The small gesture seemed to thrill Lord Bellton to no end. He joined her where she leaned against the wall, watching her face adoringly as he let his head fall to the side, content to enjoy this silent moment between them. Too soon, she stood upright and announced their need for nourishment.
“Please, let me wait upon you,” he said, stunning Beatrix into silence. She only nodded, so he led her from the hallway to the kitchen and held out a chair for her in the now empty room.
“Only, I don’t think I know what to do here,” Lord Bellton said, grinning slightly as he looked around. He took an apron from a peg on the wall and put it on backwards, making Beatrix laugh. He winked at her and turned it around, letting her know it was all in good fun.
“Start with the water,” Beatrix said, nodding in the direction of the large kettle. “Perhaps you might put a pot on to boil over the stove there, and we could enjoy some eggs and bread with cheese.”
“Right! That sounds wonderful.” He looked lost again, and asked, “Where do you suppose the bread might be hiding?”
Beatrix laughed. “I’m no expert in noble household affairs, but I would keep it hidden in the bread box over there.”
Lord Bellton heated the water and fetched the eggs from a basket in the pantry. He reached for a small item on a shelf above the stove and held it up for Beatrix to see. “I do remember this from when I was a boy and would play down here in the kitchen. The cook had said it would tell me how long the eggs should boil.”
He set the hourglass on the table in front of Beatrix and gave her stern instructions to watch it closely. Then he hurried to bring out a loaf of bread, a wedge of hard cheese, and a sharp knife from a crock on the counter.
Beatrix wanted desperately to take the knife and bread from his inept hands and put an end to his ruination of the loaf, but she stopped. This was a man who’d never lifted a finger to care for himself, attempting to provide her with a meal. She would not steal this moment from him, no matter how disastrous the results.
When he finally presented her plate to her, Beatrix fought to keep from laughing. The eggs appeared to be wilted in their cups, the bread was a shamble of crumbs and crusts, and the cheese looked as though it had recently lost a battle of some sort. Still, when she dipped a corner of crust in the soft yellow of her egg, the taste was as wonderful as if she’d made it herself and sat at her father’s table to enjoy it.
“This is by far the best meal I’ve eaten today,” Beatrix announced. Lord Bellton laughed.
“By my count, this disgrace to culinary art forms is the only meal you’ve eaten today!”
“What disgrace?” she asked, feigning insult. “I’ll have you know, this is precisely the way the Queen has been serving bread at her table this season! I believe it’s a new recipe from the French called ‘pan au oh dear.’”
“Really?” Lord Bellton asked, playing along. “Well, if it’s good enough for the Queen, then I’m sure it will nourish us just as well.”
“My Lord?” the butler asked, coming down the stairs. “The physician has arrived.”
“Oh, that is good news!” Lord Bellton gushed. Even Beatrix looked relieved. “Send him this way, I’ll meet him in there myself.” He turned to Beatrix and asked, “Will you come explain your work to him?”
“He should see it well enough. If it’s all the same, I’d like to get outside for a moment and breathe in the fresh air. I’ve seen enough blood today!”
“Understood,” Lord Bellton said, rising to meet the physician. “Thank you again for all you’ve done.”
He hurried to see to the physician and his patient, leaving Beatrix to finish her meal contentedly. Her mind was still a storm of emotion, the tempest scattering her feelings and good sense like leaves in the wind. But she was, for the first time since arriving at the marquess’ home, not weighed down by a feeling of foreboding, the sense that something dark was about to befall her.
Beatrix rose and walked outside, the freshness in the air and the afternoon sunshine on her face doing much to revive her spirits. She stood for a moment with her back to the kitchen wall, simply feeling relieved that her part was over. The driver was now in the capable hands of the physician.
“Miss?” a man’s voice said, jarring her from her reverie. Beatrix turned and looked at the stranger. “Are you the young lady who tended to my patient?”
“Oh, you must be the physician!” she said. Beatrix looked down, certain the old man would issue a much-deserved tongue lashing for her attempts at rendering aid. Instead, he took her hand and spoke to her warmly.
“Yes, I’m Sir Williams, I’m pleased to meet you. I came outside to say that while you may not have had the benefits of a formal education on health and vitality, you have without a doubt saved that man’s very life,” he said, smiling behind a grandfatherly mustache. “I hope it’s not too early to say so, but I dare believe you also saved his leg. He owes you his life, and I am grateful that I was not met upon the road today and told there would be no need of my services due to his death.”
Beatrix wilted slightly under the praise, relief filling her core. She thanked Sir Williams and wiped at a tear. He shook her hand once more and returned to his patient, leaving her in a much better state of mind than he’d found her.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty girl?” Beatrix whispered as she approached the physician’s horse. It still stood in the courtyard, forgotten in the haste to bring the healer inside. “Let’s see if we can find someone to remove your tack, shall we?”
Taking the chestnut mare by the reins, Beatrix led her to the stable and peered inside. Everyone seemed to be out and about their other duties, so she put the animal in a stall, loosened the girth strap and removed the saddle, then slipped the bridle and bit from the horse’s head. She took the pail from its hook in the stall and filled it with fresh water from the trough outside, but dared not feed the horse without speaking to someone first.
“No, I’ve taken quite enough liberties today,” she thought, looking at the creature and hoping it wasn’t famished, “best not test my luck any further. You’ll just have to survive a little longer with an empty belly!”
A shadow passed over the open door to the stable and Beatrix turned, hoping it was someone who could feed the poor horse. Instead, she was taken aback to discover it was the insufferable old Earl, a glare of disgust on his face.
“You there,” the man said, stepping closer and pointing a finger at her. “Who are you? Explain yourself, and how you happen to be here at the disadvantage of the Marquess!”
“I beg your pardon, good sir,” Beatrix said smartly, ignoring the man’s title which she knew rather well, “but I do not answer to you or to anyone.”
