POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER TEN (Part Four)

                                        CHAPTER TEN (Part Four)

‘Sir Leopold!’ The old man looked startled. ‘Very well, then,’ he said. ‘But wait on the step here. I won’t have your sort in my home.’

Rosalind waited impatiently and when the old man finally appeared with a brown paper package in his hand she snatched it from him without a word, not even of thanks, and set off at a run for the cliff path.

 She was really out of breath with hurrying when she reached the gap in the hedgerow where she could turn off to reach Cliff House. She felt guilty at taking so long and tried not to think about the suffering of Jonathan Trevellian lying helpless on his sick bed.

     She was about to step through the opening when suddenly a dark shadow detached itself from the bushes nearby and reached out for her. Rosalind screamed as strong hands grasped her arms and began to propel her backwards.

     ‘No! Stop!’ Rosalind struggled desperately, attempting to fling her arms free and digging her feet into the ground in an effort to prevent being dragged to the cliff edge. ‘Stop! Who are you? What do you want?’

     The figure remained silent but she saw he was dressed in monk’s robes, the cowl covering his face. The intruder! What did he want with her?

     Rosalind gave a shrill screamed as the man grasped her in a hug with one arm and clamped a hand over her mouth. He was so strong Rosalind was unable to fight him. He forced her back until she was on the very edge of the cliff.

     In a moment of utter terror Rosalind felt the edge of the cliff crumble under her feet and suddenly she was hanging in mid air, supported only by the man’s arm grasped around her.

     In that split second between life and death Rosalind tried to peer at the shadowed face so close to hers and yet hidden. All she saw was moonlight from the sea below reflected in a pair of staring eyes. And then her terror overcame her and she lost consciousness.

Someone was banging on the front door. The sound seemed loud and hollow, reverberating throughout the house in the stillness of the night. Infuriated, Eliza Gilbert, who had waited in her little sitting-room, hurried to answer, afraid that the whole household would be wakened by the din.

She suspected it was that little wretch Rosalind Trevellian making the most of her opportunity to draw attention to herself.

Eliza flung the door open wide to find Dr McCloud outside.

‘Has the girl returned?’ he asked his expression agitated as he pushed his way in to hall,

‘No. I thought that was her at the door,’ Eliza snapped. ‘She’s a flibbertigibbet, that girl,’ she said. ‘She’s off with some man somewhere. I doubt she even went to the apothecary’s.’

Dr McCloud looked startled. ‘She seemed quite respectable to me and sensible, too.’

‘Huh!’ Eliza tossed her head. ‘Men see what they want to. But I can see right through her. She’s conniving little slut!’

Dr McCloud gave her a stare of astonishment and Eliza pulled herself together, realising she had exposed herself. The doctor wasn’t gentry but at the same time he was a respected member of the community. As the future Lady Trevellian she should keep face even with the likes of him.

‘What am I to do?’ the doctor exclaimed loudly. ‘Mr Cedric expects me to administer to Mr Jonathan’s every need.’

‘What’s going on?’ a new voice called out.

Eliza looked up to see Mr Brice Thomas descending the staircase in his night robes. She hurried forward to intercept him.

‘Nothing for you to worry about, sir, I assure you,’ she said hurriedly. ‘A minor matter. You need not trouble yourself.’

‘A minor matter! What are you blathering about, you stupid woman!’ Dr McCloud cried loudly, his expression angry. ‘Far from minor, Mr Thomas, sir. Mr Jonathan is in great need of laudanum. I sent that girl Rosalind to the village apothecary. She has not returned.’

‘You sent a young girl on foot at this time of night?’ Brice Thomas looked angry. ‘Are you mad, doctor? Why was I not informed? I could’ve ridden there and back within twenty minutes.’

     Dr McCloud looked flustered as he glanced at Eliza. ‘Mrs Gilbert advised against it.’

     Brice Thomas turned a stern gaze on Eliza and she felt her face flame with consternation.

     ‘You’re a guest, sir,’ she said lamely. ‘Sir Leopold would not like a guest of his to be inconvenienced.’

     ‘You’re right, Doctor. The woman’s a fool!’ Brice said turning his gaze of contempt from her to the doctor. ‘I’ll dress immediately and go in search of Rosalind. Perhaps you will saddle a horse for me, doctor.’

     ‘But, sir...’ Eliza began, feeling she must re-establish her authority.

     ‘Go to bed, woman,’ Brice Thomas said curtly. ‘I think you’ve done enough damage.’

     Eliza stood in the hall feeling mortified as she watched Brice Thomas leap up the stairs two at a time. Dr McCloud turned from her with a dour glance and strode out of the door presumably to go to the stables.

     Fuming, Eliza turned towards the green baize door at the back to the hall to where her sitting room lay. She would not be sent to bed like a disgraced servant. This was all Rosalind’s fault and Sir Leopold would hear about the way she had been treated by Brice Thomas as soon as he returned.

     Her anger swelled against Rosalind. Joshua had vowed to strike against the girl but when would he carry out his plans? The sooner the better, Eliza decided. With the troublesome girl dead, life would return to normal at Cliff House.