Free The Blighted Cliffs by Edwin Thomas

learning to ignore his naysaying.
Besides, rain was still driving between the columns, and I was
freezing in my soaking uniform. Without further argument, I tugged on
the chain that hung by the door and heard the tinkling of a bell
within.
    After
some moments, a servant in black livery, with a powdered wig sitting
crookedly on his young face, opened the door.
    'My
apologies for the intrusion,' I announced grandly, 'but we are two
travellers in need of shelter. Will you convey my compliments to the
gentleman of the house, and tell him that Lieutenant Jerrold desires
his acquaintance.'
    The
boy looked surprised, but vanished promptly enough, leaving the door
standing open. Inside I could see a wide staircase, small paintings
of hunting scenes on the wall, and several doors leading off in
different directions. Were it not for the flickering light of the
chandelier, which rocked in the breeze, it would have seemed
perfectly welcoming.
    The
servant returned. 'This way,' he told me, too shy to meet my gaze. He
showed us across the hall and through another door into a dim room.
    'What
an agreeable surprise.' The voice, low and gentle, came before I had
accustomed myself to my surroundings. 'I had not expected the
pleasure of company.'
    Staring
across the room, I took in the woman who had spoken. She reclined on
a divan opposite me, and in her languid pose needed only a bunch of
grapes to look the complete Roman maiden. Auburn hair drooped in
ringlets about her face, framing delicate cheeks and full, slightly
pouting lips. Her dress was in the old French style, with a neckline
nearer the waist than the neck - a suckling dress, some call it,
though I've yet to meet a mother who wore one. It clung to the curves
of her figure almost as close as my wet clothes on me. A glass, half
full, sat on the table beside her.
    'Lieutenant
Jerrold,' she murmured, raising her head slightly to peer at me.
'You're dripping mud on my carpet.'
    Embarrassed,
I looked down to see the truth of what she had said. Though it was
ridiculous, I could think of nothing better than to remove my shoes
and stockings.
    'I
must apologize,' I stammered, standing there barefoot. 'We did not
set out thinking to pay a social call, but were caught in the storm.'
    She
lifted a hand, then let it fall back across her chest. 'No matter,
Lieutenant Jerrold.' Her voice was slow, and somehow distant. 'Your
company is... a pleasure.' I noticed a slurred edge to her words, as
if she could not quite keep hold of them.
    'You
are most kind.' I was trying to keep from staring at her, but the
rise of her bosom tugged constantly at my gaze, tantalizing me with a
little flush of rose on the line of her dress. 'May I request the
honour, Mrs... ?'
    'Lady.'
She invested the title with unfeigned ennui. 'Lady Cunningham.' She
paused, distracted by some hidden thought. 'My husband is away.'
    This
was all a little fantastic, standing without shoes in this blandly
tasteful drawing room as a half-dressed Delilah tempted me, without
the least enthusiasm, from the couch.
    A
thought struck me. 'I wonder, Lady Cunningham, could I enquire,
without seeming forward: did you happen to notice anything unusual
outside the night before last?'
    Her
dull eyes fixed on me. 'The night before last,' she repeated, sipping
at her drink. She jerked her head. 'But I forget my hospitality.
Please sit down. Would you care for a drink?'
    'A
glass of wine would warm me nicely,' I admitted, surprised at her
sudden change of conversation. Her manner was so vague I could hardly
tell whether she had forgotten her thought midway, or intended to
divert me from my question.
    She
called for the boy - Samuel was his name - and ordered him to fetch
wine, while I took the chair opposite her. Ducker remained standing
against the wall behind me.
    'Your
health, Lady Cunningham.' I took a sip, and coughed in surprise as,
for the second time that day, I tasted a rather fine French
refreshment. 'You must have a well-stocked cellar to still