"I realised my own frailty and failings. May I tell you something, Emelia—something difficult?"
She considered for a moment, something that made him smile, and then nodded. "Yes."
"I do feel guilty, overwhelmingly so. I feel guilty for my father's death, and I feel that I let him down."
"He was so proud of you, though. Brody always said so, and you only had to be in the room with the man to see how much he loved you."
"That's just it." Montgomery pushed back against the lump that threatened in his throat. "He was so proud of me, and I didn't deserve it. I wasn't as devoted to my studies as I should have been, for one. I grew up eventually, but when I first went into the city to practice medicine I got caught up in a crowd of people that enjoyed late nights and the gambling tables. You may well look surprised, especially considering how often I spoke against them in my youth. I thought that I would never stoop to such frivolous pastimes, but that just shows how little one really knows oneself. As soon as I got a taste of the tables, I was hooked. It was months before I pulled myself away from them and re-devoted myself to my studies."
"Months?" Something in Emelia's tone gave Montgomery pause.
"Yes, what of it?"
She smiled and leaned forward, setting her fingers for the slightest of moments on his forearm and then pulling them away again just as quickly. "For a few months, when you were a young lad, you enjoyed the gaming table. This is the sort of thing that is leaving you embroiled in guilt?"
"My father never knew. I feel I betrayed him."
"But it was such a small moment, and yet you're acting as though all the good things you've done are overshadowed by that one moment."
"There were other things—I thought of him every time I did badly on a test or lost a patient. I still think of that today. I think that he sacrificed so much so that I could be a doctor and a gentleman, and everything I fail in is another reason why he chose the wrong son to invest in."
They were quiet for a moment, and Montgomery felt the sound of the rain easing the truth out of him. Emelia spoke at last, her voice tender.
"Dr. Shaw, I have a thought about all that you have shared, and I hope that you will not be offended."
"Call me Montgomery."
"Montgomery, then."
He nodded, and she went on.
"I think that the only way your father would be truly disappointed is if he thought his investment in you had become a burden rather than a gift. I knew him. He was kind and good, and he never would have wanted to see you laboring under guilt because you were a human with failings like anyone else. He chose you because he knew you were a scholar and a dedicated man who would see the doctoring through to the end. And you did. I think if you really want to honor him you should do it with a good action, not a cloak of guilt."
"A good action?" Montgomery raised his eyebrows.
"Yes. Dedicate something to him."
Montgomery smiled. "Now that you're hitting on it, I had been thinking that I want to practice medicine amongst some of the neediest people in England, rather than the castles of the rich or the great halls in London. I had thought that father would like that, and I would as well."
"That's because you have the same heart that he had," Emelia said. "He passed down his love of mankind, and as serious as you try to be, you share the same love. Lean into that legacy your father left behind, and don't make him out to be some sort of monster who would hold a few months of gambling over your head for an eternity."
Montgomery looked at Emelia with a feeling of amazement spreading inside him. She was right; of course she was right, and he was only surprised that he hadn't pieced all this out in his own heart before. He'd been so overwhelmed by the guilt that he hadn't been able to crawl out and see it for what it was—a distraction from his father, not an honoring of him.
"His love was unconditional in life," Montgomery said slowly, "I don't know why I've given it conditions in the case of his death." He tilted his head to the side. "Thank you for saying what you did, and for listening to the truth of my thoughts on the matter. I don't know how long I would have continued under the misconceptions I held if we hadn't spoken."
She nodded and looked down at her hands. The rain had slowed outside, and Montgomery looked out over the field. The house was in the distance, and beyond that, the gatehouse. He knew he should talk about leaving and move towards Brody and Hannah once again, but he felt he could have sat here in the damp folly for hours rather than sacrifice this moment with Emelia.
Chapter 21
Emelia listened to the raindrops slowing, wishing with everything in her that they would pick up again and give her a reason to stay longer in the little folly with Montgomery. He had blessed her so much with his honesty, and he looked so handsome and casual there across from her with the ballooning sleeves of his shirt, his untied cravat, and his ruffled brown hair.
When at last he stood and said, "We ought to find the others," though, she knew it had been coming.
She stood and hugged herself, feeling the chill for the first time. "You're right."
They set off across the yard towards the house, but when they neared it Emelia saw Hannah step out of the gatehouse and wave something dark and square in their direction.
"They found blankets," Emelia said, laughing a little. The moment they'd shared in the folly had been sweet and honest, but now she felt a certain air of caution dropping over their interaction again. She wasn't sure if it was because she was on guard after Montgomery's vulnerability or if he was the one on his guard, but either way she could feel walls going back up again, and she didn't want them to.
"So we didn't need to break up and go different directions after all," he said.
Emelia nodded in silence. When they reached the gatehouse and stepped inside, Emelia remembered for the first time the reason she'd left with Montgomery in the first place. There was Brody and Hannah on the stone floor of the house, all the windows open so the fresh, rainy air could pour inside, sitting on three spread blankets with the food out in the middle. They'd already started eating and only looked up to wave Montgomery and Emelia into the room.
"I call this a spot of luck," Brody said, nudging Hannah with his elbow and pretending to be surprised at Emelia and Montgomery's appearance at the door. "Imagine finding the very people who set off in search of blankets, here at last with no blankets, soaked to the skin."
"Are you cold?" Hannah waved them over, laughing a little. Emelia could see a shine in her eyes, and guessed that at the very least her plan to give Brody some private time with Hannah had resulted in Hannah's happiness.
"No, I'm drying out." Emelia came and sank down to her knees beside Hannah. Montgomery came and sat by his brother. Emelia tore off a small piece of bread to keep her hands occupied and waved her hands at the two who'd beat them to the gatehouse. "I see you made it before the rain."
"We took the shorter way, of course, but when we'd reached the creek Brody saw the sky and insisted it was going to rain. I told him it wouldn't, not on Emelia's picnic day, but Brody said that was just why it would rain." She gave a light laugh, tilting her head back. "And he was right. Thankfully we were here in the gatehouse before the first drops fell, and that's where we found the blankets."
"Wonderful." Emelia took a bite of bread. "I think things worked out better than they would have done if we'd been trapped on the overlook in a storm."
"You're quiet, brother," Brody said, sobering a bit. "Were you sad to be deprived of our lovely company?"
Emelia wondered if he was making a comment about Hannah but for once Brody seemed to have forgotten his grand plan to bring Hannah and Montgomery together, and he seemed to be, at the very least, at peace with his current situation.
"Actually," Montgomery said, "I was just thinking that if this really is the time—" he nodded at a clock on the wall, "—I ought to go. It was a good bit of entertainment, but I must head into town to meet with the doctor and set up rounds for tomorrow. I have
serious work to attend to."
Emelia felt his words slice at her. She tried not to be hurt by his manner, but the implication was strong that the time in the folly and the disaster of a picnic had been a waste of time; a distraction from the serious work that Montgomery was trained to do. She dropped her eyes to the slip of bread in her fingers and said nothing while Hannah and Brody bid Montgomery goodbye.
"Miss Emelia?" he asked. She looked up. "Would you help show me to the gate?"
Emelia stood, a little confused. It was the role of a hostess to do such a thing, of course, but under the circumstances she could hardly think the haphazard picnic goers would hold her to traditional hosting rules. She followed Montgomery outside, setting aside the bread as she did so, and when they were at the gate he turned to her.
"I saw your face when I said the bit about my work." He took a step closer, too close for comfort, and Emelia swallowed hard. "I just want you to know that I enjoyed our discussion today," he said quietly. "I regret nothing, and I look forward to our next conversation."
Then, in a moment, he was gone.
Chapter 22
"There's no accounting for it," Mr. Wells said when the girls met him in the breakfasting room the next morning. "I've never known a breakfast to be so sparse."
The table was laid with only a bit of fruit and cold bread, along with a tankard of milk. Emelia found her mind was otherwise occupied with the events of the day before and thoughts of her conversation with Montgomery, and Hannah was equally engaged with remembrances of whatever had passed between her and Brody; but their father was more concerned with the immediate practicalities of life.
"Not even soft boiled eggs to speak of," he said, clearing his throat and tapping the hard crust of the bread with annoyance. "And the bread isn't toasted."
Hannah sat down and poured herself some milk. "We should ask after the housekeeper to see what is awry."
Emelia frowned, Hannah's words awakening something in her. It was, after all, odd that the cook had put such a meal before them, and beyond that just the day before she'd left the blankets out of the picnic, something that was unusual for someone as fastidious as she to overlook. Emelia pushed back her chair and stood again.
"I'll be back shortly," she said, "I'm just going to make certain everything is alright below stairs." It's what her mother would have done and, as the lady of the house, Emelia took it upon herself.
The servants’ quarters were strangely silent when she descended the stairs, and the hallway was dark. The kitchen had a small fire in the hearth, but the counters were all spotless; clearly no one had been working in there this morning. She called out tentatively, "Aggie?"
No answer.
Then the housekeeper stuck her head around the corner and gave a little curtsy. "My lady. I'm so sorry, but I haven't had a chance to come up and tend to your meal yet. Things have gone awry down here, and I was going to come up and explain everything." A concerned look sped across her face. "It's the cook."
"What's the matter?" Emelia stepped forward.
"She's ill." The housekeeper hovered in the doorway, obviously uncertain about whether or not to expose Emelia to what was inside the room, but Emelia took matters into her own hands, pushing gently past the older woman and into the room where Aggie lay, pale and sweating, beneath some blankets.
Emelia put a hand to the woman's head. "She feels very warm," she said softly. "Have you given her anything yet?"
"No. She was unwell yesterday so I sent her to bed early and served you the leftover stew from the night before, but today—I think she's taken a turn for the worse. When the stable boy came in I thought to send him into town for the doctor."
Emelia bit her lip and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but the doctor's handed over his patients to Dr. Shaw and gone on holiday for a week by the seaside." She paused for a moment and then made a quick decision. "I'll go for him. Try and keep cool cloths on Aggie's head, and push fluids. I think a bit of tea would do well. Don't worry about upstairs, I'll let Hannah know to keep the servants on track, and I'm sure she and Papa will be happier with a simpler fare for now."
"Thank you, my lady."
Emelia nodded and took off upstairs as quickly as she could. She was already wearing her emerald green riding dress, for she'd intended to ride later that day, so after explaining everything that she could to Hannah and her father she tied on a wide brimmed hat, threw a cloak over her shoulders, and went to the livery to fetch the carriage.
"Are you sure?" Hannah had said as she made her way outside. "One of the servants could go."
"I'm sure," she'd answered, feeling a little pit of guilt in her stomach that Aggie was feeling so ill the day before and Emelia hadn't even noticed. "I know it will be quicker if I go, anyway."
The carriage ride to the Shaw estate seemed to take forever, though. At times, Emelia wondered if it would be quicker if she'd cut across the shortcut between the back properties instead of taking the roads, but when she arrived at the house and knocked on the door she quickly found herself thankful for the ride.
"Neither of the Shaw brothers is here," the butler answered gravely. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, my lady."
"I'm in desperate need of a doctor."
"The Honorable Brody Shaw rode into the neighboring village for a house call and won't be back today," the butler went on as though he hadn't heard her, "and Dr. Shaw is in our own village all day caring for sick people at the clinic for the poor. I'm sure your ladyship wouldn't want to risk going down there on your own."
Indeed, Emelia had never been to the clinic for the poor, and if it weren't for the thought of poor Aggie languishing away at home, she wouldn't have likely had the courage to attempt the trip. Still, as things were, she didn't see that she had any choice.
"Is it the low building on the outskirts of town, behind the parson's house?"
"No, my lady. It's down by the orphanage. The brick affair."
Emelia blinked. She'd seen that building before but had thought it to be some sort stable, not a place where human beings were cared for during their most vulnerable times. She nodded, and cleared her throat. "Then I will go there directly. If Dr. Shaw returns in my absence, please tell him to go over to the Wells house at once and take care of the cook who is deathly ill there."
Then she turned and made her way down the great marble staircase and back to her carriage below. The entire ride to the village, Emelia thought about Aggie lying sick downstairs and hoped that Montgomery would be able to help. When the carriage pulled up outside the clinic she climbed out quickly and motioned down the street.
"You can park the carriage over there," she said gently, noting the shabby surroundings. "I don't want to make a scene."
The driver nodded and took the carriage on. Emelia turned and surveyed the building in front of her. It was two stories tall, surrounded by a low brick wall with a little gate in the front. Beyond that, the similarity to a building in a sweet country village faded completely.
The door was faded and out front three people sat huddled forward on the steps. As Emelia walked up, one of the men raised his head and looked at her with an empty, faraway expression, then dropped his head again onto his knees in silence.
Emelia knocked once on the door and waited. After a moment, the man raised his head again.
"They don't have no butler."
Emelia nodded, blushing. Of course they didn't have time or people to answer the door all the time. She turned the handle and stepped inside. It was hardly what she had expected. The entire first floor of building spread out in front of her with only a few support columns blocking her view.
All the walls had been taken down and in their place were cots and bed pans and chairs. There was one staircase at the far end of the room that doubtless led upstairs, and near her was a desk behind which sat a dour woman in a navy uniform. The woman looked up in surprise at the sight of her.
A Lady's Perfect Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 16
