Breakfast at Midnight

by Fiona MacFarlane

CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  Worse for Wear

  If this realisation wasn’t painful enough for Michael, an accident later that day rendered him completely incapacitated, and in a great deal more pain. He had been so distracted by George’s wise words that he had accidentally tripped over one of his kittens on the staircase, and tumbled down the full flight of stairs. The unceremonious descent cost him a broken rib, a dislocated shoulder, severe abdominal bruising, not to mention irreparable damage to his pride and credibility (the kitten was thankfully unharmed).

  Not surprisingly, the accident caused the wedding to be delayed for two weeks, and while the Wentworth women were sympathetic to his misfortune, they were secretly resentful at having to change the wedding arrangements, arrangements that they had only just finalised down to the last detail. As Agnes re-booked the church, her mother hurried about town, re-rescheduling the wedding photographer and florists, and informing a long stream of guests that the wedding had been postponed. Due to the last minute change in date, several guests declared their inability to attend, and by the time Louisa finished rearranging everything, the number of guests was reduced by a quarter.

  While the Wentworth women were bemoaning the depleted guest list over a cup of tea in the cluttered Rosewood drawing room, Michael was recuperating on an easy chair in the downstairs sitting room. Due to its small size, it was one of the least used rooms in the house, but once Michael had established himself in there, he found that the room was quite comfortable. It was never more so than when the French windows were open, and a cool breeze was streaming in, as it was now. From this room he received his friends and family visitors, not to mention many of his patients, who came to offer him their good wishes, bunches of home-grown flowers, and bottles of home-made relishes and jams.

  Miss Frances Norwood was the last of his visitors that day, and while she brought neither flowers nor tomato relish, she brought him things which were infinitely more welcome: her company, her smiling face, her conversation and a plate of raspberry muffins from Riverview.

  ‘Edwina Ballard sends you her regards,’ Frances began by saying, ‘and wishes you a swift recovery, as do I,’ she added with a smile. She was promptly invited to take a seat, and did so, choosing to sit in an armchair near the French windows. After setting the plate of muffins on a nearby coffee table, she removed her gloves and placed them on her lap.

  Michael was pleased. ‘Forgive me for not standing to receive you, Miss Norwood, but I’m not particularly nimble at the moment.’ With a grimace, he sat further back in his chair.

  Frances smiled and the subject of Michael’s injury was allowed to drop. For the next thirty minutes or so, she directed the conversation to more pleasant issues, such as the cricket, Riverview, the International Exhibition, the Regatta, and lastly to Michael’s kittens, both of whom had just scampered into the room, and were chasing each other over the furniture. Afternoon tea was promptly served, along with Frances’s muffins, and while Frances and Michael ate and drank in companionable silence, they watched the kittens frolicking.

  ‘Haven’t they grown?’ Frances observed. ‘The last time I saw them they were smaller than my foot.’ She looked down on them fondly.

  Michael swallowed the remains of his second muffin, and cast his companion a questioning glance. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, wiping the crumbs away from his mouth. ‘As far as I can remember, you’ve never met Clawed and Furgus.’

  Frances faltered. ‘I have met them, actually,’ she said, nervously rearranging her skirt.

  ‘When? How was that possible? Was I here with you at the time?’

  Frances kept her eyes steadfastly on the kittens. ‘No, you weren’t with me at the time,’ she answered gently. ‘I waited until you were out on your rounds, and then I left them in a box on your front doorstep.’

  ‘That was you?’

  ‘I didn’t have much time, so I got one of your servants to keep an eye on them for me, until either you or George returned home.’ Having made her confession, Frances started fidgeting with her gloves.

  Michael’s heart softened as he watched her. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he murmured. ‘Those kittens mean everything to me. They don’t exactly fill the void that Henry left, but, but,’ he stammered, ‘well, you know what I mean.’

  ‘I suppose you would have found out sooner or later,’ Frances said, rising abruptly to her feet. ‘Anyway, best be off now. Edwina Ballard was kind enough to allow me some time off to visit people. I don’t want to abuse her generosity.’ She then bent over and picked up one of the kittens. With loving hands she stroked its back and head, and scratched it firmly behind the ears.

  ‘Must you go now, Miss Norwood? You haven’t been here that long.’

  ‘I’ve been here almost an hour,’ Frances remarked, looking up at the mantelpiece clock. ‘What’s more, my aunt has invited me for dinner. Thanks to Charlotte, my aunt and I are back on speaking terms. She arranged an ‘accidental’ meeting at the International Exhibition, a few days ago. Aunt Wentworth and I stumbled into each other, just outside the gooseberry exhibit.’

  ‘Ah, those good old gooseberries,’ Michael laughed.

  ‘It was rather awkward to begin with,’ Frances resumed, ‘but gradually it got easier. She ended the encounter by inviting me to dinner tonight. Apparently there will be many of Agnes’s friends there, including Lettie Hollins, supposedly the queen of all match-makers, and a self-proclaimed expert in all matters matrimonial. She told Charlotte that she’ll have me married by the end of the year. Isn’t that an irksome thought?’ She grinned. ‘If that’s her intention towards me, I’ll endeavour to avoid her attentions at all costs. Still, I’m not going to my aunt’s house purely for Lettie Hollins’ company. I’m going there to discuss the wedding plans. Apparently there is still much to arrange.’ Having said this, she planted a light kiss on the bridge of the kitten’s nose, and returned it to the floor. She began putting her gloves on.

  At the mention of the word ‘wedding,’ Michael shuddered. By the time he regained his senses, Frances was waiting politely for him to give her leave. The sight of her imminent departure struck him with a sudden fear, and in his mind he groped for the right words. When he eventually spoke, it was heartfelt, but not what he had planned to say.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he heard himself say, ‘please. Stay just a little longer. There’s something important I need to tell you.’

  The urgency of Michael’s words intrigued Frances, but she was running late, and at that moment nothing else seemed to matter. ‘Can’t it wait? Aunt will be very cross if I’m late.’

  ‘It can wait, yes, but if I don’t say this now, I’ll never forgive myself.’

  Frances glanced uneasily towards the clock. She had just fifteen minutes to get to Wintersleigh. It was impossible. She sighed and gave her full attention to the doctor, who at that moment was looking tense and fidgety. ‘Very well,’ she said, concerned by his discomposure, ‘I’m all ears.’ Having said that, she moved her chair closer to Michael, and sat down for his explanation.

  ‘You must forgive me for holding you up,’ Michael began. ‘I don’t know what has got into me recently. My timing in most things has been decidedly bad.’ He extracted a handkerchief from his pocket, and gingerly began to wipe newly formed beads of sweat from his brow. ‘I suppose there is no easy way of saying this. God knows, I have enough difficulty justifying it to myself.’ Frances smiled reassuringly, and he went on. ‘The thing is, Miss Norwood, I don’t think I can go through with the wedding.’

  Frances was thrown off her guard. ‘Oh,’ she said, in a voice that belied her deep astonishment. ‘I see.’ Her agitated fingers began to pick at the armrest of her chair.

  ‘I didn’t mean to burden you with this,’ Michael explained, ‘but by the same token, I need to talk to someone about it. The earlier advice you gave me about Thomas and Jack was absolutely invaluable. Once I apologised for my Christmas Day conduct, things were better all round.’

  �
�Have you spoken to George about this? Perhaps he is better able to help you with this than I.’

  ‘No, he isn’t. That is, George and I have already had this discussion. It didn’t resolve anything, in fact it made things ten times worse.’

  Frances wasn’t exactly sure what to say. ‘Don’t you think this is a family matter, Doctor Brearly?’ she asked gently. ‘Is there not someone else who can advise you, someone you trust?’

  ‘I trust no-one more than I trust you,’ he stated categorically.

  Frances was confused by this answer, and hardly knew how to address him. ‘How can you say that, after the New Year’s Eve episode? I know you said you respected me for leaving Wintersleigh when I did, but I wasn’t entirely blameless during the incident itself. I did, after all, allow George to kiss me.’

  ‘I think we both know that George was entirely to blame for that, not you. George confessed everything to me the other morning.’ He averted his distracted attention to the nearby window.

  Frances was troubled by the look in his eyes, and forced herself to speak. ‘What is it, Doctor Brearly? What is it that troubles you?’

  ‘Michael,’ he replied, ‘it’s Michael to you, not Doctor Brearly. Only my patients and acquaintances call me that.’ He looked up at her affectionately.

  ‘Very well, Michael, what is it? Why can you not marry Agnes? And before you answer me, it’s Frances to you, not Miss Norwood.’

  Michael looked a picture of fidgety nervousness. ‘There are many reasons, Frances, why I am not willing to marry Agnes, but only one of them concerns you.’ Frances turned to him sharply, but said nothing. ‘You see,’ he hesitatingly continued, ‘I am, rather you are, no wait, this is not right. I have never told you this, Frances,’ he began again in a low voice, ‘but I care a great deal about you.’ Their eyes met. Frances swallowed heavily, but still could not bring herself to speak. ‘You must have known,’ he added, almost in a whisper.

  ‘Yes,’ she at last murmured. ‘I knew.’

  ‘Is that why you left Wintersleigh?’

  Frances drew a hand to her head and closed her eyes. ‘Partly,’ she admitted. ‘On New Year’s Eve, Agnes discovered George and me out on the verandah. She threatened to tell you what your brother and I had been doing, unless I agreed to leave Wintersleigh.’ She reopened her eyes and discovered that Michael had moved his chair closer to her. The discovery made her heart beat faster. ‘I couldn’t bear you thinking ill of me. In retrospect, I should have stood my ground and told you everything. Still, I was frightened. Agnes can be very persuasive when she wants to be.’

  Michael took Frances’s gloved hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘And then you left,’ he said.

  ‘I had to,’ Frances whispered. ‘Don’t you see I had no choice?’

  ‘Why? Why did you have no choice?’

  ‘Because you were going to marry someone else. If your feelings for me were as I supposed them to be, I was in a hopeless situation. I was so confused. There was, however, one thing I was certain of. I knew that my presence at Wintersleigh might destroy your relationship with Agnes. I didn’t want to ruin your chance of happiness.’

  ‘What happiness could you possibly ruin?’

  ‘Agnes’s happiness, Jack’s and Aunt Wentworth’s. Those are just a few to start with. The decision you make now has a direct bearing on all the people around you, the people who really care about you.’

  ‘And what about you, Frances?’ he asked, leaning closer towards her, ‘where do you fit into this equation? Is your happiness at stake here too?’ He gently began stroking Frances’s hair.

  Frances readily submitted to his touch. ‘This isn’t about me, Michael,’ she murmured, ‘I’m just one of those left over pieces that never fits into the puzzle. We’re talking about you, and your duty to your family.’

  ‘But what about us?’ he questioned, looking down lovingly into her eyes.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Frances breathed. ‘Why can’t you see it? There is no us.’ She gently pulled her hand from the doctor’s grasp. ‘There is no us, and there never will be. You’re committed to someone who would sacrifice anything, including the love of a cousin, to keep you to herself.’ Her voice began to crack. ‘Life isn’t a fairy tale, Michael. We can’t all get what we want.’ Having said that, she got up from her chair and hurried across the room to the sitting room door. She was just about to grab hold of the door handle, however, when Michael’s words caused her to falter.

  ‘Will you be there at the wedding?’ he asked in a strangled voice.

  ‘That goes without saying,’ she replied. ‘I’ll be there, but, but that will be it as far as you and I are concerned. After the wedding, you won’t see me again. I don’t know what I’ll do, or where I’ll go, but I’ll think of something. Goodbye.’

  Before Michael could reply to this declaration, Frances disappeared out the door and into the corridor. Her words had left him too stunned to pursue her, and by the time he came to his senses, some five minutes later, it was all too late. Frances had set off to Wintersleigh in her aunt’s carriage, and by the time a breathless Michael reached the front drive, he saw nothing but the receding vehicle in the distance, blurred by the blinding tears in his eyes.