Free Emily Hendrickson by Elizabeths Rake Page B

honor of Montmorcy Hall at stake, Purvis set to work compounding her best restorative tonic. Once that was completed, she set to stir up other, more interesting potions. By the time two hours had elapsed, Elizabeth felt as though she might dabble in this sort of thing herself, for it fascinated her.
    “Finished,” Purvis declared, setting the last glass vial into the basket Elizabeth had placed on the table in the still room. “Remember, give him the tonic twice a day. And open the curtains. Poor man.” Purvis tsk-tsked at the thought of a gloomy room, even if some of the best doctors urged such. She’d found a cheerful room to be better for health.
    “Anything else?” Elizabeth began to fold a crisp white napkin over the contents of the basket, then paused as Purvis handed her a bottle of a brown substance. Frowning, she gave Purvis a questioning look.
    “For Lord Leighton. I fancy his arm will be giving his a bit of bother. I showed that Hadlow how to dress the wound, but the man looks none too bright. You best see to it yourself.”
    Elizabeth meekly agreed, while wondering how in the world she was to get Lord Leighton to bare his arm so she might check his dressing, much less pour down his throat some of the stuff he declared to be utterly vile.
     

Chapter Five
     
    On the ride back to Penhurst Place, Elizabeth reflected on how life had changed for her since arriving to live with Aunt Bel. In the past Elizabeth had literally burst into a room, questions tripping off her tongue. A short time with her aunt had cured her of the habit. That, and having the correct and proper Hyacinth around.
    What with her aunt’s penchant for punctuality, Elizabeth’s habitual tardiness at meals had also been changed. She quickly learned that unless she arrived at the table promptly, she might not eat. Since that was also a habit she’d acquired over the years, she soon adjusted.
    But now her punctual and proper aunt wanted her to violate all the dictates of society to tend a gentleman Elizabeth had never even met. To make it worse, she entered a household composed entirely of men, three of them close to her own age and eligible one way or another. Before leaving the house, she had turned to face Aunt Bel just inside the front door.
    “How do you know I shall do the right thing? Or for that matter, how do you know I can do the correct thing?” Elizabeth inquired while being shuffled out of the door to the waiting carriage that would return her to Penhurst Place.
    “You have become quite a sensible girl in the months since you came to live with me,” Aunt Bel replied, patting Elizabeth’s arm, while handing her the basket of herbal preparations Purvis had mixed for the earl and Lord Leighton. “I trust you to use your brains. You possess compassion along with your common sense. But keep your wits about you, for if that Filpot person is around, you shall have need of it.” She watched as Elizabeth climbed into the carriage and the door was shut before scurrying back into the house out of the cold.
    Not convinced her aunt was in the least correct in her assessment, but comforted by her words, Elizabeth settled back on the seat for her brief journey, tucking the rug across her lap for warmth.
    How ironic it was that the one man in the world that she most wished to avoid should turn up, not on her doorstep, but in her bedchamber! She well knew that marriages often were compelled when a couple were found in a compromising situation. And with her in her nightgown . . . Mercy, he had looked straight at her! Perhaps he wouldn’t recall the sheer cambric that permitted a shockingly intimate view of her person. And pigs might fly.
    And . . . Aunt Bel still acted as though Elizabeth intended to marry Lord Leighton in due time.
    When she sighed. Rose asked, “Be you troubled, miss?”
    “Just a bit. I shall want you by me while at Penhurst Place. I cannot imagine what I shall encounter there. If nothing more, I want you to keep a