The Earl's Iron Warrant (The Duke's Pact Book 6) Page 8

  “You seem to slip into melancholy again, my dear,” Mrs. Jellops said. “If it will cheer you, I will dare to venture into a bathing machine with you on the morrow. As long as Mrs. Nash is there to keep me from drowning.”

  Daisy patted her hand. The illustrious Mrs. Nash was the most renowned dipper in Ramsgate. Daisy had first encountered her when she was just a child and found her delightfully forceful in getting the nervous into the sea.

  “It cheers me that you would put yourself into such an uncomfortable situation on my account, even with the assistance of Mrs. Nash. I will not let you do it, though. You will comfortably watch from the sand, only daring to get your toes wet, and I will go in with Betsy, as I always do. As you know, she grew up nearby Worthing and has a terrific fondness for swimming.”

  Mrs. Jellops shivered over the idea of anybody thinking swimming was terrific. “But you will not stray too far away from the machine? There have been times over the years that I have experienced heart palpitations and had visions of you being carried lifeless from the sea. I have said so to Betsy but she only laughs at the idea.”

  Daisy smiled into the darkness and made no promises. She and Betsy were both very good swimmers. It had been the one thing she’d ever enjoyed about her summers. In the cold and salty sea, one could so easily forget what awaited one on land. How much fun she’d had, in past summers, she and Betsy diving down to the sand and returning to the surface or laying on their backs and floating on the swells? In the sea, there was no bad-tempered father made worse by his indulgence the night before, no idiot cronies turning up to insist the only cure was to indulge all over again. The blessed sea would be just the thing to clear her mind just now.

  After all, what did she have to be unhappy about? Her father was dead and she would soon enough come into her fortune.

  All was as it should be.

  “We should perhaps go early,” Mrs. Jellops said. “You are technically in mourning and perhaps it will not be the thing to be seen joyfully splashing about.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The cottage, as ill-equipped at it was for human habitation, had at least been supplied with a decanter of brandy. Tate had found it in the main house and promptly installed it in his master’s abode. Tate was turning out to be an exceedingly resourceful fellow and had removed no end of things he reasoned could not be wanted by the mistress. As he told it, it was a naval operation to slip past the enemy line, otherwise known as the ever-patrolling Mrs. Broadbent.

  Now, Charles sat outside on the bench near the door to the cottage, brandy in hand and breathing in the salty night air. What a confounded dinner.

  The dinner itself had been up to snuff, but the conversation!

  It seemed Miss Danworth was intent on informing all and sundry that she would not marry. She was to live some sort of odd spinster existence at the seaside. Or, so she thought. Meanwhile, Burke was equally intent on overturning those plans and securing her.

  How had he not noticed Burke’s inclination before Miss Minkerton mentioned it? He supposed it had been there for him to view all along. Did not Burke always secure a dance with Miss Danworth? Did he not sometimes take supper?

  Of course, he had noticed the supper-taking, and always found himself annoyed by it. But that was only because it would force him to take supper with some other lady of less sense.

  Now, he thought he might understand Burke’s melancholy at Newmarket, and last season too. Charles had been sure it had been over some lady or other, he had just not guessed it to be Miss Danworth he pined for.

  Had Burke asked and been declined? Was that why he’d been so down in the dumps for the past year or more?

  He would like to think so. For one, Burke was the last of his acquaintance who had so far escaped the marital noose. For another, Burke was not at all suited to the lady.

  Oh, Burke was a fine enough fellow. But Miss Danworth…she was…well, she was too much woman for him. And Burke, well he was always so damned reasonable. Irritatingly reasonable at times.

  Charles paused, a sudden thought occurring to him. If Miss Danworth did decide to marry, wouldn’t Burke be the most likely fellow? After her father’s displays of intemperance, would she not seek out a gentleman who would be reliably sensible? Was that not Burke all over? He was not rash or extravagant in anything. Of all his friends, Burke had always been more settled, more staid, more full of commonsense.

  He glanced up to her window, though he’d already told himself a hundred times that it was ungentlemanly to do so. Candles were lit and he sometimes saw a shadow pass behind the thin curtains, though he could not make out if it were Miss Danworth or her maid. It was just as well he could not make out who it was, as it would have been even more ungentlemanly if he could. He’d better throw himself into the cold sea on the morrow to cool any inclinations at looking through windows. He supposed Burke had no similar temptations, Burke was too steady for that.

  Charles downed the glass of brandy and rose to go inside. “Stop living so much in your thoughts, Dalton,” he said quietly. “It gets you nowhere.”

  Chapter Six

  It was a hot morning with little breeze, just the sort of day that suited jumping into the sea. After a quick breakfast of tea and toast, Daisy, Mrs. Jellops, and Betsy were driven in the carriage and alighted at the cliff stairs to the seaside. Betsy had been exceedingly pleased—a swim was akin to time off—and she’d done the business of hiring a bathing machine expeditiously, though it took some arm-twisting. According to the young fellow who was sweeping out one of the boxes, ladies were not to be on this particular beach so soon in the morning, as it was the gentlemen’s time to swim.

  Both Daisy and Betsy had heard all about it during other summers, but as young men generally spent the early morning in bed recovering from the festivities of the night before, they did not fear encountering a horde of them, or any at all. After that hurdle was jumped, the fellow claimed that there was not even a dipper available yet. He swore he would not be held responsible if both ladies drowned.

  This idea set Mrs. Jellops into a terrible fret, but Daisy only laughed and pointed out that while she and Betsy were excellent swimmers, half the dippers were not so gifted. Last summer, one of them had needed rescue herself when she had apparently advertised herself as far more skilled than she actually was. Betsy had spotted her going under at a distance and swam to the rescue.

  Though Betsy had pulled the woman to shore on that particular day, this day she was more interested in having been called a lady by this young fellow. After that, and some comment Betsy made that Daisy was grateful not to overhear, there was much winking and blushing between them.

  They had finally overcome the youth’s objections and been rolled out. She and Betsy had thrown off their clothes down to their shifts and Betsy pushed open the door. There was a ladder set for their convenience so they might elegantly enter the water. Daisy looked at Betsy, Betsy smiled back. They held hands and jumped in.

  The water was, at first, a shock. It always was and Daisy knew that it would only be a matter of minutes before she adjusted to it and it only felt pleasantly cool.

  As they splashed around, a rowboat passed by. Daisy glanced in its direction and then quickly looked away. Lord Dalton was being rowed to the deeper sea. He wore only a thin shirt over his trousers, just as she’d sometimes seen him sitting out on his bench in the mornings. Though they had supposed no gentleman would be out of bed and making their way into the sea, it seemed Lord Dalton was to be the exception.

  She was quite certain the lord had noted them, for it would be hard not to as they were the only other two persons in the water.

  “He’s a handsome one,” Betsy said, “if a little grim for my taste.”

  “Betsy,” Daisy said in as scolding a tone as she could muster, “I am quite sure it is wildly inappropriate for a lady’s maid to comment on a lord.”

  Betsy pushed off the sand and floated on her back. “Aye, I know it. At least, I ought not say it above stai
rs. Though, all sort of talk does go on between the servants and always has. Nobody likes to think it, but there it is.”

  “I see,” Daisy said, allowing herself to float alongside her maid, “and what is said of Lord Dalton, exactly?”

  “Well, let’s see, about Lord Dalton,” Betsy said, staring up at the clouds, “we’ve managed to squeeze a word or two out of that old fellow Bellamy. He keeps things rather close, but we’ve discovered that the lord saw something terrible at Quatre Bras. We was teasing about Lord Dalton’s grumpy disposition and now we find out that somehow it’s all connected. Bellamy says he used to be a deal more lighthearted.”

  Daisy was not unaware that some men came back changed from war. Some even came back entirely broken and subject to nightmares. It was hard, though, to imagine that Lord Dalton had ever been other than what he was. And certainly not lighthearted.

  “What was it? What was so terrible that he saw?” she asked.

  “That’s the mystery, Mr. Bellamy won’t say. We’ll keep workin’ on him, though. Mrs. Broadbent scolds us for prying but we do it anyway. Anyhow, one of the kitchen maids said all Lord Dalton needs is a good wife and you would a thought she wished a plague on the fellow, the footmen did take it that hard. They don’t ever want a mistress and they say their master ain’t never gonna marry anyhow.”

  “Oh yes, he’s quite renowned for saying so,” Daisy said.

  “As you are, too,” Betsy said. “Look at that, two people who won’t never marry. P’raps you could marry each other and live in different houses. Though the talk in the servants’ hall is you could do better. Lord Burke is said to be a prince—Sissy, one of the maids, has a cousin who knows somebody who works in his house in town, and it’s said he’s a generous sort of person with days off and duties. He might do, after all.”

  “And that, is quite enough,” Daisy said.

  Before she could scold her maid any further, which she had a great mind to do, Daisy heard shouting from behind her.

  She turned her gaze out to sea and saw the oarsman on the rowboat that Lord Dalton had recently been on. The fellow was shouting and waving wildly. Lord Dalton, however, was nowhere to be seen.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Charles had found himself aggravated to find Miss Danworth and her maid in the sea so early in the morning. What was the lady thinking? Surely, she must know this time was only for gentlemen? What lady rose so early anyway?

  As it was the time for gentlemen, he’d planned to swim as he always did, with not a shred of clothing to weigh him down. Now, though, he’d have to keep his shirt on at least, for propriety’s sake. He doubted Miss Danworth would stare at him, nor would he care if she did, but one never knew what sort of nosy Nancy had parked herself at a window with a telescope. If Miss Inquisitive wished to get a glimpse of his person, she was welcome to do so. However, it would not be well for that prying lady to get a glimpse of his person and Miss Danworth bathing anywhere nearby at the same time.

  For all his outrage at being observed, he could not claim with any honesty that he had avoided his own observing. He was rather surprised, as he pulled off his trousers, to find that Miss Danworth did not seem to require the services of a dipper. She and her maid appeared exceedingly comfortable making their own way in the water, as evidenced by the fact that he’d seen them fling themselves into it when he’d got into his boat and now they floated easily on the swells.

  Perhaps he had observed the scene for a bit too long, as his rower finally said, “Shall you go in, my lord?”

  He nodded and dived into the sea. The cold shocked him and he rose to the surface. As he did every morning, he swam away from the bobbing boat, preferring the feeling of being out in the sea alone. It was not so comfortable as usual, as he’d got his shirt on and the wet fabric exerted no small amount of weight.

  Once he had come near to exhausting himself, he stopped. He would tread water for a few minutes to catch his breath and then make his way back.

  As he took in a deep breath, he was suddenly grabbed by the ankle and pulled below the surface.

  For a moment, as he was pulled down, his mind went blank. But, just as in the war, his wits returned and things began to move as if time had unnaturally slowed.

  He could not see what had pulled him down, only a shadowy outline appearing five or six feet in length. The thing had him by one leg and he used the other to kick at it. The strength of the kicks proved ineffectual, the water slowing them too much.

  Feeling as if he were close to running out of breath and fighting the inevitable terror that came from realizing one was about to take in water, he used his free foot to angle it against his attacker. He allowed himself to be pulled closer to get leverage, and then pushed off the thing as hard as he could.

  He broke free and bolted to the surface. As much as he’d tried to resist the urge to breathe while under water, he had taken in a gulp. He broke the surface and heaved, trying to clear the water out of his lungs. He forced himself to swim toward the boat, each second expecting to be pulled down again. His boat was being rowed toward him at a fast clip.

  The rower reached him and hauled him over the side. “There, my lord, that was a close one. P’raps don’t swim so far away if you ain’t used to it.”

  “Not me,” Charles rasped, attempting to breathe deep. “Pulled under.”

  Charles could not help but note the look of horror on the fellow’s features. He was pretty horrified himself.

  “Are you sure?” the rower asked.

  Charles ignored the fellow, of course he was sure. He scanned the surface of the water, looking for a telltale fin. Though, as he did so, he knew it could not have been a shark or anything of the sort. His leg was not punctured as it surely would have been.

  He saw nothing at first, and then a small something. “There,” he said pointing east, “that.”

  It rather resembled a pole of some sort and did not look like anything that belonged to a sea creature. As quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared below the swells.

  Seeing the oarsman’s confusion, Charles coughed to clear his lungs. His voice gravelly, he said, “Row. There.”

  “No, my lord, we don’t dare go too close that direction,” the young man said, “there’s rocks what come up close to the surface and you can’t see ‘im until you’re right on top of ‘im. I wouldn’t like to get dumped in the sea while something is lurkin’ underneath.”

  Charles nodded between coughs. “Nor I,” he whispered.

  “You don’t have a scratch on you though, ‘cept for the red marks round your ankle.”

  “Yes,” Charles said. After a fit of coughing, he said, “Maybe a man.”

  This sent the oarsman to a shiver. “Don’t you say so, my lord. What kind of devil can swim like a fish and is set on drowning people?”

  Charles shrugged, pulling on his pants. It hurt to talk, his throat felt on fire.

  “Me mum would say it t’weren’t no man after you,” the oarsman said, rowing with vigor toward the shore. “It were a Kraken or one of them what don’t have teeth and wrap their long, slimy arms round and take you down.”

  Charles would have replied that his mother was to be congratulated on her vivid imagination, had he not still been coughing to clear his lungs of seawater.

  As they neared the shore, Charles could see Miss Danworth, Mrs. Jellops, and Miss Danworth’s maid standing on shore. Miss Danworth and her maid had exited the sea with alacrity and had not taken the time to thoroughly dry themselves. Both their dresses clung to them damp and Miss Danworth’s curls had loosened in the water.

  He really should not be noticing Miss Danworth’s rather statuesque figure or her curls when he’d just been pulled under the waves, and he felt like the bottom half of his lungs were sloshing with seawater.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Daisy had watched as the oarsman rowed and searched the swells for any sign of Lord Dalton.

  He could not have drowned. No, he could not have. He was too strong for that.
Why would a man go out to the deeper water if he were not an excellent swimmer? He must be an excellent swimmer, Lord Dalton did everything well.

  To her relief, she suddenly saw him. It was odd, he seemed to come from nowhere. One moment he was gone and the next he was swimming toward his boat as if he’d been there all along.

  She and Betsy had hurried into the bathing machine and thrown on their clothes. Now they stood on the pebbly beach as the boat neared.

  The boy pulled his oars up and the boat made a grating sound as the hull scraped the shore.

  “Lord Dalton,” Daisy said, picking her way across the stony beach, “what on earth happened?”

  The lord very determinedly suppressed a cough and said, “Nothing.”

  “You disappeared,” Daisy said. “Your rower was shouting. Then you reappeared.”

  Lord Dalton did not meet her eye and said hoarsely, “Can one not dive?”

  “You said you was pulled under!” the boy said, his outrage evident.

  “Nonsense,” Lord Dalton said to the boy. He might have said more, but was prevented by a coughing fit.

  “Whatever has happened, you have clearly taken in seawater and will need a doctor,” Daisy said.

  “I need no such—” Again, the lord’s words were stopped as he was wracked by heaving coughs.

  Daisy well knew he must have a doctor. Taking in water of any sort was damaging to the lungs. She understood that the mechanisms in fresh and seawater were thought to be different, though she had no idea why or what the proposed remedies might be.

  A voice behind her startled her. “Dalton,” Lord Burke said, “What on earth has happened? We saw you from the cliffs, were you drowning?”

  Daisy turned to find Lord Burke, Miss Minkerton, and her lady’s maid. “Lord Burke,” Daisy said, with no small relief. “Lord Dalton will need to be got back to the house and a doctor fetched.”

  “I do not require—” Lord Dalton did not get further as the coughing took over again. He leaned against the beached boat and Daisy was sure the endless coughing was beginning to take a toll.