Page 13 of Needs Must
The windows rattled and Donna was absolutely sure that the wind was not responsible.
‘I am not afraid. Tell me how I can help you?’
There was no response, but Donna hadn’t expected one. The sudden chill left the room as quickly as it had arrived and there was no further evidence of an unworldly presence. Presumably Donna had passed some sort of spiritual test. One thing she knew for certain as she closed and locked the door before reclaiming the gig and the patient Bertram, was that she had not seen the last of Mrs Bagshott.
Well, she reasoned as she drove away, she had not actuallyseenher at all. Not yet. But there was no doubt in Donna’s mind that the unfortunate lady needed help, and Donna would do all in her power to provide it for her.
It was the very least she could do to assist another woman in distress, and it was just possibly the reason why she had been drawn to the cottage in the first place.
Chapter Four
Cal rode home in a state of considerable distraction. He had absolutely no idea what to make of his accidental meeting with Mrs Harte. Why he had chosen to escort her to the shack that she intended to inhabit and why he had ordered Dawkins to drop everything and attend to her needs as a matter of priority had him totally baffled. Despite Celia’s curiosity, she and his mother would not wish to entertain her and would no doubt consider her beneath their notice: a charity case at best. Someone to speak about in shocked terms over tea with their friends.
But Calhadnoticed her, and rather enjoyed the view.
Not to put too fine a point on it, she had been assured of his complete and undivided attention during their entire time together.
An impertinence that bordered on incivility was, he conceded, a refreshing change. She seemed totally undaunted at finding herself in the presence of an earl and made no effort to impress him. That in itself was impressive. She was a lady of quality, despite her straitened circumstances, that much at least was beyond question. It showed in her manner of speech and address, and in the elegant way in which she conducted herself. That she had fallen on hard times since the death of her husband wasn’t in question. No one would choose to live in such poverty. Perhaps her husband had gambled away his fortune and then blown his brains out rather than face the consequences.
Such cowardly behaviour was not unheard of.
What a selfish profligate he must have been to leave his widow to pick up the pieces, Cal thought as he pushed Emperor into a canter. The drizzle had turned into persistent rain that dripped from the ends of his hair and trickled down the back of his collar, but he barely noticed as he continued to ponder the enigma that was Mrs Harte. There was something about her conduct, about her fierce determination to express her independence, that made Cal think she had come to an area where she had no known connections for a specific reason. Either she was hiding from something or someone and did not want to be found, or she had come here to lick her wounds while she plotted her next move.
‘Next move for what?’ he asked aloud, as he approached the hall and slowed Emperor to a trot. ‘If she is in trouble then why didn’t she ask me for help?’
Cal surrendered Emperor to his groom and strode towards the house, the heavy tread of his booted feet ringing across the cobbles. Of course she wouldn’t burden him with her problems, he reasoned. She neither knew nor trusted him – and Mrs Harte, he suspected, was slow to trust. Perhaps because she had been badly betrayed.
‘What do we know about the new tenant at Denmead Cottage?’ Cal asked Jules as he entered his library and closed the door behind him.
Jules raised a brow in evident surprise. That clearly had not been the first question he had expected Cal to ask him. ‘Nothing more than I told you earlier,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I just met her.’
Jules roared with laughter when Cal explained the circumstances surrounding their meeting.
‘Gave you a trimming, did she? Well, if you ask me, it’s beyond time that someone did. You will break your own neck, or someone else’s, if you will ride that stallion at … well, breakneck speed.’
‘She was the one trespassing,’ Cal pointed out mildly.
‘Even so.’ Jules continued to chuckle, clearly finding the situation highly diverting. ‘What’s she like?’
‘Impertinent. Independent.’ Cal paused to rub his chin. ‘Vulnerable, although she would be furious to hear herself described that way. What I know for a certainty, even though she didn’t admit it, is that she’s running from something.’
‘Ah, so she impressed you then.’ Jules threw his head back, still laughing. ‘Never thought I’d see the day.’
‘Imbecile! The lady needs help but would die before she asked for it.’
‘Even so, you have pulled Dawkins off the barn work in order to help her. Very chivalrous of you.’
‘Do we know a man called Harte?’
‘Never heard of him. Is he … or was he, a gentleman?’
Cal shrugged. ‘One assumes so. Mrs Harte is undoubtedly a lady.’
‘A lady who is prepared to live in that hovel. Did you go inside? What’s it like? Did you meet the ghost?’
‘You ask more questions than my sister.’
