Free Jack on the Box by Patricia Wynn Page A

to take it. It will take a short while to take effect, and I will engage to stay with you to keep you awake until you have eaten.”
    Jack readily agreed to this arrangement, so Cecily stepped out into the hall to order his meal. He behaved docilely when she gave him his medicine.
    The dosage was not really so strong as to put him to sleep, but he did not bother to tell his companion. She sat down upon the small chair, which seemed perfectly suited to hold her, and folded her hands in her lap.
    Recalling what Mrs. Selby had said, Jack cleared his throat and ventured, “Miss Cecily, when I was carried in, I hope I did not say anything particularly offensive. If I did, I hope you will pardon me on the grounds that I was not myself.”
    Her brows lifted. “Offensive? I do not recall that you said anything offensive, Mr. Henley.”
    Jack sighed inwardly with relief. “That’s all right, then. It was just that Mrs. Selby said . . . But never mind. It must not have been anything.”
    Cecily smiled rather secretively and he was left to wonder at the source of her amusement.
    “You must tell me about your work, Mr. Henley,” she suggested. So Jack told her about being a driver on the London to Birmingham mail, and as he talked, the laudanum began to take effect. His leg hurt less, and he forgot for a while who he was pretending to be. If Cecily noticed anything unusual in the manner in which he discussed his employment, however, she kept it to herself.
    A servant brought in a heavily laden tray and set it beside him. Cecily watched as Jack was given a large plate of roast mutton, boiled potatoes and turnips, with pudding and ale. It was a meal for a hungry labourer, but Jack did not mind, for he had an appetite to suit.
    Much to his satisfaction, Cecily stayed while he ate and sat until the last bite of food crossed his lips. Then she rose and removed the tray to one side.
    “There, Mr. Henley. I trust you will be able to sleep now. Henceforth, I shall give orders that you are to be fed regularly at mealtimes. And if there is anything amiss, you must simply say.”
    Jack did not like the note of finality in her voice, so he said, “But how am I to call anyone? I do not like to be thumping the floor with a chair for the servants whenever I am in need of anything.”
    Cecily’s lips twitched. “No, you must not do that. I shall see that you are given a bell.”
    “Perhaps it would be better if you brought me my laudanum yourself, Miss Cecily,” Jack suggested, doing his best to maintain a look of innocence. “That is, I would not trust the servants with it if I were you.”
    “Ah,” Cecily said, with the hint of a smile about her lips. “I admit that had not occurred to me. I shall have to think it over. Mrs. Selby could be trusted to bring it, however.”
    Jack tried to sit up in protest, and then cursed his impulsiveness as his leg constricted in pain.
    “Mr. Henley!” Cecily cried, hurrying back to his side. “You must be more careful!”
    Jack spoke through gritted teeth, “It is just that I should not like to inconvenience Mrs. Selby. I should not feel right to know I had disrupted Sir Waldo’s household.”
    “Perhaps you are right,” Cecily agreed quickly. “I shall bring your laudanum to you myself. Twice a day,” she assured him.
    Jack had not planned this particular ruse, but it had been very effective.
    When the pain in his leg had subsided again, Cecily moved towards the door. “Oh, Mr. Henley,” she said, turning before leaving, “were you ever in an acting troupe, or were your parents actors?”
    Jack started in amazement. “Actors? Certainly not. Why?”
    She smiled. “I just wondered . . . from something you said, but . . . never mind.” She gave him another secretive smile and then closed the door behind her.
    “Actors . . .” Jack said to himself. His mind was beginning to fog over from the combination of laudanum and ale, and the fullness of his stomach was inducing sleep. Why should