Without a chair to prop against this second door, she was forced to resort to a larger and bulkier piece of furniture. The dresser was the closest item. Moving to its side, Clarissa bent to the task of pushing the heavy wooden item in front of the door, wincing at the squeal of wood on wood as she forced it across the hardwood floor. Muttering under her breath, Clarissa redoubled her efforts, hoping that speed would make up for the loud sound.
"My lady?" Kibble's voice came muffled through her bedroom door, sounding anxious. "Is all well?"
Pausing with the dresser half in place, Clarissa rolled her eyes. "Yes, Kibble, I am fine."
"I thought I heard an odd sound, like something heavy being moved," the man said. She could hear the disapproval in his voice.
Clarissa blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and said, 'Yes, I was just moving something. Making the room my own."
There was a long silence, and Clarissa was beginning to hope he'd accepted that answer and gone away when he said, "Do you think you might open the door for a moment? Just so that I can be assured that you are all right?"
Clarissa groaned under her breath, then moved to the door to the hall. She removed the chair from in front of it, took off her spectacles and hid them in the folds of her skirt, then opened the door. "See? I am fine."
Kibble slowly looked her over, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as if he feared she might not be telling the truth; then his gaze slid past her to survey the room.
Clarissa bit her lip, hoping against hope that he wouldn't notice the dresser .. . but of course he did.
"You have blocked off the entrance to his lordship's room!" The buder sounded as startled as he should be by such an occurrence.
"Yes, I did," Clarissa said quietly. "It is only a temporary arrangement, Kibble. I wish for a few moments of rest, just a little privacy, and thought to ensure that no one troubles me."
Kibble considered her silently, then glanced around the room again. She was close enough to see his mind
working behind those fiercely intelligent eyes, and found herself growing nervous. When his gaze suddenly paused and narrowed on something in the room, Clarissa couldn't resist turning to see what he'd found. Of course, she couldn't see a thing without her spectacles, just blurry shapes.
"There is a book on your bed," Kibble announced, and Clarissa felt her heart sink. She'd forgotten all about the book she'd tossed on the bed moments earlier. Trying to keep her expression bland, she turned back to the man.
"Is there? Perhaps Joan left it here."
"No doubt," he said agreeably, then added, "Shall I take it back to the library so that it is not in your way?"
"No, 'tis fine," Clarissa said quickly, then added, " 'Tis just a book. I shall put it on the bedside table and she can collect it later."
"She may wish to read it while you are resting," he pointed out. "After all, you said she was to take the afternoon off."
Clarissa ground her teeth as she saw her opportunity to spend a few quiet moments reading slipping away. Feverishly trying to come up with a way to keep the book, she tilted her head and listened when someone called out from the main floor.
Kibble turned to glance up the hall, then excused himself and moved to the head of the stairs. Peering down at the entry below, he asked, "What is it?"
Clarissa had found that her hearing had improved since her spectacles were taken away. It was as if her body were trying to make up for the loss of one sense by increasing others. She heard well enough that she caught Frederick's answer that a carriage was approaching up the drive.
Kibble unintentionally verified what she'd heard, glancing back her way and saying, "Excuse me, my lady. It would appear we have company." Clarissa then watched his blurry image disappear down the stairs.
Closing the door behind him, she glanced at her curtained windows. Unexpected guests? Who could it be? she wondered. Popping her spectacles on, she moved to the window to peer curiously down at the front of the house.
There was indeed a carriage making its way up the drive, but it wasn't until it had almost reached the front of the house that she recognized the crest on the side. Drawing a sharp breath, Clarissa turned and hurried to the door. She was opening it before she recalled her spectacles. Snatching them off her face, she tucked them back into her pocket and made her way quickly to the stairs. Those she made her way down very carefully, one hand tight on the banister as she went. She'd learned her lesson the hard way, what with her tumble down the stairs in London, and had no desire to repeat the action.
Kibble stood in the open front door, surveying the carriage as the first passenger disembarked. As she reached his side, Clarissa could see the suspicious scowl on his face. She realized he hadn't a clue who it was. To clear up the problem, she launched herself past the butler saying, "Daddy! We were not expecting you so soon." Her father turned and caught her up in a bear hug, and Clarissa heard Kibble begin to shout orders to prepare rooms and warn Cook there would be guests for dinner.
"How is my girl?" Lord Crambray asked, letting her go and giving her the once-over. 'You look healthy and happy."
"I am." Clarissa smiled at him widely, then said, "But we did not expect you until the end of the week. Is anything wrong?"
"No, no," he assured her. "I just finished my business sooner than expected and thought I would spend the extra time visiting you and your new husband. Where is he, by the way?" Her father glanced around inquisitively.
"Adrian rode out to check on a paddock that needs repair," Clarissa explained, linking their arms. "He should be back soon."
Clarissa caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to see the blurry shape of a woman in a gown in the doorway of the carriage. Ly-dia had come as well, she realized, and she retrieved her arm at once. "I am sorry. Here I am talking away and Lydia is still waiting to disembark."
"Oh." John Crambray turned back to the carriage, murmuring an apology as he took his wife's hand to help her out.
Clarissa hesitated as the woman reached the ground and began to brush down her traveling dress. A part of her felt that she should kiss and hug the woman in greeting as she had her father, but Lydia never welcomed such displays, and so Clarissa found herself hesitating. Finally she decided that--whether Lydia liked it or not--she was a part of this family and would be treated as such. Straightening her shoulders, Clarissa stepped up to the woman, kissed her cheek, and hugged her.
Lydia stiffened in her embrace, and Clarissa could feel her surprise. She let her go, then took her father's arm and her stepmother's, and ushered them to the front door.
"Come, you should meet Kibble and everyone else. How long can you stay?"
"I think we can manage almost a week before we have to continue home. If your husband does not mind," Lord Crambray added quickly.
"Her husband does not at all."
Clarissa paused and glanced to the side as Adrian approached from the direction of the stables. She smiled sofdy as he greeted her father and stepmother and welcomed them to Mowbray; then they all went in.
"I hope you do not mind our being here?"
Adrian glanced at the man riding beside him: Lord John Crambray. It was the morning after the arrival of the Crambrays, and Clarissa's father had ridden out with him to inspect the property. Adrian had thought everything was going well between them before this, but... "No, of course not, my lord. Why would you think otherwise?"
John Crambray shrugged, but the smile on his face was wry. After a moment had passed, he admitted, "Well, I do understand that the two of you are newly married and probably wish to spend as much time getting to know each other as possible."
Adrian smiled faintly. While he had originally hoped that Clarissa's father would delay a visit until he'd had his fill of his new wife--or at least until they could be in the same room without his wishing to rip her clothes off--Adrian was beginning to realize that might not be for a very long time. He could hardly hope to keep her to himself for the next two or three deca
des.
"We have a lifetime ahead of us. I can hardly begrudge you a few days' visit."
John Crambray smiled and said, "You love my daughter."
Adrian stiffened in his saddle. He was still coming to grips with what he felt for Clarissa. Every day with her was an adventure. This morning he had awoken to find his sweet young wife kissing and caressing his erect member. She had taken to surprising him with such aggressive actions over the last few days. She seemed as eager to please him as he was to please her, and it warmed his heart every time she showed this tendency. It made him hope that she might be coming to care for him as he wanted.
"I can tell you love her," Lord Crambray announced, then added, "which is why I do not understand why she has still not got spectacles."
Adrian stiffened further, then forced himself to relax. He said, "They are on their way. I had to send to London for them. But they are a surprise, so I would appreciate your not telling Clarissa."
Lord Crambray looked relieved, and nodded. "As you like."
Adrian grimaced. If it were truly to be as he liked, Clarissa would never have spectacles. However, with his conscience to trouble him, he had finally set out to get her a pair. In the end, Adrian had not told Clarissa of his plan and taken her to the village as he'd originally intended--Clarissa had managed to distract him from that when he'd arrived in her room and she'd stood up naked in her bath. By the time he'd thought of the subject again, he had decided to order them himself. While he hadn't explained why he wished to know, he'd asked Clarissa where she'd gotten her last pair of spectacles, and had sent a messenger with
money to the city to get another pair. All without her knowing.
Adrian told himself it was because he wanted to surprise her. However, he suspected the truth was that, so long as she didn't know they were on the way, he could delay giving them to her for another day or so even after the spectacles arrived.
Sighing, Adrian set his heels to his horse and urged it to a trot as the house came into view ahead. He had no desire to talk anymore.
The house was quiet when Adrian and his father-in-law entered. They found Lydia reading in the salon, but the servants were making themselves scarce. Adrian had no doubt it was in an effort to avoid Lydia. She could be demanding and unpleasant to deal with. Apparently Clarissa was not the only one she liked to make miserable; she seemed to pick on anyone weaker than herself, anyone she saw as being lower. His servants seemed included in that category.
Leaving Lord and Lady Crambray, Adrian headed above stairs to change out of his mud-spattered clothes. He stripped and dressed by his wardrobe, his gaze moving repeatedly to the connecting door leading to Clarissa's room, and he wondered where she was and what she was doing. He often found himself wondering that when they were apart.
/ can tell you love her, John Crambray had said, and Adrian was starting to fear it was true. He'd come to care for his wife's pleasure more than his own; hence the reason he'd ordered the spectacles. He suspected that to be a sure sign that he did indeed love her, and Adrian found himself marveling over that.
Clarissa was easy to love, that was certain, but more
than that astounded him. Adrian had expected that finding a wife would be a struggle--a struggle even without the added task of actually caring about and loving her. And yet, everything had been relatively easy with Clarissa right from the start.
In fact, the only real trouble he'd encountered had been Lydia, and she appeared to trouble most people. Clarissa herself had been open to Adrian right from the beginning.
"There you are, my lord," Keighley said as they finished getting Adrian into new clothes. "Will there be anything else?"
"No, thank you, Keighley," Adrian replied, but as the man moved to leave the room, he asked, "Do you know where my wife is?"
"I believe she is in her room at the moment, my lord. One of the footmen is in the hall watching her door and that is usually a clear indication that she is on the other side."
"Thank you." Adrian moved to the connecting door as the man left the room. He was eager, as always, to see her, and didn't bother knocking. But when he tried to open the door, he found it blocked.
The door opened a slight bit, then hit something. Frowning, he pulled the door closed and tried again. When the same thing happened, he stared at the door and called, "Clarissa?"
Silence answered him.
"Clarissa?" he called again, this time accompanying it with a knock. "Clarissa? Are you in there? There is something blocking the door."
When he got no answer, Adrian turned and hurried out into the hall. He spotted Frederick lurking there. "Is Lady Mowbray in her room?" he asked.
"Aye, my lord." Frederick straightened his shoulders, taking up a military pose.
"Is she alone?" Adrian asked. He moved to her door and turned the knob. The knob turned, but after the door moved inward a bare half inch, it stopped.
"Aye, my lord. I have been watching this door since she entered, and no one has gone in or come out." Frederick frowned and moved closer as he saw that Adrian was struggling. "What is wrong?"
"The door is jammed with something," Adrian muttered, then pounded on the wood. "Clarissa? If you can hear me, call out!"
Both men remained silent as they waited; then Adrian turned impatiently away and hurried back through his bedroom. He was sure that the adjoining door had shown some give--certainly more than the hall door. Trying it again, he found it still blocked, but this time he put his weight behind the effort and grunted. The door opened a bit more.
"No one went in, my lord," Frederick assured him, sounding worried. "I did not take my eyes off the door for a moment."
Adrian didn't comment. All of his concentration was on the door he was slowly but surely forcing open. The screech of wood on wood told him that some heavy piece of furniture had been shoved in its path. Unfortunately, while the perimeter of the room was bare hardwood, a rug covered most of the floor and was making the barricade difficult to push forward. If Adrian could just have slid the item sideways, he would have had no problem. However, that wasn't possible.
"Can I help, my lord?" Frederick asked anxiously. "Perhaps if we both put our weight into it. . ." Adrian glanced toward the man--a boy, really, no
more than sixteen, and skinny as a rail--but he was anxious, and any help was welcome, so he nodded grimly. "Put your shoulder to the door and push when I say."
Frederick moved up beside him, bracing his shoulder against the wooden surface, and when Adrian said "Push," they both put their weight behind the effort. This time the door gave several more inches and Adrian was able to see into the room. Clarissa was lying on the bed and looked asleep, but her face appeared extremely pale.
"Again," Adrian ground out, and they pushed for all they were worth, this time managing to shove the door--and what he could now see was a dresser--far enough inward that he thought he could slip through the opening.
Frederick watched anxiously as Adrian forced himself through. They both released a sigh of relief when he finally made it.
"Is she all right?" Frederick asked, starting through the opening now himself as Adrian rushed to the bed. "Clarissa?" Adrian caught his wife's face in his hand and turned it toward him, his heart stopping in his chest. It hadn't merely been panic making him think she was pale. Clarissa was as white as a sheet, and completely unresponsive.
"Is she all right?" Frederick repeated as he reached the bed.
"Get help," Adrian barked, brushing one shaky hand over Clarissa's face.
'Yes, my lord." Frederick headed for the connecting door again, but Adrian called him back.
"Move the chair from the hall door and go that way," he ordered, seeing what had blocked that entrance. His gaze slid around the rest of the room, but
everything else seemed to be in order. And there was no one else present.
Frederick left the door open as he hurried from the room, and Adrian could hear him shouting for help as he raced down the hall. With the hop
e that assistance would soon arrive, Adrian turned back to Clarissa.
She looked so small and fragile lying there. He lifted her off the bed, pressing her to his chest, unable to peer at her lifeless face anymore. She hardly seemed to be breathing, and he was terrified that she would die on him. Adrian wouldn't have that; couldn't have it. Clarissa was his, and he wouldn't lose her. She was too important. She was everything.
Dear God, he did indeed love her--so much so that he would rather die himself than live out his life with nothing but her memory.
"Stay with me, Clarissa," he murmured, rubbing her back helplessly. "Do not leave me. I need you."
"My lord?"
Adrian glanced to the door as Kibble rushed in. The butler was followed closely by Clarissa's father and several servants.
"Frederick said that her ladyship was ill. What has happened?" Kibble asked, rounding the bed to where his master sat on its edge.
"I do not know. She is pale and will not wake up," Adrian explained, his voice cracking.
"Let me see," Kibble said. And as John Crambray started to crawl across the bed on the other side, Adrian lay Clarissa gently back, and the three men bent over her pale form.
"Dear God, she is as pale as death," Lord Crambray said.
"Almost gray," Mrs. Longbottom agreed, appearing
and crowding up next to the bed with the others as Kibble lifted Clarissa's eyelids and peered at her eyes, then bent to sniff her mouth.
Adrian watched his butler's actions with bewilderment until the man suddenly straightened. The alarm on Kibble's face was the most terrifying thing Adrian had ever seen.
"We need to make her purge. She has been poisoned."
"What?" Lord Crambray and Adrian cried, but Kibble wasn't listening; he'd turned his attention to the bedside table and a half-eaten bit of pie. As they watched, he bent to sniff. His mouth tightened. "It was in the pie."
"But we all had some of that last night," Adrian protested.
"Not this piece," Kibble muttered. He glanced around. "I need something to stick down her throat." "What?" Adrian asked in alarm. The butler turned a grim look his way. "Mayhap you and Lord Crambray should leave."
"No. I am staying," Adrian said with determination. "Then you save her--if you can," Kibble announced, and turned to head for the door.