Clementine and her Stalker Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

 

Hamborough Hall 

July 2019 

 

The Earl of Hamborough, James Peter St Lodes paced the spacious marble hallway of Hamborough Hall, his ruddy complexion a shade darker than normal. “Slow down, Guy – look, let me get this straight. You’re saying that Clementine’s in Richmond, in hospital – that you pulled her out of the Thames. I don’t understand; she should be in Stamford; she’s explicitly forbidden to travel …” the earl broke off, gave an exasperated sigh. “How is she – is she …” 

“Concussion? How bad? I see, look, I’m coming up right away. But answer me this – how on earth has she suddenly arrived in Richmond, let alone come to end up in the bloody Thames!” 

The earl stopped pacing, clutched his forehead. “What? Repeat that again, slowly …” 

“She arrived with a fella? What fella – a stalker you say?” 

“Look, this is blasted atrocious – so what you’re saying is this Stalker chap coerced her, got her drunk in the hope of getting her into bed, and his plans backfired …” 

“Okay, okay, Guy. So it was something like that.” The earl resumed his pacing. “Guy, I’m summoning Thomas to have the limo ready right away. Meet me at the hospital and …” 

“You can’t? What do you mean you can’t?”  

“A meeting on a Sunday?” 

“Oh, very well. But I’ll speak to you again when I’ve got her home because that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not prolonging her stay in London one minute longer than I have to. If she still requires treatment, we’ll have her medical care take place here in private. And Guy, thank you for your prompt action – it sounds as though you may have saved your bloody fool cousin’s life."

“Thomas, Thomas,” the earl bellowed, his deep voice resounding throughout the extensive ground floor. His wife, Countess Celia, rushed down the sweeping central staircase. “James, whatever is the …” 

“Have Thomas ready the limousine for Richmond immediately," the earl yelled at her. “Our darling daughter has taken leave of her senses once again.” 

Countess Celia gripped the staircase bannister so tightly her hand turned from sun-kissed brown to white, but the earl wasn’t finished. “She’s in Kingston hospital. Call them and advise them to expect me this morning.” He glanced at his watch. “In two hours at the extreme … oh, and another thing … if by any chance a Mr Stalker shows up, not to allow him anywhere near her.” 

The earl turned abruptly on his heels and marched out of the foyer. 

 

*** 

After the lady of the house had provided a full English breakfast, I thanked the family profusely, promising to wash and clean the clothes Tom had supplied and parcel them back to him. I headed for Kingston hospital, hoping to find Clem refreshed and recovered and ready to journey back to Stamford, hopefully putting this nightmare behind us. My thoughts, however, were locked on her and the many potential problems this ill-thought out excursion had brought forth. 

When I arrived at the hospital a little after nine, I thought it strange that the staff immediately asked me if I were Mr Stalker. I was tempted to nod my head, but something inside persuaded me not to – after all, it wasn’t my name, although as far as Clem was concerned, it was. 

Anyhow, I shook my head instead and said, “No, my name is Tony, Tony Williams. I’m a friend of hers. Is she well enough to see me?” 

“Well …" the receptionist paused, bit her lip. “I should tell you that her father, The Earl of Hamborough, is on his way. But I’ll see if Lady Clementine will see you if you’ll just wait for a moment." 

The earl was on his way? My immediate reaction was to turn on my heels and scurry away out the doors, but my intensifying association with Clementine wouldn’t allow me to do it. I’d probably regret it later for sure – but my desire to see her outweighed my trepidation. 

As I recall it now, somewhere in the back of my mind was the question why the staff member had addressed me as Stalker – had it been Clem? Was her memory sufficiently restored now that she’d fully recovered? 

Still, the prospect of meeting her father, the earl, and presumably incurring his wrath, wasn’t something I wanted to contemplate. As it was, though, as previously touched on, my concern for Clementine outweighed everything. 

 

*** 

I found Clementine’s private room on the first floor, knocked, and stuck my head in the door.  

“Stalker! I’ve been wondering what happened to you.” She beamed her devastating smile and beckoned me in. 

“And I’ve been wondering how you are,” I said, taking a seat by the side of her bed. 

She shook her head, the smile subsiding. “Have a monster headache.” She pulled herself up so her back was resting on the pillows. “What on earth happened? I’m drawing a blank on everything after yesterday afternoon.” 

“Not surprised you’re drawing a blank …” I gave her a wane smile. “Your cousin Guy plied you with drinks. We went with him to Richmond, against my better judgement.” I threw my hands in the air. “After that, you took a running jump, dived into a rowing boat, and ended up in the Thames.” 

Clem groaned, swept a hand over her blonde ringlets, still amazingly unaffected despite her ordeal, it seemed. “Crikey.” She felt her forehead. “There’s a lump on my head, hurts like …” Clem paused. “I guess that’s the culprit then, silly old boat …” 

I rolled my eyes, and she saw it.  

“What?” 

I leaned forward in the seat, clasped my hands together. “I don’t think the boat was quite ready to be rowed … it was moored. What’s more, I don’t think the sailor was quite ready, either.” 

Clem sniffed, turned away, and then back, shooting those amazing blue eyes right at me. “Are you upset with me, Stalker?” 

I shook my head; the smile came no matter how I tried to resist. “You seem to be on the mend … that’s the important thing.” 

Clem nodded, breathed out heavily. “Damned claustrophobic in here, feels like my room back in the dormitory.” She levelled her eyes at me again. “They say I was concussed; must have hit my head on the boat. I must have swum ashore then, did I?” 

I shook my head, was about to elaborate when Clem added, “My father’s on his way, apparently. So I’m going to end up in a rather sticky mess.” She reached for my hand, squeezed it. “I’m so sorry, Stalker. I should have listened. Should have left when you said.” She clutched her temple. “Agh – they gave me painkillers. But they’re not working. Anyway, the thing is, I’m not sure how long I’m going to be here, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be accompanying you back.” Her grip on my hand tightened. "But thanks for sticking with me, and I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” 

I took that as my cue to leave. Her father was on his way, and I’d done all I could. Apart from the memory loss and the headache, Clem seemed fine. 

I bent down, kissed her on the cheek, and she leaned into me and did likewise, sending warm tingles through me. Then I saw it – the moisture, the first sign of emotion in her startling eyes. 

“See you.” I turned to go, feeling a lump in my throat, and then the door opened. 

“Clementine,” a voice boomed. “What on earth happened to you? Don’t you ever learn?" The earl marched forward, loomed over her bed. “I fell into the river,” Clem said so matter-of-factly that I had to force back a snigger. Then she focused on me and added, “I think.” 

“You think?” The earl followed Clem’s line of sight. “And who – who in the blazes are you?” He pointed an accusing finger. “Are you Stalker? I specifically …” 

Stalker. “Oh, don’t you start,” I said, automatically interrupting him.” 

“What? I beg your pardon, young man.” The earl, a big man, glared at me. “That is no way to address a peer of the realm. Are you being facetious?” 

“I mean no disrespect, Sir, I said, trying my best to put on a humble face. “It’s just that my name is Tony … Tony Williams, not Stalker.” I shot Clem an exasperated glance. 

“It’s just my nickname for him, Father,” Clem contributed. “He’s my friend.” 

“Williams, Stalker, whatever your damn name is, boy, I have it on good grounds that you’re responsible for this. Wait outside if you know what’s good for you. I wish to speak privately with my daughter … and then we’ll have words.” 

Clem frowned. Made a face at her dad when his back was turned, and I couldn’t resist the snigger despite the severity of the situation. I covered my face but could still feel the earl’s eyes glowering at my back as I closed the door behind me. 

 

*** 

 

It must have been thirty minutes before his lordship came out of Clem’s private room, and immediately his stony eyes turned to me. He raised a finger, pointed at me, then the exit. “Since I can’t get any sense out of my daughter, which is far from abnormal, we’re going to have a little chat.” He paused. “Outside.” 

I felt like telling him he had no powers to detain me if I didn’t wish to be detained, but his bigger-than-thou attitude had wound me up, earl or no earl. 

“I shrugged. “Okay, whatever you say, Dukie.” 

“What did you call me? In any case, I’m an earl,” he raged, an index finger an inch from my nose – "not a duke – and you keep this up boy and …” 

“And what?” I shrugged again. “All the same to me, except I guess a duke pulls rank on you.” 

He marched outside, or stomped would be closer to the mark, but I delayed responding – letting him reach the exit doors before I’d even moved, and by the time I caught up with him, his complexion was a deeper shade of beetroot. 

He hurried down the stairs, expecting me to follow, but just to wind him up further, I took the lift. 

When I emerged from the lift, he was waiting by the main doors. I envisaged him clawing his feet like a bull preparing to charge, and in reality, that was how he appeared. I’d formed a picture in my mind of a pompous, overbearing man who’d made Clem’s life a misery over the years, and to my mind, it wasn’t surprising that Clem had been hell-bent on getting back at him. So I was going to back her up and to hell with it. 

 

*** 

 

The earl took me outside and across the road. I felt like an errant schoolboy trailing behind him as he charged along. There was a bench nearby, a small green surrounding it. The earl abruptly swung around, thrust an index finger towards it. “Sit down.” 

I shook my head, wasn’t about to be intimidated by him. “No thanks, I’d rather stand.” 

“Very well.” The earl paced back and forth, hands behind his back like a barrister addressing a jury. 

“Now see here, Stalker. I have received information from a trusted source that you lured my daughter away from London, plied her with drink intending to eventually seduce her – but your vile plan went awry when Lady Clementine, wayward child as she is, I have to accept, ended up in the Thames, necessitating my nephew to very bravely rush to her aid.” 

I was livid, knowing full well whose mouth had been at work here. The earl had been supplied with erroneous information, and there was no doubt from where it had originated. 

I held the palms of my hands up, thrust them out at him. “Before you go any further,” I interrupted, that’s not how it was – bluntly, Earl, you’ve been fed a load of crap, presumably by your nephew.” 

The earl stormed up to me, all but in my face. “Damn you, man, for your impertinence! Are you calling my nephew a liar?” 

Determined to maintain eye contact and not wilt beneath his furious stare, I told him, “Yes. What other term is there for someone who deliberately does not tell the truth? True, Clementine was plied with numerous drinks, but they came from your nephew and not from me. Basically, Earl, I think he panicked when Clementine … Lady Clementine … hit the water and made up a cock and bull story. He certainly vanished quickly enough. Rushing off, effectively abandoning her.” 

“Look here, Stalker …” the earl was colouring dangerously, beetroot no longer an adequate description. “If this preposterous allegation were to have a grain of substance, who on earth rescued my daughter? Are you trying to tell me she pulled herself out?” 

“No,” I said abruptly. “I did.” 

The earl shook his head, beads of perspiration on his forehead. “No, I’ll not have it. Your accusations are scandalous.” 

“Look Your …” I baulked, couldn’t think of how to address him correctly, but the man was obviously becoming dangerously overwrought. I was genuinely worried about his health. “Look, sir, I’m not obliged to do this, but I’ll supply you with my name and address, and when the truth comes out, and it surely will, then you can write to me and apologise for your own accusations.” 

The earl studied me for a moment, took a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket, and jotted down the details I gave him. He sniffed. “These could be any Tom, Dick, or Harry’s details.” 

I folded my arms. “They could, sir, but they’re not.” 

The earl waved his notebook at me. “If they’re not, and when my daughter regains her senses and verifies my nephew’s account, I’ll be making this a police matter. Do you understand? I’m an earl after all, and what I say carries weight.” 

“I’ve no doubt.” Struggling to keep my equilibrium but also worried at the same time about the earl’s condition, I said, “Please calm down, sir, and return to your daughter.” 

I touched him on the shoulder and walked away.