The Adventurers by Aiken Hodge Jane

Author:Aiken Hodge, Jane
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Agora Books
Published: 2019-02-13T16:00:00+00:00

Next morning, Philip Haverton woke on his pallet to see Denbigh sitting up in bed and staring at him. ‘Thank God, you’re better.’ He jumped up and hurried across the room to him.

‘Better? Oh, yes, I remember. The French—but what happened, Philip; where are we?’

‘At Charles Vincent’s house. Caulaincourt asked that we stay here. I’m sorry: I was afraid you would not be best pleased. But what else could I do?’

‘Nothing, I suppose. Though you’re right: I’d rather be anywhere than here. But what’s happened?’

‘Nothing—that we know of. The French are still masters of the town: the Congress is still sitting: Aberdeen sends every day to ask after you: so, to do him justice, does Caulaincourt. Neither of them has any news of the armies. It seems fantastic—but there is one thing: a strong rumour going round the town that Wellington is on the move in the South.’

‘Wellington?’ Denbigh swung his legs out of bed. ‘Then it’s time to be up and doing. Is Charles Vincent back, by the way?’

‘No, not yet. Should you get up?’

‘Well, that’s something to be thankful for. Of course I should. I’ve lain here long enough—too long.’

When he got downstairs half an hour or so later, Denbigh found Elizabeth busy polishing the furniture of the hall. ‘I am so glad to see you better.’ She gave a final rub to the oak chest she was working on. ‘I am afraid the results of our flood the other day are going to last a while. We never had a chance to thank you properly, Lord Denbigh. I suspect you saved our lives.’

‘And you ours. If it comes to thanks, I do not know where I should begin.’

‘Shall we call it quits, then?’ She crossed the hall and opened the dining room door: ‘Marthe has coffee and rolls ready for you. She thinks you mad, I warn you, to get up so soon, and will undoubtedly tell you so. Sit down, and I’ll tell her you are ready.’

‘Let me do so myself. There is no reason why you should wait on me.’

‘Why not? You are our guest, after all—and our patient. Ah, Sonia, tell Marthe Lord Denbigh is ready for his breakfast, will you?’

Sonia paused for a moment in the doorway. In contrast to Elizabeth, who was swathed in a voluminous apron, she was ravishing in a morning dress of soft pink that set off the gold of her hair. ‘Are you really better, Lord Denbigh? I am so glad to see you up, but—should you be? The doctor said that was a terrible blow you received. You should have heard him expecting the worst. We were quite in despair, were we not, Elizabeth?’ And then, when Elizabeth did not answer: ‘But are you really none the worse?’

‘Not the least in the world, thank you. In fact, aside from a little weakness and a ravenous appetite, I feel better than I have since I can remember.’

‘Really? The doctor was full of gloomy prognostications about shifted scar tissue from an old wound.

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