Page 6 of Lady Elinor’s Elf

Mrs Deryn opened the back door to the kitchen and yelped as something black, wet, and with four legs rushed past her into the house.

“Dear Lord,” she gasped, hands clasped to her bosom. “The devil itself is in my kitchen.”

Caleb hurried to soothe her. “No, not at all, dear lady. Never think I’d allow such a thing.” He looked sternly at the dog. “This is…er…well, he doesn’t have a name yet, but we rescued him from drowning down by the stream.”

“Oh.” She looked more closely. “Poor thing. He looks a bit skinny, doesn’t he?”

“Probably half-starved,” said Caleb wisely. There was nothing like a bit of sympathy to calm everything down a bit.

“Well, we’ll see about that.” She glanced up. “And oh, dear, sir. Look at you. Dripping all over my clean floor. You go right upstairs this minute and change out of those wet clothes…I’ll have Baggy bring them down to dry by the fire here.”

Holding back a laugh at hearing his august butler-cum-valet referred to as “Baggy”, Caleb simply nodded.

But apparently the dog had developed an affection for him that necessitated his presence at all times. So his movement to the door immediately alerted the dog, who trotted up to him and sat, leaning against his thigh.

“Awww…” Mrs Deryn melted. “Look at that, will you? He’s a smart lad. Knows who saved his life, that’s for sure.”

“He’s wrong about that, but yes, it seems he likes me.” Caleb shrugged. “I’ll take him up with me, and he can dry off while I change. Then we’ll both be back down. And a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss…”

“Of course, sir. And I’ve got some nice Shrewsbury cakes coming out of the oven soon, so they’ll be waiting for you. There’s a good fire going in the parlour.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Caleb nodded and glanced down. “Come along then, lad. I’ll have to think of a name for you, won’t I?”

A little bark and a happy skip seemed to signify a positive response, and made Caleb chuckle. “I have a feeling you’re a sight smarter than you look.”

There was no response other than a look Caleb could best describe as smug.

Deryn’s response to the dog was much the same as his wife’s; incredulity and concern, soon won over by a face that was hard to resist.

So hard, in fact, that as Caleb changed into dry clothing, he saw his butler with a large towel rubbing the pup dry.

“There now, chappie. That’s better, isn’t it?

And look what a fine coat you have on you.

” The dog responded with a good shake, and a happy, droopy-tongued smile. “An excellent carrádog, you are.”

“A what?” Caleb pulled a dry shirt over his head and tucked it into dry breeches.

“Oh, just an old Welsh word, sir. It is one of affection, sometimes used in place of beloved. But I’ve always felt that it would be a perfect name for a really good dog.”

“Hmm.” Caleb sat down on a chair and snapped his fingers. “Here, fellow. Let’s have a look at you then, now you’re dry.”

Obediently, the dog trotted to Caleb and plopped himself down in front of him, blinking his large amber eyes and managing to convey the impression of someone who was just happy to be alive, let alone warm and dry.

“You’re a cheerful chap, aren’t you?” Caleb couldn’t help smiling back. “What say you? Do you think Carrádog might be an appropriate name for you?”

“Woof.”

“All right then. Carrádog it is.”

“And that would be with the Welsh pronunciation, of course, sir,” Deryn offered mildly.

“It would?”

“Indeed. Carr- A -dog. The emphasis is on the “A”.”

“I see.” Caleb tried it out. “Carrádog, sit.”

The dog looked at him.

“Sit?”

Another glance was exchanged.

“Well, it seems we have a way to travel yet, young Carrádog.” Caleb ruffled the soft curls on the top of the dog’s head, making him grin and shiver with pleasure.

“I’m sure the two of you will get there,” reassured Deryn. “However, I would remind you that dogs need to go outside now and again, sir. Please remember that.”

Caleb nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m ready to head downstairs, so I’ll try him with the French doors in the parlour and see if he gets the general idea.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The words were heartfelt, and he found himself chuckling as he and the dog made their way back down the formal staircase and into the parlour.

“Right then, lad.” Caleb opened the door to the garden, pleased to see that the rain had stopped. “Do you need to step outside for a moment?”

Hesitantly, the pup sniffed and then looked up at Caleb. “I won’t shut you out, don’t worry. Go attend to your business and come right back in. There’s a good fire to warm us.”

And sure enough, the dog trotted out, disappeared behind some bushes and reappeared very shortly thereafter, trotting back into the parlour with tail held high.

Caleb shook his head. “You really do understand, don’t you?”

Carrádog strolled to the fireplace, sniffed the rugs, found the softest one and lay down. His amber eyes remained on Caleb as he poured himself tea and put a couple of cakes on a plate. Then stopped and added one more for his unexpected guest.

Just in case.

*~~*~~*

Elinor was unaware, of course, that she and the annoying Sir Caleb Howell had actually mirrored each other’s moves when they reached their separate homes.

Jane had managed not to shriek when Elinor had dripped her way into the kitchen, but it was a close thing. Within moments, she’d almost stripped her mistress, dragging her upstairs and scolding quite loquaciously along the way.

“What were you thinking? Getting yourself soaked like this. Did you fall in? This is the sort of thing that’ll set you up for an inflammation of the lungs, you mark my words.”

“I…”

“Nevermind. I don’t want to hear it, because I don’t doubt the story would give me nightmares for weeks.”

Unfastening the last of the sodden garments, she handed Elinor a thick robe. “Here, Miss Elinor. Go and sit by the fire a bit, and I’ll be getting you a couple of towels and a hot cup of tea.”

Elinor’s lips twitched. “Ah, that’ll be wonderful, Jane. Thank you. Tea and towels. The answer to everything.”

Jane shot her a glance. “And you’d better believe it.”

She flounced out—there was no other word for it—leaving her mistress snuggling into the robe and poking at the low fire which had kept her room reasonably warm. Another log or two would light up the room and send warmth circling to all four corners.

Running her fingers through her damp hair in an attempt to untangle it, Elinor thought about the events of the day. And of course, being a woman, her musings quickly wandered to Sir Caleb Howell.

Even soaking wet, it could not be denied that he was handsome.

Not the sleek, elegant type of handsome that so many society gentlemen affected, but the genuine, nice-chest, firm-thighs, broad-shoulders (that owed nothing to padding) type of handsome.

Setting looks aside, she acknowledged that his conversation was edgy, challenging almost, as if daring her to not be one of those simpering misses. He was not reticent in stating his opinions, and had clearly no intention whatsoever of being either impressed or cowed by her title.

Which, given that his status wasn’t to be sneezed at…she shrugged. They weren’t far off from being social equals. Although if it came to reputations? Well, that was another matter.

Elinor sighed. She’d really put her foot in it this time. Of course, London would have moved on to the newest scandal by now, but she was well aware that she had only to step into any one of the many “important” houses in town…and the story of that slap would immediately resurface.

No, she could never go back to that. A thought that actually brought more comfort than it should.

Here was where she was happiest. She was a Molliney of Molliney Park, and her heart belonged here.

The beauty of the land, the lush air of the forests…

a much better place to live than one where the noise was endless, and the smells nigh unbearable sometimes.

But what would become of her? She had no idea.

Jane returned, arms filled with more towels, a dry gown, and a hairbrush.

“Right then.” She dropped everything onto Elinor’s bed. “Do you need a bath? How dirty was the pond you fell into?”

Elinor had to chuckle. “A bath? No, I already had one, thank you. Honestly? It wasn’t even a pond. It was just the rising water coming over the banks. And I didn’t fall, but I had to lean into it to rescue a dog.”

“Oh no, poor thing.” Jane, whose affinity for animals in trouble was well known, paused and stared at her. “Was it hurt badly?”

“Not at all. His foot had become trapped by a log that had floated downstream and jammed into some rocks. I was able to pull it loose, and he hopped out as spry as could be.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Where is he?” Jane frowned. “You didn’t leave him out there in this terrible weather, did you?”

“No, of course not.” Elinor pulled her gown over her head and moved closer to the now bright fire. “He…um…”

“He what?”

Elinor sighed. “He went home with Sir Caleb Howell.”

Jane blinked. Then shot a very pointed look at Elinor. “You did not mention anywhere in this story of yours, that you had met Sir Caleb, Miss Elinor.”

“Well, I would have, of course, but we got diverted by wet clothes, wet hair, and the need for a nice warm fire, which I am happy to note we now have.” She toasted her bare toes.

“Miss Elinor.”

She knew that particular tone. “Oh, all right. I bumped into Sir Caleb in the flooded field. Literally. We walked right into each other.” She frowned. “All his fault, of course. If he’d been looking where he was going, he could have avoided our collision.”

“So could you…”

Elinor paused. “Fair point, I suppose. Anyway, I rescued the dog, who—rather ungraciously—decided to follow Sir Caleb home.” She nodded. “And that’s that.”

“I see.” Jane handed over clean stockings. “I trust you maintained the reputation of this household for politeness and affability to our neighbours?”

“Good heavens, Jane. You sound worse than Mama…”

“You flatter me, Miss Elinor. But perhaps being with your parents all these years has rubbed off on me. And don’t think of changing the subject.”

“I was as polite as could be,” lied Elinor. “I doubt our paths will cross again anyway.”

Several hours later, she was proved wrong.

“A note, Miss Elinor.”

“Thank you, Benson.” She smiled at the butler, accepted the paper from the tray and, curious, undid the seal.

Dear Lady Molliney,

Since our encounter this morning was all too brief, and more than a little damp, I would be honoured if you would allow me the opportunity to amend our unfortunate meeting over tea here at Tylwyth Teg Abbey.

Perhaps tomorrow afternoon at 4:00pm? At which time I shall not only apologise profusely for any inconvenience I may have caused, but perhaps propose a solution to our mutual flooding problem.

Respectfully yours,

C. Howell

PS. The dog is doing well and now has a name, as well as a basket by the fire, and a voracious appetite. Please join me, or he will eat all the biscuits.

Elinor looked at Benson. Then she burst out laughing.

“What a novel way to invite someone to tea,” she chuckled. “Apparently the man has a sense of humour as well as a rather stubborn streak and a quick temper.”

“Sir Caleb is well-regarded amongst our locals, Miss Elinor.”

“He is?”

“Indeed. He pays his bills on time, is said to be kind to his household, and rides well.”

“Ah. All signs of a good character.” She thought for a moment. “All right. I’ll go and have tea with the man. Yes, I confess I’ve always been curious about the Abbey, and I’ve never actually been inside. And that is an added inducement. But I’ll need a maid to come with me, won’t I…?”

“You certainly will, Miss Elinor. I’m sure we can spare young Priscilla for an afternoon.”

Thus, with plans in place, Elinor sat at her desk to pen her reply. After a few moments, she smiled and grabbed her quill.

Dear Sir Caleb ,

I am honoured by your request and will accept your invitation to tea with grateful thanks. My maid and I will be at the Abbey precisely at four.

With appreciation,

E. Molliney

PS. I am, of course, very happy to learn the dog is doing well. Not so happy to learn he’s eating your biscuits. Please ask him to leave a few for me.”