Fear For Frances

Fear for Frances.

Veronica Heley.

CHAPTER ONE.

Was there a curse on the House of Broome? The servants certainly thought so, but Miss Frances Chard rejected the idea out of hand. This was 1881, not 1481, and although part of Furze Court had once been an abbey, and still lacked such modern conveniences as gas lighting, that was no excuse, said Miss Chard, for believing in ghosts, curses, or things that went b.u.mp in the night.

Agnes Broome believed in them, but Agnes was only thirteen and it was up to Miss Chard, as her governess, to drum some sense into the child.

However, when both Richard and Gavin Broome were brought back to the Court at death"s door, and that within three months of her arrival at her post, Miss Chard began to wonder ...

Richard, 10th Baron Broome, had been a genial fair-headed giant of a man. A hard-drinking spendthrift, he had been carelessly kind to the penniless aunt who acted as hostess for him, and to his younger cousin Agnes, who adored him. He had been engaged to be married to Maud, Agnes"s elder sister, when he took a toss on the hunting field, just a week before the date set for his wedding. He died without recovering consciousness, leaving Maud standing among the half-made dresses of her trousseau, white-faced with fury. Mrs Broome retired to bed, as was her habit in moments of crisis, and it was left to Frances Chard to comfort Agnes as best she could.

The Broomes went into mourning. Richard was buried in the family vault, his valet departed with his ex-master"s wardrobe, and Richard"s dogs, which had filled the Court from morning to night with their noise, were destroyed on Maud"s orders.

The heir, the Honourable Gavin Charles Broome, was campaigning in South Africa at the time of his elder brother"s death. Communications with the Cape were difficult. The letter advising Gavin of Richard"s death crossed with one from Gavin"s commanding officer stating that Major Broome had been seriously wounded at Majuba, and was being invalided home.

Frances Chard was no gossip, but young Agnes was. Long before the new master arrived, Frances had learned that Gavin Broome had a sinister reputation, and that the servants feared rather than looked forward to his return.

At last a telegram arrived, announcing that Major Broome would be on the noon train from Lewes the following day. Three months had pa.s.sed since Richard"s death, yet nothing was ready to welcome his successor. The servants hurriedly brushed the dust under carpets, the State Bedroom was aired, the butler sought for the key to the wine cellars.

Family and staff were drawn up on the steps of Furze Court to greet the new Lord Broome. The original family group of Mrs Broome and her two daughters had been supplemented by the recent arrival of Lady Amelia Seld and her granddaughter Isabella.

Agnes nudged her governess, and made a face at Lady Amelia"s back.

"See the vultures gather," she said. Frances suppressed a smile. It was rumoured that Lady Seld had brought her granddaughter to stay to revive the broken engagement which had once existed between Gavin Broome and Isabella. It would not be Lady Seld"s fault if the Court did not soon have a new mistress. Isabella Seld was as fair as her cousin Maud was dark; she invariably wore pastel shades, in contrast to the other women of the party, who were all in mourning.

Miss Chard, standing in the background, observed Miss Seld with interest; Mrs Broome had no money of her own, and if this pale primrose of a girl, Isabella Seld, became Lady Broome, then Miss Chard"s position at Furze Court might be in danger. Would such a very young girl, newly married, wish to keep a schoolgirl around? Would she not wish to send Agnes away to school? In which case, Miss Chard would once more be out of a job. Miss Chard was well-educated, but she was also young and pretty, and what was more, her references were not all that they ought to be. She did not wish to lose her present position, so she watched Miss Seld, and tried to a.s.sess her. In the short time at her disposal before the carriage came into sight, Miss Chard came to the conclusion that Miss Seld was exceedingly pretty, and exceedingly nervous.

"Whatever is the matter with the man!" demanded Lady Seld. The carriage, instead of bowling along in spanking style, was being drawn along at a walking pace. The reason why was soon apparent. Amid murmurs of horror, the slight figure of a man in a stained scarlet uniform was lifted from the carriage and carried up the steps into the Court. Miss Chard drew Agnes"s head down as the body of her cousin was borne past her. One side of the soldier"s dark head was covered with blood, and the left arm, which was in splints, was also coloured red.

Dr Kimpton was hastily summoned from the village and the family and staff gathered around Benson, the Major"s batman, to learn what had happened. Benson was a square-cut c.o.c.kney, incoherent in his distress.

"Steady, my man," said old Lady Amelia, who seemed to have taken charge of the proceedings. Mrs Broome had given way to her palpitations, and was prostrate on a sofa. "Take it from the beginning."

Benson started again. His master had been badly wounded at Majuba, at the end of January. His arm had been broken, he"d had concussion and then fever. He"d not come to himself properly until he was on board ship, when he"d recovered fast ... "Except for his arm, which they"d told him would need attention by some surgeon or other when he got back to London. He was playing poker and cursing us all to rights and making up to the nurses - begging your pardon, ma"am - no offence! I"d been ill, too. Dysentery, and a bit of trouble with my right knee. He said to me that he wanted to go home to see his brother before he went to London to have his arm attended to. He was worried, because he hadn"t had any letters from home in months. I should explain, perhaps, if you didn"t know ... I"d served him nearly two years now, come May. We"d always got on. He said to see him home, if I wasn"t pressed to get back to my family. He said ... "Come home with me; my brother will find you a place even if I don"t build" - he wanted to build a house for himself, to go back to when his soldiering days were finished. I said I didn"t mind if I did. He was a bit uncertain on his feet still, and his hand wasn"t ... well, I could manage the money for him, see, and I got him tucked up in a first-cla.s.s compartment at Lewes when we changed trains, and then I left him to go back to my own seat, and these two men pa.s.sed me, going into his compartment. I didn"t think to look at them closely. Why should I? But they were big men, both of them. Bigger than me, or him. Yet he gave a good account of himself, didn"t he? Even without a weapon, and with his arm in splints ..." Benson gulped. He looked longingly at the door through which his master had been taken. "The door of his compartment was swinging open when I got out at the Halt here. The men were gone. I reckon they must have jumped out as the train slowed up for the bend just before the station. His watch was gone, and his pocket book was on the floor, empty. There was a discharged pistol on the seat - the ball was in his arm - and he"d been beaten over the head as well. I suppose they fired the pistol, and when that didn"t kill him, they used it to ... there was blood everywhere." Again he looked at the door. "Is that doctor any good? Perhaps Lord Broome could send for someone from London ...?" He looked around the Great Hall, but there was no man to be seen, except in the huddle of servants in the background. "Two men," he said, "one wearing a new tweed coat, with checks on it. I didn"t see their faces ..."

"My nephew was killed just before Christmas," said Mrs Broome in a trembling voice. "Didn"t your master know?"

Benson shook his head. He appeared stunned.

Dr Kimpton appeared. He was an old man, and ill, due for retirement, but he had served the Broome family for many years and was a great favourite with Mrs Broome. He shook his head.

"I"m much afraid - still unconscious - you must prepare yourself for the worst." He took Mrs Broome"s hand and patted it.

"Oh, my heart!" she cried. Her maid was summoned, and she was borne off to bed. Agnes clung to her governess"s hand and would not release her hold even when bidden to join her great-aunt and cousin Isabella by the fire. Miss Chard said that Agnes had had quite enough excitement for one day, and perhaps the ladies would excuse them?

"Get her back to Nurse," snapped Maud. Of all those present, Maud appeared least affected.

As Miss Chard led Agnes away, they distinctly heard Maud say, "So you may not have to marry him, after all, Isabella!"

The house was in a ferment of activity. Old Nurse was kept in the State Bedroom to which the injured man had been taken, and Miss Chard had to be very firm with a pa.s.sing housemaid in order to get any tea for the schoolroom. Like Nurse, the butler was long past retirement age, but the housekeeper was efficient enough and gradually a semblance of order was restored. The schoolroom was fed with news by housemaids bringing trays of food and scuttles full of coal. Miss Chard did not normally indulge in gossip, but she was as eager as Agnes to learn what was happening.

Dr Kimpton was still in attendance at supper-time, and had sent for nurses and a second opinion from Lewes. His nephew, who had only just qualified as a doctor, had joined him in the sick-room. Mrs Broome had had hysterics and her maid, Meakins, was nowhere to be found. The Blue Bedroom was to be made ready to receive Mr John Manning, an elderly relative from London; and lastly, the new heir, one Hugo Broome, was to be sent for.

"Oh, him!" said Agnes, with a twist of her shoulders. "Well, I suppose it"s a good thing that Gavin"s past caring, or he"d have a fit. He hates Hugo. If you want to know what I think: I think Gavin only made up to Isabella because he couldn"t bear the thought of Hugo"s stepping into his shoes."

"What is he like?" asked Miss Chard. If Hugo Broome were to inherit, then he would be her next employer.

"One of the big, fair Broomes. You know they"re all either big and fair like Richard, or small and dark like Gavin and me? Only Hugo"s not really like Richard. He"s ... oh, I don"t know. He creeps up behind you sometimes and makes you jump, and he never laughs at jokes. He just sort of smiles, with his hand half over his mouth. He hasn"t any money of his own, so he"s bound to marry Isabella, now."

"But I didn"t think Miss Seld had any money, either," said Miss Chard.

"She hasn"t. Not till Gavin dies. But Gavin"s got a lot of money of his own, and before he went back to South Africa he made a Will leaving it to Isabella. So when Gavin dies, Isabella will get the money, and Hugo will get the Court, and they"ll get married, and what will happen to us?"

Furze Court was hushed. Everyone waited. The doctor from Lewes agreed with Dr Kimpton that the case was hopeless. The arm was in a bad way, they said. They would consider amputation if their patient could stand the operation, but as it was ...

Nurse gave up her post in the sick-room, saying it was too much for her, at her age. The two agency nurses seemed to know what they were doing, although one of them spent more of her time gossiping with the servants than on duty in the sick-room. Mr John Manning arrived from London, and so did the new heir, Mr Hugo Broome. Mr Manning spent most of his time closeted with Mrs Broome, but Hugo paced the Court, his eyes into everything, as if he owned it already. Miss Chard knew that it would be sensible for her to ingratiate herself with Mr Hugo, but she could not bring herself to do so. She felt his eyes following her, as she went to and fro with Agnes; it was not a comfortable feeling. She told herself that she had no business to be forming opinions of her betters, but there it was; she did not like the man. She could not fault his appearance, which was handsome; or his manners, which were those of a gentleman. Maud certainly seemed to find her cousin everything that was charming, but Agnes ...? Yes, there Miss Chard could fault Mr Hugo"s manners, for he seemed chillingly indifferent to the fact that Agnes Broome was very upset by her cousin Gavin"s condition.

Sometimes it seemed to Miss Chard as if Agnes were the only person in the whole of the Court who cared whether Gavin Broome lived or died, or grieved that he had started to refuse food and drink. Twice Agnes went down to the sick-room to see what was happening for herself. Her disobedience was discovered, of course, but luckily it was Miss Chard who found out what the child had done, and not one of the nurses, who might have been justifiably annoyed and complained to Mrs Broome.

"Well, I didn"t see why I shouldn"t go in to see him," Agnes said. "No one else bothers, and I thought he might be lonely in there by himself, when the nurse had gone. Anyway, he can"t like her much, because she stinks of dirt and gin. I"d be ashamed to be seen out with a dirty ap.r.o.n on like her, and finger-nails all grimy!" Miss Chard hid a smile, remembering the battles she had had in the past with Agnes on the subject of cleanliness.

"So I went in very quietly, in case he was asleep. I knew the nurse would be away for a while, because she keeps a bottle of gin in the cupboard in the attic where n.o.body else goes ..."

"How did you know that?"

Agnes wriggled. "I might have followed her one day. Just to see what she was doing up there by herself. Anyway, Dr Kimpton had told Mama that Gavin wasn"t always asleep now, even though he wouldn"t take food or drink. But he was asleep, and the room ... Ugh! It stinks. Don"t you think that"s awful, Miss Chard? It can"t make him want to get better if he"s left in dirty sheets and nightshirt and not shaved, even if he is so ill. Then he woke up and I think he saw me, but I"m not sure, because he looked at me as if he didn"t recognise me, and I ran for the door. And that"s when I fell over and hurt myself. I"d slipped on this gla.s.s stopper which had fallen on the floor by the bed, and I picked it up and brought it away with me. I didn"t really mean to steal it."

She held on to the gla.s.s stopper with both hands. It was cut-gla.s.s and looked as if it had come from a decanter. Miss Chard had noticed Agnes trying to hide it, and had demanded to know where it had come from.

"I"m not going to put it back," said Agnes, in a voice which informed her governess that she"d better not try to take it by force, either. "Gavin would have been very happy to give it to me, if he"d known I wanted it. He always treated me nicely, not like some people I could mention!"

"It would be stealing, if you don"t have permission," said Miss Chard. "You must ask Mr Hugo if you may have it, after ... when everything is settled."

"Cousin Hugo isn"t interested in old things. He pretended he was when he first came, because he thought it was expected of him, but you could see he wasn"t interested when I showed him Grandpa"s collection of firearms and armour. He didn"t even like the ducking stool, or the pillory, so you can see he wouldn"t be interested in this. Look: it"s a prism. I"m going to keep it in the nursery, to make patterns on the wall for the sun to shine through."

"You must return it, my dear. Otherwise some servant may be accused of stealing or breaking it. You wouldn"t want someone else to suffer because you made a mistake, would you?"

Agnes gulped. "I don"t want to go back in there again. He looks so ... hairy, and bony and dirty. Not like him at all." She burst into tears.

Miss Chard put her arms round the child and hugged her. "There, now. Shall we return it together? Let us go and ask the nurse if your cousin is feeling well enough to receive visitors. If not, I will ask her to return the stopper, and no one need ever be the wiser."

"Those nurses," said Agnes, reluctantly following Miss Chard down the turret stairs to the Oak Gallery from which the main bedrooms led. "They don"t care what happens to him, and neither does anyone else. Mama only thinks what a worry it is having so many guests, and how she is to balance the table at dinner, and Great-aunt Amelia is always scolding Isabella for not making herself agreeable to Hugo, and Maud and Hugo spend all their time together and from the way they look at each other you can see it would be a waste of time Isabella even trying to attract Hugo"s attention ..."

It was cold in the Gallery, and both Miss Chard and Agnes pulled their shawls more closely around their shoulders. Their footsteps echoed on the wide wooden floorboards. Dingy family portraits hung on the panelled walls between the doors of the bedrooms, while opposite, between leaded windows, heavy oak chests were s.p.a.ced. It was dusk, and the park outside could barely be seen.

"The footmen are late bringing round the lamps," said Miss Chard.

"I"m scared," said Agnes.

Miss Chard wanted to say that there was nothing to be scared of, but the words died in her mouth. She knocked on the door of the State Bedroom. There was no reply. The silence in the Gallery was profound. A board creaked. Agnes jumped. Miss Chard knocked again, and the door, which could not have been properly closed, swung open. From within came a moan which raised the hairs on the back of Miss Chard"s neck.

Agnes clasped her hands over her mouth and fled back along the Gallery and up the stairs to the safety of her nursery. Frances Chard raised a hand to smooth the hair at the nape of her neck, and hesitated. Should she go after Agnes? No, the child would be safe for a moment. Her old nurse was upstairs. It would only take a few minutes to restore the stopper.

She slipped into the bedroom, and looked around her. It was even darker here than it had been in the Gallery. The room was furnished with heavily carved dark oak furniture, and the four-poster bed and windows were hung with red brocade curtains. It was a sombre apartment. Beyond the bed a large mirror hung over a cavernous fireplace, reflecting in its speckled depths that part of the room which was hidden from Frances by the bed. Beyond the fireplace a door stood ajar, presumably leading into a dressing-room.

There was no one to be seen.

Frances drew in her breath. Agnes"s remarks about dirt had been justified. She thought the room could not have been aired for days.

She called, "Nurse?" No one replied.

She did not care to look at the bed closely. She was not there out of curiosity, to gawp at a dying man. She spied a clutter of medicine bottles and gla.s.ses on a table between the windows. No doubt the stopper had come from one of them.

Someone moaned on the far side of the bed. Frances" eyes went to the mirror. She glimpsed a grey shape which writhed and then subsided back on to the floor. The moans, the dusk, the seclusion, all combined to upset the governess"s equilibrium. Like Agnes, she put both hands over her mouth to stifle a cry, but unlike Agnes she did not flee.

"What"s all this, then?" demanded a sleepy but human voice. The tousled figure of Benson, dressed - or rather, half-dressed - appeared in the doorway of the dressing-room. Before she could flounder out an explanation of her presence, he cried out, "Crissake! The Major!", and plunged into the gloom on the far side of the bed.

Pulling what looked like a bundle of old clothes off the floor, he swung it towards the windows. It was one of the agency nurses, Nurse Moon by name, and she was undoubtedly the worse for drink. She staggered, rebounded off the table and sank into a sprawl on the floor. The fumes of gin and vomit were overpowering.

Frances hammered open a window, and then went to help Benson. The batman was kneeling on the floor beside something which the nurse"s body had previously concealed from sight. A bolster from the bed lay partly over the face of his master. The slim body was clad in a rumpled nightshirt, badly stained. There was a discoloured bandage round the injured man"s brow; the splints had been removed from his arm, and another bandage wound round his left forearm. This second bandage was not doing its duty, for it barely covered the tip of an open wound from which blood was now crawling to drip on the carpet.

"She"s murdered him!"

Frances felt the sick man"s pulse. "No, he"s still alive. Help me lift him back on the bed."

"Not on those sheets," cried Benson, beside himself with grief and rage. He pointed to the soiled bed-linen. "That filthy, drunken crew! Christ"s sake! The Major was always so particular ... it"s enough to make him ill, never mind what the doctors and the nurses have done to him between them ... help me wash and change him, and put clean sheets on the bed!"

Frances drew back. That was none of her work, as he must know.

"I"ll ring the bell for a servant, who will fetch the other nurse."

"The bell"s broke, and the other nurse will have gone off to the village for the afternoon." Benson stroked his master"s forehead and tried to get some water between his lips. The invalid shuddered. His eyes opened and he began to struggle, his eyes dilated.

"It"s all right, Major. The battle"s over. Benson, reporting for duty, sir." The sick man relaxed and closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell rapidly, indicating distress. He was unkempt and emaciated, but Frances did not think he looked particularly villainous; intelligent, yes, and possibly humorous, but not vicious or dissipated. His mouth, under a curved moustache, was well-shaped. Benson babbled soothing nonsense as he bathed his master"s face and arm. Frances, unasked, fetched clean water and cloths from the wash-stand in the dressing-room. The sick-room was littered with the impedimenta of nursing, but nothing in it seemed clean. The water in the bowl Benson had been holding was discoloured, and the gla.s.s from which the sick man drank had previously held some yellowish liquid which had left a deposit on the bottom. There were bottles, bloodstained splints, soiled bandages and dirty crockery on trays and even on the floor. If the sick man were at all conscious of his surroundings - and Frances thought she had seen the flash of intelligence in his eyes before weakness overcame him - then he must feel his neglect acutely.

"Hold him for me while I get a clean nightshirt," Benson commanded, and Frances took the invalid into her arms without a word of protest. She was a warm-hearted girl, and it was not in her nature to refuse help to anyone who needed her, whatever he might or might not have done. Lord Broome started at the touch of a stranger"s arms. She spoke to him soothingly and, feeling him shiver with cold, wrapped him in her own shawl.

"Why isn"t there a fire in here?" she asked.

"Too much trouble for them lazy, thieving servants. Also they say Lord Richard never had a fire in here, so what do we want with one. I did hear one say the chimney was blocked, but it looks all right to me."

Frances frowned. She had a fire in the schoolroom, Nurse had a fire in the day and night nurseries, there were fires in all the reception-rooms and in every one of the main bedrooms - except this.

Benson brought in a thick, coa.r.s.e nightshirt, very unlike the fine cambric of the one Lord Broome wore at present. "Mine," he said, by way of explanation. "I sleep next door on a cot, so that I can watch over him at night. I was just having a kip when you came, as a matter of fact. I don"t know what they"ve done with his linen." She helped him strip Lord Broome, wash him, and reclothe him.

"A Zulu spear did that," said Benson, seeing her look at a long, puckered scar on his master"s ribs. "Major Mercury they call him, because he"s quick and deadly. Wounded twice. Decorated three times. Just luck, he says. But it was more than that."

The invalid"s eyes were half-open, but not properly focused, as if he saw everything through a mist of pain. His lips moved. Frances guessed he was asking for water. She lifted a gla.s.s that lay nearby and put it to his lips. After one sip he closed his lips and turned his head away.

"He"s dying," said Benson, "but he won"t drink that. Everything they give him has that yellow medicine in it, and he can"t abide it. What I say is, if he doesn"t like it, why force it on him? I"ve asked for gruel and tea and broth for him, but they tell me to mind my own business, and forbid me to give him anything for fear of upsetting him. Them and their theories! What do they know about what he likes? I"ve tried him with some of my own supper, and a jug of water and some beer and barley water that I"ve brought up here, on the sly. He takes that all right. But I have to do it in secret, at night, when there"s just the two of us, and the nurses can"t see. They said they"d get me barred from the sick-room altogether if I interfered with him in any way. That"s why I couldn"t shave him. They"d have noticed, see. I can feed him, on the quiet, but I can"t shave him. Now, you won"t tell on me, will you, Miss? I can"t be doing him any harm. Why, last night he"d have had all of my supper if I hadn"t thought it wrong for him to eat so much: so quickly, after having been starved like he has been."

Frances sniffed at and then sipped the liquid in the gla.s.s. She decided that she wouldn"t have wanted to drink it, either. There was a tray nearby, set with tea things for one; presumably for the nurse. The tea-cup stank of gin, and the tea was cold, but when Frances held the jug of milk to the sick man"s lips, he drank it all, and seemed eager for more.

The nurse snored, arms and legs spread wide. The neck of a bottle protruded from a pocket in her dress. The vomit on the ap.r.o.n, added to the smell of gin which lingered around her despite the open window, explained how his lordship had come to be on the floor to Frances" satisfaction, if not to Benson"s.

"The murderess!" he muttered. He had brought through some coa.r.s.e sheets from the dressing-room, stripped the bed and remade it. The sheets were not big enough to cover the bed properly, and they had been slept in before, but they were far cleaner than those he took off. Frances fed the invalid the slices of bread and b.u.t.ter on the nurse"s tray. He ate them with relish.

"You see?" said Benson. "Knocks on the head is funny things. Likely the Major didn"t know who he was or where he was at first, but I reckon he"s pulling out of it. I told the doctors so, but they wouldn"t listen. You can see for yourself that he"ll eat and drink normally when he doesn"t have to take that medicine. Up we get now, Major. On to the bed."

The sick man had by now so far recovered as to understand what was being said to him. Obedient to Benson"s suggestion, he tried to help them as they bent to lift him on to the bed. Putting his weight on his left arm, he gave a gasp of pain and fainted. Frances caught him as he crumpled against her, and cried to Benson to fetch the doctor. Blood was once more seeping down the left arm.

"Doctors! They"re worse nor vets, and that"s saying something!" Benson had gone pale, but he kept his head. Under his direction Frances helped him to lift Lord Broome on to the bed and cover him over. Then Benson bathed his master"s forehead and told Frances to chafe the sick man"s right hand.

"Just don"t touch that left arm of his, Miss. They never ought to have taken the splints off ... it wasn"t ready ... or if they had to take the splints off to get at the bullet ... they shot him, you see, Miss. Probably they aimed at his head and he put his arm up and took the ball just below the elbow, just above where his arm was broken at Majuba. The doctors tried to get the bullet out, but it"s lodged deep and they only made matters worse. They left it, thinking they"d kill him if they pulled him around any more, and I reckon they were right, then. The Major couldn"t have stood it, what with losing so much blood ... those two men beat him up something cruel, and I never noticed them when they pa.s.sed me ... I told the police I didn"t think I"d know them again ... There, now. He"s coming round again. Now where can I get him some more food and drink without it being covered with that yellow poison?"

"The tea tray may still be in the schoolroom. Miss Agnes wasn"t hungry and I never eat at tea-time. Do you know where the schoolroom is?"

The Court was built in the form of a hollow square around the cloisters of the abbey which had once stood on the site. The Great Hall occupied the north side of the Court, and the south side was occupied by the Oak Gallery and the princ.i.p.al bedrooms. The reception-rooms and the tower which contained the apartments occupied by Mrs Broome occupied the west side of the Court, and on the east side were the quarters for the staff, kitchens, servants" hall, and so on. On the floor above the domestic offices were the schoolroom, nurseries, and sleeping quarters of the staff. This floor could be reached by turret staircases leading from the main floor at the end of the Oak Gallery, and also from beside the servants" hall. Thus, the schoolroom lay one floor above and at right angles to the princ.i.p.al bedroom. Benson nodded, and withdrew.

It was the hour between tea and the time to dress for dinner, when the family would be occupied in the Great Hall or the gun-room. This side of the Court was deserted. In theory Frances ought to have sent Benson for servants to fetch food from the kitchen, but she was a practical person, and knew it would take a good half-hour to obtain any food through the usual channels; and then there was always the point that his lordship would refuse it if adulterated with the yellow powder.

The invalid seemed uneasy. He turned his head from side to side; perhaps he was aware that Benson had left him. Frances spoke to him rea.s.suringly, and he managed to locate her face and fix his eyes on her. He reminded her of Agnes, who also had clear, light-grey eyes. The left side of his head had been badly bruised, but the stains were fading.

She found she was still holding his right hand. She averted her eyes from his left arm. The bandage round his forearm had slipped, or been badly tied. It was too tight, and yet too low to cover the wound. The flesh beneath was no sight for a weak stomach. The scar of the earlier wound was puckered and barely healed. The open wound above showed where the doctors had probed for the buried bullet. The left thumb and forefinger seemed, even to her untrained eye, to be limp and possibly smaller than they ought to have been.

She told herself that she could - no, ought not to interfere with the dressing on his arm, however much it needed attention. She listened for the footsteps of a pa.s.sing servant. She wished she had insisted that Benson go for the doctor straightaway.

There was a sharp pair of scissors and fresh bandages on the bedside table, beside a pile of books. She read the t.i.tles: a worn Bible, Ruskin, St Simon, Gibbons" Decline and Fall ... these would be the property of Gavin, not Richard Broome. The previous Lord Broome had held all books in contempt.

Blood was welling from the injured arm. She leaned over to touch the sick man"s left hand. Lord Broome stiffened, but his eyes did not leave her face. She spoke to him, explaining that she was going to change his dressings, that it would hurt, but only for a moment, and that he would feel better afterwards. He sighed as she cut through the discoloured bandages and gently bathed the wound beneath. She talked to him while she worked, and to her surprise he cooperated. The bandage round his head was badly stained, but the wounds beneath were almost healed. His hair was thick and dark without any grey in it. Richard had been thirty-seven when he died, so this man must be something less, though he looked about the same age. He smiled at her as she laid him back on the pillows, and she thought his lips were trying to form the words "Thank you".

"Oh, yes," she said. "I can see you are used to getting your own way; but you will allow me to tell you that you are far too thin and that I prefer my men clean-shaven."