Beatrice Page 5

  The thought that a stranger had been watching her from the safety of the shadows left her feeling slightly sick, and she suddenly had the desperate urge to be somewhere else. In an attempt to keep the fear at bay, she quickly gathered the tea things but, when she sneezed and dropped one of the cups, she realised that she had yet to change out of her wet clothes. She quickly restacked the tray and stood back to assess the distance between the sitting room and the stairs. Could she make it by herself?

  “Alright?” Ben asked as he entered the sitting room with an arm full of books.

  Beatrice sneezed again. “I am sorry. Please, forgive me? I need to get into something dry.” She tugged at the cold, clammy material of her dress and felt goose bumps break out on her arms.

  “Let’s get you upstairs so you can change out of those wet clothes,” Ben suggested wryly. He deposited the rather large stack of books beside the couch and turned toward her. “Then we can start to take a look at these.”

  Beatrice half expected him to hold out a gentlemanly elbow to assist her. However, she forgot that this was Ben, the man who seemed inclined to want to carry her everywhere. The effortless way he hefted her into his arms and swept her up the flight of stairs left her amazed, and rather delighted that he could manage to climb stairs with her weight in his arms.

  “Which way?” He asked and tried desperately to ignore the fact that she was staring at him again.

  “Second door on the left,” she replied with a shiver.

  She could only hope that there was no hint of the emotions that had begun to unfurl deep within her written on her face. It felt rather intimate to have this man; this wonderfully handsome, charming man, carry her to her room, and she tried not to wonder what it would be like if this was for real.

  “I will wait out here until you are ready to go back downstairs,” he whispered huskily once he had deposited her in the doorway.

  “Thank you,” she replied, and watched him close the door with a soft click.

  She stared at the wood panelling for several moments before the need to see him again propelled her into motion. She hurriedly changed out of her clothes and put on a blessedly dry dress, and accompanied it with not one, but two of her thickest shawls. Now that she was fairly dry and warm, she realised how cold she had been, and just how foolish she was for not getting out of her wet clothes as soon as she had arrived home.

  While she re-pinned her hair, she heard him putting more water on to boil downstairs but, by the time she opened her bedroom door, he was back in the hallway with his shoulders propped against the wall directly opposite.

  “You are not going to carry me downstairs,” Beatrice declared firmly as she hobbled out of the bedroom.

  He rolled his eyes. Although he wanted to, even he wasn’t that brave. He held his elbow out to her instead. “Use the wall and me to steady yourself, and shuffle along beside me. Put most of your weight onto me.”

  They made their way back to the sitting room without too much trouble. However, once there, he waited until she had taken a seat on the couch and then knelt at her feet.

  “Let’s take a look at this boot, shall we?” he murmured gently and began to untie her laces.

  It felt terribly scandalous to lift her skirts out of the way and allow him greater access to her ankles, but she could hardly refuse now that he had already started to pull the first boot off. That was fine, but then she hadn’t injured that one. However, as soon as he started to remove the boot from her injured foot, the aching increased with a vengeance and continued to grow steadily worse, to the point that she had to grit her teeth to withhold her cry of pain. Even from a distance, her ankle looked bruised and swollen but, luckily, now that it was free of the confines of her boot, she could at least move it.

  “I don’t think it is broken, but you do need to rest it for a while,” Ben murmured and placed her foot on the table before them. Once he had put more logs onto the fire, he took the tray of tea things and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Thank you for everything you have done for me today,” Beatrice said as she handed him his cup of tea from the fresh tray of tea things he had placed before them. “I feel awful that you are the one doing everything that I should be doing. It is not very good of me to allow my guest to make his own tea.”

  “I am perfectly capable of making a cup of tea Beatrice,” he smiled at her. “Besides, you have a very good reason for not being able to, so I am sure that I can forgive your lapse.”

  His smile dimmed as he looked deeply into her eyes. The atmosphere between them shifted; softened a little, and drew them ever closer.

  “I am really glad that I am here, Beatrice,” Ben confided quietly, and meant every word. “I am going to keep an eye out for that carriage driver, and will give him a piece of my mind if I see him again, I can assure you. The reckless idiot could have caused you considerable harm today. You are lucky that ankle wasn’t broken. It could very easily have been, and I might not have been able to rescue you. The consequences don’t bear thinking about. I am so very glad that I was there for you; that I am here for you now.”

  “I am glad that you are here now too,” she whispered. She really couldn’t argue with him because he was right. Ben had been her saviour this afternoon. If he hadn’t come back for her in the lane, heaven only knew where she would be right now.

  They sat back to enjoy the companionable atmosphere that had settled over them while they drank their tea. Now that Ben was beside her, she had the courage to take a look out of the window behind her, but was unsurprised to find nothing but sky visible through it.

  As if to prove the storm was still a threat, a loud rumble of thunder reverberated around the house and was accompanied by a jagged streak of lightning that lit the room.

  “While we are waiting for the storm to pass, let’s take a look through these books.” He lifted one off the pile between them and handed it to her before he picked up a second book for himself.

  Silence settled over them while they began to search for the name of the plant.

  An hour later, rain still pelted down outside with ferocious determination but inside Brantley Manor, Beatrice and Ben were safe, warm and blessedly dry. The tea pot was replenished and amply supported by several large slices of fruit cake and, in spite of the rather restricted choice of food on offer, it really was rather delightful. The ambience within the room had settled into something that was comfortable and relaxed, and it helped them both take the time they needed to forget the troubles that had brought them together only hours earlier.

  Ben closed his third book and placed it on the floor by his feet with a sigh. The thought of having to trawl through all of the books in the study horrified him, but he seriously couldn’t even begin to consider leaving Beatrice to do it by herself.

  He studied the packaging paper on the table and picked it up. It had been cut a little too big for the parcel because it had been folded while being wrapped, but it was rectangular and a fairly nondescript kind that could be purchased anywhere. He carefully pulled the paper flat, and smoothed out the crumples so he could study the whole sheet carefully. Apart from the smudged address on one side, it was just an ordinary piece of packaging paper. However, when he turned the paper over, it became evident that something out of the ordinary was going on.

  There, barely visible in the crease lines was a single line of neatly penned script.

  “Beatrice.”

  “What’s that?” Beatrice murmured and peered over his shoulder when he pointed to the tiny writing.

  He tipped the paper toward the candle beside him so he could read the words more clearly. “It says: Caelestia Perfectionis. Extremely rare; water sparingly, keep away from drafts. Needs warmth and sunlight. Do not pass on to anybody. B. Mottram.”

  “B. Mottram.”

  “Caelestia Perfectionis,” Ben murmured, thrilled at the thought of a mystery. “I think that is Latin for Celestial Perfection.”

  “Latin?” Beatrice scowled at th
e neatly penned script. “That’s not Uncle Matthew’s handwriting.” It was the complete opposite to her uncle’s spidery scrawl but looked similar to the writing on the front of the package.

  “Do you know a ‘B. Mottram’?” Ben asked hopefully. Unsurprisingly though, Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t suppose you know if he was one of your uncle’s associates?”

  He knew from the look of regret in her eye that she didn’t. He got the impression from what she had told him earlier in the study, and her lack of knowledge about what was seemingly a large part of her uncle’s life, that the two hadn’t been all that close.

  Beatrice sighed and stared down at the paper. “If ‘B. Mottram’ is someone associated with uncle, why didn’t he at least put his head around the door to say hello?” She started to feel a little annoyed by the way the plant had mysteriously appeared, without warning, by an unnamed person who hadn’t even seen fit to leave a note in the box.

  “Why put this in the crease? Why not leave a note inside the box?” She demanded after several moments of thoughtful silence.

  “I don’t know,” Ben sighed. “What kind of plant to you think it is?”

  “Well,” Beatrice sighed. “It’s a flowering plant of some kind, but it says on this paper that it is rare, and so most probably won’t be detailed in any of the books.”

  “Unless it is listed in one of the books about rare plants.” He shook his head. “Right now, I don’t even know what variety it is to know which book to look in.”

  “There may be something like it in uncle’s conservatory.” She glanced toward the window again and sighed at the relentless nature of the rain. “Unfortunately, I doubt we are going to have sufficient light to see anything if we go out there to take a look.”

  Ben had to agree with her and heaved a frustrated sigh as yet another rumble of thunder echoed around the house.

  “I take it that you like mysteries?” Beatrice mused wryly as she watched him study the packaging paper again with more curiosity on his face than frustration.

  He glanced up at her and smiled so sheepishly that he looked like a naughty little boy who had been caught with a handful of biscuits before dinner. The dimples that flashed in his cheeks made him look endearing and, incredibly, considerably more handsome than before. She found herself smiling back at him without even realising she was doing so.

  “I have to admit that I am more than a little intrigued by all of this. It is rather odd to think that not only have you nearly been run down – twice, in the space of an afternoon, but you have also seen someone outside the window and had a mysterious plant delivered by person or persons unknown.” He stopped right there because he didn’t want to scare her and lapsed into thoughtful silence while he considered the paper in his hand.

  Now that he came to think about it, it was rather a lot to happen to one person in the space of an afternoon. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was all mere circumstance, or whether it was connected in some way to the curious flowering plant with the rather unforgettable odour.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Beatrice opened her mouth to speak only to frown when a series of heavy thumps on the front door interrupted her. She turned her gaze toward the hallway, but made no attempt to get up and answer the summons.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Ben growled as he pushed to his feet. “Stay there, I will get it.”

  “I am not expecting anyone. It’s not Maud,” she replied as he moved to the door. “She won’t walk through the rain while it is as heavy as this.”

  Ben nodded and sighed when the impatient knocking on the door began again. His scowl was deep when he yanked the door open, and deepened even further when his gaze landed on the much shorter man on the doorstep.

  His gut instinct warned him that there was something amiss about this stranger. Rather than step back and allow him into the house and out of the pouring rain, Ben blocked the doorway and studied him expectantly. He knew his instincts were right when, at first, the man tried to look into the hallway behind him before he began to scour every inch of the area around him as though he was looking for something; or scouting the area.

  “You are the owner of the house, I take it?” The stranger demanded rudely.

  The rather arrogant way he looked Ben up and down was so dismissive that Ben felt positively insulted and he didn’t even know the man. It was all he could do not to slam the door in the man’s face, and was glad that Beatrice hadn’t answered the door.

  He heard her gasp behind him but made no attempt to look at her, purely because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the visitor. He felt certain that if he did, the stranger would take the opportunity to wriggle his way past him and stalk straight into the house.

  “What do you want?” Ben snapped.

  “You have something of mine,” the smaller man drawled somewhat snootily.

  “Oh?” Ben knew he was being obtuse but didn’t care one bit if the man was offended by it.

  “I was passing by earlier today and noticed that you had a package on your doorstep. I think it may have been meant for me. I would like it back.”

  Ben’s brows lifted and he stared dismissively back at the smaller man. “I have nothing of yours.” When he moved to step back from the doorway, the smaller man hurriedly stepped forward. Ben flicked him a look that warned him to stay right where he was, and it was enough to make the smaller man freeze.

  “But I saw it on your doorstep,” the man argued. “I was waiting for a package; a plant, but I think my friend must have left it here by mistake.”

  “I have nothing of yours,” Ben snapped. “Now I suggest you go and look for your package elsewhere.” He pinned the man with a narrowed gaze. “There is nothing here for you.”

  The man opened his mouth to speak only for Ben to slam the door closed. For added emphasis he slammed the bolt across before he turned to face Beatrice.

  “The plant isn’t his,” she assured him.

  Ben nodded in agreement. “Have you seen that man around here before?”

  “I don’t think he is an associate of my uncle. He has certainly never been here before while I have been here,” she whispered in deference to the fact that there was only a wooden door between them and the caller outside, and could be overheard.

  She suddenly gasped and stared at Ben with wide eyes. “You don’t think he was the carriage driver who tried to run me down, do you?” Her eyes grew even wider. “Do you think he was the person I saw outside the study window? Was he looking for the plant, do you think?”

  Ben would like to assure her that he couldn’t possibly be but, in all conscience, couldn’t. If he was honest, he rather suspected that the visitor was certainly rude enough to think nothing of peering through a person’s windows.

  “I don’t know, darling,” he drawled ruefully. “I think that while he is around and, until we can solve the mystery of who sent you the plant and why, you need to keep your doors locked and be extra vigilant.”

  Although he didn’t say as much to her, he rather wished that her house was considerably closer to the village than it was. At least then she would have someone to call upon if anything happened. He hated the thought of her being all alone in the house with that man stalking around.

  He turned to study her and opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again with a snap. The confusion and doubt on her face made her look a little lost and he inevitably felt drawn toward her. He didn’t say a word as he drew her into his arms and pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. To his relief, she immediately sighed and settled against him as though she was destined for his arms.

  “Thank you again,” she whispered a little ruefully when, minutes later, she reluctantly eased back from the warmth of his embrace.

  He smiled at her. “You are welcome – again. Now that the visitor has gone, let’s get back to those books and see if we can find our plant, shall we?” He reluctantly released her and followed her into the sitting room.

  “Do you
really think the plant might be his?” Beatrice asked. “Did he give you his name?”

  “I don’t really know if the plant is his, Beatrice. Your name is most certainly on that packaging paper. It may have been for someone whose name begins with a ‘B’ but, for some reason, I doubt that it is him. I didn’t bother to ask for his name because it didn’t seem relevant at the time. I didn’t like the way he kept trying to look into the house.” Ben now wished that he had asked the man for his name, but hadn’t wanted to encourage him to stay any longer than absolutely necessary. Besides, he wasn’t altogether sure that he would have gotten the truth.

  “There is one thing for certain,” he added quietly.

  “What’s that?”

  Ben looked directly at her. “He isn’t from around these parts. He didn’t know my name, and assumed that this is my house.”

  “He didn’t ask for me, or my uncle?”

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t want to alarm you Beatrice, but there is something odd going on here,” he declared quietly after several moments of thoughtful silence. “I cannot help but feel that the quicker we find the identity of the plant you have, the faster we will know why that man wants to get his hands on it.”

  “Do you think he saw it through the study window?”

  Ben shook his head. “I put it on the floor, if you remember?”