingered in the archway she did not know how long, staring in a sort of fascinated horror at the vision of her own death. As she thought of it now, Caroline’s blood ran cold.
Then what? She tried to make sense of the befuddled jumble in her head.
She rather thought she had wandered down to the brook at the bottom of the garden and perhaps even curled up and taken a nap there in the shelter of the oak tree.
She swallowed hard. How in heaven’s name could she possibly have taken a nap outdoors in March?
She must not have been in her right mind!
Maybe it had been the shock of her vision which had overset her?
It must have been an omen of some kind. Or did she mean a portent?
It was a warning in any case of what would happen to her if she, Caroline, remained in Penarth stagnating and did not make some attempt to crawl out from beneath her mother’s shadow which poisoned everything.
She was twenty-six, a friendless old maid with no prospects and no money of her own. Where could she even go? She had nowhere to run to and no one to turn to. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. It was hopeless. She was quite alone in her plight. And then she remembered Lord Atherton’s words.
I will be disposed to turn a blind eye to a stowaway.
Her heart leaped in her breast, and she sat up.
He would let her go with him? Where was he even going?
London? Was he going to London? She racked her brains but all she could remember was him saying he was catching the mail coach from St. Ives.
How could she possibly go with him when she did not even know his intended destination?
What time even was it? She cast about the darkened room.
Perhaps she had missed him already. A wave of suffocating fear broke over her.
If so, all hope was lost, she thought bleakly and realized for the first time that she did want to go with him, very much so.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to place one stockinged foot out of the bed.
Immediately she felt the fear flood back again, consuming her.
Gritting her teeth, Caroline forced herself to swing her second leg off the bed.
She was being ridiculous. Just ridiculous!
It was not like her to be such a little fool.
It had only been a vision, she told herself, nothing more than that, but the palpitations in her chest would not relent and she felt like she was struggling to breathe.
She stood up on two legs that trembled like she had the ague.
Good heavens, she felt awful! She crept toward her dresser on unsteady feet, trying desperately not to make a sound.
She knew it wasn’t rational, but she felt absolutely terrified of waking anyone else in the sleeping house.
Sophy had not brought her any hot water, so she guessed it must still be early.
Snatching up the clock on the dresser, she found it had just gone half past six.
Thank goodness. She had time to pack her bag and get out of the house.
The walk to the bottom of the drive took about twenty minutes, so she had no time to linger.
She had the distinct impression Lord Atherton would not stay his horses beyond the two minutes he had promised.
There was water in the washstand which she guessed remained from the previous evening when she had fallen asleep without so much as brushing her teeth.
She hurriedly set about her wash and brush up but she felt all fingers and thumbs this morning, dropping her toothbrush into the basin twice and almost the soap.
Catching sight of herself in her vanity mirror, she almost let out a yelp.
Her dark hair was a bird’s nest, half up and half down.
Awful memories trickled into her head. Had she really walked into mother’s dinner party looking like this?
She clutched the edge of the washstand and closed her eyes in mortification.
Had she…? No. Resolutely, she shook her head.
She would not think of that just yet. She had other priorities she needed to put first. Shame could wait.
Taking a deep breath, she retrieved her large carpet bag resting on the top of her wardrobe.
Inside were some useful packing items leftover from her school days.
She had not really gone anywhere since, so they were still perfectly serviceable.
Pulling out an oilskin bag, she quickly crammed it full of her still-damp wash things rolled up into a hand towel.
Next was a handy calico drawstring, which she filled with her hairbrush and hairpins.
Now that just left clothes. Pulling open the wardrobe door, she dragged out her navy walking dress.
That would do for traveling in, and she would need a nice warm shawl.
The mail coach would be draughty. Fleetingly she thought of her green shawl and shivered.
No, she did not want to wear that again.
It felt like tempting fate. She had better take the brown one instead.
When she crept out of the kitchen door half an hour later, bag in hand, she found the green shawl was not hanging on the hook where it should have been anyway, which was most peculiar.
Where on earth could it be? Oh, of course, she thought, shutting the door quietly after her.
She must have been wearing it! Doubtless she left it under the oak by the brook after sleeping the afternoon away.
She tiptoed down the path and skirted the house keeping to the shrubberies.
Just how many hours of sleep must she have had yesterday?
It was most unlike her to sleep during the day like that but dinner would not have been served until six at the earliest, likely later if Mama was trying to appear sophisticated to her guests.
On reaching the laurel bushes she heard sudden voices and ducked down, her heart thudding against her ribs.
“I tell you I followed orders!” a rough male voice insisted. “I done like I was told and now I wants me payment like what I was promised!”
“You are a filthy liar, Sidney Price!” spat back an infuriated woman. “How you’ve got the effrontery to lie to my face when I know for a fact—”
Not caring to hear more, Caroline held her breath and tiptoed back the way she came.
She would backtrack to the sundial and then cut across the lawn instead.
Hopefully no one would spot her from the windows.
It wasn’t until she reached the beginning of the drive that she realized she had recognized the woman’s voice.
It had been Goring, her mother’s dour-faced maid.