‘Yes, of course. Mrs Bunting…’
‘Off you go, my dear,’ her hostess urged. ‘Let me know if there is anything I can do.’
Hester found herself outside the vicarage, her pelisse half- buttoned and Miss Prudhome chattering anxiously at her side. Guy’s curricle with the greys in harness was at the gate, the groom at their heads. ‘Cuttle, see Miss Prudhome safely home, please.’ Guy handed Hester up and with a flick of the reins sent the greys away at a canter from a standing start.
Hester clutched the side of the seat with one hand, her bonnet with the other. ‘How badly hurt is he?’ She was aware, under her anxiety, of the skill with which Guy was handling the team along the twisting lane; the sight of his hands, strong and competent on the reins, was curiously comforting.
‘I do not know. He was conscious, but his right shoulder seemed to be giving him a lot of pain. That’s a long flight of stairs to go down and he fell from halfway.’
‘Do you mean the stairs in the house-?’ Hester broke off as Guy urged the greys round the last bend and they burst out on to the road around the Green. ‘But Jethro isn’t clumsy, how did he fall?’
‘He slipped on something that had been left on the middle step,’ Guy said. ‘Look, that must be the doctor’s gig.’
Hester scrambled down before Guy could reach her and ran up the garden path and through the front door.
The hail was empty save for a broken ewer on the marble and one dead rose. The remains of the bunch were scattered, crushed, down the staircase, marking Jethro’s tumbling fall.
‘These roses have developed a much more dangerous character,’ Guy said quietly behind her. ‘1 want you out of this house now.’
‘I will not go,’ Hester said equally quietly and found herself spun round to face Guy. He held her still, one hand cupping each shoulder.
‘You are placing yourself, and your household, at risk.’ The temptation to take a step forward, to lean into his sheltering, strong body was so overwhelming that Hester found herself swaying. ‘You are not going to faint now, Hester.’
‘I have no intention of fainting,’ she retorted, jerking herself free of his hands and swinging round. ‘Susan!’ She turned back at the foot of the stairs. ‘I want to see Jethro and I want to find out what is going on here. No one is going to drive me out of my home, my lord, and that includes you.’
‘Here, Miss Hester.’ Susan appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘We’ve put him in the spare bedroom. Mind those roses, do,’ she added as Hester gathered up her skirts and began to run up the stairs.
‘Please can you pick them up, Susan?’ She reached the top of the stairs, Guy at her heels. She could hardly turn him out now, but his presence was unsettling; it was hard to be close to someone into whose arms one longed to be gathered when one dare not trust their motives an inch.
Jethro was stretched out on the spare bed, looking frighteningly young and white. But he was conscious and in full possession of his faculties as his continuing argument with the doctor demonstrated.
‘I can’t lie here! I am quite fit to get up, sir, Miss Hester needs me.’
‘Miss Hester needs you to get well. Ah, you must be Miss Lattimer. Doctor Forrest at your service, ma’am. I am sorry we could not be introduced under happier circumstances, but this young man will be up and around in a week if he does as he is told and rests.’
‘He will do that, I can assure you.’ Hester smiled, switching to a severe look at Jethro, who had opened his mouth to protest. ‘Doctor, may I introduce Lord Buckland, who was kind enough to fetch me here.’
She left the men exchanging courtesies and went to kneel by the bed. ‘Jethro, does it hurt very much? Is your shoulder broken?’ His right arm was swathed in a sling with bandaging right across his chest and shoulder.
‘No, Miss Hester, the doctor says I dislocated it and I’ve wrenched the muscles and tendons. Hardly aches at all; I can get up.’
He was sheet-white under his freckles and Hester could see his left hand clenched to resist the pain. ‘You will stay exactly where you are and do what the doctor orders,’ she said, smoothing back his tumbled hair gently.
‘But how’ll you manage, Miss Hester?’
‘Really, Jethro,’ Hester said in rallying tones. ‘As if three able-bodied women can’t manage a little house for a week!’
‘I’ll send a footman over, Ackland,’ Guy said from behind Hester. ‘No, don’t starch up on me, young man-he can take his orders from you.’
Jethro subsided just as a patter of footsteps on the stairs heralded the arrival of Miss Prudhome. Hester’s heart sank, but to her surprise her companion came in, surveyed the sickroom with a competent eye and announced, ‘You need more comfortable pillows, Jethro, and some lemon barley water. Now you just leave him with me, Hester, I am very used to sickroom nursing.’
Somehow Hester and Guy found themselves outside the room while Miss Prudhome interviewed the doctor. ‘What has come over your companion?’ Guy regarded the door panels that had been firmly shut in his face with some incredulity. ‘She wouldn’t say boo to a goose and now…’
‘Now she thinks she is back being a governess again. Doubtless she has seen numerous small boys through measles and broken limbs; Jethro is just going to have to resign himself to being treated as though he is seven again.’
Guy gave a snort of amusement, tucked Hester’s hand under his arm and headed for the stairs. ‘I think we had better talk to Susan about exactly what occurred.’
‘I will most certainly do that, but you, my lord, need trouble yourself no further. I am very grateful for your assistance and for fetching me so promptly, but I can manage now.’ She tugged, but her hand stayed firmly captured. ‘My lord!’