Maude had hurried over with one of the blankets, which she wrapped around Harriet’s shoulders. Rebecca meanwhile had kneeled down beside her cousin and was gentlyexploring her ankle to try to estitmate the damage. It wasalready badly swollen; it was impossible to tell if it wasmerely sprained or if perhaps there was a broken bone.
“What I would like to know, Bartlett,” Christopher said, “is what you were doing down there in the firstplace.”
“It is Miss Shaw’s birthday,” Mr. Bartlett said, “and she wished to see the dungeon. Where I was brought up,Sinclair, men were taught to respect the wishes of ladies.No one else had the courage to accompany her; I did so.”
“You’re a damned fool, Bartlett!” Christopher said. “Did the lady’s safety mean nothing to you? Must you beforever trying to impress the ladies?”
Mr. Bartlett did not respond to the anger in Christopher’s voice and manner. He remained cool. “You and I both know that there is no love lost between us, Sinclair,”he said. “I suggest we show enough good breeding not toair our differences in public. If you wish to pursue our quarrel, perhaps we could make a private appointment?”
Harriet was beginning to recover from her fright, thoughshe grimaced in pain when Rebecca tried to move her foot.She looked around her with interest.
“Why is everyone talking about me as if I were not here?” she asked. “I am not at all sorry that I went downthe steps. It was by far the most exciting part of the day.And I would not have twisted my ankle had not someonebeen inconsiderate enough to leave a loose stone on thestep. Do please stop fussing, everyone.” But she lookedas if she was thoroughly enjoying the attention she wasreceiving.
“You are not sorry!” Mr. Carver exclaimed. Rebecca looked up in surprise. She had not imagined that his voicecould sound so formal or so cold. “It don’t matter, Isuppose, that everyone up here was worried half to death?Look at your papa! And it don’t matter that Sinclair and Imight have been in danger coming to rescue you.”
“Well,” Harriet said, tossing her head, “I might haveknown you were poor-spirited, sir! I don’t know why youcame down to find us. No one asked you to, I am sure.”
“Harriet, love,” Maude said, “Mr. Carver carried youup most of those steps. You should be grateful. And he isright about your papa. He is very upset. And really Stanleywas greatly at fault in agreeing to accompany you downthere. He should have known better.”
“Oh,” Harriet said, “you are all horrid. No one here has an ounce of spirit except Mr. Bartlett. This has notbeen a pleasant birthday after all. I wish to go home atonce.”
“Come on, Sinclair,” Mr. Carver said, “let’s carry Miss Shaw between us to her carriage. If you ask me,ma’am, you are fortunate not to be given a sound beatingfor this and a ration of bread and water for the next fewdays.”
“Well!” Harriet said. “Well! I have never been so insulted. How dare you! Get away from me, sir. I wouldrather crawl every inch of the way to the carriage thanhave to be beholden to you for the smallest favor. Getaway from me!”
The last words were almost shrieked as Mr. Carver advanced menacingly on her, scooped her up into hisarms, and marched off with her in the direction of thestone archway that led to the hill and the conveyances.Rebecca, gathering up the discarded blanket, glanced uneasily after them. Mr. Carver, especially in his presentmood, looked quite large enough to squash the life out ofHarriet. Both Christopher and Philip, she noticed at another glance, were grinning.
Chapter 12
Harriet was almost subdued for the next few days. Her ankle really was severely sprained, as the doctor confirmedon the evening of the outing. Consequently, she was confined to the house until she could get about again. She saton a sofa in the morning room for most of each day, herinjured foot propped on a cushioned stool in front of her.
She need not have been unduly bored. Her own family and the Sinclair family did their best to ensure that sheconstantly had company, and news of her mishap broughtmany other visitors, too. But Harriet had decided to bebored and generally out of sorts. The only person withwhom she was in charity was Mr. Bartlett, who had notonly been the only one with the courage to accompany herto the dungeons, but who also was the only one who hadin no way blamed her for what had happened. In addition,he had been ill-used himself, notably by Mr. Carver andMr. Christopher Sinclair, and it was up to her to consolehim.
The two spent hours together, talking, playing cards, reading—Mr. Bartlett read aloud to Harriet. On twooccasions, he carried her out onto the terrace so that shemight sit in the fresh air for a while.
Maude seemed not to like her brother and her stepdaughter being alone together. Whenever possible, she brought her work into the room and sat silently, her headbent to the embroidery until someone else arrived. But Maude could not always be there. Lord Holmes—claiming that the long journey to Cenross Castle, the wind and freshair in the courtyard, and the shock of his daughter’s accident had quite undermined his delicate health—had takento his bed. The doctor was sent for daily to examine somenew symptom. And Maude was the only nurse allowednear the somewhat petulant patient. She was constantly inattendance on him when he was awake. Fortunately forher, he slept quite frequently.
Harriet was quite out of charity with both Christopher and Julian. She did not quarrel openly with them, but shebehaved with cold hauteur during their daily visits, to thefrustration of Julian and the apparent amusement ofChristopher.
“I say, Harriet,” Julian said unwisely one afternoon, “you ain’t going to go around with your nose in the air forthe rest of the summer, are you? It’s deuced uncomfortabletrying to converse with a female who is on her highropes.”
“I do not recall asking you to converse with me, Julian,” Harriet said with such a bored drawl that Christopher got to his feet and strolled to the morning-room window so that he might have his back to the company fora few minutes.
Harriet was civil to Ellen and Primrose, though she behaved as if she were twenty years older than they andcondescended so shockingly that both became quite indignant and confined their conversation to the ever-charmingMr. Bartlett for all subsequent visits.
Almost undoubtedly Harriet would have treated Mr. Carver with a special disdain. However, she was not givena chance to do so in the days of her confinement to home.He did not visit even once or send any messages that shemight have answered in a suitably contemptuous fashion.It was left to her, in fact, to show an awareness of hisexistence.
‘‘Never tell me that Mr. Carver has finally gone home,” she said to Christopher one afternoon. “I thought perhaps he was planning to take up permanent residence with your mama and papa.”
“Luke?” Christopher said in some surprise. “Oh, he is still here. And when he came, he accepted a very firminvitation to stay until my own return to town in September. He is in the village this afternoon, visiting Miss Shawat the school, I believe. He seems to have developed asocial conscience since coming into the country. His motherwill be delighted.”
“Well,” Harriet said acidly, “it is as well that he has some feelings for the poor. He seems to have none for thesufferings of his own class.”
Mr. Carver was indeed at the school. Rebecca had been surprised to find him standing on the doorstep soon afterluncheon when she answered his tap on the door. Shelooked nervously around, fully expecting to see that Christopher had accompanied him, but he was apparently alone.
He smiled, removed his hat, and bowed. “Came to see how you were doing, ma’am,” he said. “Can I be of anyassistance?”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I am sure the boys will be delighted by your presence, sir,” she replied.“Pray come inside.”
