Christa chuckled. “Where did you hear that nickname?”
“Oh, I have my sources,” her mistress said mysteriously, before succumbing to a faint giggle. She looked very pale against her pillow. “Jonathan told me that’s what the servants call Miss Debenham. I think he heard it from a groom.” Her smile disappeared, and she said wistfully, “Do you think Alex will really be happy with her?”
Christa shook her head. “I really couldn’t say. She seems very . . . self-absorbed, but there is no harm in her. Perhaps he finds her amusing. And of course, she is very beautiful.”
“Then why is Alex running off to sea again? I’d swear he had no thought of it until he became engaged.” Annabelle plucked at her coverlet nervously. “I wish there was something I could do to make him see what she is like.”
“You would be better served in discouraging her. Alex is unlikely to end the betrothal.” Christa shook her head. “It’s absurd that a man will be condemned for such an action while a woman can do it without incurring censure, but that is how society is. I expect it is because women are considered such weak-minded creatures.”
“If I could think of a way to drive her away, I would,” Annabelle confided. “Do you think she is in love with Alex?”
Christa found the conversation uncomfortable. “As much as she loves anyone, I imagine. She is certainly in love with the idea of being Lady Kingsley. Would you like more willow tea?”
Annabelle accepted the change of subject with docility. “No, the aching is gone, though if I tried to cross the room without your help, I think I would fall over. I thank my stars for your patience. You’ve done nursing before, haven’t you?”
Christa leaned back in her Windsor chair, pulling her knees up under her. “Of course. Almost all women are nurses sooner or later. Besides helping my grandmother tend the peasants, I helped care for my grandparents and my father before they died, and my mother when she was very ill.”
Annabelle sighed again. “You make me feel very young and useless. You do so many things well.—I don’t know how I would get along without you.”
Christa thought for a minute. “Perhaps this is not the best time to tell you, but I will be leaving you soon, to take a job in a shop. It is time I did something new.”
In the flickering light of the lone candle, Annabelle’s face was sad. “Everything changes.”
“Yes,” Christa admitted as she stood up, “but not all changes are for the worse. Many are improvements, once we get over the shock. Will you need anything else tonight?”
Annabelle shook her head. “No, you go and get a good night’s sleep. You can’t have had much rest this last week. It would be a pity if you became ill also.”
Christa chuckled as she turned to her small room. “Don’t worry, miss. I am as tough as an old boot. Be sure to call if you need anything.”
In spite of her words to Annabelle, it was a pleasure to tumble into bed for a solid night’s sleep. Christa was so tired that for once she was undisturbed by dreams of laughing amber eyes and a warm, hard body.
* * *
It took Alex three days to settle his affairs in Norfolk. He was guiltily aware that he should return home quickly to share the burden of hosting with Annabelle, but a stop at Stornaway would not delay him more than a few hours, and he wanted to see the place. It was the most unusual Kingsley property, several hours travel up the Suffolk coast from the Orchard.
At midafternoon he and his two attendants halted their horses on a sea cliff. The rain had stopped, but a cold north wind threatened a change of weather for the worse. The three men dismounted. The cliff was one of the highest points around, and waves smashed fifty feet below them. Alex pointed out their destination to his valet, Fiske, who had never come here before. “There is Stornaway.”
“I thought Stornaway was a town on one of the Hebridean islands,” Fiske said in puzzlement as he stared at the rocky point of land with a low stone building clinging to its shoulder.
“The original Stornaway is. This is named for it, because it’s equally barren and windy,” Alex replied.
“Is it an island, my lord?” Fiske asked.
“More or less. It used to be part of the mainland, but the coast has crumbled away around it,” Alex answered. “It stands on harder rock that won’t erode. A causeway connects it to the mainland, but it’s covered with water for half of the tide cycle. During bad winter storms, the house is isolated for several days at a time because the causeway is impassable and the waters around the island are rocky and dangerous for small boats. Stornaway is large enough for a good-size farm, and in medieval times there was a small keep for defense against the Northmen.”
He gestured and went on, “The house you see now was built about two hundred years ago. It used to be lived in all year round, but the storms and isolation make it uncomfortable in winter. Now a shepherd and his family spend the summer there with a flock. The house is in good repair, the grass is excellent, and it’s a pleasant place in warm weather.”
Fiske was fascinated. The young man had a secret romantic streak and had read Mrs. Radcliffe’sMysteries of Udolphowhen it came out the previous year. The island in front of him, stark against the lowering gray sky, looked like a perfect setting for one of the more horrid gothic romances.
The dour groom, Willson, said unexpectedly, “One of the horses is going lame, yer lordship.”
Alex went to confer with him, and Fiske wandered along the cliff to get a better view of Stornaway. Glancing up, Alex noticed where the valet was walking and called out, “Don’t get too close to the brink. With all the rain, it may be dangerous.” A stranger to Suffolk and its particular hazards, Fiske stayed where he was for another few moments.
It was a moment too long. The soaked earth of the cliff crumbled away under the valet’s weight, and with a shout of terror, Fiske tumbled into the surf fifty feet below amid a shower of earth and stones.
While Willson stared in horror, Alex stripped off his coat and boots and raced to the edge of the cliff. Fiske’s head was bobbing around in the roiling waters, but the young man seemed dazed or unconscious, possibly stunned by the fall.
A quick glance told Alex that the water was deep, and with a little luck in avoiding submerged rocks, he should be able to dive safely. A couple of hundred yards to the right was a small shingle beach with a path leading down to it. If he could pull Fiske over there, they could find shelter before they froze in the icy wind.
