“I can only think that my brother would be mortified to learn that this occurred under his roof. Do not fear for a moment that it was he—”
I snapped my head up. “Of course I know Mr. Bancroft is not at fault. I simply need a moment to gather myself and I shall be fine.”
“Very well. Miss Pollard, shall we leave Mrs. Wheeler to gather herself in privacy?”
Mrs. Haley ushered Miss Pollard from the room, and the blessed quiet was a relief.
“Emma,” I said, my voice shaky and gravelly. “Did you hear these rumors downstairs?”
“No, ma’am. None of them talk much around me, though.”
Surely the other servants would have sought more information from Emma had any of them suspected me, wouldn’t they? However could I have been so stupid to continue to meet Lord Stallsbury in the study? It was reckless, thoughtless, and I was ashamed of myself for putting my own satisfaction before the consideration of my reputation, or Charlotte.
Oh dear, if the truth was to become known, whatever would this do to Charlotte?
I balled my hands into tight fists and pushed them into my eyes, wishing with every part of me that I had simply slept all those nights instead of meeting with Lord Stallsbury.
“Emma,” I said, rising, “I need you to make me look as respectable as possible this evening.”
She looked at me through puzzled, narrowed eyes.
“My engagement is about to be announced through a haze of scandal and I do not want Mr. Bancroft to have anything to complain about in regard to me.”
“Yes, ma’am. I know just the thing.”
“Come this way,” Mr. Bancroft said tightly, gripping my arm just above the elbow. “I am eager to introduce you to my friends.”
He guided me into the room and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd of strange, scrutinizing faces.
Mr. Pollard sat at his usual chair opposite the fire, his eyes, for once, alert, his confused face bounding between strangers. I could just imagine him wondering who all of these people were and what their purpose was for being here. I would have laughed at my own amusement had not Mr. Bancroft pulled me further into the room.
My arm began to ache from the force. “Sir, if you could release me,” I said quietly, shocked when his eyes turned on me abruptly. What caused his anger? We hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss the outburst that morning with his mother. Could she have told him the rumors about Noah? I assumed he would have brought it up had he wished me to explain.
He lightened his grip but did not let go. The butler came in to announce dinner and Mr. Bancroft said with some force, “Before we continue, I would like to announce that I have become engaged. Mrs. Wheeler has consented to be my wife.”
Polite clapping littered the room and I felt my cheeks warm under the company’s dissecting gaze. Lord Stallsbury stood at the back of the room, his head towering far above the rest of the guests. His gaze pierced me. Had he been informed that our secret was nearly out? Someone in this house knew it, and given the birth of the rumors, they were not doing their utmost to keep it hidden.
We moved into the dining room and I hardly ate for the anxiety which gripped me. Whether from fear for my brother’s health, the potential reveal of my part in the scandal, or simply due to the rattling of the windows and thunder outside, I did not know. I had a strange sense of foreboding and could not relax.
I was introduced to the members of Gersham society who sat near Mr. Bancroft and me at the head of the table. I was relieved to find that he answered many of the questions directed my way. I very much appreciated it, for I could not string two thoughts together to form cohesive sentences. Surely Mr. Bancroft would understand if I was to bow out of the evening’s entertainment. I did not know what he had planned, but I could hardly hold myself together and a full night’s rest would allow my travel to be considerably more bearable.
At the close of dinner, Mrs. Bancroft rose to indicate that it was time for the women to retreat. I turned to Mr. Bancroft and said quietly, “I will go to bed now, if you do not mind. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”
“Certainly you are joking?” he asked, visibly stunned.
“I must awake early to travel home,” I reminded him.
“You may rest in the carriage. I have only just announced our engagement. Whatever are my friends going to think if you do not stay?”
“They would likely understand, if they knew of my brother’s poor health and my travels. You need only to excuse me for it to be a tolerable arrangement.”
His mouth tightened into a firm line. “I will do no such thing. Will you not sacrifice one hour of sleep for your intended? I wish to make a good impression upon my neighbors and you are doing me no favors by leaving now.”
I supposed he had a point. One hour could not make such a grand difference, though I hardly slept in carriages. Nodding, I turned to follow the women out of the dining hall. “Very well.”
The women were gathered into packs like wolves, eyeing each other through narrowed eyes disguised with smiles. Though Mrs. Haley beckoned me toward her, I felt no sense of belonging. She stood beside Mrs. Bancroft, who watched me with poorly disguised disdain.
“I cannot think that the wedding will be anytime soon,” I heard Mrs. Bancroft saying as I approached. “Mrs. Wheeler has some family matters to attend to first.”
“Oh, dear,” an older woman said, her white hair drawn back into a tight knot. “I do hope that everything is well.”
Mrs. Bancroft tittered. “It is nothing. She merely needs to sort through things for her sister first.”
I supposed I ought to be relieved that Mrs. Bancroft chose not to make good on her threat to announce to the better part of Gersham’s polite society that my brother was a drunk. Better still was her decision not to repeat the outlandish claim she had made regarding my parents’ deaths. Just the same, the gleam in her eye when I approached was not comforting.
“Mrs. Wheeler,” the older woman said comfortably, dipping her head. Had we been introduced already?
“Yes, Mrs.?”
“Miss Ferrell,” she said. “Our Mr. Bancroft is quite a prize. I hope you find yourself a lucky lady.”
I nodded gravely. “Indeed, ma’am. It is fortuitous that our paths have grown in such a way that we were able to come together at this point in our lives.”
“Did you not know, Miss Ferrell,” Mrs. Haley said, “that they were nearly engaged years ago?”
Her eyes widened in shock. “No, I hadn’t heard of it.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Haley continued, nodding. She seemed unaware of the daggers her mother shot out of her eyes. “It was a near miss. William was close to offering when Mrs. Wheeler’s parents both died in a tragic carriage accident and she swiftly disappeared. It took quite some time before we were able to locate her, and at that point it was too late, for she was engaged to be married to a Frank Wheeler.”
“You must be confused,” I said. “I wrote to you and your brother, Mrs. Haley. I informed you of my whereabouts and the precise way in which to get a hold of me should the need arise.” Her head tilted to the side in confusion and I pressed on. “Surely you received my letters. I continued to write after I arrived at my Aunt Mary’s house. For three months I dutifully wrote to you.”
Her head shook slowly. “Indeed, I did not receive a single note. I cannot speak for William, but he was rather downtrodden at the time. I assume he would have told us had he received any letters. You must know that you broke his heart.”
The room had quieted some, but I could not lower my voice. “How could I have known that when I had no reply? I had to assume that you’d both moved on.”
Mrs. Haley drew her eyebrows together. “And therefore, you moved on as well.”
Well, what else was I to do when faced with no replies?
The door opened, permitting the men to enter the room. How horrid Mr. Bancroft must have thought me, to have left so suddenly with no explanation. He crossed toward us, hi
s smile beaming at me.
“Is there a way that we can talk privately?” I asked. I felt I must explain. Surely he would help shed light on why he hadn’t received my letters. They certainly were never returned to me.
“Not really, my dear,” he said easily. “We must entertain.”
“I have learned some distressing news,” I tried to explain. “It would be good I think to discuss this before I leave for home in the morning.”
He searched my eyes. “Perhaps later,” he finally said. “First I would like you to perform.”
I shook my head. “I am sorry, but I really cannot. I am not feeling particularly well.”
I caught Mrs. Bancroft’s scheming eye over her son’s shoulder and shuddered involuntarily. She would not look so comfortable at present if she did not have a good reason for it. And that reason utterly terrified me.
“If you all could be seated,” Mr. Bancroft said loudly, “Mrs. Wheeler is going to entertain us with her lovely voice.”
Interested chatter rose from the crowd as chairs were moved and seats were taken. I watched my intended, my mouth slack. Had he not heard me? How was I to sing when my emotions bubbled on the surface and my mind reeled with news and implications of the past—to say nothing for the concern I felt for my brother. I was not in a good state, mentally or emotionally.
Yet, it had been announced; what choice did I have?
I slogged over to the pianoforte, seating myself slowly. I could not look upon the crowd with a smile, nor could I play any music which required a strong, happy voice.
At the moment, I was neither of those things.
I chose a tune I used to play often as a young woman, before my London come out and my entrance into Polite Society. It came second nature to me and required little strength or effort. It was not my best performance, but I was pleased enough when I completed the music without my voice breaking.
As the song ended, silence met me. I turned toward the audience and searched their surprised faces. Stilted clapping punctuated the void.
Something felt wrong.
I searched out Lord Stallsbury to find him listening to a word from Mr. Peterson, scowling something fierce.
Mr. Bancroft, on the other hand, stood to the side of the room, his face ashen and his eyes perfectly round as saucers.
“Did you not hear?” Miss Thornton whispered loudly to the woman beside her, her voice reaching me from the sofa in the second row. “Mrs. Wheeler and Lord Stallsbury were caught alone in the study, after everyone had gone to bed.” Her smile was small but feline in nature. “They were utterly alone.”
I could not fathom how I was able to run from the room, but I did so quicker than I had ever run in my life. I reached my bedchamber in time to find Emma laying out my dressing gown.
“We must leave, Emma,” I said, grabbing at my things as though they were a life source. “Run down and find Joe right away. Have him prepare the carriage directly.”
Her eyes were as round as those on the company downstairs. I paced about the room, my heart beating as though hummingbirds flew through my ribcage.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said immediately.
I grabbed her arm. “Emma, this must be done with caution and haste.”
“Has someone died?” she whispered.
“Good gracious, no one has died!” Only my reputation, I thought, as I watched her scurry away.
I continued my pacing, listening carefully for footsteps on the carpeted hallway outside my door. I waited for the boot steps of a gentleman, but no one came after me. Surely that had to be a good sign.
I jumped when the door opened a quarter of an hour later and Emma slipped inside. Her face was guarded and I knew at once that something was wrong. “Tell me what it is,” I demanded softly.
“You probably would rather not—”
“Emma, you must tell me. How am I to know what I face if you do not tell me what you know?”
“It is not good, ma’am. They’re saying below stairs that you and the marquess were caught alone. People are saying that you and him were the ones carrying on secret rendezvous.”
My fears realized, I slumped back against the wall. “I am ruined,” I whispered.
“The carriage is ready,” she said.
“But how will I escape? Surely I cannot face anyone now.”
The determined set to her features was significantly more reassuring. “Follow me.”
Chapter 23
Lights shone through windows in the small cottage when we pulled off the road. I leapt from my carriage without waiting for Joe to come around and help me out. Picking up my skirts, I ran through the mud, banging on the front door with my fist when it failed to give way.
Finn, our aging butler, opened the door and stepped aside. I must have been a mad sight, but I cared little.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Upstairs.”
I took the stairs two at a time and paused before Noah’s door. The narrow hallways and naked plank floors were the very opposite of the lush home I had grown comfortable in in recent days. Squeezing my eyes closed, I shoved away thoughts of luxury and forced my breathing to calm before letting myself into Noah’s room.
It was dark, a small fire in the grate barely giving enough light to show the way. A single chair sat beside Noah’s bed, empty, and a tray with a bowl and cup were untouched on the nearby table.
He was sleeping, his pale face drawn and taut, dark circles rimming his eyes. How long had his eyes been sunken and his cheekbones thus defined? Before I’d left for the house party, I had taken to avoiding Noah when I could, hardly seeing him throughout the day as he slept most of it anyway.
My heart was broken to witness what Noah had become. I could not help the acute sorrow which wrenched my heart, or the guilt that I had not tried harder to help him.
“Finn told me you’d come,” a quiet voice said behind me. I spun around and crossed the distance in two steps, pulling Charlotte into an embrace and clinging to her as though she alone could keep me standing.
When I finally pulled back, I looked into her soft eyes. They had aged in the previous weeks more than they had any right to. “Tell me everything.”
She delicately removed my hands from her arms and seated herself at the chair beside Noah, picking up the tray and feeding him spoonfuls of what appeared to be broth. He did not awake, regardless of her prodding, and little liquid made it into his mouth.
“Lottie, tell me. How long has it been this way?”
She shrugged. “Finn sent a letter to me at Corden Hall explaining that Noah was ill and could benefit from a doctor. Miss Hurst sent for Dr. Kingley immediately, but it appears that we are too late. Dr. Kingley told me that he’s drunk himself to death. We are to make Noah comfortable but the doctor did not anticipate him lasting even long enough to see you.”
I swallowed. It was just as I feared. “Allow me to take over,” I said, wishing to be useful. “You go and rest.”
She glanced up and I saw at once the exhaustion that lined her face. For one so young, she did not deserve to watch her brother die.
“I am sorry, Lottie. I should never have left you.”
“How could you have known?” she argued. “I was perfectly content with Miss Hurst before this happened. He’s ruined everything. He took Mother and Father from us, he has forced us to live in this dilapidated squalor for years with no money at all, and he has taken me from the most comfortable home I have ever lived in so that I might feed him broth and fluff his pillows.” Her chest heaved, eyes fiery. “I believe I ought to go and rest, yes.”
Without so much as a by-your-leave, she turned and fled.
I took her seat, chilly through my gown, and picked up the spoon. It had not escaped my notice that she claimed our brother was responsible for the death of our parents. She was mistaken, surely. How could she even say such a thing? I brushed it away and brought the spoon to Noah’s lips. He was unresponsive and it seemed like more broth made it onto the b
undled napkin under his chin than it did into his mouth, but I stayed at it. Surely even a little would be beneficial. And I needed to feel like I was doing something worthwhile.
Finn entered the room some time later. I questioned him on the doctor’s opinions and treatment plan but learned nothing more than what Charlotte had already told me. According to them, it was a miracle Noah yet lived.
The night passed slowly. Shallow, uneven breathing filled the room, broken by one servant or another checking to see what I might need. I sent Emma to bed after she unpacked my trunk and let Finn bring me a tray for supper.
Bancroft Hill had utterly spoiled me with fine food and rich drink, and the watery soup with crusty bread Finn presented me was a bitter reminder of the change in station that I narrowly missed obtaining.
For surely the betrothal was over.
Mr. Bancroft was a thoughtful man, but no man could overlook the vast nature of the scandal that had lit fire to my heels as I fled the house party.
Whatever would this do to poor Lord Stallsbury? As a future duke, I would like to think he had escaped the scurrilous nature of the scandal. He would likely be able to skate by, though not before his name had been bandied about and trodden on sufficiently.
Oh dear, would Mr. Bancroft challenge him to a duel? My breath shallowed as I realized the depth of the trouble I had so callously fled.
Noise from the bed caught my attention and I set my bread down immediately, kneeling before Noah’s bedside. His head moved away from me, a groaning in his chest reverberating from the bed.
“Noah, it is I, Eleanor.”
He did not seem to notice me and turned in his bed once again as though he was uncomfortable. His eyes remained shut, but his lashes flickered in unrest. Fear rooted me to my chair and I shouted for Finn to come.
By the time the butler made it into the room, Charlotte close behind him, Noah had calmed.
Love at the House Party: A Regency Romance (Women of Worth Book 3) Page 15
