by Tessa Candle
Though it was a humbler vessel, the cabins were clean and recently painted. After some of the inns they had taken, the fresh linens of these quarters would be a treat. The smaller vessel was also less conspicuous, which was important, as he hoped to return his brother-in-law home without anyone recognizing them.
They had had no delays for storms in either direction, which was the principle worry which had made him uneasy about returning in time. A surfeit of time, indeed. Rutherford need not have been so worried. As it was, Aldley should have enough time to finally get himself a suitable equipage before his mother's ball.
Unfortunately the crossing was always choppier in this direction. The rolling motion of the boat made Aldley a bit green, but did not seem to affect his wretched brother-in-law in the least. Yet another injustice in the situation.
“Maybe we could bide a while at Dover. I know a rather nice gambling house there—with rather nice ladies.” Essington winked at Aldley.
“I should think you know of several, but as you cannot even stand without assistance, I cannot imagine what you think you might do there.” Aldley was beyond sick of his brother-in-law's endless display of vice.
“I'd come up with something that didn't call for standing.”
“See here, Essington, you have engaged in enough entertainments for a whole century's worth of family embarrassment. If you have no concern for your own health, at least consider how your reputation will affect your son.”
“I shall be dead and forgotten before he is old enough to worry about things like reputations and consequences.”
Aldley decided not to say what he was thinking.
“We have to lay over somewhere. You didn't even let me sniff the air in Calais.” Essington was wheedling now.
“I do not think it was the air you were looking to sniff. I shall hire a roomy coach at Dover. You can sleep on the road as well as I.” Aldley turned to the doctor who had accompanied them. “I hope that is acceptable to you, Dr. Kellerman.”
“Indeed, I am at your disposal, my lord. And I have no desire to make this trip any longer than it must be. In any case, I think it preferable to keep our patient confined and away from public houses as much as may be possible.”
“I quite agree.”
“Well devil take the both of you.” Essington crossed his arms. “You cannot keep me imprisoned forever. You cannot tell a man where he may go and where he may not.”
“But we can certainly refuse to carry him there.” Aldley wondered how an utter reprobate like Essington conjured up righteous indignation, as though his character should place him beyond suspicion.
Lord Essington merely spat on the floor in reply.
“In my opinion, my lord, you must be ever so careful with your health. There is no guarantee that your lordship will regain use of those legs. If I had not thought a rapid removal the most important priority, I might have taken that left leg off entirely.” Dr. Kellerman's concerned expression could not conceal that he knew he was wasting his breath.
“You just try it, leech. Anyway, I shall be as right as ninepence in no time. Then I should like to see anyone try to tell me I can't go to public houses, brothels, or anywhere else I want.”
“Will you attend to the patient, Doctor?” Aldley placed a hand on his queasy stomach. Essington's company was not helping the seasickness. “I shall go take some air.”
Aldley breathed deeply as he walked onto the deck and closed his eyes. The motion was no better, but at least there was fresh air, and no brother-in-law. Essington was like an insolent young master, and badly in need of a sound thrashing. The wastrel was, unfortunately, too ill for a thrashing.
He had been incontinent for two days when they first removed him from the hovel he was rotting in—and gripped with such tremors that at times they thought he was having seizures. He was in a miserable state and cursed everyone trying to help him to hell for their trouble.
Nothing on his body worked properly except his tongue. After the unpleasant spectacle of the initial subduction of the drug from Essington's body, Dr. Kellerman decided treat him with doses of laudanum, which the good doctor had been steadily reducing during their travels, to the strenuous objection of the patient.
Indeed, there was scarcely a thing Essington did not object to. Their lodgings were beneath his standards, despite the fact that even the humblest inn was several cuts superior to his lodgings in Venice—and Aldley could scarcely even call them lodgings. Every meal was unpalatable, and the carriages all had springs made of granite.
The ingrate resisted their aid to the best of his ability. He would not even tell them how his legs had become injured, though the doctor thought the wounds were originally inflicted by a sword or large knife of some kind.
But left unattended to fester in the heat they had turned septic. Dr. Kellerman said he had seen plenty of men die of less in the war. And yet, Essington gave every indication of improving—physically if not morally. Weeds do not die, as Lady Goodram always said.
Lady Goodram. All he wanted was to get home, have tea with that excellent lady, and attend his mother's ball. Be in the good company of Rutherford. Dance with Miss Norwood.
Yes, he wanted to do more than dance with Miss Norwood. But he would not think on that now, for he should not imitate his brother-in-law's depravity with his own unchaste thoughts.
He simply needed to immerse himself in the quiet pleasures of decent people, in calm and respectable society. He could even wish for mundane morning calls with the most boring of the ton, just to feel clean again and reassured in the basic character of mankind, by exchanging bland pleasantries and accepting blander refreshments.
But even weak tea seemed like a distant dream. When he returned to England, he would still have to make his way to Essington Hall, return this cretin to his sister's care, and support her as best he could.
If they stopped over anywhere it meant delay. And Aldley had matters to attend to before the ball.
For one thing it was about time he got his own carriage and a proper team—this riding about in a hack was tiresome. He had to return to London as quickly as possible, to prepare for—if he was honest with himself, it was to prepare for marrying Miss Norwood.
He smiled at the thought. They would sleep in the carriage on the road from Dover, as horrid as that might prove to be. He would get this mess over with as quickly as possible, and move on to more pleasant things.
An old newspaper wedged into the door caught his eye. He retrieved it. It appeared to be an illegal, untaxed rag out of London. He gasped as he read the headline: “Viscount's brother left for dead by his own driver!” He read through the article rapidly.
“Good Lord, it is Delacroix!”
Chapter 24
The Delacroix estate was quite grand and surprisingly well-managed. The well-tended fields rolled by as Mr. Norwood's carriage moved up the long drive. The Viscount must live a much more regulated life than his debauched swine of a brother. Lydia banished such uncharitable thoughts. They would not help her play the role that she had come to play.
“Are you ready?” Tilly was irritatingly collected.
“As I shall ever be.” Lydia did not even pretend to smile.
“Remember, you are appropriately concerned, but otherwise carefree and perhaps just a little too interested in gossip. Giggling helps.” Tilly sounded like a governess.
Lydia giggled.
“Good enough. You should get on brilliantly.” Tilly smoothed a strand of hair back under the cover of her bonnet.
“What about you, Mr. Norwood?” Tilly turned her scrutiny to Lydia's father. “Can you play the good neighbour?”
“I believe so.” His face looked tired and strained.
“Just do not think about Delacroix. It will help. I am sure the Viscount is a good enough man, for all that his brother is worthless. Think of it as a kindness to him.”
It was amazing that Tilly could be so charitable to the brother of such a fiend. Lydia stared at her frie
nd. What an unusual mind.
Lord Delacroix joined them shortly after they were shown into the sitting room. After the usual exchange of niceties and introductions, there was an uncomfortable pause before the Viscount said, “I hope you have not been waiting long. I was only just checking on my brother.”
“It is we who should apologize, my lord, for I know we have not been introduced. But we all have some passing acquaintance with Mr. Delacroix.” Lydia's father stopped himself from clenching his fists, and pretended to flex his hands.
He continued, “When I heard of your intention to call on us—well, I hope your lordship will pardon the irregularity of it. It seemed unkind to stand on ceremony in this case, for I could not imagine that you would wish to be removed from the patient even for the time it would take to pay a call. And having been involved in the discovery of your poor injured brother, I could not rest until I had news of how he gets on.”
At a subtle elbow from Tilly, Lydia leaned in slightly, smiling and nodding sympathetically.
“Truly, you should not apologize.” The viscount's face was full of concern and deep sensibility. “I owe you a great debt for returning him to me. You have saved his life—I hope, I pray. He has not awakened, except to briefly utter feverish nonsense. The doctor attends him constantly, but says that the fever will be the most serious threat. The bullet seems to have done as little damage as may be expected from a slug to the stomach. It is a miracle that the blood clotted as it did. But he has bled a great deal—I beg your pardon, ladies. I do not mean to be gruesome.”
“Not at all, my lord.” Lydia seized the chance to play her role. “We are quite eager to hear of his recovery. It is so shocking to have word of an acquaintance being assaulted in this brutal manner. And by a servant!”
“Have the authorities yet apprehended the driver?” Tilly sounded ever so slightly too interested.
“No, unfortunately. It appears he was not my brother's regular driver. I hope, if Pascal recovers his senses quickly enough, he may assist—at least to identify the man. But where are my manners! I have not offered you so much as tea.”
He rang the bell and asked the servant to bring refreshments.
He turned back to his guests. “Forgive me. I am somewhat distracted and my wife, who is much better at receiving guests than I, is away visiting her sister. I should have joined them by now, if my brother had not been attacked. I am so thankful, given these events, that business had delayed my departure.”
The tea and sandwiches arrived more quickly than Lydia had thought possible. However out of practice the Viscount was, the servants were clearly alert and at the ready.
She could not trace any similarity between Lord Delacroix and his brother. His colouration was much lighter, his features rounder, and his eyes were hazel. Most strikingly, the viscount seemed to be a tremendously kind, almost deferential man. He was not at all haughty—she could almost forget he was titled.
And there was a basic decency about him that belied any blood relation to Mr. Delacroix. She was beginning to feel guilty for her part in the subterfuge, necessary though it was, for she did not like deceiving him. His grief and anxiousness were real. Her concern was entirely a façade.
Lord Delacroix stirred in sudden recollection. “I should ask what news you have of Mr. Rutherford. I have it from your man that it was he who first came to assist my brother and was also injured by his assailant.”
“We believe he will recover, my lord.” Mr. Norwood wiped his hands on his pantaloons. “He is awake now, but the doctor wants him to remain in bed for some time longer.”
“I am glad of it. I shall pay a call on you when my brother is improved, if I may. I should like to thank Mr. Rutherford personally.”
“Indeed you will be most welcome, my lord.”
Just then the butler entered. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but the Earl of Aldley is here to see you.” He extended a card on a silver tray.
“Please see him in straight away, Gibbs.” The Viscount looked surprised.
“Lord Aldley!” Her father made the exclamation which Lydia suppressed in herself. What could he be doing here?
“Do you know the earl, Mr. Norwood?”
“We are a little acquainted with his lordship. The earl is a great friend of Mr. Rutherford's.”
“Indeed I am.” Lord Aldley entered and received their bows. “Thank you for receiving me, Lord Delacroix.”
His eyes fixed on Lydia's for a moment—and then a moment longer with a slight air of enquiry. She merely smiled. His eyes were beautiful. How could she explain this? But was it so very strange? She knew the Viscount's sister, after all.
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Aldley.” The Viscount smiled. “I understand I need not introduce you to anyone here.”
“By happy coincidence, I know Mr. Norwood and his daughter. But I have not yet met this lady—I think it must be Miss Ravelsham, is it not? My friend has mentioned you to me.”
They made introductions, and Aldley looked around at the little group, still slightly puzzled, but smiling warmly at Lydia. Her heart beat a little quicker.
“I am pleasantly surprised to find you all here,” Aldley said. “I am only just returned to England, and was on my way to my sister's. But I had heard of your brother's misfortune, Lord Delacroix, and I felt I should call and enquire after his health.”
“As did we all, my lord,” supplied Tilly, shaking her head. “Poor Mr. Delacroix. We were horrified!”
“Yes, I admit I am surprised that my brother has so many friends who are so kindly attentive to his health as to come pay a visit. I am quite touched.” Lord Delacroix said this without a whiff of sarcasm. Lydia stewed in her own guilt.
“Indeed! How could we not take an interest? Such an awful ordeal to have befallen him.” Mr. Norwood was in good form. But Lydia thought Lord Aldley looked at him very strangely for a brief moment.
Her father turned to the earl and continued, “We were all on our way to Nesterling Lodge for a little hunting party, my lord. Only Mr. Rutherford came across poor Mr. Delacroix being attacked by his driver.”
“It was most shocking! And the horrid man did not scruple but to attack poor Mr. Rutherford, too.” Lydia hated the sound of her own voice, the insipid stupidity of the remark.
She hated more the surprised look that the earl gave her. She could not fathom why Lord Aldley would be here, as he was obviously not acquainted with the family. And here she sat behaving like gossip-mongering simpleton. It was such wretched timing.
“Rutherford was attacked?” Lord Aldley's face wrinkled in concern and confusion. “And he was on his way to Nesterling?”
“Yes, but he had some other things to do,” Tilly supplied smoothly, and waving her hands airily, continued, “You know, business of some sort, so he was riding on ahead, and would join us later, only we came across him in a terrible state.”
“Oh yes! It was a terror! We were all quite beside ourselves! And then we heard of poor Mr. Delacroix.” Lydia effected an expression of wounded sensibility at these sad and horrifying events.
It was pure, excruciating torment to carry on this charade in front of Lord Aldley, whose face looked troubled.
Her father cleared his throat. “Mr. Rutherford was stabbed while trying to defend Mr. Delacroix.”
“Good Lord! Is the injury serious?” Lord Aldley's face was now ashen.
“Please do not be alarmed, my lord. He appears to be recovering well and the doctor is very optimistic. Your lordship will be most welcome to come visit him. I am sure Mr. Rutherford would be exceedingly glad for it.” Lydia's father looked uncomfortable.
Lord Aldley looked stricken. “He is staying at Nesterling Lodge, then?”
“Yes, upon the doctor's instructions. He is not to be removed, nor even to leave his bed for a while yet.” Mr. Norwood wiped his hands again.
Lord Aldley shook his head suddenly. “Forgive me, this is a lot to take in all at once. Lord Delacroix, I meant to
ask after your brother. Is he recovering?”
“The injuries are not insurmountable, according to Doctor Hastings, but he has a wretched fever.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Are you well acquainted with my brother, Lord Aldley?”
“Not exceedingly. We spent some time in the same circles while we were in Paris. And my mother is recently acquainted with yours. But I was most astounded to hear of this vicious attack.”
“I think everyone must be. It is demoralizing for such a thing to happen in England—and out in the countryside.” The Viscount shook his head. “But the man was not a known servant, merely a hire. That much betrayal we are spared.”
“Lord Delacroix, I hope you will accept and convey my best wishes for a quick recovery to Mr. Delacroix. I wish I could stay, but my sister is expecting me and there are others waiting on me.” Aldley stood.
“What, in the carriage? Why did you not bring them in? Think of the inhospitality. My wife will have my hide if she hears of it.” The viscount was visibly mortified.
“I shall never tell her.” Lord Aldley's smile was a little sad. “And though you are very kind to offer, it would be most inconvenient to remove my brother-in-law, as he cannot walk. His doctor and attendant are with him. But it has been a long voyage, and we must carry on to his estate.”
Lord Delacroix looked as though he were about to protest further.
But Lord Aldley made for the door and quickly added, “I am to leave the day after tomorrow to return to London. But I hope you will permit me to visit again, Lord Delacroix, the next time I am in this part of the country.”
Then he took his leave of them and exited, but he did not meet Lydia's eye.
“My lord, we should not further keep you from your brother, either.” Lydia's father looked sincere.
“Yes, I...” Lord Delacroix seemed lost for a moment. “I should go look in on him. Thank you all for coming to call. It is most comforting to know that my brother has such friends.”
