An Improper Companion

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Within half an hour she was wearing her pelisse and bonnet and heading for the meadow, which was at the back of the house. It was a pleasant morning, the sun peeping out from behind a few fluffy clouds, and the grass perfectly dry beneath her sensible black boots. She could hear a lark singing and looked up to see it perched in the branches of an oak tree at the edge of the meadow. She had a feeling of content, of being at home, for she had often performed such chores for her mother, and it was almost as if the grief of the past months had never been.

As she reached the church, she saw a tall, thin, black-gowned man leaving, and guessed that he was probably the person she had come to see. He was wearing a flat, wide-brimmed hat, which he doffed as she addressed him, to reveal hair that was sandy red.

‘Reverend Bell?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘I have come from Lady Isadora with a note.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said holding his hat to his breast. He had serious grey eyes and a gentle face. ‘You will be Miss Travers, I make no doubt. Her ladyship has spoken of you to me. I am pleased to meet you.’ He put his hat back on and offered to shake hands with her, a faint colour in his cheeks. ‘It was good of you to walk all the way down here.’

‘It is not so very far. At home the church was much further from the house, but I often walked there on fine days,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Besides, I wanted to meet you, sir. Lady Isadora tells me you are in need of flowers for the church.’

‘I should be grateful if we could have some for next Sunday,’ he said. ‘We are having a special service for one of my oldest parishioners who has lately recovered from a severe illness, and it is a service of thanksgiving, you see. I like to see flowers in the church as often as it can be managed and sometimes one of my parishioners will bring a few—but I should like more. And then we are to have a flower festival next month, and I was hoping that Lady Isadora would contribute substantially. We shall attract visitors if there is a good display and it raises money for good causes—as do the fêtes and bazaars we hold several times a year.’

‘Yes, I see,’ Elizabeth said. He was clearly very dedicated to his parish and to the good causes he supported. ‘Well, now that I am here, I shall be pleased to help you in any way I can. I shall certainly ask the gardeners about a supply of flowers for the church, though I must be ruled by what they can spare, of course—but when it comes to the bazaars, I shall help as often as I may. I have some free time in the mornings.’

‘If you are sincere in wishing to be of help I should be most grateful,’ he told her. ‘We have various stalls and any contributions are welcome, either your own work—or items from the attics at Cavendish that are no longer required. And on the day, if you could be spared to help on one of the stalls, it would be much appreciated.’

‘Well, we shall see,’ Elizabeth told him. ‘I cannot say what might be spared from the attics, but I shall certainly tell Lady Isadora of your needs.’ She smiled at him, little knowing the effect she was having on a man still only in his middle twenties who had been lonely for the past several months. ‘And may I tell her that you will give us your company tomorrow evening? I believe there are some others invited.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, beaming at her. ‘I should not dream of refusing her ladyship. Besides, there is always a good dinner to be had at Cavendish; though one should not consider such things, it makes a pleasant change.’

Elizabeth guessed that he was not used to fine cooking in his present circumstances, and felt some sympathy for him. A young man in his situation needed a wife, and he had been unlucky to lose his so early in his marriage, and the child too.

‘Oh, I believe well-prepared food is something we may all hope for,’ she said. ‘Though I suppose when you think of the starving we should not grumble if we are fed sufficient.’

‘You speak very truly, Miss Travers. It is a delight to me to hear a young lady of quality speak so thoughtfully, for so many think only of their own pleasures. Not that I wish to judge them, of course—but sometimes one sees such frivolity…’ He shook his head. ‘One would not wish to deny others pleasure—but there are so many in need, you see.’

‘Yes, of course, I do see,’ Elizabeth told him. ‘I believe in helping others less fortunate than ourselves—but surely we all deserve a little pleasure in our lives, sir?’

‘You are right to censure me,’ Reverend Bell said. ‘I should not be critical of others because they have so much—but I cannot always help myself when I know of the great need in the world.’

‘But you want to do too much,’ Elizabeth told him with a gentle smile. ‘Do you not think that we must be satisfied to do what good we can? You are only one man and the cares of your parish are heavy enough. You cannot right the wrongs of the world. Only God may do that, I think.’

‘How well you understand me,’ he said, struck by her words. ‘You are very right, I do take too much upon myself at times. I must learn humility, Miss Travers.’

‘I think you are very well as you are, sir,’ she said, for she liked him. His earnest desire to help others, and his willingness to listen, were traits that must be admired in any man. ‘It is good to strive in the cause of others, but we must accept our limitations and not despair that we cannot cure all ills. Do you not agree?’

‘Yes, indeed. What a sensible, caring young lady you are,’ he said approvingly. ‘I am glad to have had this opportunity to talk to you, Miss Travers, and I shall look forward to furthering our acquaintance.’

‘As I shall,’ Elizabeth assured him. ‘And now I must go—it will soon be time for nuncheon and I must not keep Lady Isadora waiting.’

‘No, no, of course not. Good day to you, Miss Travers. I shall see you tomorrow evening, I hope?’

‘Yes, certainly,’ Elizabeth said. ‘It will be an opportunity for me to meet others of Lady Isadora’s friends.’

She took her leave of him, setting off across the meadow at a good pace. As she did so, she saw a young lady heading towards the church and heard her call to the reverend, but she did not look back for the time was slipping away and she did not wish to be late for nuncheon.

Lady Isadora came down for nuncheon, which was served at some twenty minutes past the hour of noon. It was a light meal of cold meat, thin bread and butter and some pickles, followed if one wished for it by a lemon-flavoured custard. However, the earl, who had gone out on estate business and was not expected to return until the evening, did not join them.

After lunch they repaired to the small parlour at the back of the house. From its long windows there was a pleasant view of the gardens, and beyond them the meadow and the church spire in the distance.

‘Now we can be comfortable,’ Lady Isadora said, smiling at her. ‘Shall we do a little embroidery, I wonder? Or shall you read to me while I stitch?’

‘Have you your embroidery with you, ma’am?’

‘It is in that worktable. Pull out the compartment at the bottom and you will discover a hanging I have been working on for the church. At least, I began it, but I must confess that Miss Ridley—Helen—has done most of it for me. But do pull it out, Elizabeth dear, and let us see what remains to be done.’

Elizabeth did as she was bid, and discovered that Lady Isadora and her former companion had been working on what was clearly intended to be an altar cloth. It was an ambitious project and the work was very fine, but it would need an ambitious needlewoman to complete such a task.

‘It is rather lovely,’ Elizabeth said. ‘The silks are a little tangled, but I can soon sort them for you—though it would be done sooner if we worked on it together.’

‘I do not think I care to embroider today,’ Lady Isadora decided. ‘What have you brought to read this afternoon?’

‘I have here a book of poems, Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew—or Fanny Burney’s novel…’

‘I enjoyed Mrs Burney’s Evelina, but I do not care for some of her later work. I think I should enjoy a little of Shakespeare’s play,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘If you could bear to read that?’

‘It is most amusing,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘I love the struggle between Petruccio and Kate.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Lady Isadora said and lay back against the silken cushions on her sofa. ‘Please begin when you feel ready, my dear.’

Elizabeth opened the book and began to read. She had a pleasant voice, and put expression into her reading. In actual fact she acted out each part, and after a few minutes Lady Isadora sat up, laughing, her face animated and eager.

‘Oh, my dear!’ she exclaimed. ‘I declare it is the equal of being at the theatre to hear you. Helen only read the words, but you put so much expression into them. But I am interrupting you. Please do continue. I had forgotten how wonderful it was to hear William Shakespeare’s words spoken with feeling.’

Elizabeth continued to read for almost an hour, after which Lady Isadora rang for tea, for as she said Elizabeth’s throat must be dry.

‘It has been such a joy to me,’ she told her young companion. ‘I shall look forward to continuing tomorrow—but I must not tire you. Now we shall relax and talk, my dear. Tell me, what did you think of the Reverend Bell?’

‘He seems both pleasant and dedicated to his calling,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I liked him—and I have promised to help where I can. I felt a little sad for him, knowing that he had lost his wife and child. A man in his position needs a wife—do you not think so?’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Lady Isadora said, frowning a little. ‘I think Miss Giles might like to fill that position, though perhaps she is a little too silly for his taste.’

‘Miss Giles?’

‘You will meet Julia tomorrow evening. Her parents are neighbours—Sir Henry and Lady Giles. They have an estate no more than six miles to the south of Cavendish. They are, in fact, our nearest neighbours.’

‘I see,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Their estate cannot then be far from the village?’

‘No, it is not more than three miles, I dare say. Why do you ask, my dear?’

‘Oh, merely curiosity,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘Do you see the family often?’

‘Lady Giles calls now and then, but she prefers London or Bath to the country. They are planning on a Season for Julia this year…’

‘I see,’ Elizabeth said. ‘No doubt Miss Giles is looking forward to the trip.’

‘Yes, I expect so. I find London too tiring myself, but I shall enjoy a few weeks at Brighton in the summer—and of course we may go to Bath in the autumn.’

‘I am sure the sea air will do you good, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have never—’

What she was about to say was lost, for through the French windows she saw a sight that put everything else from her mind. Two men were walking across the lawns towards the parlour, one supporting the other, their footsteps uneven and awkward. Jumping to her feet, Elizabeth went to open the French door, for she could see that something was wrong. One of them was either hurt or ill and she sensed that help was imperative.

‘Miss Travers,’ the earl called to her. ‘Thank you for seeing our need. I fear that Mr Elworthy has been shot through the shoulder. I think the wound is not serious, but we must get him to bed and the doctor must attend him immediately.’

‘What is wrong?’ Lady Isadora had followed Elizabeth out to the terrace, and now gave a cry of alarm. ‘Daniel—what happened? You haven’t done anything foolish, I hope?’

‘John was shot at from behind as he rode here to visit me,’ Daniel said. ‘I dare say it was a careless poacher. Fortunately, I returned sooner than I had planned and discovered him lying in the road. He has lost a lot of blood and is barely conscious.’

‘Please ring for the servants, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said to Lady Isadora. She went to the other side of Mr Elworthy and put her arm about his waist, taking some of the weight on to herself and earning a surprised look of gratitude from the earl. ‘Come, sir. We must get you upstairs as easily as we can for your wound has bled and needs attention.’ Glancing over her shoulder at her employer, she added, ‘Please send Amy up to me with linen and salves, for this wound must be bound until the doctor arrives.’

‘Yes…of course.’ Lady Isadora rang the bell hastily. Elizabeth had an unconscious air of command about her, seeming to be completely in control of the situation, whereas she felt that she might faint if Mr Elworthy continued to drip blood on to her parlour floor. ‘Please, do whatever you feel necessary, my dear.’

Elizabeth did not respond. She was concentrating all her efforts on assisting the earl to get Mr Elworthy into the hall, where she saw a young, broad-shouldered footman lingering. He looked at them uncertainly.

‘Please,’ she said. ‘You have more strength than I, sir—help his lordship carry Mr Elworthy up the stairs. I shall go ahead and prepare the bed.’ She passed her share of the burden to the young man and ran on ahead. At the top of the stairs she met the housekeeper about to come down, and asked which bedchamber was available for an invalid.

‘This way, Miss Travers. The room has been cleaned only this morning, and is suitable for a gentleman,’ the woman replied, understanding the problem immediately.

Elizabeth followed her inside the guest bedchamber and together they pulled back the covers so that when the gentlemen entered—the strong, young footman now carrying Mr Elworthy in his arms—they were able to lay him straight onto the clean linen. The injured man gave a sigh and his eyelids fluttered open for a moment, his eyes looking into hers.

Elizabeth bent over him, stroking back a lock of hair from his sweating brow. ‘You are safe now, sir,’ she told him in a gentle voice. ‘I shall bind your wound for you and then you will feel easier until the doctor comes.’ She turned as Amy came in, carrying some linen and salves, followed by another young girl bearing a jug of water. ‘Ah, good,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Did either of you think to bring some scissors?’