Page 48 of The Hazardous Measure of Love
I started stripping off my skirts, then kicked off my shoes and pulled off my stockings.
‘What are you doing?’ Luc demanded as I ripped my petticoat vertically at the front, pulled it through and tucked it in at the waist.
‘Climbing. I’m the lightest of us.’
The tree trunk was rough and gave a good, if painful grip to my bare feet. And, like all conifers, it seemed to have numerous snags and broken bits of branch, making it easy enough to reach the branch Mathew was clinging to.
‘Hold on,’ I called to him. ‘I’m coming to get you.’
I lay flat on the branch and began to inch out along it, then froze when there was an ominous cracking sound.
‘Stay still, Matthew. James has gone for a ladder,’ Luc called up.
The branch sagged and I knew I couldn’t wait for James. I scooted forwards, reached down, got one small wrist in my hand. ‘Let go, Matthew!’
Brave little boy, he did as I told him, falling down to the full stretch of my arm. I swung him back blindly towards the bank and let go, trusting to Luc to catch him.
There was an, ‘Ough!’ a thump and a cry of ‘Papa!’ which was drowned in the sound of the branch I was on giving up the struggle and breaking off.
It wasn’t far down to the water, and I managed to kick free of the branch before it dragged me under. James contrived to fall in “helping” me out and we collapsed in a sodden, muddy heap on the bank.
Luc was decidedly white about the lips, but his voice was steady as he set his son on his feet. ‘What do you say to Miss Lawrence, Matthew?’
‘Thank you very much for rescuing me, Miss Lawrence,’ he managed. ‘An‘ I’m very sorry, Papa.’
‘What did you promise me about the moat?’ Luc demanded, still seated. I suspect he didn’t trust his legs.
‘Not to go within six feet of it, Papa. But I wasn’t. That’s more than six feet ’cos I measured it with a long stick and then the ruler, just like Mr Prescott taught me.’
You had to hand it to the child, he was nothing if not bright. He even succeeded in silencing his father who just sat there, eyes closed, probably counting to one hundred in German.
‘Miss Lawrence! Do come inside and get out of those wet clothes.’ It was Lady Radcliffe carrying Charles and followed by a small battalion of household staff, all armed with towels.
She set Charles down and, miraculously, all his tears had gone. He grinned at his twin and rushed up to wrap his arms around him.
Luc opened his eyes and got to his feet. ‘Thank you, Cassie.’ He held out his hand and hauled me up.
Lady Radcliffe gave a faint shriek at the sight of me. ‘Hopkins! A towel for Miss Lawrence! The largest one.’
* * *
We finally reconvened in the drawing room rather early for dinner, but bathed, changed and respectable again. Luc was looking frazzled after a prolonged session with the twins, extracting promises on moats, trees, fences, roofs and just about any hazard he could imagine.
‘Are they all right, though?’ I asked. ‘They had a terrible shock. Poor Charles was distraught. He seemed far more upset than Matthew.’
‘He was terrified for his brother,’ Lady Radcliffe said. ‘Fear is always worse if it is someone you love who is in peril.’
I put down my glass of sherry with a thump on the side table, almost breaking the fragile stem. ‘That’s it! She isn’t afraid for herself, she is terrified for someone else.’
‘Arabella Jordan?’ James asked.
‘Yes. That is what is wrong with her and why she won’t leave. What good would that do if the threat isn’t to her?’
‘Then who?’ Luc asked. ‘She grew up with the Prescott boys…’ He looked across the table to me and we both said, ‘Jerald!’
‘Explain,’ Lady Radcliffe said crisply. ‘The boy isn’t courting her – his brothers are.’
‘Jerald is closest to her in age,’ I said, working it out as I went along, feeling all the puzzle pieces clicking into place. ‘He was willing to accept his Uncle Alexander’s sponsorship to an excellent banking career and then suddenly, and very stubbornly, refused to go. I’ll bet that refusal coincided with Arabella becoming betrothed to Lord Tillingham.’
