The Highborn Housekeeper. Sarah Mallory

rumbled on she remained at his side, holding him securely on the seat. A rueful smile pulled at her mouth. An adventure indeed, to take up a strange man and drive him to safety. Dell House was only a few miles from her old home. The place she had avoided for more than a decade.

      The heady excitement within her faded. Nancy glanced out of the window. The snow was falling steadily and thankfully there was little wind to cause drifting, but she knew that could change in a twinkling. She had been foolish in the extreme to leave the main road, to put herself out for a stranger. She remembered their brief conversation, the sudden, glinting smile that had melted her anger. She had not realised it at the time, but that smile had set her pulse racing. Charm, she thought now. The man had an abundance of charm.

      She glanced at his unconscious figure. He was bruised, battered and now dangerously chilled. He would need diligent nursing and nourishing food to return him to health. She could do that. It was her strength, it was what she enjoyed, looking after damaged creatures.

      Nancy pulled herself up with a jolt. What was she thinking? This man was not her concern. She must not allow her sympathies to run away with her. Heavens, had she learned nothing in the last twelve years? She shivered and moved on to the seat beside Hester, who patted her knee.

      ‘You’ve got too kind a heart, Miss Nancy, that’s your trouble. We should have told the landlord to fetch the fellow back to the inn. They could have cared for him there.’

      ‘Perhaps, but he was so adamant I should not tell a soul.’ Nancy sighed. ‘I confess, I shall be glad to leave him with his own people and we can be on our way.’

      * * *

      However, when at last they reached Dell House, no servants ran out from the house or the outbuildings to greet them. The sky had cleared and Nancy had a good view of the house in its snowy setting. It was a modest gentleman’s residence, sitting four-square in its own grounds, and it was in darkness, save for a glimmer of light from the fanlight above the door. Without waiting for her footman, Robert, to climb down from the box, Nancy alighted and went to the door, where she rapped smartly upon the knocker.

      Silence.

      Robert joined her, his hat and shoulders white with snow. ‘Don’t seem to be anyone at home, ma’am.’

      ‘There has to be.’ She beat another tattoo upon the door. ‘Are we sure this is the right house?’

      ‘Aye, ma’am, Dell House. ’Tis carved on the gateposts, clear as day.’

      At that moment there was the sound of bolts being drawn back and Nancy gave a sigh of relief.

      ‘At last.’ She schooled her face into a look of cheerfulness, but a sudden loud sneeze from behind the door made her step back in surprise.

      A man opened the door, a lamp held aloft in one hand. He cut a very sorry figure, standing before them in his stockinged feet and with a blanket hung loosely about his hunched shoulders. His eyes looked heavy, there was the dark shadow of stubble on his face and his hair was tousled, as if he had just risen from his bed.

      ‘Good evening, I—’

      She was interrupted by another loud sneeze. The man buried his face in a large handkerchief.

      ‘I beg your pardon.’ His voice was muffled by the cloth over his nose but he was clearly mortified. ‘A cold!’ he managed to gasp, before being overcome by another explosive sneeze.

      ‘Yes, well, we have an injured man in the carriage,’ said Nancy. ‘A Mr Gabriel Shaw.’

      ‘By baster!’

      ‘Yes, your master.’ Nancy was relieved to have that point confirmed. ‘We need to get him into a warm bed as soon as possible. Can you—?’ She stopped as the man was seized by a paroxysm of coughing. ‘Is there anyone else in the house who can help?’

      ‘Do one,’ he managed. ‘Only be and I’m weak as a cat.’

      Nancy pursed her lips. ‘Well, we cannot stand here discussing the matter. If you cannot help, then we must see to your master. All you need do is lead the way.’ She looked past him into the darkened hall. ‘Robert, go with him and light some candles in there, for heaven’s sake.’

      She turned and marched back to the carriage, where Hester was at the open door.

      ‘What is it, ma’am? Are we at the right place?’

      ‘Oh, yes, but the only servant is suffering from a heavy cold. No use to us at all. We shall have to get Mr Shaw into the house ourselves.’

      Hester nodded. ‘Between us I am sure we can manage. The sooner he is in his own bed the better.’

      They wrapped the cloak more securely around the man and William and Robert carried him up to what was clearly the main bedchamber. Everything was tidy and Nancy noted that the bed was made, but the fire had gone out and the room was distinctly chilly.

      ‘This will never do,’ she declared as the men laid their burden on the bed. ‘William, you and Robert must go and find kindling and fuel to light the fire. And if there is a fire in the kitchen, then reheat the bricks and bring them back here. This man needs all the warmth we can give him.’ She waved at the servant who had let them into the house. ‘Take him with you, he will show you where to find everything and he is of no use at all here.’ When the men had withdrawn, she turned to her companion. ‘Hester, you must help me get him out of his wet things. Come along now.’

      ‘This is no job for you, madam! You must leave it to me—’ Hester protested, scandalised, but Nancy cut her short.

      ‘You will never manage him alone, he is a dead weight.’

      She set to work on unbuttoning the filthy shirt. Together they removed his clothing and Nancy used the towel hanging near the washstand to buff some warmth into his cold limbs. He was no weakling, she thought, as she rubbed vigorously at his arms. A smattering of dark hair shadowed his deep chest, tapering downwards until it was hidden by the sheet that Hester had insisted upon pulling up decorously over his lower body.

      She tried not to press too hard on the bruises that were beginning to show. No wonder he had struggled to walk. She helped Hester to put him into his nightshirt and covered him with quantities of blankets before she started to clean his face.

      She refused Hester’s offer to help. The man was her patient, she felt a certain responsibility for him.

      ‘Perhaps you could fetch the lavender water from my dressing case,’ she suggested. ‘We can sprinkle a little on his pillow. And if you go to the kitchen perhaps you could bring up the hot bricks, too.’

      ‘Very well, I will go now. And if the bricks aren’t ready, I might be able to put some hot water into a few wine bottles,’ said Hester, moving towards the door.

      ‘Yes, yes. Anything to help warm him.’

      Left alone with the man, Nancy set to work with a damp cloth, cleaning the wound on his head. Tenderly she smoothed the dark hair from his brow and wiped away the blood, then set to work removing the dirt from the rest of his face.

      He stirred, as if awakened by her touch, and opened his eyes. They were a deep blue, she noted. He began to shift restlessly in the bed.

      ‘Hush now,’ she murmured, perching on the side of the bed and placing one hand on his chest. ‘You are safe.’

      He began to mutter, incomprehensible but clearly agitated. She quickly dried his face, crooning as she might to a fractious child. At last he grew calmer; his gaze steadied and became fixed upon Nancy, but he was looking straight through her. Something knotted inside her, constricting her breath. She dearly wanted him to know she was there.

      He had freed one hand from the bedcovers and she caught it in her own.

      ‘Safe,’ she repeated, smiling down at him.

      He grew still, the eyes remained glazed, but his long fingers wrapped themselves about hers, their grasp surprisingly strong.