Nell by Elizabeth Bailey Read Free Book Online

her plate, where the remains of her meal lay congealing. Her appetite deserted her.
    She glanced towards Keston, who was busying himself in clearing dishes from the table to the sideboard, presumably in preparation for the remove to the second course. Nell found a glass of wine in her hand and discovered that Mr Beresford had put it there, having refilled it from the decanter.
    He smiled as he moved back to his own seat. ‘No need to look so distressed. She’ll stop in a moment.’
    Nell frowned across at him. ‘Does this happen often?’
    ‘Oh, yes.’ He took up his knife and fork again. For all his complaints, he was making a hearty meal. ‘Regular little madam is Henrietta, if she don’t get her own way. You’ll get used to it.’
    Did he not know then of Lord Jarrow’s fears? Surely he must. If there truly were signs of insanity, no member of such a close household could possibly be unaware of them. She eyed him uncertainly and surprised a look of sympathy in his face. He shook his head.
    ‘Poor old fellow. Don’t like to say it to his face, but you can see now why I remain. It’s what I was about to say to you when Hetty started her yowling. Positively inhuman to leave Jarrow alone at such a time.’ He grinned brightly. ‘You’d written me down as unfeeling, Miss Faraday, now hadn’t you? I do it to tease him, y’know. Keep him from brooding.’
    Nell pounced. ‘Why should he brood, sir?’
    He looked taken aback, but she kept her eyes on his face. ‘Don’t you know? Gad, you must do, ma’am. Can’t have escaped your notice that we’re both in mourning.’
    She was disconcerted. ‘That, no.’ On impulse, she shifted her plate to one side and leaned forward. ‘How long ago did she die, sir?’
    ‘M’sister? Oh, must be seven or eight months now. Lose track, y’know. Every day the same.’ He frowned as if in thought. ‘Let’s see. September ’95 it was. Seven months, isn’t it? Yes, seven. And young Hetty turned six in February, which is what started Eden off on the idea of getting her a governess.’
    Which drew Nell’s attention back to the cries yet to be heard, even through the thick walls of the castle. Her nerves had settled, however, and she was able to listen without flinching inside. Only she knew that she could not endure to hear it and be forced to sit inactive. Not for long. Even now she itched to run to the child’s rescue, convinced that she would find a means to help.
    No, she must not allow pride to rule her. Those in the household could not but know better than she how to allay whatever distress had been stimulated. Her gaze focused again on Mr Beresford, now calmly sipping his wine, having evidently eaten his fill. Could she with propriety pump him for that information which Lord Jarrow refused to give her? She glanced at the butler, who wassnuffing candles, which had begun to gutter in the holder on the sideboard. He was elderly, and hopefully would not hear her. She leaned a little across the table again.
    ‘Mr Beresford.’ Was that a start he gave? His mind had evidently been elsewhere. ‘How often does this sort of thing happen?’
    ‘You mean Hetty?’ He shook his head vaguely. ‘Now and then, y’know. Once or twice in a month, I suppose. Perhaps more. So used to it that I can’t properly recall.’
    ‘What is there besides tantrums?’
    Mr Beresford stared at her, a frown gathering at his brow. ‘What else?’ Then he struck a hand to his forehead. ‘I see what you’re getting at! Eden mentioned that, did he? No, no, my brother’s mistaken, ma’am. What else is to be expected of a little girl who has lost her mother? Perfectly understandable, and so I keep telling him. Can’t suppose it possible that the poor mite has inherited the fatal Beresford tendency. Why, I myself am perfectly free of the taint. And as for Julietta…’
    His voice died, and he shifted into a reverie. Reluctant to disturb those memories that she might inadvertently have evoked