Page 6 of The Trials of Alaric
Beatrice sighed once they had left the room. She had visited her father this morning, in his study, and had explained the events of the previous evening. He had already heard from the rector with a report on those rescued and those believed to be lost. He approved her actions, but she would not use that trump against Mama unless she had to. Mama had subtle ways of making her daughter uncomfortable that Bea’s father would do nothing to prevent.
She hoped Mr. Redhaven was awake, but he would have to fend for himself this afternoon. Beatrice was needed in the long gallery to judge the archery contest. She wondered what sort of an archer Mr. Redhaven was when healthy. Surely, with those shoulders, he would be able to beat Sir Henry and probably the rest of her guests.
Chapter Three
Alaric slept forseveral hours and woke to find Colyn moving around the room with exaggerated care, obviously trying not to make a noise. “What time is it?” Alaric asked.
Colyn, who had been bent over the open drawer of a clothes press, jerked upright, then turned to Alaric with a smile.
“It is early afternoon, sir. Or not early so much as first part of the middle if you take my meaning.”
Two or two-thirty, perhaps. Depending on what Colyn regards as the middle.
“What have you there?” Alaric asked next. He certainly didn’t need to worry about servants rifling through his things. He had no things! Perhaps the usual occupant of this chamber had left something he needed in the clothes press, though the room had the look of a chamber that was little used.
The footman held up a stack of white cloth. “Shirts, sir. You now have trousers, coats, and neckties. Also stockings, sir. Lady Bea told us to see what could be found in the attics. To dress you, sir, since your own clothes went down with the ship.” He looked entirely delighted with himself.
It went against the grain to accept such charity, but Alaric could not walk around in his borrowed silk banyan until a letter to his father could be written, sent from the island, delivered, and result in a return missive with money to pay for a newwardrobe and a ticket on a ship out of here. He forced a smile and said, “That was kind of Lady Beatrice.”
“Do you need to get up, sir?” Colyn said. “Shall I help you?”
“I shall try on my own, Colyn.” Alaric had to do something to assert his independence, and his pride held him up as he got out of bed and crossed the room to the dressing screen and the washstand behind it. He was pleased to lean against the washstand once he’d arrived, but he was out of Colyn’s sight, so he would count it as a win.
I will feel better tomorrow, he promised himself. Rounding the side of the dressing screen again a few minutes later, he asked Colyn, “Could you lay out something for me to wear, and then help me change? I will just sit here by the window for a minute.”
A desk was under the window, and its straight chair looked as if it would be much easier to get up from than the chairs by the fire, which had presented quite a challenge earlier in the day. He was pleased to know nothing in his thigh and knee was broken, but they hurt as if there were, especially as his knee, which had no interest in bending.
Colyn looked overjoyed to be given the task, and hummed happily around the bedroom collecting an item from here and another from there until he was satisfied. “Very well, sir. I’ve the blue coat, the buff breeches, and the cream and blue waistcoat. Also, the cream stockings with the blue clocking, and the dark blue cravat.”
Alaric nodded his approval. “That sounds splendid.” Colyn was clearly in his element.
And yes, when Alaric approached the bed where the described glories were neatly laid out, he discovered that the blues all matched and so did the creams. The styles were well out of date—presumably the reason the items had been relegated to the attic. But at least Alaric would be tidy and respectable. Andgrateful, he reminded himself. Lady Beatrice and her servants had been very kind.
What of Lady Beatrice’s parents? Were they in residence, and did they know their daughter was being generous with the contents of their attic?
As Colyn helped him into the coat, with protests from his scraped and bruised shoulder, there was a knock on the door. Colyn gave the coat one more tug then went to answer the knock, while Alaric did up the buttons on the double-breasted front.
Two matrons bustled into the room. “The Countess of Claddach and the Countess of Lewiston, Mr. Redhaven,” Colyn announced.
The two countesses were too much alike to be anything except sisters, and either one of them could have been Lady Beatrice’s mother. The thought crossed his mind that they were evidence Lady Beatrice would keep her good looks into middle age.
“My ladies,” he bowed, calling on his training as a gentleman and a diplomat. “May I be permitted to know to whom I owe thanks for the hospitality of this house? I am very grateful.”
The slightly shorter of the two ladies dimpled when she smiled. “I am Lady Claddach,” she informed him, graciously.
He bowed again. “I owe my life to your townspeople, my lady, and the fact I continue to breathe to your daughter, for welcoming me here, and your servants, for making me comfortable and watching over me while I slept.”
Lady Claddach accepted a heavy helping of his charm with a simper, but Lady Lewiston was examining him as if he had been carried in on the gardener’s boots instead of being scraped off at the door. Time to drop a name. In fact,thename. “I know my father, the Earl of Elsmouth, will also want to express his gratitude.” Now that Tarquin had a son, Elsmouth wouldprobably be quite happy for his spare to drown, but no need to tell the ladies that.
“Elsmouth’s son, are you?” Lady Lewiston’s tone was rich with suspicion. “The second, you told my niece. Of course, with this dreadful weather, you could lay claim to any name and lineage, and we would not be able to prove you a liar.”
“Or a truth-teller,” Alaric pointed out, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice. He was not accustomed to being called a liar. “I am the son of Elsmouth, my lady. Though I cannot prove it at this moment, I believe I can at least take your comments with the courtesy a gentleman owes a lady.”
“Bravo!” declared Lady Claddach. “He has you there, Dorrie. He looks like a gentleman, you must admit. Smoothly shaved. Clean hands, if a little scratched, but that will be the shipwreck. Let me see the palm, Mr. Redhaven. See, Dorrie? No calluses.”
Alaric was tempted to ask if they wanted to examine his teeth, but he kept his tongue still.
“I think we should ask him to join us,” Lady Claddach announced. “The trials will soon show us what he is made of.”
