CHAPTER ONE #5
“Dear Constant, much as I appreciate your concern for me, I beg you will only consider my situation. Were I to accept of your offer and come to live with you, I could have nothing to look forward to except ever to be an adjunct in your household. With the best will in the world, Serena could not but begin to depend upon me for assistance — which I would willingly give, but that you know my abilities are limited. And truly, brother, I could not endure daily to be reminded of that domestic felicity I never expect to enjoy. I should so much prefer to be permitted to make a life for myself in the only way open to me.”
It had taken a good deal of argument in this strain before the Reverend Mr Constant Dovercourt had been persuaded to give the scheme his sanction.
Not that he had any legal right to prevent Grace from doing anything she wished: she had been of age, and the small legacy left to her by her father had given her that hint of independence.
Although she had not intended to drop her resolve, it was ever Grace’s way to tread over heavy ground as lightly as she could.
Mab had never reconciled herself, however, and Grace strongly suspected the only inducement that had operated upon her nurse to marry herself off to Mr Lamport was her morbid fear of becoming a charge upon Grace in her old age.
Her fondness for Mab had not prevented Grace from rejoicing at this unlooked-for liberation from her scoldings and complaints.
They had abated not one jot, but she was only obliged to listen to them at intervals, Mab’s duties at her husband’s alehouse demanding far more of her attention than she had anticipated.
That Mab had come here this morning occasioned no surprise in Grace, for it had been inevitable she would do so the moment she heard of the descent upon her nurseling of so dangerous an affliction as a man with a bullet in his shoulder.
Unfortunately, the Bear Inn was situated at East Hall, and Jemima having gone there to fetch Dunmow, she had evidently thought it behoved her to inform Mrs Lamport of the circumstances without any loss of time.
It was a pity, but it could not be helped, and Grace braced for battle.
“Lordy, here’s a to-do, Miss Grace, but I do trust and hope Mr Mayberry will take the feller out of it before anyone thinks to question his being here,” began Mab without roundaboutation.
“Keep your voice down, pray,” rejoined Grace, pushing the nurse away from the bedside towards the window opposite. “He is exhausted from the operation and I don’t wish him to wake.”
Mab peered around her, trying to see the patient for herself. “Pity he chose to foist himself on you, Miss Grace, but I suppose it can’t be helped. You’ll be rid of him soon enough, never fear.”
“But I don’t want to be rid of him! Nor have I the slightest intention of allowing anyone to remove him from here. He is far too ill.”
Her old nurse turned red in the face. “You won’t never keep him here! Why, whatever will people say?”
“I have no interest in what anyone may say, Mab, and if you have come here only to scold and fret, you may go away again.”
Mrs Lamport drew herself up. “It’s of no use to be losing your temper, Miss Grace, for you know well I’m in the right. You’ve your reputation to think of and —”
“For heaven’s sake, Mab, the man is at death’s door! What possible danger could he be to my reputation?”
Mab sniffed. “He don’t have to be doing nothing to make people talk.”
“Then let them talk.”
Balked, the nurse ruminated for a moment. “Well, if you’re set on keeping him, I’d best come and stay while he’s here.”
That was the last thing Grace needed. “You can’t, Mab. There is no room, for one thing. And for another, you cannot possibly leave Mr Lamport to manage for himself at the Bear.”
“He can do without me for a day or so.”
“It will be longer than that. After what he has been through, I cannot suppose my patient will recover inside of a week or more.”
“Your patient, is it?”
Grace met Mab’s truculent stare with a steely gaze. “It is entirely my fault he is in so bad a condition. I heard him last night, you see, and had I got up then, I might have staunched the blood, and he would be in a far better state now.”
It was not to be supposed this view of the matter would find favour with her old nurse.
But in disabusing Grace of the absurd notion she was in any way to blame, she lost sight of her intention and ended by agreeing to come in for an hour or two, for the next couple of days, to relieve Grace at the patient’s bedside.
“Otherwise I shall not be able to work at all,” Grace pointed out, “and if I fall behind, I will never catch up again. And Mr Staply needs that paper by the end of the week.”
The mention of her writing tasks provided Mab with a diversion, for she immediately took up the old complaint against Grace performing clerical labour.
She had barely begun, however, when a muttering broke out behind them, effectively putting an end to all thought of anything but the Frenchman’s plight.
“Ils arrivent! Mes papiers, mademoiselle … they will kill for them!”