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“Oho! Scared, are you?” Grandfather jeered.
“No sir. Simply aware of a need to be cautious.”
“A little subterfuge is sometimes necessary in times of war.”
“Grandfather, this is hardly war,” Theo remonstrated.
“Quiet girl. I wasn’t talking to you.” He turned to the captain again. “How long are you in the neighborhood for?”
“Again, I cannot say. At least until I speak with Mr. Cleever and matters are settled with the house and Rebecca here.”
“But I don’t want to leave,” Becky protested softly.
“She’s a good girl,” Grandfather said. “Never gets in the way of anyone here. Inclined to be blue-devilled and sniffle a little too much sometimes, though.”
“Which is only to be expected when one has undergone so much hardship and change.” Theo reassured a startled-looking Becky with a smile of sympathy.
“I quite like having a young girl around the place,” Mama said. “It’s been so long, after all.”
“Oh, please. I’d do anything to stay,” Becky implored.
Theo exchanged glances with the captain, and he offered a helpless shrug. Poor man. Faced with such domestic challenges, it was little wonder a man of action might wish to effect a speedy exit from their area.
Why this thought caused a twinge in her breast, she did not care to explore.
“Captain Balfour, do you really wish to stay at Mannering tonight?” enquired Mother. “I am sure that a bed can be made up here, if you so wished,” she added falteringly, with a quick look at her father-in-law.
But the general seemed disinclined to participate in any more conversation, his attention now firmly fixed on his plate as he carved his mutton.
“Thank you, Mrs. Stapleton,” the captain said pleasantly. “But I would not wish to inconvenience you any more than I have already.”
“It would be no trouble,” Theo reiterated. “Becky will forgive me when I say that conditions at Mannering are not necessarily conducive to a good night’s rest.”
“Thank you, but I feel it would be best for all concerned if I was not known to have lodged here, charming as the company may be.”
Oh. Her cheeks grew hot, and she glanced down. She was a fool to take his words and manner to heart. He meant nothing by it. She could see that he was tired and would likely be emotionally spent. She must spend some time in prayer and quiet reflection and remind herself what God said, that His love would never leave her, that she should focus on her blessings, and thus find contentment. And hope that such ruminations might help calm these recalcitrant feelings.
Many a night he had spent under canvas, within earshot of cannon fire or gun. But rare had been the night within four walls and under a roof where he had experienced such little sleep, wondering if plaster would again drop from the ceiling, when he might hear the next eerie cry of the peacocks, or whether the scurrying creatures he could hear along the floors would make their way into the bedclothes.
Miss Theodosia Stapleton had not exaggerated when she had warned him about the sleeping conditions here. He was glad that the previous few days’ travel and all the challenges of yesterday’s reception in the village and at Stapleton meant he’d finally reached a state of utter exhaustion, and he’d managed to snatch a few hours of dreamless sleep. But such rest had been bookended by restless wonderings, where he watched cobwebs dance in the draughts as his heart foolishly dared wonder about Miss Stapleton. It was a good thing he was leaving soon, else a miss like her might be dangerous for his peace of mind. He liked so much about her, from her calm voice and steady green eyes to the concern and compassion he could see in how she’d cared for Becky, to that mischievous sparkle of fun. Willie Dillikins, indeed.
But he couldn’t afford distractions. He needed to manage this situation with Becky, speak to the solicitor about what would become of Mannering, then return to London and his regiment as quickly as he was able. Anything else was impossible, and quite out of the question.
Finally, when the window shutter had clattered against the wall for the tenth time and the peacock’s persistent cry suggested seeking future rest was pointless, he pushed up … and pushed his foot through a worn sheet.
At least he had sheets, he thought ruefully as he dressed and gingerly made his way down the creaking stairs. Good heavens. How long would it be until the stairway gave way? He might hate to be indebted to the Stapleton family, but he couldn’t help but be thankful to know his niece would be far safer in that establishment than she would be here.
“Mrs. Drake?” he called up the dusty hallway. “Hello?”
Really, the place could do with a dozen more servants in order to get it up to snuff. He eyed a particularly large spiderweb lurking in the corner under a glass lamp that appeared to have the coatings of a dozen years of dust. Regret knotted afresh that his poor sister had been forced to endure such conditions in her last months, when the burden that had lifted at her miserly husband’s death should have brought a new lease of life.
“Janet?” he called again.
There came a trudging of feet, then a door peeled open, and a harried Mrs. Drake clapped floured hands together, releasing a fresh layer of white powder through the room. “Oh, Captain Balfour, sir. Oh, I didn’t expect you to be up as yet!”
“I’m afraid I’ve never been accustomed to sleeping in,” he said apologetically.
“Oh, of course not, sir. I can’t imagine war allows for much in the way of sleeping in.”
