Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabel woke to the clattering of pans downstairs. She washed and dressed in a clean gown and made her way down the narrow, uneven stairs to the kitchen.
To her surprise, she found Sebastian in his shirtsleeves with no neckcloth, apparently engaged in preparing a meal. Seeing her, he reached for his jacket, pulling it on.
‘Please excuse my state of undress,’ he said.
She shook her head, and it was on her lips to remark that she had seen him in a greater state of undress on at least two occasions, but refrained.
He clattered around the kitchen with a confident familiarity, setting out a rough lunch of soup, cheese, and bread.
‘I’m sorry it’s such plain fare,’ he said with a smile, the lines in the corners of his eyes crinkling.
Despite the circumstances that had led to them being in Little Benning, for the first time in their acquaintance, he seemed relaxed and confident.
Isabel shook her head. ‘It’s perfect. Where’s Mrs. Mead?’
‘Still sitting with Connie. Now you’re up, I will send her to her bed.’ He waved a hand at the table. ‘Please help yourself. There is no one here to serve you.’
Her stomach growled, and she tucked in gratefully to the simple fare.
‘And how is Connie?’ Isabel found herself unconsciously using the girl’s diminutive name.
Sebastian shrugged. ‘I sat with her a little this morning. She was sleeping.’ He sighed and she caught the shadow of a rueful smile. ‘She’s still with us and that’s what’s important.’
‘And Matthew?’ she asked, looking around the room.
‘He teaches at the grammar school, and he felt he would be more help out of the way.’
As he spoke, Mrs. Mead appeared at the doorway. She looked drained and grey with exhaustion, but there was defiance in the set of her jaw as she said, ‘Just so you both know, I’ve sent for Dr Llewellyn.’
Sebastian’s dark eyebrows drew together and in a low, controlled voice he said, ‘Dr Neville will be here in a few hours, Mrs. Mead. There is no need to trouble Llewellyn.’
Even as he spoke, a knocking at the door announced the arrival of the doctor.
He bustled into the house, his ancient wig askew and traces of gravy still at the corner of his lips.
Without waiting for an introduction to the two new members of the household, he hurried upstairs, complaining about being interrupted in the middle of his dinner.
In the doorway, he stopped and turned to the crowd on the landing who had followed him up. He waved a hand at the dampened fire, the billowing curtains and the light covering over his patient, and his face grew purple with anger.
‘What is the meaning of this, Mrs. Mead?’ he thundered, rounding on the housekeeper. ‘My every instruction has been wantonly disobeyed. If my patient has died, then on your head be it.’
Sebastian stepped forward. ‘How dare you speak to Mrs. Mead in that tone,’ he growled.
The doctor turned to face the tall soldier.
‘And who, sir, are you? Are you a doctor of medicine?’
‘I am Lord Somerton, Miss Alder’s brother,’ Sebastian replied.
The man’s face dropped, and he took a step back into the room. ‘Lord Somerton? My apologies, sir.’
He bowed in a servile manner.
Sebastian’s lip curled and he said in a tone of voice that dripped ice, ‘But as you are here, doctor, you may as well see to your patient and make a proper diagnosis.’
‘Bas?’ The ruckus had woken Connie, who looked around at the assembled crowd with hazy, puzzled eyes.
The doctor listened to Connie’s breathing, took her pulse, and pronounced, with some obvious displeasure, that the danger appeared to have passed. Isabel, standing behind Sebastian, allowed herself a smile of satisfaction.
‘I will, of course, bleed her,’ the doctor announced, reaching for his bag.
At this, Sebastian rose to his full height, towering over the little man and narrowly avoiding hitting his head on a beam.
‘You will not lay another finger on her, you old charlatan. Now, out of my house.’
‘Well, really!’ The doctor began to protest, but his voice trailed off at the sight of Sebastian’s thunderous brow.
Sebastian followed the man down and slammed the door behind him. Isabel heard him stomping back up the stairs two at a time.
‘Thank God he wasn’t here six years ago, or I would be dead,’ he said as he re-entered the room, clenching and unclenching his hands.
Sebastian sat down beside the bed and picked up Connie’s hand, raising it to his lips. It looked small and frail in his big, scarred hand.
Connie turned her head on the pillow.
At the sight of her brother, she smiled. ‘It is you! I thought it was a dream. What are you doing here?’
His fingers tightened on the girl’s hand. ‘Mrs. Mead said I was allowed to sit with you and hold your hand. She also said I could adjust your pillows, offer you a drink of water, or read to you.’
He smiled and pressed her delicate hand to his lips, leaving Isabel with the suspicion that a secret joke had passed between them.
‘Did she? Well, I would like a drink of water,’ Connie whispered, her gaze not moving from her brother’s face.
Isabel poured a glass of water and passed the glass to Sebastian. He raised Connie’s shoulders, and the girl drank thirstily.
‘Now then,’ Mrs. Mead said, taking charge, ‘you leave Miss Connie to me and both of you get yourselves some rest.’
‘It’s you who should rest,’ Isabel said.
Mrs. Mead shook her head. ‘I’ll take to my bed this evening, my lady. For now, leave my girl with me.’
She shooed them both from the sickroom and shut the door behind them.
In the confines of the tiny landing, Sebastian loomed over Isabel. He took her hand and, even in the gloom, she sensed his gaze on her face, but could not bring herself to look into his eyes.
‘How do I thank you? You saved my life and now Connie’s. That is two debts I can’t hope to repay,’ he said. ‘I won’t forget what you did for me in London.’
Isabel bit her lip and looked down at the polished oak floor. ‘I didn’t think you knew that I had...’
‘Sat with me?’
He placed a hand on either side of her face and raised her face to look at him. His eyes crinkled as he smiled and shook his head.
‘To be honest it is all a blur but Bennet told me how you took charge. I remember your kindness to me then and I will remember your work today, Isabel.’
Isabel. She liked the way her given name sounded when he spoke it.
He let his hands drop and took a step back. ‘Would you care for a walk, Lady Somerton? Little Benning is hardly London, but I feel the need for some fresh air.’