The Worthington Wife

by Sharon Page

  Julia saw how much Lady Worthington had changed. Once a warm, welcoming smile would have curved her lips. Now she looked tight-lipped, grim. Frightened.

  From around the car came the wheeled chair. Cal pushed it smoothly from behind, even over the gravel. A young man—he must be about twenty-five—sat in the chair. He waved cheerfully. Julia had steeled herself to see no legs, or trousers pinned at the knees. But his trousers were filled out and he wore shoes. He must have artificial legs.

  “You must be my aunt,” said the young man. He held out his hand. His eyes were the same clear, vivid blue as Cal’s but a shock of curly black hair framed his handsome face. “Good to meet you. I’m David Carstairs, your younger nephew from the States. I’d get up but you’d be waiting a long time, I’m afraid.” He grinned.

  His greeting was so warm, so different from Cal’s, Julia was stunned. The countess came forward. “I am the Countess of Worthington. Indeed, my husband was brother to your father, Mr. Carstairs.”

  “Please call me David...Aunt Sophia.” He said it with a wistful expression.

  Julia’s heart tugged.

  “You would address me as—”

  Julia gave a soft cough, interrupting. The countess was trying to sound austere and Julia had to stop that. And she noticed how the countess’s fingers plucked nervously at the beads draped around her neck.

  Show kindness, Julia mouthed. Please do.

  Did the countess read her lips? She didn’t know, but the woman’s tone softened. “Do call me Aunt Worthington. That is how we do things in this country.”

  “Aunt Worthington. I think Aunt Sophia sounds prettier but I want to do things right.” David Carstairs’s winning smile revealed dimples.

  Rain spattered down. “I’d better get you inside,” Cal said brusquely.

  Julia watched Cal negotiate the chair around the house to one of the terrace doors where there was no step, and wheel his brother inside. She followed them in, but the countess went in through the front door.

  David whistled as they entered the drawing room. “Whoa. What a beautiful place, Cal,” David said. “So what’s tea really like? Do they have cakes?”

  “All they do here is eat, and have too much food,” Cal said. “It’s indulgent and disgusting.”

  “I’d like to have a meal of cakes,” David said.

  “It should take more than a tray of cakes to win you over, David,” Cal muttered darkly.

  His brother twisted to look at him. “We haven’t got any other family left, Cal.”

  “David, I’m not here because they wanted to make peace and invited me. I’m here because I inherited the place and they’re forced, by their precious English rules, to accept me.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean things can’t work out for the best,” David said. “So have you gone riding? Did you fall off?”

  They were very different, the two brothers. And David was on her side, thank heaven.

  “I did go riding,” Cal said. “Lady Julia taught me.”

  Julia lifted her head.

  “I should have introduced you,” Cal said. “David, this is Lady Julia, who lives at Brideswell, which is a neighboring estate.”

  She smiled brightly. “I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Carstairs.”

  “Cal me David. Could you stop a minute, Cal, so I can show some manners and shake her hand?”

  Looking embarrassed, Cal did. She shook David Carstairs’s warm, strong hand. “You taught my brother to ride.” He looked down. “I’d like to learn, but I guess that’s not possible.”

  “Perhaps it would be possible for you to sit on a horse and be led?”

  “No. Too dangerous,” Cal said shortly.

  His brother rolled his blue eyes. “I think I’ve seen worse danger than falling off a horse. I’m game to try.”

  Julia felt Cal’s glare. She thought Cal was wrong—overprotective. But fighting with him now was not sensible. She could arrange for David to ride. That might win him over to convincing Cal to keep Worthington intact. “I am sure we can think of something, together.”

  David gave her a smile that warmed her heart. “I’m glad to be here,” he said. Then to his brother: “Cal, I’ve been thinking. I want to write a letter to Alice. Maybe we could pay for her to travel here. I’d like to see her. Nothing more, just see her. I know it’s hopeless now to dream of more, but it would make my life complete just to see her smile again.”

  Julia was almost in tears. Alice must have been his sweetheart.

  But Cal said abruptly, “No.” Then he added, as if he knew he sounded unreasonable, “She’s probably married by now. Let it go. It’s only going to break your heart.”

  “Cal, I know there were a hundred soldiers in love with her, and each one had more to offer her than I do. But I’d just like to see her. Maybe she would come, if we invited her to something. Don’t the English give fancy parties and balls? Just like they did at Mam’s house, when she was a maid?”

  Cal’s face contorted with pain and Julia’s heart contracted with it, too. He was behind his brother, who couldn’t see his expression.

  She said brightly, “I think it sounds like a very lovely idea.”

  Cal turned on her. “No, it’s not.” He whispered it, but so angrily, she was stunned. “I’m not having a ball here, David,” he said more loudly.

  “Of course you could not hold a ball,” Lady Worthington declared as she approached, her heels clicking on the floor. “You would hardly know what to do.”

  It was as if she’d waved a red flag. “I know how to throw a party,” Cal said sharply. “Forget what I said. If you want a ball, David, you’ll get one.”

  13

  David’s Story

  Cal carried David up the stairs to show him the bedroom he’d had prepared. He felt guilty and awkward as he put David back into his chair. Guilty because he hadn’t been able to protect his younger brother. Awkward because he knew David hated to feel like a burden.

  The countess had made him mad and he’d reacted. But having a ball now, when he was trying to find out whether three young women had been killed and whether Anthony Carstairs was responsible? Julia must believe he was a callous monster.

  Maybe that was for the best. If Anthony was a killer, had been shielded from punishment, Julia would see Cal when he was full of rage.

  “You’re lost in thought.”

  David’s voice jerked Cal back. “Do you like the room?” he asked fast. “I can have another fixed up for you, if you’d prefer. I thought you’d like the Oriental look in the place.”

  One wall was papered in scarlet, decorated with gold. The furnishings all looked like they had come from Japan or China. A rice-paper screen stood in the corner. This had been John Carstairs’s room when John had been just the younger son to the earl. Before he’d become the earl and taken over the earl’s bedroom.

  Was John maybe the killer? He hadn’t been popular with girls, Cal had been told.

  “I like it,” David said. He added wistfully, “Before the War, I always thought about traveling the world.”

  Cal’s throat tightened. He’d tried to give his younger brother all the opportunity he never had. It was why he’d stayed in a gang. To make money to send David to school. He’d intended to send his younger brother to university. Then America had joined the War—

  “I finally made it to England,” David said. “I never did during the War.”

  David should be angry because fate had stolen his chance to travel the world. But his brother looked happy.

  Cal stood uneasily beside David’s chair. “Where do you want to go—to the window? If you want to rest before dinner, would you like me to put you on the bed?”

  It was like he was asking his brother where he wanted to be stored. He’d fired nurses
in the States after they just wheeled his brother to a corner and left him there.

  “I can wheel myself you know,” David said. And he did, taking himself to the window.

  Cal went to the table that held a decanter of the best damn brandy they had in this house. He poured two drinks and walked back, giving one to David.

  If he’d been in David’s position—missing both his legs—he would not be able to be alone with a decanter full of brandy. He likely would have drunk himself to death in despair and anger. Not David.

  David sipped it. “Nice. Gosh, it’s a beautiful view. Mam would have loved the gardens.”

  “Yeah, and she was never allowed to see them,” Cal said darkly.

  “Things can change,” David said. “I know about how they can change in a heartbeat. I believe things can change for the better, too.”

  How did David stay so filled with hope? How did he look on the bright side?

  Cal was the one filled with anger. Anger that ran in his blood, oozed through his pores. “There’s something you need to know, David...”

  His brother looked at him, trusting him. He should tell David about his plans to get rid of the place—but he couldn’t do it yet.

  “What is it?” David asked. “You look so serious.”

  “David, I don’t want you to talk about my past...in New York.”

  “Your past?”

  “The Five Points Gang. What I did. I don’t want them to know. They already think I’m low-class scum.”

  “You aren’t, Cal.”

  He didn’t answer, so David had another sip of his drink. “Cal, I really want to find Alice—”

  “No, David. I’m not going to let you do that.”

  “I’m a grown man. If I had two legs I could do what the hell I want.”

  For the first time since he got here, David lost his smile. Cal knew he was breaking his brother’s heart, but he had to protect him. David was all he had left.

  * * *

  The next morning, Julia went to Worthington Park to talk to David Carstairs. Wiggins answered the door. Goodness, the butler looked as if he’d aged a decade in days. Pale, with dark circles under his eyes, he even appeared thinner than ever. “Is everything all right, Wiggins? You don’t look well.”

  “I am quite all right, my lady,” he answered. “If you are seeking his lordship, he has gone down to the kitchens I believe. His lordship tends to be eccentric in his behavior.”

  “They are his kitchens,” Julia said. “And his lordship intends to hold a ball. I expect he wishes to speak to his cook directly about it.”

  “That should go through myself or Mrs. Rumpole.”

  “The earl does things in his own way.” She realized she had said that with pride—at heart, Cal’s independent ideas impressed her. She couldn’t deny it.

  “Indeed.” But Wiggins looked more nervous than affronted.

  “I am actually looking for his brother, Mr. David Carstairs.”

  “The earl’s brother had indicated he wished to see the library.”

  “Thank you, Wiggins. But you do look ill. You should get more rest.”

  Was the butler really making himself physically ill over having Cal as the earl? What did he fear? Losing his job...or something more?

  But as she left the foyer and walked into the wide receiving hall, Diana darted out of a doorway, grasped her hand and towed her into the music room. “Cal is going to help me,” she breathed. “He’s going to send me to Switzerland to have the baby, then I shall give it up over there and come home. Come home and pretend nothing ever happened.”

  “Yes. He and I talked about that.” But Diana looked despairing and Julia whispered, “Diana, that will save you.”

  “Save my reputation. It won’t save me. This will be done so I can make a discreet marriage—a lonely and cold marriage, because I can’t stop my obsession with my baby’s father. I know what you’ll say—that he used me. But he was so passionate with me. I want that again.”

  “Diana—”

  “He told me that I was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. I don’t care if it was lies. Mother always made me believe I wasn’t good enough. Not as good as you—she always talked about how accomplished you are, Julia. It’s rather a miracle I didn’t scratch your eyes out. But when I was with him, I felt beautiful and exciting.”

  “Oh, my dear.” Julia embraced her.

  Diana nodded. “I was stupid. But I still want to love him.”

  There was so much pain in Diana’s face, it scared Julia. “You must go away as Cal says. You do have to think of your future—”

  Diana gave a sharp laugh. “An empty, loveless future. And Mother snaps at me all the time. Sometimes I fear she knows about the baby. She’s upset and nervy and she finds fault with everything. Cal has told her she can stay here or go and live in the dower house. He has been...surprisingly nice. I guess we have you to thank for that, Julia.”

  “I think Cal is good by his nature, despite what he says.”

  “Mother still acts as if she’s terrified of him. She keeps saying he is going to ruin us. I don’t know what she means, but she says he is working to destroy us.”

  Julia blinked. She thought of Cal’s investigation. Could the countess know about it? Was that what she feared? Cal learning the truth? But what did the countess know?

  Heavens, could Cal’s belief that the servants were covering up be true?

  “Cal has been nice to me, but—but I don’t want to give up my child.” Diana gave a wobbly smile. “I know it’s foolish, but I want to keep the baby. Cal has told me he would settle money on me. I would be ruined, but I could live with my child. I would be independent. Mother would disown me, of course. Society would shun me. But I am beginning to think I don’t care. I was part of the Bright Young Things and I lived to be popular. I now understand there are more important things in the world.” She sighed. “I always thought we would marry titled men and have children and live on grand estates.”

  “But we can still be happy,” Julia said, “even if we don’t.”

  “Yes. I suppose we can.”

  A sharp, sudden squeak came from the doorway. Julia looked up.

  David Carstairs was there, in his chair, a blush coloring his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I was trying to find my way around and I came this way by mistake.”

  Using his hands to propel the wheels on his chair, he backed out of the room.

  Diana was mortified that David had overheard. Julia calmed her—she sensed David would keep a secret as well as Cal. She found David in the library in his chair by the window. The library overlooked the rose gardens, and the woods, which made a dark green counterpoint to the sculpted hedges and the masses of pink, red and yellow roses.

  Julia caught her breath. In the rose garden, Anthony had kissed her before he left for France. It felt like a lifetime ago. And was it a good memory now or not?

  She pushed those thoughts away. Pasted on a cheery smile. “Good afternoon, David.”

  He turned in the chair, gave a boyish grin. “Hello, Lady Julia.”

  “And you must call me Julia.” She was suddenly nervous about begging for his help, launching into such personal matters.

  Then he said, “I guess you knew the family really well. Cal says you live at Brideswell Abbey, a big estate next door. What was it like for you, growing up here? I heard you had balls and went on hunts, and got presented at court.”

  She told him a little about that. He was an enthusiastic listener and appeared fascinated by everything. He wanted to know about the people who lived on the estate. Julia found she was telling him about Ellen—at first trying to avoid revealing Ellen’s profession. But he was so concerned and so kind, she spilled out the whole story.

  When she was done, he said, “I’m
sorry to hear about it. But I’m sure she can be saved. She sounds like a good woman. Cal will help her. I know he will.”

  “I know he will, too, but she won’t listen. She refuses to get any help. I believe—and Cal thinks so, too—that Ellen suffers from shell shock.”

  She could have bit her tongue—why remind him of the War?

  “I’m not surprised it happened to the lass. I’d say what she needs is hope for a future. That’s what is the hardest on those that came back. There wasn’t hope. I felt sorry for them.”

  “You did?”

  “I had hope.”

  She stared, realizing David Carstairs was like Cal—a remarkable, unexpected man.

  “Cal had made money, you see. After the War, America was poised to succeed and Cal had real smarts when it came to investing money. He got out of the g—” David broke off. He coughed. “I mean, he had enough money to get a house for me and to hire people to look after me. He went to Paris to paint. He said he needed to forget things.”

  “Do you mean the War?” she asked gently.

  “That didn’t hit Cal as hard. He’s tough. Keeps things inside. That’s because it was tough for Cal when we were growing up.”

  “You were quite poor,” she said.

  “We were. Our father was a good man and he had an education. But you know that. When Cal and I were small, Da had a good job as overseer at the docks, but one night he was robbed on the way home. Beaten real bad, and it changed him. He couldn’t think so well anymore. He got headaches. Lost his job because he couldn’t do the work—there was a fire and he evacuated the warehouse. He saved everyone, but the goods inside were burned and destroyed. Father lost his job because the factory owner said he should have tried to put the fire out and save the building.”

  “That’s terrible. Of course he could not have done that!” she gasped.

  “I know. But that’s the way it was. After he lost that job, Da couldn’t get any other work. Mam went to work sewing clothes. Da ended up driving a rag-and-bone cart to earn some money. But he wouldn’t pay protection to the local gangs. He was working to shut them down—to get poor people out of their control.”