Page 6 of Marie’s Merry Gentleman (The Bookshop Belles #2)
CHAPTER 5
Home Comforts
S ebastian stretched and welcomed the new day with a hearty yawn. First light peeked over the mountains. He loved this time of year when he could catch the whole sunrise at a reasonable hour. His first thoughts were for Miss Baxter, and whether her pain levels were manageable. They might even watch the sunrise together from the upstairs parlour that faced south.
His valet, Mr Sharpe, commented, “You’re in an excellent frame of mind this morning.”
“Indeed I am,” he agreed far too readily.
“Can we credit this to the presence of Miss Baxter?”
He snapped, “You’re out of line.” Then immediately regretted being so terse. But also, how dare the valet assume such a thing? “It’s the books Miss Baxter delivered, nothing more.”
“Apologies, my lord,” Sharpe said as he adjusted Sebastian’s cravat. “The books are indeed a boon, and an excellent addition to the library.”
He shouldn't have been so harsh. Reacting so defensively was a sure sign the valet had got too close to the truth. A moment ago, he’d planned to carry Miss Baxter down to the library… but now he wondered how much his staff had seen?
He was being chivalrous, nothing more. The poor lass was injured and unable to walk. Ergo, she must be carried.
So why was he the one doing the carrying? He wasn’t the one who’d hurt her; so his actions were not the result of duty or guilt. In fact, he’d urged her to remain in the house because of the risk of injury.
Cold realisation washed though his body as he adjusted his sleeves.
He liked carrying her around. The thought of anyone else performing that duty stuck in his craw.
He really should stop. They were virtual strangers, even if they’d been corresponding for months. Except he’d thought he was addressing Matthew Baxter the father, not the daughter Marie.
Marie was now stuck here, possibly still in a great deal of pain and missing her family. And she was trapped in one room at a time unless someone carried her to the next.
She must be utterly miserable.
He rang the bell for Mr Martin. “Have my horse ready in an hour, I shall be taking letters to Alston.”
“Very good,” the butler said, and headed off to alert the stables.
Sharpe retrieved a thick scarf and a greatcoat for him. Grey clouds covered the sky, they were unlikely to see much of the sun today. But it wasn’t raining just yet.
“Should you take the carriage instead, sir?”
“I’ll be faster on Caesar. If I go in the carriage, someone else will have to drive it through the gloom. I should be back within the hour.”
He saw Mrs Ellwood in the hall as she left Miss Baxter’s rooms.
“Mrs Ellwood, how goes our guest this morning?”
Mrs Ellwood bobbed a curtsey and said, “A little glum, but nothing a visit to the library won’t fix.”
Sebastian beamed at how much Estelle appreciated his library. He was about to offer to carry her down there before he left, then stopped himself. He had to prioritise the letters. Then he’d see to Miss Baxter’s comfort.
“I have an idea,” he said to the housekeeper. “Would you please convert the unused parlour on the ground floor into a bedroom for Miss Baxter?”
“Certainly,” she said with another bob of her head. “And ah…” she lowered her voice as her expression softened, “Miss Baxter requires some more clothing. She has some things with her, but they are completely inadequate for an Alston winter.”
Sebastian indicated they should not stand around chatting, as he did need to get down to the stables. He tilted his head toward the stairs so they could keep walking together and carry on the discussion. It would give Miss Baxter some privacy, too. He didn’t feel comfortable discussing women’s clothing so close to the door where the lady whose clothes were in question might overhear them on the other side of it.
“I did note the thinness of her coat when she arrived,” he said.
“I have warm things she might use, of course, but a lady of Miss Baxter’s station does require more than servants’ clothes.”
“I concur,” he said, taking the steps. Then it hit him what his housekeeper was hinting at, “She needs a lady's clothing, doesn’t she?”
“Thank you, my lord, that she does.” Mrs Ellwood stood looking at him, patiently waiting for him to catch up to her thoughts. She knew what had to be done, of course, and so did he, but…
He hung on to the bannister while he absorbed the impact of what the housekeeper was saying and accepted the necessary action. He couldn’t go on pretending events of the past had never taken place, no matter how much he tried to lock things away. He took a steadying breath and then continued his descent. “Very well. No use if all those dresses remain mouldering in a trunk. Do as you see fit. I suppose Miss Baxter is of a similar size to the former countess.”
How he managed to get those words out and remain upright astounded him. He had hoped to live the rest of his life without ever having to think of that woman ever again. It was bad enough that the boys were a constant reminder.
“Thank you, my lord. I shall find something suitable, and warm. Some of the plainer gowns will do nicely. And I am sure there are some warmer coats -”
“Yes, very good,” he said in clipped tones.
“I recall a rabbit-fur lined cloak,” Mrs Ellwood said with a hopeful tone.
Sebastian stopped and faced the overly-helpful housekeeper. “Is this your way of telling me you’ve already gone through the trunks?”
She bobbed a curtsey and said, “I am terribly sorry, but the poor lass did need something warmer.”
She was right, of course. Mrs Ellwood was a wise woman and he knew it. She had merely required his permission to do the right thing, which she had clearly already done. He nodded abruptly and hurried away from the pitying expression on her face.
He couldn’t get out to the stables fast enough. The cold winter air on his face would do him the world of good. As much as he yearned to gallop, it would be foolhardiness itself to encourage Caesar to go any faster than walking pace. The snow on the ground might look pretty, but there was no way of judging the obstacles or rabbit holes beneath it.
Black ice was also a certainty. Blasted stupid black ice was why Miss Baxter was still in his home, and why, indirectly, he was now in a foul mood. Not because of her exactly, but because of the feelings she’d stirred up that he’d long since buried.
The horse let out a complaining huff, and pawed the ground.
“It’s all right, Caesar, I’m not cross with you,” he told the stallion with a pat on the neck. He must have been holding the reins too tightly.
Caesar snorted and tossed his head in understanding. Plumes of steam erupted from his soft brown nose, and Sebastian huffed out his own breath.
He had to relax. “The outing will do us both good,” he told the horse, but he still found himself turning to look back to the castle before he rode under the ruined arch. He looked up at the window to Miss Baxter’s room. Was she sitting there?
The curtains were still drawn, however.
The icy wind would cool his inflamed nerves. This journey to Alston would do him the world of good.
When he returned home, his limbs were so stiff from the cold he almost had to be prised off Caesar’s back. That Miss Baxter had survived her much longer ride in even worse conditions raised her higher in his esteem. A determined, stubborn woman, he thought, who would accomplish whatever task she set herself to no matter what unexpected obstacles might present themselves. How frustrated she must be at being trapped now by her injury!
Instead of heading directly inside, he corralled a couple of grooms in the stables and directed them to affix wheels to a chair so that Miss Baxter would be able to move from room to room without needing to be carried.
“Can we also somehow brace something to the chair for her left leg, so that it remains level or raised in some way? It’s for the lady who has badly sprained her left ankle and this will help enormously.”
“We’ll do our best,” one of the grooms said.
The other nodded and said, “It’ll be grand, m’lord, leave it to us. We’ll bring it in shortly.”
Smiling with the expectation of success, Sebastian headed inside to the comforts of his warm library. He rang the bell and told Mr Martin to let him know when Miss Baxter was in a state to receive visitors. Then he picked up the book he’d been devouring and returned to the page he’d reached last night before he went to bed. Mr Martin silently left a pot of hot coffee at his elbow, and Sebastian murmured his thanks without looking away from the page.
He sat by the fire and thawed out nicely, wiggling his toes as his feet came back to life. At least Miss Baxter had worn decent boots on her journey to Alston. They were firm fitting and had probably prevented even greater injury to her ankle.
He should not be thinking of Miss Baxter’s ankles, but that’s where his mind took him.
He should not be thinking about Miss Baxter at all.
Within the hour, the grooms proudly delivered him an old dining chair which had been modified with wheels attached to the feet and a short plank attached on each side protruding forward with a cross-brace nailed between them. They’d wrapped a thick pad of leather around the wood for comfort.
“Very good,” Sebastian approved, eyeing the chair. “That will help enormously.”
Miss Baxter would be able to rest her injured foot on the cross-brace and the other on the floor, then scoot herself about from room to room, as long as she went slowly. “Thank you, lads, a fine job!”
Mrs Ellwood was the next to arrive, telling him that the unused parlour had been cleaned, a fire lit and a bed brought in.
“I took out the rugs that were on the floor, too,” Mrs Ellwood said, looking at the wheeled chair with an approving nod. “That’s a right clever contraption, my lord.”
“Let us hope Miss Baxter approves too. Is she ready to come down?”
“I think so. I didn’t tell her we were preparing a room for her downstairs.” Mrs Ellwood beamed. “Thought it’d be a nice surprise to cheer her up, like.”
The housekeeper didn’t miss a thing. Poor Miss Baxter must be miserable. “You think she needs cheering up?”
Mrs Ellwood shrugged. “The lass is hurt and far from home and family. She’s putting a brave face on, but I’ve seen a few tears.”
He had, too; she’d cried into his shoulder, wrenching at his heart. He nodded, determining then and there to do everything in his power to give Miss Baxter all the comforts Alston Castle could possibly provide while she resided there. “Treat her like a duchess, Mrs Ellwood,” he instructed. “I feel dreadful that this happened to her; it’s my fault she came all this way in the first place. I should have trusted them to package and send my books properly.”
“Trust don’t come easy to you, my lord.” The housekeeper looked at him with a penetrating gaze, and then she gave a small smile and nodded. “But I quite understand why. I think Miss Baxter is one as you can trust, though. A real lady, for all her family’s in trade.”
Was his housekeeper… matchmaking ? Sebastian gave a stiff little nod, his distrust extending to himself as he couldn’t figure out how to respond the right way.
He marched off towards the stairs. The sooner he brought Miss Baxter down and into her movable chair, the better. Once she had her movable chair and was settled in the converted downstairs room, he wouldn’t need to carry her about any more, which meant he wouldn’t smell the lavender water she obviously rinsed her hair with, or feel the way she trustingly rested her head against his shoulder…
Stop it, Sebastian , he told himself, very firmly. This way lies heartbreak .
Marie’s face when he showed her the wheeled chair was a picture; he set her carefully down on it and lifted her foot onto the padded cross-brace. Privately, he tried not to think too much that this would be the last time he carried her about, but it was best for his sanity that he keep his hands off her.
“If you hold onto the arms and push on the floor with your good foot, you should be able to scoot around. Slowly. I don’t think it will turn corners very well…”
Marie experimented, a grin dawning on her face as she was able to navigate her way across the library.
“My lord, this is simply marvellous. You made this?”
“Well, two of my grooms made it,” he demurred. “I just told them what I needed.” All the same he couldn’t help grinning at how happy he’d made her.
“It is exceedingly clever! All the more so as it must have been put together from bits and pieces you had on hand. I am impressed by your ingenuity, my lord, and indeed by your grooms’ craftsmanship.”
Sebastian felt the tips of his ears heat. He ducked his head a little bashfully. “The least we could do, Miss Baxter. But I have more to show you. If you’ll allow me?” He put his hands on the back of the chair. “I think it will steer better with someone pushing.”
Mr Martin opened the library door for them with a broad smile, and Sebastian pushed Marie across the hallway and down a wide corridor. Opposite the dining-room another door stood open, Mrs Ellwood waiting there for them with a welcoming smile.
Sebastian had to pause and steel himself before pushing Marie into the parlour that had once been the former countess’ favourite room. Looking about, though, he noted gratefully that Mrs Ellwood had done a marvellous job. Though the walls and drapes were still the pastel pink shade he had come to hate, the monstrously ornate, gilded furniture was gone, probably banished to some far reach of the attics, replaced with a simple chaise upholstered in sage-and-cream striped satin and a bed with matching covers, set discreetly behind a woven wicker screen. A fire crackled merrily in the grate, a tea-tray waited on a side-table beside the chaise, and several lightweight chairs were placed along the walls, out of the way for now but easy enough to drag up to the tea-table.
“His lordship thought this might be more convenient for you,” Mrs Ellwood said kindly, as Marie looked about.
Marie didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Sebastian began to wonder nervously if there was something about the room that displeased her.
“Is it to your satisfaction?” he asked anxiously.
Marie turned to him, eyes brimming with tears, her hand over her mouth in shock. She pulled it away and confessed, “This is quite the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. It’s too much, my lord! I am already inconveniencing your household quite enough…”
“Nonsense,” he said robustly, “you must never think that. We are delighted by your presence here, especially the boys…”
Who erupted into the room at that precise moment, and promptly began shouting with glee as they examined Marie’s wheeled chair. She laughed, knuckling away her tears, and graciously gave permission for them to push her about the room, so long as they were careful not to bump into the furniture.
Sebastian stood back near the door and watched, aware after a few moments that the tutor Mr Charles had come up beside him and was watching too.
“Miss Baxter is very good with George and Richard,” Mr Charles commented. “It is good for them to have a female figure in their lives, I think.”
Sebastian bit down hard on the inside of his lip, not trusting himself to say anything. Fortunately, he didn’t have to, as Morag arrived just then carrying the first of several trays of sandwiches and pies for nuncheon. The boys called for him to come and sit with them.
“Pardonnez-moi, qu'avez-vous dit? Je ne comprends pas l'anglais,” he said teasingly, making them laugh.
Richard stumbled through the invitation in French, gently corrected by Marie, and then Sebastian accepted graciously and came to the table, bringing one of the chairs with him to sit on. He tried not to resent Mr Charles taking a seat too and eagerly joining in the conversation. He couldn’t begrudge the young man taking the opportunity to improve his French.
Somehow, he was going to have to manage the unpleasant curdling feeling in his belly whenever Mr Charles cast one of those admiring smiles at Marie, or whenever Marie laughed at the tutor’s efforts to make jokes in French. He had no business feeling jealous of their innocent interactions.
None at all.