The Phantom Lover by Elizabeth Mansfield

Author:Elizabeth Mansfield
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781497697744
Publisher: Open Road Media

Chapter Eleven

THE SCENE IN Harry’s room did not augur well for the future of the new relationship between Nell and her moody host. But to her surprise, he appeared at dinner that evening in a cheerful mood and spent the hours before bedtime with the two ladies in perfect amiability. The next day, which was unexpectedly bright and sunny, brought Nell an invitation to ride with him. Then, on the day following, during a rainy afternoon, he invited her to assist him in his researches into the military strategies of Marlborough. Before a week had passed, they found themselves enjoying a stimulating and pleasantly friendly intimacy.

Nell kept a strict guard on her tongue. As Mrs. Penloe had learned before her, Harry was immovable in his determination to cut himself off from his previous life, and Nell wisely decided to abide by his wishes. Once it became clear that neither would try to influence the other’s life, they were able to discuss even their pasts without embarrassment. During the following weeks, they spent part of each day in each other’s company. They talked incessantly. Nell told Harry about her feelings when she’d learned about her parents’ death in a terrible accident in their coach, and about the difficulties of life with Lady Sybil. She revealed, to Harry’s hearty amusement, the shocking facts of her three broken betrothals and the resulting ruin of her reputation among the ladies of Quality. On his part, Harry kept Nell fascinated with tales of his exploits on the Peninsula, the battles, the customs of the Spanish people he’d met, and the strange sights he’d seen. And one day, to his own surprise, he revealed to her the story of how he’d been wounded, how he’d hobbled for miles, delirious, parched and agonized, until he’d been found by a Spanish peasant who’d taken him in and whose wife had nursed him back to health. It was the first time he’d told the tale.

It had happened on a morning which was gray and threatening. Ignoring the ominous clouds, they had decided to ride. With Harry on Caceres and Nell on the mare, they had ridden out along the cliffs and finally stopped in the sheltered area that Nell had found so many days before. Sitting on the rocks and staring at the churning sea, Harry had found it soothing to tell the wide-eyed girl of his experiences—experiences that he’d relived so often in nightmares. As he spoke, his eyes fixed on the water below, he almost forgot she was there. Details of those terrible days, things he’d thought he’d forgotten, came back to him. He remembered the heat, his parched lips, the excruciating pain in his leg as the wound slowly festered. He’d found a tree branch to use as a crutch, but it was so rough that his hand and underarm were cut and blistered. After a while, his delirium took over. He imagined he was on a fox hunt, that he’d been unhorsed, and when he’d

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