Part 12 (1/2)
As he ground out an affirmative, Regine leaped out, ready for a new adventure. She'd put on weight even better than Grey had.
Ca.s.sie descended and helped Grey out of the coach into a rainy and very English night. ”Can you manage him, ma'am?” the driver asked.
”We're fine,” Grey mumbled. As Ca.s.sie paid the coachman with the last of her money, Grey headed unerringly toward Lady Agnes's door. He'd told Ca.s.sie that Lady Agnes used one wing of the sprawling manor-turned-school as her private quarters, so there should be room for unexpected visitors.
Saddlebags over one arm, Ca.s.sie caught up with him as he wielded the large bra.s.s knocker. Grey swayed while they waited for the door to open, so she moved beside him, an arm around his waist. The end of this mad adventure had arrived.
The door was opened by Lady Agnes herself. She wore a practical but elegant gown that was perfectly suited to a headmistress of n.o.ble blood.
Her brows arched when she saw the ragam.u.f.fins on her steps. ”If you go around to the kitchen door in the back of the house, someone will give you food.”
”What, no fatted calf?” Grey said unevenly. When Lady Agnes gasped, he said with a crooked smile, ”The prodigal has returned.”
Durand reached Boulogne to find the district commandant wondering what had happened to a squad of his gendarmes. Five experienced men, all former soldiers, had been patrolling the coast looking for smugglers as well as Durand's runaway spies.
The patrol had vanished without a trace. It was hard to know how far they'd traveled on their route since the folk who lived along the coast were a closemouthed lot whether they were farmers, fishermen, or smugglers.
Perhaps the gendarmes had run afoul of smugglers and their bodies were now feeding fishes in the channel. But Durand's intuition said that that devil Wyndham had had something to do with the disappearance. By now, he was probably back in England, beyond Durand's reach.
If ever Wyndham returned to France, he was a dead man. And Durand had come up with a plan to lure the b.a.s.t.a.r.d back to France.
Chapter 22.
”Dear G.o.d in heaven,” Lady Agnes whispered. ”Grey, it really is you!” Ignoring his wet, filthy, and bloodstained garments, she gave him a bone-bruising embrace.
Regine waited politely on the doorstep and Ca.s.sie stayed in the background, the unremitting tension and wariness of the last weeks dissolving in a rush of relief. Grey was home, back in the arms of those who loved him. Ca.s.sie would spend a fortnight or so in London recovering, then be off to France again.
She hoped her next mission wasn't a rescue. The strain was much greater when she was responsible for people beyond herself.
Tears running unabashedly down her cheeks, Lady Agnes stepped back and waved them inside. Surveying her prodigal, she said, ”It looks like you've had a rough pa.s.sage, my lad, but you can tell me about it later. For now, you need a bath and a bed.”
”Not necessarily in that order,” Grey said. Now that he'd reached his destination, he looked ready to collapse. Even with Ca.s.sie's help, he stumbled crossing the threshold.
”That is one of the less impressive dogs I've met,” Lady Agnes said as Regine trotted by her.
”But she has a sterling heart,” Ca.s.sie said. ”Grey rescued her in France.”
”Don't worry, I'd never dream of separating a boy and his dog.” Lady Agnes's brow furrowed as she studied Ca.s.sie. ”We've met, but I'm having trouble placing you.”
”We were introduced briefly at the wedding of Lady Kiri Lawford and Damian Mackenzie,” Ca.s.sie said. ”No reason you'd remember me.”
”Miss Ca.s.sie Fox,” Lady Agnes said as she pulled the bell rope to summon a servant. ”One of Kirkland's dubious a.s.sociates.”
”Very dubious indeed,” Ca.s.sie agreed as she steered Grey to a chair set in a corner of the small vestibule. Wearily she deposited their saddlebags on the floor.
”Sorry, I meant no insult,” the headmistress said, her gaze sharpening. ”Kirkland's a.s.sociates tend to have exceptional abilities, which is surely why Wyndham is here. Thank you, Miss Fox, from the bottom of my heart.”
”He was imprisoned in a private dungeon in France,” Ca.s.sie said succinctly, thinking that was sufficient explanation for now. ”I'll be out of your way soon, but for now, add a surgeon to the list of Lord Wyndham's needs. He was grazed by two bullets and needs treatment before the wounds turn septic. And send a message to Lord Kirkland. He's been waiting for this news for a very long time.”
Lady Agnes nodded. ”I'll notify Wyndham's family as well. They'll be overjoyed.”
”Not ... my family.” Grey's head was tilted back against the wall and his eyes were closed. ”They would come thundering down here and be horrified by my present condition. The news of my miraculous survival can wait until I'm more restored.”
”As you wish,” Lady Agnes said with reluctance. ”Can you manage the steps up to a guest room?”
He thought a moment. ”With a strong railing and Ca.s.sie's help, yes.”
A capable-looking housekeeper arrived in the vestibule. By the time Lady Agnes gave orders for food, drink, and hot water to be sent to the blue bedroom, Grey was halfway up the stairs, doggedly hauling himself up by the railing one step at a time.
Ca.s.sie shadowed him in case he stumbled, but he made it to the top without help. Lady Agnes followed two steps behind, a lamp in her hand.
”To the left,” the headmistress said, moving ahead to light their way to a room down the corridor. She opened the door. ”Note the richly patterned coverlet on the bed, designed not to show blood or mud stains.”
If Ca.s.sie had been less exhausted, she would have laughed. ”Obviously Lord Wyndham is not the first wounded prodigal to arrive on your doorstep. But even so, you might want to put a dark blanket over the coverlet.”
”I've had other students return from the dead, but miracles never grow old.” Lady Agnes pulled a navy blue blanket from a chest and spread it over the bed. ”But you're right that Wyndham is quite exceptionally filthy. He never did things by halves.”
Grey was the next thing to unconscious when Ca.s.sie guided him onto the bed. As Regine jumped up beside him, Ca.s.sie squeezed his hand. ”You're safe now, my lord. It's been quite an adventure, hasn't it?”
He tightened his grip when she tried to pull away. ”You aren't leaving now, Ca.s.sie. You can't.”
”Of course she isn't leaving now,” Lady Agnes said briskly. ”She looks almost as close to collapse as you, so she'll be staying here also. There will be plenty of time for a proper good-bye when you've both recovered from your journey.”
Several servants bustled into the room with steaming canisters and trays. Leading them was an older man of military bearing and a woman about Lady Agnes's age, but shorter and softer in appearance. Ca.s.sie guessed that these were General Rawlings and Miss Emily Cantwell, Lady Agnes's colleagues in running the school.
Face working, the general clasped Grey's other hand. ”By G.o.d, boy, you've taken your time getting out of whatever trouble you found!”
Grey gave a breath of laughter. ”I should have listened better to your lectures, sir. I had to be rescued by this lady here, Ca.s.sie Fox.”
The general turned to Ca.s.sie, his eyes gimlet gray. ”Rather more than a lady, I think. You're one of Kirkland's lot, aren't you? I look forward to hearing the tale.”
”Later,” Miss Emily said firmly. ”These young people need rest and a good wash first. I also want to see what's under those bandages.” She made a shooing motion at Lady Agnes. ”Show Miss Fox to her room. We'll take care of Lord Wyndham.”
Ca.s.sie was happy to transfer responsibility to these capable hands, but she felt oddly empty as she followed Lady Agnes into the room across the corridor. Two of the servants followed with hot water and a tray of food and drink.
Lady Agnes said, ”I could order a tub, but my guess is that you prefer a quick wash, an even quicker bite to eat, and a very long rest. You'll find a nightgown in that wardrobe. If you leave what you're wearing outside the door, I'll have the garments cleaned and pressed.”
”Most excellent.” Ca.s.sie buried her face in her hands for a few moments as she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. ”The dye on Lord Wyndham's hair will wash out with vinegar. The injuries are less than a day old. He says he heals well, but he was a little feverish on the channel crossing. The wounds need cleaning.”
”Anything else can wait till tomorrow. Rest now, child,” Lady Agnes said softly. ”Your job is done.” Briefly she rested a hand on Ca.s.sie's shoulder before leaving.
As Ca.s.sie stripped off her filthy clothing, she understood better why Lady Agnes's lost lords loved her so much. No doubt Wyndham's family loved him deeply, but that kind of love came with hopes, fears, and expectations. Lady Agnes offered love, warmth, and acceptance. And it even extended to dogs.