“Bainstall has been very kind to me in this time of crisis,” said Letitia carefully. “I am aware that I owe him a great deal.” She did not wish to seem ungrateful to her cousin for his aid, but she also did not want James to grow up to emulate him. Bainstall, she felt, acted out of duty, whereas Letitia hoped her son would act out of a generous heart.
“It is to be hoped that you will listen to him more closely in the future, rather than to your more volatile friends,” said the bishop. “I believe he has proved the more supportive in these circumstances.”
“Lady Exencour has written and indicated that she would come to me on a moment's notice, and she had pledged any help she can give,” responded Letitia heatedly. “And these pears come from Lord Eynsford, who has little reason to think of me now. You cannot say I have no support but Bainstall.”
“But these ties are not those of blood,” observed the bishop. “I know Lady Exencour is fond of you, but she moves in very exalted circles, which you cannot do, and eventually she will have children of her own who will occupy her time and attention. And Lord Eynsford is doubtless merely attempting to assuage his guilt over his treatment of you; you cannot expect a gentleman of his stature to spend much time thinking of your cares. He will very soon find another woman to court. He does, after all, need to sire children to continue his line.”
“I do not imagine that Lord Eynsford still wishes to marry me,” said Letitia, “But it is a mark of his generosity that he remembers Emily at such a time.”
“He no doubt feels some guilt about to his deception, and hopes that he can buy your silence with bribes,” said Dr. Wolfe. “You must not read more into this than is meant. The differences between the two of you could not be greater, Lady Morgan.”
Letty bit her lip and rose to her feet. “I suppose you are correct. If you will forgive me, Dr. Wolfe, I will take these to Emily, in the hope that they will tempt her.”
Dr. Wolfe shook his head, but stood as well. “If you feel you must. I will visit you again tomorrow, and hope to hear good news.”
He collected his hat and walked heavily from the room. Letitia stood for a moment, gazing after him and wondering what exactly she had done to bring such a judgment down upon herself. But then she hastened to the nursery, where Emily lay in her bed, her tiny frame engulfed in the billowing white bedclothes.
“There you are, my dear,” said Letitia, forcing cheer into her voice. Emily looked up at her, her expression cross, and Letty pulled one of the pears from the basket.
“Look what Lord—what Mr. Markham has sent you,” she said.
The child’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fruit, and she made a sound that might be interpreted as a laugh.
“Quickly, Violet, bring me a plate and a knife,” said Letty.
When the requested objects were produced, Letitia sat by the side of Emily’s bed and cut the pear into tiny pieces, handing each to the child, who took them eagerly and swallowed them down.
“Is that good, darling?” she asked.
Emily nodded and held out her little hand, and Letty placed another piece of pear in it, watching with delight as Emily consumed it with every sign of pleasure. It was the happiest she had seen the child in many days. Finally, Emily lapsed back onto the pillows and closed her eyes, dozing off. Letty paused a moment and laid a hand on her forehead. It was still warm, but Emily’s breathing was even and slow, and she was reassured.
She stood and turned to Violet. “If you will sit with her for an hour or two, I will take a nap, and then I will stay with her tonight,” she said.
“Yes, my lady,” said Violet.
Letty smiled and placed the basket of pears by the bed. “If she wakes and wants more, please cut up another. And have one yourself, Violet. You have been so helpful to me these past weeks.”
The maid smiled sympathetically, and Letty went down the hall to her room, where she stretched out on her bed, hoping to sleep, but finding herself staring at the ceiling instead. It was very kind of Lord Eynsford to think of her, and of Emily, but she knew she must not read more into it than mere sympathy and perhaps even, as Dr. Wolfe had suggested, guilt. He doubtless hoped he could be rid of her completely, and only his friendship with Isobel and Francis made him think of her at all. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had no time to be thinking of herself now. She turned on her side and eventually fell into a light sleep.
She woke a few hours later to see that the sun was setting, dropping over the horizon in a blaze of red and gold. Still exhausted, she rose slowly from her bed and, stopping only to splash a little water on her face from the bowl on the dresser, went to Emily’s room. Violet sat attentively at Emily’s side, and looked up when Letty entered.
“Go to bed, Violet,” said Letty. “I will spend the night with Emily.”
“But my lady, you need your rest as well. You should wake me in a few hours and—”
“No Violet, you’ve done more than enough these past weeks. I can sleep in the chair here by her bed. I won’t be able to rest for more than an hour or two until she is well, so I might as well be here.”
Violet nodded reluctantly, and left the room. Letty settled into the overstuffed chair pulled up by the side of the bed and looked at Emily, who still slept. Slowly the room grew darker, and eventually Letitia could see only the soft glow of candlelight from under the door and hear the gentle sound of Emily’s breathing. Eventually she dozed off.
She woke with a start, thinking that she had heard someone call her name. She looked around in the darkness, but the door remained closed and she could see nothing.
“Mama?”
It was Emily’s voice. Letty jumped out of the chair and rushed across the room, throwing open the door and grabbing a branch of candles from the table in the hallway. Returning to Emily’s bedside, she placed the candles on the table and leaned over the bed anxiously.
“Yes dear, I’m here,” she said softly.
“Mama, I’m thirsty,” Emily whimpered.
Letty gently propped her up on the pillows, and poured a cup of water. She held it to the child’s lips, and Emily drank eagerly.
Smiling gently, Letty reached up to smooth the damp curls away from her daughter’s forehead, and she gave a little gasp of surprise. Emily’s skin was cool to the touch. Taking care not to drip wax on the bed, she held the branch of candles up, and saw that Emily’s cheeks were no longer flushed, and that her eyes were clear. The fever had broken. Putting the candles down again, she sat on the edge of the bed and gathered the child into her arms, her eyes welling with tears.
“Mama, may I have another pear?” Emily asked.
“Of course, my dear.” Trying to hold back her tears of joy, she sliced into another pear and fed it to the eager child. It seemed her prayers had finally been answered.
Chapter 37
Lord Bainstall arrived the next afternoon, not long after receiving Letitia's note notifying him that Emily had turned the corner and would soon be on the mend. She received him in the sitting room and Bainstall was shocked to see how her looks had suffered from her long nights at Emily's bedside. Her hair was dull and dragged back severely, her eyes heavy from lack of sleep, her movements listless.
“Goodness, Letitia, you look as though you have been ill as well as Emily,” he said frankly.
“Do I?” she asked unconcernedly. “I have had little time to tend to my appearance. Let me assure you that Emily looks far worse. She is dreadfully wasted; it quite frightens me to look at her.”
“I am glad that she will recover. The loss of a child is a terrible thing,” observed Lord Bainstall. “It is good that you will not suffer it, at least not at this time.”
“Thank you, Cousin,” said Letitia. She laid a hand on her forehead. “I own that I am exhausted by anxiety, and so many sleepless nights. It will be a relief to sleep without worry.”
“Some rest will do you good, and help repair your looks. I hope that you have not allowed Dr. Wolfe to see
you looking so unattractive.”
Letitia gave him a surprised look. “He calls every day, Cousin,” she said. “Of course he has seen me.”
“You should not permit it, Letitia,” said the Baron. “Of course the bishop realizes that the body is but a shell, but it is not wise to drive away a suitor by appearing at your worst. If his interest wanes it would be unfortunate.”
“On the contrary,” said Letitia, “I should be pleased. I do not intend to marry Dr. Wolfe.”
Bainstall sighed. “I thought we had put this behind us, Letitia. Surely the experience of the past weeks has taught you that you can’t take care of yourself and your children alone? If you refuse to live with me, you must marry again.”
“I know that I owe you a great deal of thanks, both emotional and financial, for your assistance these past weeks,” said Letitia. “But I cannot marry Dr. Wolfe simply to make you happy.”
“I would be very pleased if you married him,” agreed Bainstall, “because your difficulties would no longer be a burden on my mind. You realize, Letitia that they frequently occupy my thoughts when I have other problems I must address. But I would not urge you to accept the bishop if I weren’t sure that he would make you an exceptional husband.”
“I cannot love him,” said Letitia.
“What is love in a marriage?” asked Bainstall. “It is important to understand one another, but love is an uncomfortable emotion which only causes problems. As I recall, your marriage to Lord Morgan was a love match, but that came to naught. Surely you are now done with such childish notions.”
Letitia closed her eyes. She was incredibly weary and while Emily had been deathly ill she had kept herself going by sheer strength of will. Now that she had reason to believe her daughter would live, she found it difficult to gather the strength to deal with daily life. She certainly did not feel capable of arguing with Bainstall about a proposed marriage.
“Please, Cousin, this is not the time to be discussing my next marriage,” she said.
“On the contrary, now, while your recent calamities are fresh in your mind, is the perfect time,” said Bainstall. “Later you will forget these difficulties, and you will continue as you have until they strike again. You must be rational and do what is best for you, for your children, and for your family.”
“I cannot discuss it now,” said Letitia. “I am too weary to make a decision.”
“Once a decision is made,” said Bainstall, “your mind will be eased.”
Letitia sighed. “I cannot marry the bishop, Cousin. I am very sorry to be disobliging, but I know neither he nor I will be happy if I do.”
“He is well-off and kindly, Letitia, and willing to marry a woman who not only has no fortune, but has two children as well. He will not harm you and he will treat you with solicitude. What more can you seek in a marriage?”
“I don't know,” said Letitia wretchedly. “Friendship and humor, perhaps. Dr. Wolfe has neither of these.”
“You are ridiculous.” Lord Bainstall bent a severe look on Letitia. “I have suspected for some time that you have a preference for Lord Eynsford, and now I am sure of it. You must forget him; his offer is not likely to be repeated, and the match, although noble, would most likely have been ill-advised.”
“I do not think of Lord Eynsford at all,” declared Letitia sharply. “He was kind to me during Emily's illness, and sent a thoughtful note and some lovely fruit, but I do not think for a moment that it was anything but mere civility.” Her color rose a little at the thought of the daydreams she had indulged in, but she pushed the thought firmly to the back of her mind. It was Mr. Markham she had thought of, and he did not exist.
“I certainly hope not,” said Bainstall. “I had not meant to tell you this, but when I was in London on business it was all over town that he meant to offer for the Earl of Ravenscroft's second daughter. He has apparently paid her quite specific attentions, and of course it would be a very suitable match. If I were Ravenscroft I would think twice before accepting his offer, however. His liaison with Lady Mowbry is quite well known and shows no signs of abating.” He perceived that Letitia was staring at him in amazement. “Now you know why I was so surprised to hear that he had proposed marriage to you, Letitia, and why I doubt it will happen again. His sense of decency forced him to make you an offer, and he must have been very relieved when you turned him down.”
The flush faded from Letitia's cheeks. “He must indeed,” she said faintly. It had not occurred to her that the Marquess had not been in earnest; she had believed him to be sincere, if misguided in his means. Now it appeared that the friendship she had cherished had been a mere dalliance for him.
Lord Bainstall laid his hand on her shoulder solicitously. “I see that you are much affected by my words, Letitia,” he said. “I know now that my fears are true; you had hopes of him returning to you and proving his love. I regret I had to tell you these things; the truth is a bitter medicine, but now you are free of these foolish hopes.”
Letitia shook her head. “I had no hopes of his lordship,” she said firmly. “I will allow that I made a fool of myself where he is concerned, but I have put him utterly out of my life.”
“If that is so, then I hope you will give serious thought to your future, and consider well before you reject Dr. Wolfe,” said Bainstall. “You must cease to live in this imaginary world you have created for yourself and face reality. If I were not at hand when Emily became ill, what would you have done?”
“I don’t know,” said Letitia. “But Isobel would have helped me.”
Bainstall sighed. “Lady Exencour, while I am sure she has a fondness for you, will eventually weary of your difficulties. You have no blood ties to her and she has a husband and family of her own. Why you would wish to be a burden on her I cannot imagine.”
“Please, Cousin, I cannot discuss this now,” said Letitia, her voice small and lost.
“I see you are too emotional to speak of this today. I will return tomorrow and we will make a decision on this matter. Believe me, Letitia, I think only of your welfare.”
The baron rose, bowed politely and retired, leaving Letitia to her confused thoughts. She was aware of an overwhelming sense of misery, which angered her when she considered that Emily was now out of danger; she should be happy, not on the verge of tears. Yet she could find no joy in her heart.
A picture of Lord Eynsford as he proposed to her formed in her mind. He had been so handsome, so solicitous, so very sincere. She had rejected him because her pride was hurt and her fears aroused, not because she did not find him attractive. She realized with a sinking heart that, on the contrary, she found him quite irresistible, which was why she had forbidden all contact. Only a very little time in his presence would have served for her to throw caution to the winds and accept his proposal.
Bainstall was right. She had continued to pin her hopes on a phantom, on a man she didn't really know at all. She had hoped he might come to find her and convince her that he loved her. And now to discover that he not only had a mistress, but was wooing a young lady as well! She had only herself to blame for her stupid and childish belief in Mr. Markham's good character.
She wept for a time, since she was alone and no one would know that she was being such a fool. Her tears eventually abated, and she realized that she would have to face her cousin the next day and decide to either accept Dr. Wolfe or engage to take care of herself from now on. But this recent illness of Emily's had proved to her that her circumstances made it very difficult to cope if there was an emergency. On a daily basis she might manage very well, but when a crisis arose, she needed someone to turn to. It just seemed unutterably hard to her that that person should be Dr. Wolfe.
Letitia eventually fell into an uneasy doze, her dreams haunted by the faces of both Mr. Markham and Dr. Wolfe. She awoke with a start.
“This is ridiculous,” she said out loud. “I must do better than this.” She rose and went to her writing desk and began a letter to Isobel.
When Letitia's letter arrived in Scotland it caused quite a stir. Isobel did not receive it until some hours after its arrival, for she had been all afternoon at her excavation. Lord Exencour had accompanied her that morning, amusing himself by watching his fashionable wife laboring under the hot sun in an old dress, her hair tied loosely in a scarf. It was part of her immense attraction for him that she was both a lady of impeccable ton and a serious scholar.
They returned shortly after noon to find Lord Eynsford awaiting them. As Dargenwater Cottage was a very small place, purchased by Isobel when she was as yet unwed in order to pursue her scholarly inclinations, he was staying at the nearby Glencairn estate with Lord and Lady Glencairn, old and dear friends of the Exencours. Eynsford and Exencour rode together almost every afternoon and he dined with them many an evening. They all assiduously avoided the topic of Lady Morgan, though Emily's recent illness was a matter of great concern to them all. Isobel, respecting Letitia's wishes, had remained in Scotland, but the fate of her friend's child weighed heavily on her mind, and scarcely less so on her husband's. Lord Eynsford was deeply concerned, not merely for the child he had grown fond of, but also for the mother who was constantly in his thoughts.
“Was your work successful this morning?” he asked after greeting Isobel.
“It is always slow and tedious,” observed Isobel, “but I venture that soon we will have unearthed the foundation of another building. I am very curious about its original purpose.”
“She makes me feel abominably lazy,” complained Lord Exencour, a teasing look on his face. “I sat under a tree and read a book all morning, while she labored away.”
“I have told you many times that you are welcome to help with the digging,” responded his wife. “A strong fellow such as you would be a great asset to my team.”
“You see, Phillip, how she would put me to work,” said Lord Exencour to his friend. “She has no respect for me as a gentleman of leisure.”
An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance Page 23
