it, John, you were too ill to be of use. Feverish, too. That is why I left you sleeping. But never mind that now. The woman. Did she stay here?’
‘Oh, yes, sir, she stayed,’ said Thoresby. ‘She is still here.’
‘What!’
John spread his hands. ‘It was impossible to stop her, sir. She marched in and took over. I was coughing and sneezing, trying to collect my wits, and the next minute she and her servants were putting you to bed. And no sooner had she made you comfortable than she set about preparing rooms for herself and her maid, while her footman and coachman made themselves at home.’ Thoresby paused. ‘I have to admit, sir, that I could not have tended you without her and that’s a fact. She packed me off to my bed and said she would see to everything. Said a good rest was probably all I needed and after a couple of days I’d be up and about again. And before you say I should’ve protested, I did. I tried, sir, I promise you. And all she said was I should stay away from you, in case I was infectious. It went against the grain, I can tell you, but truth to tell, I was too weak to be much use for the first couple of days.’
Gabriel recognised the truth of this and held his peace, but he was far from mollified. He glanced again at the tray.
‘I suppose that is what she considers a fit breakfast for an invalid.’
For the first time Thoresby would not meet his eyes.
‘Yes, sir. Porridge. It’s what we’ve been managing to get down you for the past couple of days. That and a little chicken broth she cooked up.’
Gabriel said drily, ‘Mrs Hopwood appears to be a very resourceful woman.’
Thoresby allowed himself a wry grin. ‘She’s helped us out of a rare scrape, sir, and that’s for sure. If she hadn’t come across you in that wood, you’d have perished by morning. And she and that companion of hers nursed you for the first three days while I was fit for nothing but sleep!’
‘And there’ve been no unwanted visitors, no one skulking about in the night?’
‘No sign that you was followed back here, sir. With the snow it’s been easy to see that the only tracks around the place are those made by myself or Mrs Hopwood’s servants. We’ve had that much snow the past few days that the roads are blocked now, so nothing’s moving by road.’
‘Then we must hope our whereabouts are unknown to my attackers. They may come looking for me, though, if they realise I am alive.’ He lay still for a moment, considering, then said, with sudden decision, ‘It is too dangerous for anyone else save ourselves to be here. You may tell Mrs Hopwood that her help is no longer required.’
‘I can try, sir, but I doubt she’ll go until she sees for yourself that you are recovered. Perhaps if you were to eat a few spoonfuls of the porridge...’
Gabriel cursed him roundly. ‘Take that stuff away and bring me my usual breakfast. Well, what is the matter now?’
‘The ladies have quite taken over the kitchen, sir. They have prepared every meal between them since they arrived. I’m not sure...’ Gabriel’s furious gaze made him say quickly, ‘I will go and see to it immediately, I am sure there will be no difficulty.’
‘There had better not be.’ Gabriel scowled at him. ‘After that you may help me to get up. If you won’t tell the damn woman to leave, then I will!
Nancy was trimming a piece of beef when Thoresby came in with the tray. She glanced at the untouched breakfast dish.
‘Is your master still sleeping?’
‘No, ma’am, he is very much awake, and insists upon his usual morning meal of eggs and ham.’
He announced this with no little trepidation and such an appearance of one prepared to be executed for being the bearer of bad tidings that Nancy had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. She had some sympathy with Mr Thoresby, for she knew she had been something of a tyrant in the past few days, but kitchens and cooking had been her domain for over a decade and she felt at home here. She had taken control, organising the meals and producing food suitable for the injured man, once he had been able to eat a little. Her friends laughingly called her a mother hen, wanting to look after everyone. A sudden warmth spread through her body. Not that she wished Gabriel Shaw to think her motherly!
She said now, ‘I am glad to hear he is feeling so much better. Would you like to prepare something for him? I am happy to leave this and attend to it, but you will know exactly how he likes his breakfast.’
The man quickly assured her that he was more than happy to prepare his master’s breakfast and set about finding eggs and fetching the large ham that was in the larder.
* * *
Later, when he had taken a fresh tray to his master and then helped him to dress, he returned and issued an invitation to Nancy.
‘My master begs that you will join him for dinner tonight, ma’am. In his room. He deeply regrets that he is not yet well enough to manage the stairs.’ Having performed his duty, John Thoresby unbent a little and added, ‘To tell you the truth, he is weak as a cat and it’s as much as he can do to sit upright in his chair beside the fire. But he hopes you will not object to the informality of dining in his chamber.’
Nancy was not fooled. However politely Mr Thoresby wrapped it up, it was clearly a summons. Not that she was averse to having dinner with Mr Gabriel Shaw. She had a great many questions she wanted to put to him.
* * *
Just before dinner, Nancy went upstairs to wash away the heat and grease of the kitchen, leaving Hester and Thoresby to put the final touches to the meal. There was no time to wash her hair, so she brushed it well and bundled it up on her head before turning her attention to what to wear. Her trunks held an array of colourful, expensive dresses, the jewel box was full of ostentatious pieces, all designed to attract attention, but she had no wish to display her charms tonight. Quite the opposite, she thought, remembering Mr Shaw’s smile and its effect upon her pulse.
She chose the most sober of the evening gowns, a sheath of deep sapphire-blue silk with a high waist and long sleeves that she thought would be a necessity, because the continuing icy weather seemed to permeate the very fabric of the building. She arranged a muslin fichu in the neck of the gown, partly for warmth and partly for decorum. It would also remove the need for jewels. She pushed her feet into the matching kid slippers and took a moment to study herself in the looking glass. She gave a little nod of satisfaction, confident she would pass as a respectable widow, fallen on hard times, which was just how she wanted Gabriel Shaw to see her. Throwing a fine woollen shawl about her shoulders to keep her warm, she set off through the unheated passages.
‘Mrs Hopwood, good evening.’
Gabriel Shaw greeted her politely as she entered his room. She had half expected him to receive her in a garish dressing gown, but he was fully dressed in biscuit-coloured pantaloons and a dark evening coat that fitted without a crease across his broad shoulders. Even in the candlelight she could see it was of impeccable cut. He wore it over a gold silk waistcoat and immaculate white linen, and above the intricately tied cravat his face was unmarked, save for the ugly bruise on
