Relief had pumped through him as he watched Averson stand and help Henrietta up from the cobbles. They were both alive and under their own power, but the mess in the street told a terrifying tale. Without hesitation, he had whisked her into the coach, fortified her against the cold and queried his friend about what had happened.
Back inside the coach, taking her into his arms was the most natural thing for him to do. In fact, he could not have stopped himself even had he wanted to. Even now as he sipped his coffee in the Old Bell breakfast room, he fought the urge to go above stairs, kiss her cuts and bruises away, and wrap her safely in his arms again. He could not bear the thought of losing another loved one. Of losing her.
And they all thought I didn’t like her.
He smiled to himself, looking up from his coffee to spot Averson entering the room to join him for breakfast.
“Well?” Ewan needed not say more.
“Officially? ‘Tis an accident.”
“But –? Unofficially?”
“Mr. Kemble, proprietor of said theater, admits that a few of the edifices along the roofline may not have been secured properly. Some had been recently replaced when the façade was painted, and there is at least one shoddy workman in every gang.”
Ewan nodded slowly, indicating he understood. “However?”
“Yes, you were right to suspect there is a ‘however,’” Averson confirmed. “That stone was clearly pushed. There is simply no other explanation. Even if it was improperly secured, it could not have fallen without help. It did not jump to its death under its own power.”
“Indeed.”
The serving girl brought Lord Averson a plate full of the breakfast fare for which the Old Bell was famous. He busied himself with the goodies while Ewan contemplated plausible explanations.
“You told me on my wedding day, Averson, that you had received knowledge of my wife’s penchant for reading the medical journals from a new man in your employ. Do I remember that correctly?”
“Yes,” Averson muttered with food in his mouth.
Ewan grimaced as bits of food escaped onto Averson’s coat. “My, but you are hungry. Slow down, man!”
Averson paid him no mind.
“And did you not also indicate that this new man had previously been in the employ of General Oliver?”
Again, between bites, “Yes.”
“Would that man be known as a Mr. Seth Booth?”
Surprised, Averson looked up from his plate. “Yes.”
At last, he put down his fork and dabbed daintily at the corners of his wide mouth with his napkin, which seemed peculiarly tidy after shoveling it all in so boorishly.
“What about him?”
“Do you know why he was dismissed from the General’s employ?”
“No.”
“Did you get a reference?”
“You sound like your father, Ewan,” Averson said with annoyance. “I pay no mind to such things. I’m sure my butler got a reference.”
“I’m sure he didn’t get a good one. At least, not from the General.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he was dismissed from the Oliver household for speaking disrespectfully to Henrietta. He was quite out of line and the General threw him out posthaste.”
“You have it on good authority?”
“An eye witness. The victim herself.”
“I see. This is most troubling.”
“There is more, Averson. We were walking the cliff promenade shortly after our arrival in Scarborough and we happened upon him. I, of course, knew not who he was, but Henrietta did, and he most certainly acknowledged their acquaintance.”
“Damn,” Averson sighed.
“Indeed. His demeanor was most threatening, and I worry that he bears her ill will for his dismissal.”
Truth be told, Ewan worried about much more than that. He feared this was a direct attempt on her life by that man and that it would not be the last.
“You don’t think he was on the roof of the Tanner Street Theater last night, do you?”
“I think we shouldn’t rule anyone out. Can you vouchsafe his whereabouts?”
“Of course not,” Averson balked. “I was with you for the entirety of the evening.”
“Where should he have been?”
“Who knows? I’d given most of the staff the night off.”
“So ‘tis anyone’s guess what he was up to last night.”
“I suppose so.” Averson gulped down his coffee before he stood to take his leave. “Do you think I should dismiss him?”
Ewan considered the offer. “It may be for the best.”
“Very well. I will see ‘tis done today. Thank you for breakfast.”
Averson took a few steps away from the table and then turned back to ask, “You don’t suppose it was my life that stone was meant to snuff out, do you?”
“How would I know, Averson? I’ve been in my hermitage, as you call it, for the last year. You’re the one who brags that you are well so informed about everyone else’s business. Or do I remember that wrong?”
His friend waved his mocking comments away good naturedly.
“But in seriousness, I will ask, have you acquired any new enemies of late?”
“I’ve no reason to think anyone –”
“Old scores?” Ewan suggested.
“No.”
“Gambling debts all paid?”
“Without fail. You know I know my limits.”
“Indiscretions with the married ladies?”
“Not lately,” Averson said with a grunt.
“Your guess is as good as mine then. As I said, we rule no one out.”
* * *
Henrietta spent most of the day in her room, nursing a faint headache, and wondering why the Marquess made himself so scarce. She had slept deeply through the night despite still feeling a bit rattled after Anna had dressed her cuts and put her to bed. It seemed silly, but she had been comforted by the open connecting door, comforted knowing he was near, and even now she found it oddly relieving to admit that had he a mind to sweep her into his arms again, she would not resist. To feel again that strong and steady thud of his heartbeat, and how the warmth beneath his shirt had spread generously outward as if seeking to bring every inch of her into its circle. Heady feelings indeed.
Her warm shiver turned to a shudder as she remembered Lord Averson shoving her down and away from the falling chunk of stone. He had certainly saved her life, and his own as well.
Maybe the accident was intended to take Lord Averson’s life and not mine.
She dismissed that thought with a sigh, remembering the cryptic note she had received from ‘A Friend’. The writer had ordered her to withdraw her applications, but how could she do that? The mail coach would not have even reached London yet. Maybe Seth Booth didn’t know how the post worked.
Nonsense. Everyone knows how the post works.
More importantly, would she surrender her dreams to some vile threat? Especially if it was that abominable man Seth Booth that was behind it? No, she would not. The Marquess certainly had reason enough to see Mr. Booth attended to without her heaping on the knowledge of the threatening note.
The Marquess breezed into the room, interrupting her thoughts, troubled thoughts she happily relinquished.
“Where have you been hiding all day, my Lord Marquess?”
“I have a surprise for you,” Ewan announced pleasantly, his hands hidden behind his back.
“For me?” Henrietta smiled.
“Yes. My Lady, will you please close your eyes?”
“Very well.”
She was always wary of surprises. They tended to go poorly in her experience. But, he seemed so eager to give her a gift of some kind, and his eyes were sparkling so delightfully, she could hardly resist him.
“I asked you the other day what would make you smile in case I might be called upon someday to put a grin upon your face.”
“You brought me cake!” she
exclaimed with delight.
“No, no, my Lady,” he winked at Anna, “but I’m sure Anna could procure us some tea and cake. Posthaste, Anna, if you please.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Anna curtseyed and darted from the room.
“You have a present for me, but it isn’t cake,” Henrietta mused.
“If you are able to bear up under the disappointment, I think you will be most pleasantly surprised. You may open your eyes now.”
Her eyes flew open excitedly. He held out before her a book, and she had to blink a few times to be sure she was seeing it correctly. In disbelief she read the title aloud, “Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine ‘Medico-Chirurgical Transactions.’”
Chapter 20
Fear seized her. Was this a trick? Was he testing her?
“I,” she stammered awkwardly, “I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you?” he suggested dryly. He did not appear disheartened in the least by her wary response. He opened the door for Anna as she brought in the tea and cake.
“Where did you get this?” she asked her grinning husband. He seemed quite pleased with himself.
“From Whiting’s. His library is quite impressive.”
“But why –?” she forced herself to press on, “why did you get this for me?”
He sat down with her at the small round table by the long windows and poured them both a cup of tea. “Well, my dear Lady, I thought it would make you smile.” His knowing eyes held hers, unwavering in their soft grasp, and the effect was like a caress. He had invited himself into her secrets, and he seemed eager to share in the pleasure they brought her.
“But now I wonder if I should have taken the trouble. Perhaps I should have just sent Anna for cake.”
“No, my Lord Marquess, do not mistake my surprise for displeasure.”
She was not displeased at all. She was quite the opposite. If it was true, and he had really acquired a medical journal for her reading pleasure from Whiting’s library, without her having to sneak there or ask his permission to read such a book, this was indeed a very special day.
“I have surprised you then?”
“My absolute astonishment.”
He nodded approvingly.
“I am stunned.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. You were not expecting such a gift from me. We will agree on that I’m quite sure. Now, are you going to smile, or do you need a bite of cake first?”
He cut her a small piece and then took his own big bite from it.
Yes, she would certainly give him a smile, because she could hardly stop herself at this point even had she wanted to. The smile was welling up on the inside, somewhere around her heart, and it spread quickly, lighting up not just her face but her entire being.
“There we are,” he smiled back. “Very nice, my Lady.” He savored another bite. “And the cake is good too.”
She held the book on her lap, almost reverently. It was odd to have it out in the open and not be cowering with it in a dark corner in fear of being discovered. Discovered and reprimanded, or worse.
“I would have you read to me, but I think I would prefer Dante to anything medico-chirurgical,” he said profoundly, pulling the word from the journal’s title.
Their eyes locked again before they both burst out laughing. “What does that audacious word mean?”
“I have no idea!” she giggled. “But I will find out, my Lord Marquess. I promise I will discover and report back to you.”
* * *
General Oliver sat down at his desk intending to peruse his mail. The trip to Nightingale had set him back in his correspondence, but he had decided to spend the day dividing and conquering the task at hand. By nightfall, he promised himself, it would all be attended to.
As he worked his way through the stack, nothing of great interest was pressing, and most matters were routine and tedious. However, there was one letter he set aside and saved for last, not recognizing the handwriting or the non-descript wax seal. When he felt content with all he had accomplished, he broke the waxy seal of the last letter and unfolded the page.
General Aaron Oliver,
I regret to inform you that all is not well with your beloved daughter. Trouble is brewing for her as ghosts of the past do not easily go away. I am quite certain you will desire to involve yourself as you would wish no harm to befall her.
Genuinely,
A Friend
The General let the page drop to the desktop from his shaking hand. Ghosts of her past? What was meant by it? The medical journals? Her wretched insistence on becoming a physician? The applications? Had the Marquess discovered their secret that Henrietta would never accept her role and be content as wife and mother? Or worse, had the Duke discovered it? Perhaps it had not been wise to keep such a thing from the powerful Duke of Everly, but had they disclosed the headstrong and impertinent ways of his daughter, the arrangement would never have been agreed to.
But even had the Duke of Everly discovered his new daughter-in-law was a bit of a freethinking radical, would such knowledge endanger her life?
General Oliver scowled. This made no sense. Was this ‘friend’ warning of a threat or threatening?
Ghosts of her past?
Just then, Mrs. Oliver entered the room. The scowl on her lovely countenance remained from the other day. Indeed, it had become most engrained. In an amount of time he could measure in hours, his normally warm and winsome wife been made over into a lady he hardly knew. A cold and bitter lady.
The General’s frown deepened, feeling all the weight of blame. He must have owned his part in everyone’s unhappiness. Owning it was the first step. Attempting to fix it was the next.
“Tabitha, my dear, we leave again on the morrow. Please make ready to depart again.”
“Depart? For where, Sir? We have only just returned from Peterborough.”
“And we will revisit that northerly region.”
“And why, Sir?” Tabitha said contentiously. “For what purpose?”
“Henrietta may be in danger. We must go Scarborough and ensure that she remains safe.”
The harsh, unforgiving features of his wife’s stoic face looked to soften. She asked no more questions, and she did not smile, but neither did she argue with him. It was a start.
Chapter 21
It was past midnight and the Marquess’ room had been dark for over an hour. The connecting door was again open, and Henrietta didn’t mind in the least. In fact, it appeared that she preferred it that way.
Anna had put her to bed, but not without her lamp and her new library book. The medical journal was amazing, reporting on everything from aneurisms of carotid arteries to treating whooping cough to the effects of excessive laudanum use. There was even an article on a peculiar disease of the heart. She felt herself most surely in heaven.
Even more amazing, however, she had to admit, was that she owed this delicious pleasure to none other than her husband — the man she had decided just five days ago would never be forgiven for so injuring her pride on their wedding day. Though he had been the one to say it aloud, truth be told, she had cried ‘insult to injury’ as well. She had just kept it harbored within. Now, it seemed like the insult had been forgiven and the injury nearly well healed. Maybe for them both? She smiled at the thought.
Still, Henrietta was not yet prepared to trust him fully with her dreams. It was one thing to aid and abet her secret sin of reading boring and technical science journals. It was quite another to support her plans for medical school and give his blessing to such a pursuit.
She could not blame him. It was, after all, not his fault society dictated that she could not be so smart or even remotely accomplished in the realm of science and medicine. That was the world of professional men, and they did not like to share their space. That said, it did bode well in her mind that he would not only approve her quest for knowledge but encourage it by visiting the library on her behalf and securing the book for her. It gave her hope that on this l
evel at least, she could pursue her dream. It was a start.
A stirring in the adjoining room pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see the Marquess stepping into her room. She took in a quick breath, for he looked much like he had on their wedding night, starchy shirt opened and loosened from his breeches, feet without boots or stockings. His hair was mussed as if he had been attempting sleep. Perhaps tossing and turning?
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