Free A Mistress for Stansted Hall by Fenella J Miller Page B

to remove the sutures. It was correct that anyone in his employ was his responsibility but he wasn't sure that included the offspring of employees. However, Mrs Reed had more than enough to do running the household. And it was high time this young scamp was taken in hand. He was hopelessly spoilt, overindulged by his doting mama, in desperate need of discipline in his opinion.
    The child had been told not to come near the water and had deliberately disobeyed. He doubted he would be punished by his mother, so he would administer some well-deserved discipline himself. A few sharp slaps on his backside would do the boy no harm, and might teach him to mind his mother more. It might also save his life by keeping him away from the water.
    When he was within range he raised his voice and roared. ‘Jack Reed, what the devil do you think you're doing down here when you have been forbidden to go near the water?’
    The little boy had been happily poking his stick into the lake. The child, scared witless by his shout, tumbled forward and disappeared beneath the reeds. Cursing his stupidity, Rupert ripped off his jacket and waistcoat, one boot and then the other followed. He dived headfirst into the lake and swam desperately towards the bottom.
    At first he could see nothing, just waving greenery and water. Then he caught a glimpse of something solid and lunged forward. His lungs were bursting. There were black spots before his eyes. He would not give up until he had the boy. His questing fingers touched a slippery leg; he gripped it hard and shot to the surface. It was too deep to stand even for him, and the water was cold even in midsummer. Jack was limp in his arms, his head lolling to one side, no sign of life at all.
    Not again, not another life lost because of him. Desperately he turned the boy over his knee and began banging him vigorously between the shoulder blades. Although a gush of water came from his mouth, he was still not breathing. Once when a sailor had gone overboard he'd watched in amazement as an Arab physician had somehow breathed life back into what had appeared to be a corpse.
    Flipping the child on to his back he knelt over him trying to remember what he'd seen. Whatever he did, it could not make matters worse. Placing his own mouth over the boy's he breathed deeply, then turned his head and drew a second breath and pushed this into the boy's lungs. He turned his head away and then the miracle took place, just as it had done on the ship. The child convulsed, vomited up the remainder of the water he'd swallowed and started to weep piteously.
    Scooping him up, Rupert stroked his little head. ‘Hush, my brave boy, you are safe now. Perhaps you will remember not to go near the water in future.’ Stopping momentarily to snatch up his jacket and wrap the shivering child in it, he ran back to the house.
    When he arrived at the terrace William was waiting for him. ‘Here, let me take him, sir. You must go upstairs and get yourself dry, you will have done yourself no good so soon after your accident.’
    Reluctantly Rupert handed his burden over, his valet was correct. He did feel extremely unwell, he ran his hand over his dripping hair and it came away red. At least one of the sutures had broken. ‘Send for Doctor Andrews, William. I fear that I shall need him as urgently as the little lad.’
    *
    ‘Lawks a mussy! Whatever's all that noise?’ Mrs Turner jumped to her feet and bustled to the door. Emma was beside her instantly, she had hardly had time to settle behind the table for their meeting.
    Tilly hurtled down the passageway. ‘It's your Jack, Mrs Reed, he fell in the lake. The master got him out but he looks mighty pale. William's sent for Doctor Andrews.’
    The flustered girl had hardly finished speaking when William hurried round the corner carrying her beloved son wrapped in Mr Bucknall's jacket. What felt like a stone lodged in her stomach. Her voice sounded strange, as if it belonged to someone else.