Regency Society
‘He says he will settle the debt if we give him the girl,’ her uncle Henry Mowbray had said as Georgie hovered outside the parlour door. ‘I am deeply involved with him, Agatha. If I refuse he could ruin me—and he will. Believe me, he will!’
‘You should never have been drawn into his schemes,’ Aunt Agatha said harshly. ‘She is nothing to me, of course, but even so…that man gives me the shivers. I do not like this, Henry. Are you sure there is nothing else you can do?’
‘He wants her and the money, but at least he is willing to let the debt go. If I refuse, he might snatch her anyway—and he could ruin me in more ways than one.’
‘But that man…he frightens me, Henry. And she is little more than a child. I do not like the sound of this.’
‘Well, he says it is her or what I owe him, and you know I cannot pay.’
Georgie had run away swiftly as her uncle walked towards the door. She knew that she must not let him realise she had overheard their conversation, because he might decide to lock her in her room until he could force her to marry that man! And she was certain she knew exactly who he meant. She’d seen him looking at her when he visited her uncle and he made her feel as if she wanted to scrub herself all over! She would never marry him, whatever they did to her.
Georgie had left her uncle’s home that very night, determined that she would find a place to hide until she came into her fortune. Once she had it, she could set up home somewhere and pay a respectable companion to live with her. Her plans had been vague to say the least, and she had been acting on instinct when she took the mail coach for London, with some idea of visiting her father’s lawyers at the back of her mind, but when she lost her purse everything had changed. Her priority then had been to stay alive until she could work out what to do for the best, and now she was here in the home of a gentleman she had met for the first time that evening!
She had been fortunate, she knew that instinctively. There were worse perils on the streets of London than she had yet encountered, and, if she played her game skillfully, Captain Hernshaw might help her. She had to decide what to do for the best. There was one person who might help her, though she was reluctant to approach her great-aunt, who had always seemed remote and distant—but it might be the best way in the circumstances. It would perhaps have been best to seek her help in the first instance, but she had acted on impulse, afraid of the consequences if she delayed.
Georgie stayed in the bath until it began to get cold, then got out and dried herself, before putting on the striped soft velvet robe that the housekeeper had put out for her. It was so big that it kept falling off her shoulders and she had to hitch it up with the belt so that she didn’t trip over it all the time, but it felt warm. She went over to the dressing chest, looking at herself in the small mirror that hung from a stand above. Her dark hair was hanging about her shoulders, still slightly damp and curling in wisps as it dried, a complete giveaway of her true sex. She bit her lip, because she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth for long with her hair this way. She hadn’t wanted to cut it, but now she felt driven to do so.
She opened the top drawer of the military chest that formed part of the furnishings and saw a pair of scissors lying there. Her hand reached for them, hesitated and then grasped them determinedly. If she wanted to escape detection, she would need to be brave. She took a handful of her hair and held it up above her head, positioning the scissors. There was no help for it, her hair must go!
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ a voice said and Georgie turned to see that Henderson had entered the room via what must be a dressing room. She hadn’t realised that there was another door until this minute. ‘Proper shame to hack off all that lovely hair, if you ask me.’
Georgie got to her feet, staring at him in dismay. ‘I locked the door…’
‘I used the adjoining one, though I waited until I heard you moving about, miss. I did knock, but you didn’t hear me.’
‘I was lost in thought.’ Georgie stared at his face. ‘You knew I was a girl all the time, didn’t you? Did Mrs Jensen tell you?’
‘I sort of guessed it,’ Henderson agreed. ‘I’ve seen delicate young boys, and you might pass for one in poor light, but anyone looking at you now would know for sure. I’ve brought you some clothes—and a cap, so you can hide your hair.’
‘I think it should come off,’ Georgie said. ‘Would you help me, Henderson? I’m not sure I can do the back.’
‘I’ll cut it if you really mean it,’ the valet told her, ‘but I think it is a wicked shame, miss.’
‘You must call me Georgie,’ she said. ‘If anyone discovers the truth…I am in such terrible danger, you see. There is…someone who wants to…harm me.’ It was all she could tell him, as much as she dared to say for now. Tears stood in her eyes as she looked at him.
‘Not if I was near enough to stop him,’ Henderson said and scowled. ‘You should tell the captain, Georgie. He wouldn’t stand for it.’
‘But I can’t impose on him,’ Georgie replied. ‘He has already helped me. I have to get to my great-aunt’s house. She lives in Yorkshire and is the only person I can trust.’
‘You talk to the captain. He will help you get where you need to go,’ Henderson said, looking doubtful. He came towards her, looking at her long hair and the scissors. ‘Are you sure you want to cut this?’
‘Yes—’ Georgie began, but her next words were lost as she heard shouting and then someone knocked frantically at her door. She sprang to open it and Mrs Jensen almost fell into the room. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘It’s the master,’ the housekeeper cried, clearly in a state of shock. ‘He has been badly hurt, miss, and not far from the house. He just staggered in, covered in blood. He’s soaked in it! I never saw the like in my life. He needs you, Henderson!’ Her hands were trembling. ‘Nothing like this ever happened when the old master was alive. I can’t abide the sight of blood. I never could.’
‘Where is he?’ Henderson barked at her. ‘Pull yourself together, woman! I am going to need help.’
Mrs Jensen was shaking and in terrible distress. ‘They carried him to his bedchamber. I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but I just can’t…’
‘I will,’ Georgie said at once. ‘I’m not afraid of a little blood. Go to him, Mr Henderson, and I’ll follow as soon as I am dressed.’
‘Oh, miss,’ the housekeeper said, forgetting discretion in her distress. ‘The poor master. We’ve sent for the doctor, but he looks in a bad way.’
Chapter Two
Henderson went off without another word or a look in her direction. Georgie scooped up the clothes he had left for her and turned her back on the housekeeper as she dressed hastily in breeches and shirt that were far too big for her. She rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and legs of the breeches, tying them round the middle to hold them in with a neckerchief the valet had brought, then scraped her hair up under the cap.
‘Show me where,’ she said and Mrs Jensen stared at her, clearly still in shock. Her wits had gone begging and she looked dazed. ‘Mr Henderson will need help if Captain Hernshaw has been badly hurt.’
‘Yes, come this way,’ Dora said, coming out of her trance. ‘I’ll show you, but don’t ask me to help, because I shall faint at the sight of it. I never could stand blood, and that’s a fact!’
‘We can manage,’ Georgie said, understanding that she felt bad because of the way she had reacted. ‘My aunt was just the same. When my uncle had a shooting accident, I was the one who patched him up until the doctor—’ She stopped abruptly, because she had already said too much. She hadn’t intended to mention her uncle at all!
‘I thought…’ Dora shook her head, because the sight of her master stumbling into the house in such a state had shattered her nerves and she did not know where she was. She had assumed Georgie was alone in the world but now it seemed she had an aunt and uncle. However, it wasn’t her business, and there was no time to think of anything but Captain Hernshaw for the moment. ‘You had better come at once.’
Georgie followed her swiftly along the hall to a set of double doors at the end, which led into the master suite. She went in, leaving Mrs Jensen to hover outside. The first room was a sitting room, which she noticed seemed less dark and dull than the rest of the house, and might have been refurbished recently, but there was no time to stare, for a voice summoned her from what was clearly the bedroom beyond.
‘In here!’
Hurrying to answer Henderson’s call, Georgie found him bending over the figure of his master. There was blood everywhere and he was frantically trying to press down on an open wound in Captain Hernshaw’s shoulder and directing the footman to do the same to another wound in the captain’s thigh.
‘What can I do?’ Georgie asked, going to the bed.
Henderson glanced up. ‘Not going to faint on me?’
‘No, I shan’t do that,’ she replied. ‘Can I do that while you attend to the wound in his thigh? It looks as if it is the worst. Shall you stitch it or apply a tourniquet until the doctor arrives?’
‘We don’t have time to wait,’ Henderson replied tersely. ‘Unless I can close that wound, he will bleed to death.’
‘You’d better do it, then,’ Georgie said. ‘I’ll apply the pad to his shoulder and the footman can hold him down for you. He will likely come to his senses and fight you when you start.’
‘You’ve had some experience of this,’ Henderson said, giving her a knowing glance. He moved the footman to one side and looked at the deep wound to his patient’s thigh. ‘I’ll sew it roughly for the moment to stop the blood. It won’t be pretty, but it may save him.’
‘Get on with it,’ Georgie said, pressing down as hard as she could on the secondary wound. ‘Otherwise he will certainly die. No one can lose this much blood and live.’
Almost an hour later, Georgie looked down at the man lying amongst the stained sheets. His face was very pale and she thought he was completely out of it now, for he had fought them so hard when the cauterising iron was applied to his thigh that Henderson had had to knock him out with a strong dose of laudanum, forcing it down his throat as he raged at them in his agony.
She shuddered, because she knew that he had come very close to death that night. The experience had been far worse than when her uncle was shot in an accident, and she was feeling weak after their efforts to save his life. Even now there was no guarantee that he would live. It was likely he would take a fever or his wound might turn bad, as wounds so often did, the poison going inward.
‘You look terrible,’ Henderson said, glancing at her in concern. ‘You should go to bed, Georgie. I can mange him now.’
‘He will take a lot of nursing,’ Georgie replied, frowning. She did not know why, but she was reluctant to leave the man lying there so still and pale. ‘I’ve seen something like this before. It wasn’t as bad as this, but bad enough. Your master could still die of a fever—and he has lost a lot of blood.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ll have the doctor to him, but I don’t see what else we could have done.’
‘You did everything any doctor would have,’ Georgie said. ‘Did you learn that in the army?’
‘My father was an army surgeon,’ Henderson said. ‘It was his wish that I should take it up, but I wanted to be a soldier. I soon learned that my father’s skills were necessary out there and I made it my business to learn all I could—from him and from books.’
‘You saved Captain Hernshaw’s life.’
‘If he lives.’
‘If he lives,’ Georgie agreed, because she knew the outcome was still in doubt. ‘I’ll go to bed now, but I’ll come back later so that you can rest.’
He nodded his head, not bothering to answer. Georgie left him to finish clearing up the mess they had created. She was feeling so very tired. Everything had happened so fast that she hardly knew what had happened. But as they fought for Captain Hernshaw’s life she had known very clearly that she did not want him to die!
As she walked back to her room, Georgie was thinking about the man she had helped to tend. Seeing him lying there, his life in danger, had affected her more than she would have expected. She had only known him a few hours, but already she was praying for his recovery. She did not know why, but for some reason it was very important to her that he should live.
Georgie had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head had touched the pillow. When she woke again it was to see the first rays of the morning light creeping in at the window. For a moment she lay, stretching, feeling relaxed, and then suddenly it hit her and she recalled all the events of the previous night. She had slept in her clothes in case she was needed, and sprang out now, hurrying along the hall to Captain Hernshaw’s apartments. As she went in she saw that Henderson was applying a cloth to the patient’s forehead and went to him.
‘How is he?’
‘Feverish, I think,’ Henderson replied. ‘The laudanum kept him quiet most of the night, but he is starting to fight now.’
‘You’ve been up all night,’ Georgie said. ‘I meant to come, but I slept too soundly. Give me the cloth. I can do that and you should rest.’
‘Yes, I need an hour or two,’ Henderson agreed. ‘The doctor came and gave me some medicine for the fever. I’ve given him one dose and he shouldn’t have more for two hours. If I’m back, I’ll give it to him, but the measure is one spoonful, no more.’
‘Yes, I see,’ Georgie said and glanced at the dressing chest where the dark brown bottle and a spoon had been placed. She took note of the time by the clock on a tall chest. ‘He has the next dose at nine forty-five.’
‘Yes, good.’ Henderson looked approving. ‘I shall leave it to you, then—and thank you.’
‘He helped me. It is only fair I should help him.’
Henderson studied her in silence for a moment, but said nothing more, just turned and left her to get on with the job of bathing the patient’s brow.
‘Justin…’ Georgie turned her head as she heard the feverish mumbling. ‘Forgive me…I should have been there…don’t die…I’m sorry…it wasn’t your fault…it wasn’t your fault…’
Georgie wrung out her cloth in cool water and stroked it over his heated forehead. His dark hair was damp with sweat, hanging in rat-tails about his face. He wore his hair longer than most men did these days and she thought it gave him the look of a rebel, a man who did not conform to the fashion of the day.
‘Justin…no…’ He gave a tortured cry and sat up in bed staring wildly in front of him. ‘You can’t die… forgive me…forgive me…’
‘He forgives you,’ Georgie said as he fell back against the pillows with a sigh. She wasn’t sure if he could hear her in his fever, but she stroked her fingers down his cheek, soothing him. Touching him made her feel a little strange, because she felt he needed her and she longed to help him. He was in such torment and his pain tugged at her heartstrings, bringing tears to her eyes. ‘He knows you wanted to save him…it isn’t your fault if he dies…’
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, his eyes staring at her, but seeing something beyond her. ‘I knew,’ he muttered. ‘I knew what they did to him! I should have stopped them. It wasn’t his fault…he was gentle…so gentle…they killed him…’
‘It’s all right,’ Georgie told him, her fingers caressing his cheek once more. ‘Rest now. Justin is safe…’
‘No, he died…’ Tears were trickling down his cheeks now. ‘He died because I wasn’t there to help…’
‘But you wanted to,’ Georgie comforted, her heart wrenched by his obvious distress. ‘You would have if you could…’
‘Failed him…’ His eyes had closed now, but she thought he seemed a little easier. She stroked his hair and his face, using the cool cloth to wipe away the sweat from his forehead and the tears from his cheeks. His outburst had been a revelation, for who would have guessed that he could be so moved? He seemed such a stern man, giving no sign of any deep emotions, but clearly he felt them. He had inadvertently revealed another side of his character, one that she might not have known was there if he hadn’t been struck down like this, and it had reached out to something inside her, arousing tender feelings she had not known she had. Georgie wondered who Justin was and what had happened to him—and why did Captain Hernshaw feel so very responsible?
It wasn’t her business, she decided as she sat back in the chair Henderson had drawn close to the bed. At least he was resting for the moment. He was still hot, but the mutterings had stopped and he appeared to be more comfortable.
She sat watching him, studying the curves and angles of his features. He wasn’t a handsome man by the standards of the day. His features were much too harsh, his nose straight and patrician. His mouth looked softer when he was sleeping, not hard or angry as it did when he was annoyed, and his lashes were thick and dark. She could not see his eyes at that moment, but she knew they were grey—eyes that could be cold or sparkle with amusement. He intrigued her. What kind of a man would bring a thief he had met on the streets to his home? What kind of man was tortured by something in his past? Had he done something dreadful? Was that why he begged forgiveness in his fever?
She would probably never know, Georgie realised. She had hoped to persuade him to help her reach her great-aunt’s, but he was unlikely to be able to leave his bed for some weeks. Could she stay here all that time—ought she even if he allowed it?
She was torn by uncertainty as she sat watching him. One part of her told her that she should leave as soon as she could, because it would be foolish to become more involved with him. Perhaps one of his servants would lend her enough money to take the coach to Yorkshire…and yet she could not desert this man while he lay ill. Against her will, she felt drawn to him in a way she could not explain. Besides, Henderson would need help until his master was over the worst. And, Georgie admitted, she wanted to help take care of him, to see him strong and well again, to touch him and… She shut out the foolish thoughts. She wouldn’t run away while he needed her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to have foolish thoughts either!
Henderson returned exactly two hours after he had left. Georgie wondered if he had slept at all, but when she asked if he had, he merely said he was rested.
‘I got used to not having much sleep when we were fighting on the Peninsula,’ he told her. ‘I don’t need a lot. Mrs Jensen said you were to go down when you are ready, Georgie. She will give you breakfast in the small parlour.’
‘Oh…thank you,’ Georgie said, becoming aware that she was beginning to feel hungry. ‘Yes, I shall. Do you want me to help with his medicine first?’
‘I can manage him,’ Henderson said. ‘He is easy enough when he’s like this; it’s when he begins to feel more like himself that he gets restless. He doesn’t make a good patient.’
‘You have nursed him before?’
‘He wouldn’t thank me for telling you, but, yes, he has been wounded badly a couple of times.’
‘He was lucky to have you.’
‘I’m the lucky one,’ Henderson said. ‘When I was caught by a blast from a cannon, it cut my face to ribbons, and I had a stomach wound that should have been fatal. They thought I was finished, but he wouldn’t leave me. He carried me back to base over his horse and he forced the surgeon to sew me back together, and then he sat with me until he knew I would live. He paid for someone to nurse me until I was on my feet again. A good many would have left me to die—and when they told me I was no more good for the army, he told me I had a place with him for life.’
Georgie looked at him intently. ‘You love him, don’t you?’
‘I’m not sure whether it’s brotherly love or gratitude,’ Henderson said with a grimace, ‘but I know I would die in his place if it came to it.’
‘I call that love,’ Georgie said and smiled. ‘I’ll come back later. We’ll look after him together.’
‘Yes, miss, if that’s what you want.’
‘It is,’ she said, ‘and you can call me Georgie.’
Henderson shot her a curious look, but didn’t answer. She was discovering that he was a man who spoke only when he thought it necessary, and she felt pleased that he had told her his story. It must mean that he liked her and trusted her. She felt that she had made a friend, someone who might help her if she were in need.
She went downstairs to the small parlour and discovered that Mrs Jensen had set out a table for her. There was a dish of scrambled eggs with ham and some good fresh bread. It smelled wonderful and she ate most of what had been left for her, gathering the dishes afterwards just as Jensen entered.
‘There’s no need for you to do that,’ he said, his expression doubtful and a little sad as he looked at her. Georgie suspected that he thought her no better than she should be. Perhaps he believed she was masquerading as a boy so as to carry on an illicit affair with his master. ‘Mrs Jensen and I are used to taking care of things in this house.’
‘Have you been here a long time?’ Georgie asked.
‘Forty-odd years,’ he replied. ‘I served the old master until he died. I thought I would leave when that happened, but I’ve stayed on to take care of things for the captain.’
‘I am sure he is grateful,’ Georgie said. She sensed that he was not as willing to be as friendly as his wife, and that he didn’t quite trust her. ‘But you should tell him if you wish to leave.’
‘Don’t you go saying a word to him!’
‘No, I shan’t, but if you would like to retire you should consider telling him yourself.’
‘When he has time to settle down…’ Jensen shook his head. ‘That’s if he recovers from what happened last night…terrible to think such a thing could happen so close to home.’
‘It may be as well it did,’ Georgie said. ‘Had he not been able to get home, he might have bled to death in the street.’
Jensen looked grey in the face. ‘Nothing like that ever happened when the old master was alive. I can’t think what things are coming to…’
He looked suddenly old and his hand trembled as he gathered the dishes. Georgie felt sorry for him, because he was so obviously upset.
‘I am sure Captain Hernshaw will recover now,’ she said. ‘Mr Henderson was very quick and clever last night. He saved the captain’s life.’
‘You helped him,’ the old man said and shook his head sadly. ‘Mrs Jensen told me she couldn’t have done it. I’m not sure why he brought you here, but it may be a good thing.’ He sounded and looked doubtful even as he said the words.
‘I was in trouble,’ Georgie said. ‘Captain Henderson helped me—but I would have done it for anyone. I am not frightened by a little blood.’
‘It was a lot of blood,’ the old man said, giving her a reproachful look. ‘We’ve never had young ladies in this house…and certainly not dressed as you are.’
‘I am sorry if you disapprove, but I am in hiding, you see. If a certain person discovered where I am, he might…kill me.’ She had decided to stick to this part of her story, because she couldn’t be sure of the reaction she would get if she told the truth.
‘Such goings-on! The old master would turn in his grave if he knew…’ Jensen grumbled to himself as he picked the tray up and went out of the room.
Georgie sighed. She would have felt better if she had been allowed to help, but it was obvious that Jensen would not allow that. His wife would probably resent it if Georgie offered to help in the kitchen. There was nothing for it but to find a book to read, though she doubted she would find anything of interest in this room.
She wandered over to the bookshelves, looking at the volumes of history and scientific volumes. They would send her to sleep in five minutes! She looked further along, almost giving up until she saw the book of poetry. It was new, bound in red leather, and very much out of place amongst all the others. Picking it out, she frowned as she opened it and a folded paper fell out. Georgie replaced it without opening it because it wasn’t hers to read. She took the book and curled up in a chair by the window, beginning to read, but after a while she saw that it had been marked in ink in the columns and some words had been underlined.