Derbyshire
“I’m so glad you insisted we leave Town when we did, Jane.” Emily looked up from her needlework with a smile. “I feel much restored already. I’m grateful to you for looking after my health.”
A wave of guilt washed over Jane, for her reasons for fleeing Town had little to do with Emily’s well-being.
“Besides,” Emily added, “I see the bloom has returned to your cheeks. There’s nothing better than the clean, pure Derbyshire air. It acts like a tonic every time.”
“I believe you’re right.” Jane smiled indulgently, not wanting to remind her that they’d only gone to London in the first place to cure Emily of a terrible despondency that began there in the Derbyshire air. “And how is Amelia faring? I know the journey must have been tiring for such a little one.”
“Very well, actually. None the worse for the wear. The nurse was hoping to take her out today; it’s too bad the weather has turned so abysmal. I’m a firm believer in the restorative powers of fresh air, even for an infant.”
“I agree. The dark skies make me want to curl up in bed all day.” Jane reached a hand up to stifle a yawn.
Emily nodded in agreement. “It was all I could do to get out of bed this morning. Oh, not because of melancholy,” Emily added, waving a hand. “It’s just that the sound of rain makes me so very sleepy, that’s all.”
Jane studied her cousin’s expression closely, but could find no sign of artifice. Thank goodness. She sighed in relief.
In the days since their return, Emily’s moods had swung wildly from delight at being home again to a quiet melancholy, and back again to apparent cheerfulness. Jane desperately longed to leave these parts, to return to Essex and the family she’d left behind. The knowledge that Hayden’s home lay just beyond the woods outside her window unsettled her greatly, even though he remained in Town. She was plagued by the memory of his touch at the theatre, mortified by her own wanton behavior.
She needed to get away, far away, from any reminders of him. Yet she did not quite feel ready to leave Emily alone, especially as Cecil had spent less time at home and more time away since their return.
Jane set aside her own needlework and rose from the settee. She crossed the room in several strides and stood at the window, gazing out at the misty twilight shrouded in a drizzling rain as her sense of self-preservation battled against her love for her delicate cousin. She ran her fingers across the heavy brocade drapes and shivered, feeling a chill even though none survived in the warm, humid air that wafted in the window.
At once an odd, low-pitched sound reached her ears, growing louder and more intense. The hair rose on the nape of her neck in response to the eerie noise. Suddenly an enormous white dog moved into view on the edge of the wood, barking raucously.
Emily rose and joined Jane at the window. “Whatever is that?”
Recognition dawned on her. She’d seen the dog before. At Richmond Park, the day she’d gone to ask Hayden to find Cecil and bring him home for Amelia’s birth. “Isn’t that Lord Westfield’s dog?”
Emily squinted, leaning closer to the window, then nodded. “It is. Vlad, he’s called. But I’ve never seen him so far from home. How odd.”
The barking grew louder, more insistent, and then the animal turned toward the woods and let out a loud, plaintive whine before turning back toward the Tollands’ house. He continued barking, pacing back and forth and moving closer to the house.
“Is Cecil home?” Jane asked her cousin.
“No, he left this morning for Shropshire. I don’t expect him back for a fortnight.”
Jane headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Emily followed her. “You can’t go out in this weather.”
“Where is my cloak?” Jane looked around distractedly, then hurried to the entrance hall where she found her black cloak hanging on a peg beneath a gilt-framed mirror.
“But you can’t mean to go out in this drizzle, not in those slippers.”
“I must. I have this terrible feeling that something is not right.” She fastened her cloak and pulled the folds of the hood over her head.
“Jane, I beg you to reconsider.” Emily stood in the doorway wringing her hands as Jane hurried out toward the distressed dog.
Moisture seeped into her slippers at once, but Jane didn’t heed the discomfort. She almost swore she saw relief light the animal’s intelligent brown eyes as he spotted her and loped to her side. He ran in circles around her, barking and whimpering as he attempted to herd her toward the woods.
“What’s wrong, Vlad? Shall I follow you?” The dog whined in reply. “You’ve something to show me, haven’t you, boy? Come then, lead the way. And make haste!”
Jane set off, following the dog’s path through the dense wood that she now knew led to Richmond Park. Vlad hurried on ahead, barked in agitation, and then circled back to her side before leading her off again.
At last she saw him stop in a thicket ahead, crouched down on his haunches. He let out a blood-curdling howl. Breathless and soaked through, Jane ran the distance separating them.
Her blood turned cold. There, lying on a bed of mossy earth beside a downed tree limb, was little Madeline, her eyes closed and a deathly pallor across her features. A gash above one eyebrow was caked with blood and a goose-egg distended her brow. Most frightening of all, her lips were a dreadful shade of blue.
In sheer terror, Jane knelt to the ground and laid her head on the girl’s chest.
Thank God! The child was breathing. But she was cold, so very cold. However would she warm her?
She stood and hastily unfastened her cloak, then knelt again to wrap the girl in its folds. As gingerly as possible, she lifted Madeline’s limp body and held her close, hoping the heat from her own body would help warm Madeline’s blood.
“Please, Vlad,” she pleaded, “I know you cannot understand me, but you must lead me back to Emily. I cannot do it alone.”
As if he perfectly understood the words, Vlad trotted off, back in the direction from which they’d come. Nearly blinded by the misty rain mixed with her own tears, Jane raced after the dog, clutching the child to her breast. Somewhere along the way, she lost a slipper, but she dared not stop to retrieve it.
Relief washed over her as she saw the Tollands’ house take form through the foggy mist. She increased her pace, her lungs positively burning from exertion. The door swung open and Emily ran down the steps, her delicate features twisted with fear.
“Dear God, whatever has happened? Madeline?”
“Vlad led me right to her, lying in the woods.”
“She’s unconscious?”
Jane nodded. “It looks like a blow to the head. You must summon the surgeon at once!”
“Of course.” Emily turned and headed back inside at a run, Jane following close behind.
When she reached the salon, Jane gingerly laid the child down upon the sofa and began to inspect her thoroughly for other wounds she might have missed. Breathing a sigh of relief, she tightened the cloak about her small form. She saw no additional injuries, at least none visible to the eye. She laid a hand across Madeline’s brow and gasped as her hand made contact with the child’s skin. She was burning with fever.
Emily reappeared at last, carrying a basin of water and a cloth. “I sent word to Westfield’s surgeon to come straight away.”
“Good. A fever has set in.”
“Then let us pray he comes quickly.”
Jane nodded solemnly. She must recover, her mind screamed out. She must. She realized with a start that her concern extended beyond that of the child’s welfare. She thought of Hayden, as well. I cannot go through it again, he’d said, just weeks before. However would he manage if Madeline was taken from him? She closed her eyes and shuddered.
Hurry, she thought. Please hurry. If only she could summon the surgeon to her side with her thoughts alone. She reached down and clasped the child’s small hand in her own, watching helplessly as her tears splashed onto their
wrists and rolled off.
***
“Her condition is grave, indeed.” Mr. Allan wiped his hands on a blood-stained cloth. “The cut and knock to the head are the least of it. It’s the fever that might take her. Under no circumstance is she to be moved to Richmond Park. She must remain here.”
“I’ll ready a room for you, then, Mr. Allan. But first I’d best send word to Richmond Park.” Emily bustled out.
“It’s lucky she is that you stumbled upon her when you did, Miss Rosemoor. Another hour exposed to the elements and she would not have survived.”
Jane looked to the huge white dog that remained planted firmly in the chamber’s corner, his curly coat matted from the rain. He’d saved the child’s life. What a remarkable animal. She resolved to go to the kitchen and find a meaty bone for him as soon as she could slip away.
“As it is, I’m not certain she’ll live through the night,” the man continued dourly, shaking his head. “Lord Westfield has suffered enough misfortune as it is. This is terrible, very terrible indeed. I will remain here and do everything in my power to aid her recovery, of that you can be sure.”
Taking the child’s hand in her own, Jane sat wearily, massaging Madeline’s palm with her thumb. “Please, Madeline,” she murmured. “You must fight. You cannot leave us.” Her eyes misted with unshed tears.
“Come, Jane,” Emily spoke from the doorway a quarter hour later. “I’ll sit with her a spell. You’re soaked and you’re shivering. I’ve had a warm bath sent up to your room.”
Jane shook her head silently. She couldn’t leave her. Not now. Not with her condition so tenuous, her hold on life so fragile.
“You’ll be of no use to her if you catch your own death from the dampness. Please, Jane. I insist that you do as I ask.” Emily moved to her side, laying one hand on her shoulder.
“Mrs. Tolland is right,” the surgeon added, looking up from his tray of supplies. “Else you’ll end up abed yourself, I’m afraid, and I’ll have two patients to tend instead of one.”
Jane shivered, suddenly aware of the damp cold that permeated her dress. Droplets of water fell from her hair to the floor at her feet, silently splashing against the floorboards. She looked down, surprised to see she wore only one mud-caked slipper, her other foot in nothing but a soggy, stained stocking. A puddle had formed beneath her, slowly increasing in circumference, even as she watched.
At last, Jane nodded. They were right. She couldn’t remain here in this state. She allowed Emily to wrap a blanket around her shoulders.
“Thank you, Jane. I know Lord Westfield would want you to see to your own health.” Emily smiled a weak smile, her eyes full of understanding. “He would not suffer such stubbornness, you know.”
Jane reached for her hand and squeezed it in reply. Emily knew him well.
“Besides,” Emily continued, “someone must write to him in London. I’m sure the staff at Richmond Park will do so, but one of us should send word as well, and assure him we will do everything we can to see to her care. My eyes grow tired, Jane. Perhaps you will write the letter?”
Seeing right through her cousin’s ruse, Jane smiled. She had underestimated Emily; clearly, she recognized more than she let on.
“I will write to him on your behalf, Emily. As soon as I get myself out of these wet things and warmed up a bit, that is. Will you stay here with her until I return?”
“Of course,” Emily answered.
Jane leaned over Madeline’s still form and placed a kiss on one burning cheek.
“Fight, little soldier. He needs you.”
***
“I still can’t believe you braved Almack’s. I wish I had witnessed it with my own eyes.” Lord Mandeville picked up his glass with a grimace. “Allow me to retract that statement. Witnessing it would have required my presence at Almack’s.”
Hayden drained his own glass and signaled for the waiter to bring him another. Tonight’s Parliamentary session had run late and White’s was teeming with weary gentlemen, all hoping for a restorative meal and drink before heading home. It was all Hayden could do to catch the attention of the harried young man, dashing between tables with a heavy tray balanced on his hands.
“Mark my words, Mandeville. Never again shall I allow myself to succumb to the pressure to go there. If Miss Upshaw wishes to go, then she can go alone.”
“Hmmm, will you accept a wager on that? Let’s put it in the betting book, then,” Mandeville said with a grin. “I fear you’ll make my pockets heavy.”
“Your pockets are heavy enough.” Hayden tiredly spooned a bite of hearty stew into his mouth. He was exhausted. His sleep of late had been plagued with troubling dreams; nightmares that awoke him in the dead of the night, his heart pounding and his body bathed in sweat. Even in his waking hours, he could barely assuage the lingering feelings of unease stirred by the dreams. With such little restful sleep, his Parliamentary obligations alone were enough to tire him without being dragged about to social events each and every night of the week. “Miss Upshaw’s social schedule is relentless. Now that we’re betrothed, I don’t see why I can’t slip back into obscurity and await the wedding date in peace.”
“Makes perfect sense to me. How’s the stew?”
“Superb.”
“You’ve made an appropriate match, I suppose.” Mandeville stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Miss Upshaw is a comely little thing, and my wife tells me she’s bright enough. Still...”
“Yes?”
“Never mind. I need another drink.” Mandeville signaled to the waiter.
Hayden’s temper flared. “If you’ve something to say about my choice of bride, say it and be done with it.”
Both remained silent as the waiter appeared at last and filled their glasses with whiskey.
“I’ve nothing against Miss Upshaw,” Mandeville said as the waiter moved away. “It’s just that Jane–”
“Jane?” Hayden set down his spoon. “Miss Rosemoor?”
“That’s the one. I thought perhaps there was something between you two. I was more than a little surprised to learn of your betrothal to Miss Upshaw. I realize Jane’s no longer a young debutante, but she is everything a sensible man should want in a wife. You can find no fault with her. I realize my connection to her leaves me a bit biased, but–”
“What has your wife said to you about me and Miss Rosemoor?” Hayden couldn’t stem his curiosity.
“Nothing, not a word. She’s as silent as a tomb where you are concerned. Which, of course led me to the obvious conclusion that there is something between you and Jane–er, Miss Rosemoor. That you would prefer Miss Upshaw over her surprises me.”
“I do not prefer Miss Upshaw to Miss Rosemoor.” Hayden drained his glass with a stiff jerk of the wrist. He muttered a silent oath as his traitorous heart accelerated. “In fact, entirely the opposite is true. Which is precisely why I’ve chosen to marry Miss Upshaw.” He reached up to loosen his cravat.
“Ah, I see, then.” Mandeville nodded his understanding.
Hayden was relieved that he did not need to explain himself further.
Mandeville cleared his throat. “I’ll admit to harboring similar sentiments, before I married Lucy. I almost married the Duke of Corning’s daughter instead, you know. Lady Helena. She’s since wed the Viscount Bradley, the poor chap. Marrying her would have been the single biggest mistake of my life, no matter how appropriate she might have been in theory. As ridiculous as I feel saying it, there’s something to be said for love.”
Hayden stared at him in utter astonishment, wondering if marriage had made him lose his mind. “I think perhaps you’ve been reading too much Byron.”
“Lord Westfield?”
Hayden looked up in surprise at the sound of his footman’s voice. “Yes, Michaels?”
“An express messenger just brought this, milord. I thought you might wish to have it right away.” He held out a letter sealed with red wax, the direction written in an unfamiliar hand.
Ha
yden took it. “Thank you, Michaels.”
Michaels bowed, then turned and made his way back through the thick crowd.
Hayden broke the seal and unfolded the page with a scowl, smoothing the paper with damp palms while Mandeville looked on curiously. Rarely did an Express bring glad tidings.
His eyes hastily slid over the page, searching for the signature. Jane. What could she possibly want, and with such urgency? With mounting trepidation, he read.
Ashbourne, Derbyshire
Dear Lord Westfield,
Please excuse the urgent nature of this correspondence, but I write with a heavy heart on behalf of Mrs. Tolland. I assume that word of this misfortune has by now reached you from Richmond Park, but in case it has not, forgive me for being the bearer of ill tidings. Your niece, Madeline, is gravely ill. I do not know under what circumstances she found herself there, but she was found alone in the dense woods surrounding your home with an injury to her head. Your loyal dog Vlad is to be credited with her rescue, as he led me to find her.
Madeline was taken at once to the Tollands’ home, where a vicious fever set in. Your own surgeon, Mr. Allan, is attending her, but her condition is grave, indeed, and she cannot be moved to Richmond Park. Please be assured that the Tollands and I will do everything in our power to see to her care and comfort. Nay, my lord, I will not leave her side until I see her well; that I promise you. I will send word of her condition immediately upon the morn.
With Sincere Regret,
Miss Jane Rosemoor
“Well?” Mandeville asked, his brow furrowed.
“My niece. I must go at once.” Hayden shoved back his chair and rose. He dashed to the door without a backward glance, his stomach knotted with dread.
He didn’t have a moment to lose.
Chapter 16
“Mrs. Tolland?” a faint voice whispered. Jane sat up at once, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She reached for Madeline’s feverish hand as the first light of day shone through the part in the drapes, allowing pearl-gray light to filter in and cast long shadows across the floor.
Unveiled (Undone by Love Book 3) Page 18
