Chapter 17

Daniel

On Sunday morning, Daniel waited impatiently in the hallway of his house. "What can be taking her so long?" he asked Siddons irritably. The butler made a noncommittal response. It was another few minutes before Isabella finally made her appearance, making her way down the stairs to where her brother stood scowling at her.

"What is it?" she asked in surprise.

"You are going to make us late for church," he ground out. If he was not careful, Ambrose would decide to walk there instead of going in the carriage as he had suggested.

"No I am not," Isabella protested. "And in any case, since when do you care? It is not as if we will lose our pew seats if we are a few minutes late."

"Come along now," he chivvied. "There is no time to argue the matter." He escorted her to the waiting carriage, calling out to the coachman, "Please make a stop first at Ivy Cottage."

They set off and halted by the front gate of his estate manager's cottage not a few minutes later. Daniel quickly descended and knocked at the door. When no response came, he bit back a curse. Ambrose and Sarah must have already left for church and gone on foot. Rage and hurt burned in his breast at the stubbornness of the man. With an irritated huff, he returned to the carriage, resuming their journey to church.

On arrival, he cast his glance around the hall and located Ambrose, sitting straight as a rod in his pew a few rows back from where the Stanton family sat. He looked pale and wan. Damn him, he should have kept to his bed.

Throughout the service, Daniel paid little heed to Benedict's sermon, fine though he was sure it must be. Finally, when it was over, he stood, intent on reaching his wayward estate manager. However, he was accosted by this person and that, all vying for his attention now that he was Viscount Stanton and master of Stanton Hall. Lord, how tiresome people could be. It was all he could do to respond civilly to the enquiries and good wishes. By the time he had finally extricated himself, Ambrose and Sarah were nowhere in sight. "They must have gone on foot," said Isabella, stating the obvious.

"Come on, Bella," he said hurriedly. "Let us see if we can catch them up." There were some worrying dark clouds overhead. The last thing Ambrose needed was to get caught in a rain shower.

In haste, they climbed into the waiting carriage and proceeded on their way to Stanton Hall, Daniel keeping a sharp lookout through the window for two lone figures walking along the road. A minute later, he spotted them. "Stop the carriage," he called out to the coachman. As soon as it ground to a halt, he jumped out and strode towards the Cranshaws, his worry turning to righteous fury.

"What do you mean by this, Ambrose?" he demanded.

"If you could elucidate what ‘this' is alluding to, my lord, I would be happy to explain myself," responded Ambrose mildly.

"Do not ‘my lord' me, and you know perfectly well what this is about," thundered Daniel.

"Perhaps you mean me to explain why my sister and I are walking towards Stanton Hall. I believe it is because you have invited us to dine there," said Ambrose smoothly.

Daniel narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "What I wish you to explain, Ambrose, is why you are traipsing around in what is soon to be a rain storm, when there is a perfectly good carriage to take us all to Stanton Hall."

As Ambrose went to answer him, he held up a hand. "Later, Ambrose. Let us not tarry in the middle of the road." Remembering his manners, he bowed to Sarah, then hurriedly ushered the both of them into the carriage. For the remainder of the journey, Daniel battled to keep his anger in check, especially when Ambrose broke into a continued fit of coughing. Damn the man for being so stubborn. He should have stayed in bed.

As soon as they reached their destination, Daniel was once more out of the carriage like a shot, going to confer with Siddons, asking him to have a warm fire going in the main parlour, which was less draughty than the drawing room, and requesting a ginger and honey infusion from the kitchen for Ambrose to drink. Only then did he return and escort his guests into the house.

When they reached the main parlour, he made sure Ambrose sat in the armchair closest to the fireplace. Soon after, a servant came bearing the ginger infusion. Ambrose took it and for the first time that day, cast his eyes towards him. He held the drink up in his hand and inclined his head with a shy, grateful smile. Daniel felt the fury finally ebb from him at that smile. My God, he loved this man. There could be no doubting it anymore. On the back of that thought, came another, much less salubrious in nature. He was bloody well done for. He could not think of a less coarse way to describe his predicament.

What on earth was he to do with these unwanted feelings? Live with them, he supposed, and keep busy. "I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair," thought Daniel, remembering a line from a Tennyson poem. He had taken to reading Tennyson, and Keats too, now that he knew they were a favourite with Ambrose. Was there no end to what he would do for the man?

Luncheon was served. They were joined by Grace and Benedict Sedgwick together with an unexpected further guest, Walter Sedgwick, Benedict's father. Ambrose and Sarah greeted him warmly, like some long lost family member. Over the course of the meal, conversation was cheerful and lively, but Daniel kept mostly to himself, busy as he was watching over Ambrose like a hawk. The only time he contributed to the discussion was when he heard Ambrose say, "I was supposed to go to Oxford last Thursday, but I was unfortunately taken sick. I shall have to go this coming week instead."

"I will go with you," stated Daniel firmly.

Ambrose hesitated a fraction, no doubt seeking some sort of excuse. Then, he gave a faint smile. "Of course, my lord."

Quite clearly, his estate manager was still reluctant to have his company on the journey. Well, damn it, Daniel was tired of tiptoeing around the man. He wanted to go and acquaint himself with this house in Oxford that he now owned and to make himself known to his bankers. He had every justification for going on this trip.

Later that afternoon, after the Sedgwicks had taken their leave, the remaining members of the group sat in the main parlour again, drinking tea and conversing desultorily. From where he sat, Daniel noticed Ambrose's eyes droop shut. A minute or two later, his even breathing was proof that Ambrose had fallen fast asleep in his snug armchair by the fire. Sarah had noticed too. She went as if to wake him, but Daniel stopped her and said softly, "Let him be for now. There is no rush for you to get back, surely."

"Well, if we are to walk back, then we should be going before it begins to get dark."

"You will be taking the carriage," said Daniel in a voice that brooked no disagreement.

"In that case," murmured Sarah, "we can stay a short time longer. Perhaps I can peruse the books in the library while Ambrose rests."

So it was that Sarah went up to the library while he and Isabella sat quietly in the parlour, each with a book to read. Though Daniel did not manage to make much progress with the worthy tome in his hands. His eyes strayed far too often towards the sleeping man at his side. In sleep, Ambrose looked so much younger than his twenty-nine years, and more vulnerable. It tugged at something in Daniel's heart. He was truly in the grip of this ailment called love, he thought sardonically, but he must repress the emotion.

Finally, some minutes later, Ambrose stirred and woke with a start. A flush came over his face as he realised he had fallen asleep in the midst of company. He sat up, saying quickly, "Apologies, my lord, but I think we had best be on our way home." He looked around for his sister. "Where is Sarah?" he asked.

"In the library, choosing a book," replied Isabella helpfully.

Ambrose made to stand, but Daniel stayed him. "Do not trouble yourself. I will go fetch her," he said. He had an ulterior motive for finding Sarah and speaking in private with her, for he had just remembered something. A letter had arrived from America addressed in Benjamin's unmistakable scrawl, addressed to Sarah Cranshaw. He was still not sure what was going on between his brother and Sarah, but his protective instincts were out in force.

With quickness of step, he made his way up to the library. He found Sarah reading in an armchair by the window and informed her that Ambrose wished to return home. "Before we go down, Sarah, I have something for you," he said, fishing Benjamin's letter out of his pocket. She took it with evident pleasure. Giving in to his curiosity, he could not help but wonder out loud about the nature of her relationship with his brother.

"We are friends. That is all. Is that so very unusual?" Sarah raised a brow in response.

Ah, friends. Just as he and Ambrose were "friends". Or maybe he was being too much of a cynic, and it truly was a platonic relationship.

Together, they made their way down to where Ambrose waited patiently in the hallway, coat and hat already on. Daniel directed a stern glance towards him. "You are still not back to full health, Ambrose, and do not argue with me on this. Until we leave for Oxford on Thursday, you are to stay in your house and do your work from there. I will ensure whatever documents you need are sent to you."

"My lord—" began Ambrose, but Daniel would hear none of it.

"I said do not argue with me. Now go. I shall pick you up in the carriage bright and early on Thursday morning."

"Of course, sir." Ambrose inclined his head, then with Sarah on his arm, took his leave.