The Bet

I should be shot for the thoughts I am having about an injured woman, he thought, giving himself a stern mental shake. Determined to banish all wayward thoughts to Hades, he threw his father a dour look.

“I will leave her in the garden room, and get Mabel to see to her needs for now. Don’t send anyone out for a doctor, it is too dangerous. However, make sure Cranbury checks everywhere is locked up properly tonight. It might also be a good idea to get the staff to take turns keeping watch,” Myles called as he began to ascend the stairs.

“Is someone out there?” Barnabas questioned; his scowl deep.

Myles nodded. “But not poachers,” he replied. “They are something else.”

“Something else?” Barnabas paused with one hand on the study door and turned to exchange a hard look with Myles. He knew immediately that there was some sort of threat involved, but neither of them was prepared to talk about it in front of a lady. “See to our guest first. I’ll get the brandy ready.”

“Father?” Myles called when his father was about to disappear back into his study.

When Barnabas turned around to face him, Myles was struck by how wonderful it was to know that his father was unharmed. He felt wonderfully blessed as he looked his father square in the eye.

“I am glad you are not dead,” he murmured.

“So am I, son. So am I. Hurry up. I want to hear what has happened to you. All of it, Myles, because there is more going on than you realise,” Barnabas replied.

Myles looked at him but knew immediately that he would not tell him more until they could talk more privately. Aware of the growing ache in his arms, Myles continued up the stairs.

“I will be back in a minute,” he promised.

“See that you do.” The quiet snap of the study door closing behind his father ended the conversation and left Myles alone with his thoughts as he climbed the rest of the stairs and made his way to the garden room.

Estelle studied the parts of the house she could see as Myles carried her through the house, up the sweeping staircase that led from the main entrance hall up to a galleried landing from which three corridors sprawled out like tentacles to the north, east, and west. Myles took the long corridor to the east of the upper hallway that had several doors leading off it.

“The garden room overlooks the rose garden at the side of the house,” Myles explained. “It is quite pretty. You will see it once this fog lifts.”

“This house is beautiful,” she replied, and meant it, even when encased in candle-light.

“It is huge, and old, run-down in parts, and can be draughty in winter, but it is home,” Myles explained. He had no idea why he felt the need to go into so much detail. “This side of the house is used by the family. The other corridor leading the other way leads to the guest rooms. There are eight on that side of the house as well.”

“What about the other corridor?” she whispered.

“That takes you to the servant’s stairs which lead down to the kitchen, up to the attics, and an upper floor used by the servants. It also has several cupboards for linen and the like. I will take you on a tour when you are feeling better,” Myles explained.

“I should love to see it,” she whispered but got no further because of the arrival of a middle-aged lady in a starched

uniform who followed them into a lavishly decorated bed chamber.

“Sir? Oh, my dearie me,” Mabel gasped as she began to flutter around the bed. “The master said you had an injured guest with you. I am so sorry, my dear.”

Estelle looked at Myles, unsure if the woman was talking to her or Myles.

“It’s alright, Mrs Cranbury, not to worry,” Myles replied.

Estelle turned to look at the lady, who levelled a kindly smile on her that immediately eradicated any doubts she might have about talking to a servant.

“This is Mrs Cranbury, our housekeeper,” Myles said by way of introduction. “Everyone calls her Mabel. Mabel, Estelle here has been injured this evening. She was struck by my carriage in this fog and has injured her head and her feet. See what you can do to help get her settled, and find her a change of clothing. She needs to get out of these wet clothes.”

“Oh, of course, sir. I will get Katie to come up and give me a hand,” Mabel gushed all no-nonsense briskness and efficiency.

Estelle stared at the woman warily. “I am alright,” she protested, wondering why nobody was inclined to believe her.

“But we need to get these leaves and twigs out of your hair, and I am sure you would like a nice hot bath to soothe your muscles,” Mabel began.

“I think our guest needs to rest, Mabel. Maybe a bath in the morning,” Myles interjected. He threw a rueful look at Estelle, who looked a little stunned. “You will get used to it.”

Estelle stared at him, suspecting she would never get used to being fussed over with such enthusiasm. Aware that Myles was still holding her, she pushed at his arms and began to wriggle.