[Previously: Cedric has been improving throughout the first day of his recovery. There is still no word from Lucius and Lavinia is frightened for Cedric's safety if his uncle returns too soon.]

Chapter Nine


Lavinia awoke with a start and sat up in bed. Had someone called her? Surely she'd heard someone calling her? Her room was dark but for the soft glow of dying embers in the fireplace. She listened intently, but could hear no sounds beyond the usual ones that populate older houses.

Yet the certainty of what she'd heard would not leave her. As if impelled she rose and quickly put on her dressing gown and slippers. Lighting a candle at her bedside, she opened the wardrobe and took out her cloak to put that on, too. Warmer now and shielding the candle flame carefully, she opened the door of her bedchamber and stepped into the hallway. There was still no sound to confirm what she'd heard, but she knew in her heart she'd been called.

On slippered feet she made her silent way towards the stairs and the floor above. What would she do if Jacques had locked the office door? But no ... the latch lifted under her careful fingers and she slipped inside the room. All was quiet and dark, except for the faint glow of a shielded lamp in Cedric's bedchamber. She set her candle on Cedric's desk and crept forward. Stopping at the doorway she could see Jacques as a mound under blankets on the camp bed. He was curled up, facing the wall and seemed sound asleep. Cedric on the other hand, was restless.

As if drawn by a magnet she was at his bedside in just moments, concerned that his fever may have returned. But his brow, when she felt it, was cool. If it wasn't fever, then what ...?

"Lavinia ... Lavinia ...." He was murmuring in his sleep and she could barely hear him, even standing next to him. Surely she couldn't have heard him from her room, so how ...?

"Shhh .... C'est moi." She bent close to him and took his hand. She wanted to soothe him so that he wouldn't disturb Jacques but he kept talking, muttering bits and pieces of sentences in both French and English. It began to dawn on her that he wasn't speaking to the Lavinia standing next to him, but rather to the Lavinia in his dream. He was trying to ask, or tell, the other "her" something, she thought, but the phrases were too disjointed to be understood. Then, the dream about her must have been overtaken by one that was much more troubling, for his movements grew more restless.

"C'est une piège! Lavinia, it's a trap!"

"Shhh .... Je suis ici. Rest now."

"Perdu! Can't get ... away. Must find--!"

"Cedric, my love, my heart ... I am here ... shhhh."

"Must get back--! Lavinia!"

She couldn't begin to guess all that was frightening him, nor did she really care. That at least some of it had to do with his experiences from the night before seemed plausible, but her main concern was to comfort and reassure him. Instinct and her love for him guided her, overriding any concerns about propriety. Sitting on the bed beside him, she leaned forward and put her arms around him, gathering him close and, she hoped, helping to banish the demons that were invading his rest.

For several minutes Lavinia held him tightly as she whispered over and over how much she loved him, how she wouldn't leave him ... that he was safe now, safe in his own bed, safe in her arms. Gradually he quieted down, and his murmurings ceased. She loosened her hold somewhat, but stayed near him, propped up on one elbow, letting him feel her closeness as her fingers played through his hair or caressed his pale face.

"Sleep now, mon coeur," she whispered to him. "I'm here with you, and I won't let anything happen to you. Rest, and get well. Those villains can't chase you anymore. You're safe mon chéri. Rest now ... just rest."

His restless movements had ceased; his body was relaxed and quiet beneath hers. She felt his breathing slow and lengthen as he settled once more into a deeper sleep, yet she wasn't ready to leave him. Instead she lingered beside him, gently blotting the tears from his face while ignoring the ones on her own.

His nightmare had recalled to her Jacques' telling of the attack on him, and her mind had replayed for her all the images it had created when she'd first listened to the manservant's story. Her stomach knotted in fear--Cedric, alone and frightened; wounded, hunted and harried. What if he hadn't been able to get away? What if she'd never seen him again? That thought so terrified her that she leaned forward once more and rested her head against his chest, needing to hold him ... and longing to feel his strong arms around her. New tears formed and fell, and she let them, allowing herself this small indulgence. She couldn't do this in front of Jacques, and she'd never want to burden Cedric with her nameless terrors, but here, in this quiet room, with her dear love's heartbeat reassuringly sounding in her ear, she felt she could give in to the feelings she'd repressed throughout the day.

How she would be able to face the Earl upon his return, and not instantly attempt to scratch out his eyes, she didn't know! She would have to, though, she told herself as she rose up into a sitting position again and took a slow calming breath. She'd have to smile at him and ride with him, and act as if nothing had changed for Cedric's sake. Lucius must not discover that she now knew he was somehow connected to the robberies and assaults in the county. Nor could he be allowed to learn that Cedric had long suspected his uncle was a heartless criminal, and thus had created a disguise in order to protect his home, and his friends, from Lucius' conspiracies and cohorts.

Thanks to Jacques and the stories he'd shared with her throughout that day, Lavinia had learned most of what he and Cedric had deduced about Lucius' criminal activities since his return to England. He'd related, too, their frustrations over not being able to confirm their suspicions. Lucius would never, of course, have openly contacted any of the thieves who did his dirty work. For that task they believed--but could not prove--that his valet, Simms, was responsible. Lavinia could barely recall having seen him, but Jacques had assured her that he was dangerous.

It was not surprising that what she'd enjoyed more was the story of how Cedric and Jacques had found the cave and the tunnel. It had been thrilling to hear how the Avenger's disguise had been created and the tunnel outfitted. She was so very proud of Cedric; his courage and ingenuity in the face of a criminal such as Lucius made her love him all the more.

Her pride had turned to laughter, however, when she'd heard of Cedric's dismay over the name the local folk had given to his secret creation: The Masked Avenger. Cedric had thought it too melodramatic, but he could hardly step forward and request something more suitable. So he had accepted it but he'd never quite got used to it.

The chime of the clock in Cedric's office once more recalled her to the lateness of the hour so she leaned forward to kiss Cedric one more time before getting off the bed. She straightened the coverlet and stood gazing at him for a moment longer, then went back towards the office to retrieve her candle. As quietly as possible she lifted the latch and let herself back out into the hallway.

*

As soon as he heard the soft click of the latch closing, Jacques opened his eyes and turned his head to look around the room. He'd been on the point of getting up to check on Cedric when he'd heard someone entering the office and had watched Lavinia approach through eyes opened just by a slit. The young people's voices had been so quiet that he hadn't really been able to hear much, but what he had heard had brought tears to his eyes.

He rose out of his bed, wiping his eyes, and stepped over to check on Cedric. The boy was sleeping so peacefully now, so deeply, that Jacques bent forward to be certain he could see his chest rising and falling.

"How did she know?" His murmured question hung in the air, unanswered. Had her heart responded to Cedric's heart's call? Somehow Jacques thought that she had, and his own heart swelled with happiness. Oh, how he wished that Cedric's parents, especially his mother, could have known Lavinia!

Perhaps she did know of her, he thought ... perhaps, just perhaps, she had even sent her.

*

Back in her own bed again, wide awake and shivering a bit as she waited for the sheets to warm up, Lavinia's thoughts returned to Cedric, their love for each other and their future together. While these daydreams were mostly happy, there was also a very real concern for how Lucius would take the news that his nephew had won her heart and hand. There would be at the very least an estrangement but, knowing Lucius better now, and remembering the expression on his face in the stable yard two days earlier, she suspected he might dismiss Cedric all together in a fit of rage. Her heart ached for Cedric having to leave his home under such cruel circumstances; she knew all too well what it was like to lose the home one loved!

Would Cedric be able to find work as a steward elsewhere in England or even on the Continent? His experience at Kentham should stand him in good stead and she who was no stranger to work would be happy to do so alongside him. There was, of course, the matter of references, which Lucius would probably be mean enough to withhold. However, Squire Wiltkens or the Reverend Todd might help them.

Warmer now, and beginning to relax again, her daydreams roamed to include her father and Jeanne and even Jacques. She wished she could remember more of her parents' married life, but her mother had died when she was very young--younger than Cedric had been when he'd lost his parents--and her memories of that lady were not her own, but actually memories of stories her father had shared with her. She knew they had been happy together, though, happy in a way that she wanted for herself and Cedric. It was with these wishes in her heart, and not her worries about Lucius, that she finally fell asleep.


* * *

Knowing that her room faced east, and having had the foresight to have pulled back the draperies after returning from Cedric's room, Lavinia was awakened by the early sun just as the chambermaid crept in to clean the grate and lay a new fire. The girl was surprised, and apologised haltingly, afraid that the fine French mamzelle might be angry at being awakened, but Lavinia reassured her, saying that she'd wanted to get up early so she could check on Cedric.

The girl's expression changed at the mention of Cedric. "Oh, miss! I do hope as how he'll be all right. Mooseur Jacques has told us how you been helping him and all, and we're ever so grateful." She bobbed another curtsey.

"I'm sure he'll be fine ... Annie, n'est-ce pas? You do not have to fear me. We have not spoken before now, but my maid told me your name."

"Oh, yes, miss. It's Annie. Fancy you remembering my name! Master Cedric always remembers, too. His lordship doesn't, he--." She clapped a hand across her mouth, as if suddenly remembering to whom she was speaking. She curtsied again. "Beggin' your pardon, miss, I'm sure." She hastily went to the fireplace to begin her task.

"It's all right, Annie," Lavinia said. "I won't tell anyone."

The girl smiled at her warily, but then almost immediately returned to sweeping the ashes from the fireplace.

Lavinia sighed to herself. Jeanne would have no doubt scolded her for gossiping with the servants, but the child couldn't be more than 14, if that. Apparently, Lucius' treatment of his servants made them wary of anyone connected to him, no matter how remotely. Annie's approval of Cedric and her fear of the Earl were very real, and made Lavinia think once again of the wide differences between the two men. Like day and night, light and dark ... good and evil. Briefly, the thought flashed through her mind to wish that she and her father had never come in contact with the Earl, but that was almost instantly routed with the realization that then she would never have met Cedric, and that didn't bear thinking about.

"Well," she said, a little abruptly, to give her thoughts another direction, "Monsieur Cedric was improving last night, and his fever was almost gone when I came to bed."

Annie had started a bit at the sound of Lavinia's voice, but the news about Cedric brought a genuine smile back to her face. "That's wonderful news, miss! Mamzelle, I should say. Master Cedric is always so kind ...." She finished laying the kindling, gave the hearth a last brushing, re-lit the fire, and stood up.

Lavinia watched as Annie began twisting the edge of her apron between nervous fingers. Clearly she wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how it might be received. "Was there something else, Annie?" Lavinia asked her kindly.

Dropping yet another curtsey, Annie hesitated, then blurted out, the words all but tumbling over one another, "I--I just wanted to say, that if you need anything, or-or any help with the nursing of Master Cedric-- You see, I know how bad the influenza can be, miss, and Jimmy, the under-gardner, his uncle died of it last year, so you see, miss--mamzelle, if you did need anything, well, you only have to say, and--"

"Thank you, Annie." Lavinia smiled at the girl, touched by her concern for Cedric. She was grateful to her also, for pointing out a possible flaw in Jacques' cover story--it looked as if Cedric might be up and about faster than would have been possible after an attack of influenza. "You are very kind, and I will tell Monsieur Cedric how you wanted to help. But it may not be the influenza after all, but a bad cold only. He was really much better last night."

Annie's expressive face was once again wreathed in smiles. "Oh, that's wonderful news, miss! Thank you ever so much. I'll tell the others, if ... if that's all right."

"Yes, Annie, that will be fine. But," she added quickly, having thought of another potential problem, "Monsieur Cedric will still need his rest, so he's not to be disturbed."

"Oh, no, miss. I understand." She bobbed a last curtsey and slipped out of the room.

Lavinia smiled to herself, pleased with her morning's work thus far. She'd have to remember to tell Jacques that Cedric now had a cold instead of the influenza.

She got out of bed and began to dress herself quickly, anxious to see how Cedric was faring, and to keep warm in the still chilly room. Jeanne came in as she was attempting to pin up her hair and, seeing what she was about, began to scold her for various sins, including getting out of bed and dressing before the fire had warmed the room.

"Here, give me that," she commanded, amusement and impatience warring for prominence in her tone. She removed the hairbrush from of Lavinia's hand. "You won't be able to get it right like that. Sit still! And put this shawl around your shoulders, or I shall have to be nursing you for the influenza, or worse!"

Lavinia wondered how she could sit still and, at the same time, put on a shawl, but she forbore to inquire.

Jeanne kept her there until she was satisfied that her mistress did her credit. Lavinia Marie might be filling the rôle of nurse, but Jeanne was going to make certain that she looked like a lady first! She had her own reputation as a lady's maid to consider after all.

[Author's note: this post completes the parts that needed major re-writes or additional scenes.]