“Can you stop it coming?” Mrs Hardcastle looked doubtful.
“I shall have to try,” Cedric replied, adding an oily liquid to the pounded mixture, and lifting it to Lily’s lips. “My dear, you must swallow this. It is unpleasant, but it may help you.”
Lily opened her bleary eyes to see Cedric staring down at her. He looked so earnest, his brow furrowed. She could smell the sour perfume of the mixture, but she trusted him enough to drink it down, despite the bitter flavour. It slid along her throat, thick and unpleasant, leaving an earthy aftertaste in her mouth. The pain did not subside.
“It hurts…” she gasped, as another spasm ripped through her.
“I know it does, dear Mrs Althrop, I know it does,” he soothed. “The herbs take some time to work, but they are the only remedy that may prevent you going completely into premature labour. We shall know within the next few hours if it has succeeded.”
Lily squeezed a tear from her eyes. “Hours?”
“It shall be an anxious wait for us all.”
“I cannot wait hours,” she sobbed. “It will be too late.”
“I know it must seem that way, but you must have faith in the medicinal properties of these herbs. Their power has been proven within many scientific studies. I would not administer them to you if I did not believe they could help,” he assured. “I shall remain with you, and I shall be here regardless of the outcome. I will not allow you to fall into harm’s way.”
“I will stay, too,” Mrs Hardcastle added, moving around to the other side of the bed.
The three of them stayed like that for a long time, Cedric and Mrs Hardcastle keeping vigil at Lily’s bedside. Sure enough, the agony in Lily’s abdomen began to ease after the first half hour. There was still a dull ache, but it was nothing like the tearing torture it had been before. Her body seemed to have slowed, taking a moment to think. Three more hours passed in the same way, Cedric offering Lily some feverfew to take away the heat in her cheeks and the sweat on her brow. In truth, she was exhausted. The fight with Lord Felmingham and the struggle against her pains had sapped the last of her strength, leaving her in a state of woozy delirium. The feverfew and the other herbs that Cedric had administered were not helping with the confusion, that bitter tasting concoction leaving her mind abuzz and her skin tingling in the most peculiar manner.
“You must forgive me, Dr Sharpton,” she murmured suddenly, stirring from a listless slumber.
Cedric looked up. “For what, dear girl?”
“I am not married… I was never married,” she slurred uncertainly. “We made the story up because the truth is much harder to bear.”
“I think you must rest now,” Mrs Hardcastle interjected in alarm. “She does not know what she is saying, Dr Sharpton. As you can see, she is feverish.”
Lily shook her head.
“No fever, only the truth. I lied to you, and I am sorry. A man forced me into this… an Earl. I am unwed and carrying his child. He is here… he came to find me. Please, Cedric, you must forgive me for my trespasses… I thought I was doing right by my family. Please… please forgive me. I could not bear it if you hated me.”
Cedric fell silent.
“Forgive me,” Lily begged.
“Mrs Hardcastle is right,” he said, at last. “You must rest, dear girl. You have been through much today.”
“Please forgive me.”
“I am certain the herbs have done their work,” Cedric turned his back.
“Cedric, please. There was nothing I could do.”
“You will not die and nor will your child, for the concoction has ceased the onslaught of early labour. Indeed, I believe you will make a full recovery and shall give birth to this baby of yours in due course, as nature intended.”
“Cedric… please forgive me!”
Cedric rose from the bedside, unable to meet her desperate gaze.
“I have another patient to attend to, Mrs… Mrs Althrop. I shall return to you later this evening, to check on how you are doing. Please, excuse me.”
He turned and left the room, leaving Lily in a state of abject despair. Her only hope was walking out of the door and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Mrs Hardcastle flew out of the room after him, chasing him down to a point halfway down the corridor. He stood frozen there, pale and shaking with rage. Glancing at his furious features, it was hard to know if he was angry because of the lies Lily had told, or because of the actual events that had forced her into her situation.
“Dr Sharpton, you must understand — things are not as they appear,” Mrs Hardcastle explained.
“Evidently they are not,” he replied coldly. “She is unwed? The two of you have conjured this story to protect her?”
Mrs Hardcastle sighed. “There is far more to it than that, if you would only listen.”
“I did not think an angelic creature such as her might be capable of such untruth — she fooled me utterly,” he muttered, his tone wounded.
“No, no, it is not as you see it.” Mrs Hardcastle said quietly.
“I had hoped to ask for her hand in the coming weeks, but how can I do that now? It would seem I do not even know her. Is her name even Lily? Do I have that much correct?”
“Dr Sharpton, I pray you listen to me. I believe you know I would not risk my business for a woman of low morals. Lily came to me in a time of need, suffering the consequences of things beyond her real control. This is the same Lily you know and adore. The only difference is, she is a Miss and not a Mrs. She is in dire times through no fault of her own.”
“More lies?” he said bitterly.
Mrs Hardcastle shook her head.
“No more lies. Please, linger a moment and allow me to tell you the truth of her past. Perhaps, you may not wish to judge her so harshly once you know the extent of it all.”
He grimaced. “Very well.”
With a heavy heart, Mrs Hardcastle told Cedric the whole truth, of how Lord Felmingham had coerced Lily into acquiescing to his desires. She told him of her suspicions; that there had never been a debt the Earl had wished to call in, though Lily had been too naïve to see it. She told him everything, leaving no stone unturned so that he might find it in his heart to forgive the woman he so adored — a woman who had only blind innocence as her fault. When she reached the point of describing what had happened that day, and Cedric realised that the Earl was, even now, in Upper Nettlefold, fury wound through him, rendering him unable to think.
“The deception was all my idea,” Mrs Hardcastle concluded. “I thought it best, considering the gossips in this town. She is a kind, sweet, loving girl who was manipulated by a monster. You cannot hold that against her and I pray you do not, for both your sakes. She adores you as you adore her. Indeed, you have brought life back to her eyes and joy to her heart. Do not crush her when she has already been brought so low.”
“I shall return this evening,” he said bluntly, striding towards the front door without another word.
In truth, he did not know what to believe anymore.
Chapter Seven
Cedric stormed through the streets of Upper Nettlefold, spurred on by a wave of conflicted emotion. More than anything, he wanted to find the Earl and beat him senseless, or even challenge him to a duel and kill him for what he had done to Lily, but he knew that he could not do that.
He had to remain calm, lest he do something he would regret. Besides, Lily would continue to suffer, even if the Earl were dead. She would carry the truth and the guilt with her always.
In addition, there was always the risk that there might be some sort of proviso written into the contract with Lily’s father, meaning a payment of actual debt would be required should Lord Felmingham become suddenly deceased.
Yes, he seems just the sort of man who would include such a clause, he thought furiously, hurrying in the direction of Mr Paul Sandiford’s place of business. Mr Sandiford was an old friend of Cedric’s, who was now a successful lawyer in his own right.
It
was a business that ran in the family, for his father, Arthur Sandiford, was also a lawyer. If anyone could help him, they could.
He surmised that the Earl was still in the town somewhere, undoubtedly licking his wounds and wondering how he might strike upon Lily again.
Cedric wanted to see if Mr Sandiford could tell him anything about Lord Felmingham.
He hoped to discover some sort of leverage over the Earl, which might give him the means to remove the threat to Lily, of debts and suchlike, once and for all.
Indeed, sensing the kind of character that the Earl possessed, Cedric was certain that he could discover something, if the right avenues were tapped. A man that unscrupulous was more than likely to have left a trail of chaos and sour dealings in his wake.
A bell tinkled as Cedric stepped into the offices of the Sandifords. The sign read ‘Arthur Sandiford and Son’ but the elder Sandiford was less often at work these days, preferring the joys of partial retirement whilst his son ran the business. The elder Mr Sandiford only got himself involved when the cases were somewhat juicier, or the work was on behalf of a personal friend or long-term client.
The two clerks were sitting at their desks as he entered — Mr John Banks and Mr Frederick Parch. Cedric did not know the two men particularly well, but they welcomed him politely. From a room at the back, Paul Sandiford emerged.
He was tall and sharply dressed, though he had loosened the collar of his shirt.
Sandiford was a scholarly man, everything about him cried bookish.
It wasn’t just the spectacles on his nose or the neatly oiled hair that was perpetually swept off his face in a single auburn curve, his ideals were most similar to Cedric’s, and that was part of the reason that Cedric enjoyed his company so much, for they could always discuss topics of academic interest.
“Sharpton, my dear man, what brings you to my door today?” Paul Sandiford wondered as the two men shook hands.
“I was hoping that you might be able to help me with a personal project,” he replied, casting an anxious glance at the two clerks. “Might we go into your office and discuss it further?”
“Certainly, I shall have tea brought in.” He beckoned for Cedric to come into the dusty room at the back of the office, where he closed the door and gestured for Cedric to sit. “Now, what is it I can help you with?” Paul rested his hands on the desk, waiting for Cedric’s reply.
“I need some information on a rather sensitive subject,” he said tentatively and stopped.
Sandiford studied Cedric’s drawn face, and stayed silent, waiting.
Cedric cleared his throat.
“I need you to discover as much as you can about the Earl of Felmingham; a man named Fabian Woodham. He hails from London, and appears to be involved as an investor in the snuff business.”
He recalled everything Mrs Hardcastle had told him, to try to give Paul as much guidance as possible.
Paul frowned.
“My father had a firm in London for many years, as you know, so he might know more than I do. I am sure that he could uncover something, if I were to ask.”
“Would you?”
A hint of desperation lurked in Cedric’s voice.
“I certainly could, but I have to ask — why do want information on this man? What is he to you?”
“That is not important right now, Paul. All that matters is… I need any information I can get that can discredit this scoundrel. He needs to be brought to justice and I plan to be the one to make him pay for his past crimes.”
Cedric heaved in a rasping breath, his heart thundering in his chest. He knew that he must seem like a madman, ranting and raving in desperation, in a manner so unlike his usual, calm demeanour. And yet, he could not help himself. When it came to Lily, he was certain that he would go to the ends of the earth to protect her. He had to fix this, he just had to.
“But why, Cedric?” Paul seemed concerned, eyeing the doctor with suspicion.
“Because he is a terrible man, who has done terrible things.”
Paul narrowed his eyes a little more.
“This is something to do with Lily Althrop, is it not?”
Cedric kept his gaze down, fearing his expression might give him a way.
“This is to do with the Earl of Felmingham. That is all you need to know. Please, Paul, as my dear acquaintance, you must do this for me. I beg it of you.”
“It is to do with Mrs Althrop, I can see it on your face,” Paul replied uncertainly. “Has this man done something to her?”
“Just help me, Paul. Please.”
“Is Mrs Althrop not the woman that our town thinks she is?”
Cedric did not know how to answer.
“That child growing within her belongs to this Earl, doesn’t it?” Paul pressed gently. “Did he force himself on Lily Althrop?”
Cedric looked up, his face crumpling.
“In a manner of speaking, he did. And now he has appeared here, demanding things of her again.”
Paul Sandiford pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on his desk.
“I cannot say that I am surprised. These high-born gentlemen often leave little to be desired,” Paul said with a sigh. “I have been around the law a long time, and my father even longer; we are rarely shocked by the behaviour of the peerage. Some are not worth the price of my own bootlace.” Cedric fought to keep his emotions in check. Sandiford added gently, “If I can be frank with you. There are so many who use their power to deceive and corrupt. If he has forced Lily, as it would appear from your face that he has, it would not be the first time I have heard of such things.”
“You do not blame Lily for this?”
Cedric’s voice caught in his throat.
“Goodness, no! I have seen countless women brought to the edge of destitution by men such as Lord Felmingham — they take what they please and think nothing of the consequences. They lie and they cheat, and they coerce, until they have what they want. I imagine this Lord Felmingham took a fancy to Lily, and decided to use whatever dastardly means he could to force her to do his bidding. Again, it would not be the first time.”
Cedric nodded.
“Then there is more that you need to know.”
“I am listening, my dear friend.”
“The Earl threatened Lily with calling in some kind of debt, which he held over her father. Lord Felmingham became an investor in her father’s snuff business, and he used the fear of that debt – one large enough, apparently, to ruin her family - to manipulate her into his bedroom,” he said, anger vibrating through his bones.
“He offered her family’s freedom in exchange for these licentious liaisons. Lily thought that she was doing the right thing; she thought that she was helping her family avoid destitution by giving herself to him. He laid a deal before her, and she took it, not realising that it might have come from a falsehood.”
The words came out bitter, though he held little resentment towards Lily herself.
“It is likely that there was no debt to speak of,” Paul replied with a nod, “though I shall have to look into it further.”
“If this news comes out, though, Lily and her family will be ruined anyway. Their business will suffer, Lord Felmingham will see to that. So, I must ask for your utmost discretion.”
Paul Sandiford grinned.
“Of course, my dear man. That is part of the job.”
“So, you will do this?”
“I will see what I can uncover about this vile individual. Such a man deserves to be brought to justice, as you say.”
Chapter Eight
Over the next few days, Cedric waited impatiently for Paul Sandiford to come to him with some news. He understood that word needed to be sent to London, and the responses would take some time in returning, but he could hardly bear the anticipation. All the while, Lily remained up at the house, bedridden and being taken care of by Mrs Hardcastle.
Cedric had tried to go back the boarding house, to speak with Lily in a calmer manner, but each
time he arrived at the doorstep he found that he simply could not enter. Instead, he had resorted to offering the herbal remedies to Mrs Hardcastle, leaving her to administer them instead.
So it was that he found himself in the Nettlefold Arms one afternoon, sitting at a table in the corner, drinking from a tankard of warm ale. A few of the aristocracy sat around, chatting in low voices, though they did not bother themselves with him, nor did he trouble himself with them.
They allowed him to remain in the reputable inn because of his position as physician — a role undefined by social class — but he knew that he did not belong.
“Pay no heed to this bunch of stuffy ingrates,” a voice muttered from the table beside Cedric’s.
A lone gentleman sat there, his eyes already bleary with drink.
He was not a man that Cedric recognised, making him wonder if this could be the infamous Lord Felmingham. Strangers stood out here at Upper Nettlefold, especially wealthy ones.
“I am happy to consume my beverage in solitude,” Cedric replied with a forced smile. “I do not care for the opinions of others.”
“Nor should you!” The gentleman stuck out his hand. “Felmingham, pleased to meet you.”
“Cedric Sharpton — the pleasure is all mine.” It took every ounce of strength he had not to lunge at Lord Felmingham that instant, and wipe the smug smile off his face. No, he had to be clever about this. If he could feel out Lord Felmingham first-hand, and get him to confide his secrets, then he would no longer need to wait for a reply from London. If he was clever, he could take matters into his own hands.
“Do you reside here?” Lord Felmingham asked, moving to Cedric’s table.
“I am the physician here, yes.”
“The physician, eh? Fancy. I am not much for labouring myself,” he mused. “I suppose it comes with the title. I often look at folks like you and wonder what it might be like to do a day’s work.” He took a leisurely sip of his ale and smirked. “But then I remember my wealth and it does not trouble me so much.”
He gave a cackle, taking a long swig of his drink.
Escaping The Scurrilous Earl Page 5
