The Truth About Lady Felkirk

by Christine Merrill

  They were at the door of her bedroom now and she gave the duchess a light kiss on the cheek to prove that it was, indeed, all right. ‘I think I should like to lie down before dinner.’

  ‘Of course,’ Penny replied. ‘Now that your husband is better, you must take care of yourself. And you will want to look your best for him, should Will be able to come to down for his meal.’

  Justine smiled and nodded, and prayed he would not. It would mean another inquisition, nearly on the heels of the last one. She needed time to plan and create answers for the questions he would ask. She wasted no time, once the door was closed. A moment’s hesitation might cause her to doubt the wisdom of what she had done so far. And that doubt would lead to weakness, and eventual doom. Had not bitter experience taught her that only the strong survived?

  She would be strong, even if it meant that she would not be happy. She went to the bedside candle and lit it, carrying it to the little table in front of the window, where she was sure it could be seen from a distance.

  It was still burning when she left the room for dinner.

  Chapter Three

  Will was beginning to fear that Penny had been correct in her suggestion that he use a Bath chair. If he lacked the strength to walk across his own room, there was no way he could manage the stairs to the ground floor without help from the servants. If he had to stagger to get down them, it would take all his energy to avoid the indignity of being carried back upstairs after.

  As if it was not enough to lose memory and strength, he seemed prone to nerves—he started at the least little thing. He’d lain in bed, straining to hear the conversation in the hall, as Penny assured the mysterious Justine that everything would be fine. As he’d done so, he was overcome with the fear that the family was plotting against him, with the stranger. Even the entrance of his valet, with clean linen and shaving gear, set his heart to pounding. He’d been so sure of himself, before. Perhaps the blow had addled his brain, and the confidence would never return.

  He refused to believe it. He would not spend the rest of his life hiding in his room and starting at shadows. If he worked to make it so, his life might be as it once was.

  But now, he had a wife.

  He did not wish to think of her, either. After he’d composed himself, it was a comfort to see his valet, Stewart. It was good to be clean, shaved and dressed in something other than a nightshirt. But it embarrassed him that he’d had to be helped into a sitting position and moved about like a mannequin when his limbs would not stay steady enough to help with trousers and coat.

  His man had made no comment on it, other than to examine his cheek and remark that her ladyship was nearly as good with a razor as he, and might have made an excellent valet, had God blessed her enough to make her male.

  ‘She shaved me?’ Why did it bother him to imagine that graceful hand holding the blade to his throat?

  Stewart smiled. ‘She did everything for you, my lord. She was so attentive that all breathed a sigh of relief when she was not in the room. We feared she would exhaust herself with the effort.’

  The man had said all as though he referred to both servants and family. It seemed that everyone in the house was taken with the love and dedication that the mysterious Justine had brought to her nursing. ‘What else do the servants say of my new wife?’ If there was any below-stairs gossip, Stewart would know of it. Hopefully, he owed enough loyalty to his master to give an honest opinion.

  The man broke out in a grin. ‘She is quite the finest woman in Wales, my lord. Gentle and kind, with a way about her that makes all in the household easy about the change. She has not spent much time with us, as yet. Your brother deemed it easier to keep you here than in your own home.’ Will smiled to himself. For the first time in the discussion, there was the slightest hint of disapproval, and it was because a duke had the gall to overrule his servants in doing what was best for him.

  Stewart was smiling again. ‘We shall soon have you back with us, now that you are better, and all will be right again. And we shall have her ladyship as well.’ The smile grew even broader, as though this addition was not so much a bother as the candied violet on top of a sweet.

  Very well, then. All of Wales adored his wife. Logic dictated that he should as well. Had it not been pleasant to see her face, to hear her voice and to feel her gentle touch as he awoke? If he was still whole in body, he should have found it arousing to think that this lovely creature was familiar with the most intimate features of his anatomy. Those soft white hands had touched him as a lover, even as he’d lain helpless.

  ‘Be careful, my lord.’ His shudder at the thought had brought a caution from Stewart, whose scissors hovered near to Will’s ear as the hair around it was trimmed.

  Will took a deep breath and steadied himself. ‘That is my intention, Stewart. From now on, I will be very careful, indeed.’

  * * *

  Despite the difficulties involved, Will took supper in the dining room with the family. Though his legs were still too watery to hold him, he could not stand the thought of a meal on a bed tray. Nor could he repress the nagging suspicion that if he was absent, he would be the main topic of conversation. On his way to the ground floor, he held tight to the stair rail and managed to ward off the sudden vertigo as he walked. A footman supported his other arm. While crossing the hall, he’d tried and rejected a walking stick, for his arms were not strong enough to hold it. By God, he would practise in his room, all day if necessary. He would be himself again.

  Once he was seated at the dinner table, he felt almost normal. He’d practised sitting up in a chair until he was sure he was steady. And while he might not have an appetite for all the courses, he was still damned hungry. According to Stewart, they’d been giving him nothing but gruel from a pap cup for weeks. The very act of holding knife and fork was enough to raise his spirits, though the use of them was problematic.

  It was after dropping yet another bite of fish, as he tried to guide it to his mouth, that he realised the hush that had fallen over the table. They were all watching him intently, as he ate.

  He threw his fork aside. ‘It is not any easier, when one is being stared at, you know.’

  ‘Perhaps, if I were to cut your...’ The woman, Justine, was leaning towards his plate, ready to slice his food as though he were too young to manage it himself.

  ‘Certainly not,’ he barked at her. In response, there was a nervous shifting of the other diners and his brother cleared his throat, as though to remind Will of his manners.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he grumbled. He was annoyed with her offer and even more so with himself for behaving like a lout. ‘It is difficult.’

  ‘Soon it will be easier,’ she promised and signalled a footman, whispering a request.

  With that, another course appeared, just for him. A ragout of beef had been poured into a tankard and there was a soft bit of bread as well. It was peasant fare and his table manners were a match for it. His hands shook as he brought the mug to his mouth and he wiped away any spillage with the bread. It embarrassed him to be so careless. But the others at table seemed so happy that he could eat at all, they ignored the manner of it and conversation returned to normal.

  He could feel his strength returning with each bite. By the time he had finished, his hands had stopped shaking and he felt warm and comfortably full inside. Though it annoyed him to have to do so, he gave Justine a brief nod of thanks.

  In response, she gave a modest incline of her head as if saying it was her honour to serve him. He might not know what to make of her sudden appearance in his life, but she seemed to feel no such confusion. Though she barely looked at him over dinner, she was ever aware of his needs and quick to see them tended to. The moment she’d realised his problem, she had moved to help him, while allowing him some small amount of dignity.

  Would it be so bad to find that he had
married a beauty willing to devote her life to his health and happiness? Tonight, she was wearing a dinner gown of moss-green silk. It might have seemed dull on another woman, but it brought out the colour of her eyes. The cut was lower than her day dress had been, but still quite modest. While it revealed a graceful neck and smooth shoulders, the hint of bosom visible made a man wonder all the more about the rest of her. And on her head was the same starched cap from the afternoon, hiding most of her curled hair.

  It was hardly fair that he could not remember knowing her before she’d put on the modest trappings of marriage and covered her head. His brother’s wife rarely bothered with such things. But that was less from a desire to display her white-blonde hair and more from a total uninterest in fashion.

  In Justine’s case, such attire felt less like modesty and more like a desire to hide something that he most wanted to see. It was the same for her pretty eyes that were cast down at her food instead of looking at him, and her beautiful voice, which did not speak unless spoken to. She was like a closed book, careful not to reveal too much. She stayed so quiet and still until the dessert was cleared away. Then she offered a curtsy and retired to the sitting room with Penny, leaving the men alone with their port.

  ‘Can you manage the glass?’ Adam asked, pouring for them both, ‘or will it be too difficult?’

  ‘For your cellars, I will make the effort,’ Will said, wanting nothing more than a stiff drink to relieve the tension.

  ‘See that you do not snap my head off, if you fail,’ his brother added with a smile. ‘Your wife may not mind it, but if I have any more trouble out of you I will call for the governess to put you to bed like your infant nephew.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Will said, still not feeling particularly apologetic. ‘I have the devil of a megrim.’ He frowned. ‘But do not call for laudanum. If, as you say, I have been asleep for months, I do not relish the thought of drugged slumber tonight.’

  ‘If?’ Adam looked at him with arched eyebrows and took a sip of his drink. ‘Tell me, William. You have known me all your life. In that time, have I ever lied to you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said, staring down into his drink and feeling foolish for sounding so sceptical. Then he added, ‘But I have known you, on occasion, to believe the lies of others.’

  Adam nodded. ‘Who do you think is lying to me now? And how could they have managed, against such clear-cut evidence? I have watched you insensible in that bed upstairs for nearly two months. There was no question about the severity of your injury, or your nearness to death.’

  ‘But you were not there at the time of the accident,’ he prodded.

  ‘No,’ Adam agreed, ‘I was not.’

  ‘And you believe the story told by this Justine de Bryun?’

  ‘Yes, I believe her story,’ Adam replied. ‘But her name is Lady Justine Felkirk. Because she is your wife.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Will slammed his fist down on the table in frustration, making the crystal glasses shudder. I know that you were not at the wedding. ‘Have you seen the licence?’

  Adam did not hesitate. ‘You married in Gretna, just as I did. No licence was necessary.’

  ‘Then why do you believe her?’ Will pressed him. ‘What evidence do you have, other than the word of this stranger? How do you know that she is not responsible for the state I am in?’

  His brother responded with a quelling look and said, ‘Because I can find no reason to explain why she would injure you, then arrive at my home, exhausted from days spent in a coach, cradling your broken head in her lap, so that she might nurse you back to health.’

  ‘Perhaps she is not at fault,’ Will admitted, feeling even more foolish. ‘But that does not mean I married her. If I experienced a grand passion that moved me to act so rashly as to wed, I would hope to feel some residue of it.’

  ‘Residue?’ Adam was smiling now. ‘You speak of love as if it were a noxious mould.’

  ‘Is it natural that I should forget a woman who looks like that?’ Even his happily married brother must have noticed that Justine de Bryun was a beauty worthy of memory. ‘Is it normal that I feel nothing, when I look at her?’

  ‘Nothing?’ his brother said in surprise.

  Will shrugged. That last had not been precisely true. There was not a man alive who could look at his alleged wife and feel nothing. But surely he should not feel such a strange mix of suspicion and desire.

  ‘Nothing about these last few months have been natural,’ his brother said as though that explanation would be any comfort. ‘But I can tell you that the one thing we have all grown to count on, since you were returned to us in such an unfortunate condition, was the love of your Justine. She never wavered in her loyalty to you, no matter how unlikely recovery seemed.’

  ‘I do not fault her for her devotion,’ Will said. ‘But a compassionate stranger might have done the same for me.’

  ‘She is more than that to you, I am sure,’ Adam said. ‘Once we knew her, I could not help but love her, as I am sure you did. She is not simply devoted and beautiful, she is talented as well. Good company, well mannered, the very opposite of the sort of empty-headed chits that sought you out in London.’

  ‘It is all well and good that you love her,’ Will reminded him. ‘But you have a wife of your own.’

  ‘Do not be an idiot,’ Adam said with a snort. ‘Penny loves her as well. They are practically sisters. In two months she has become like a member of our family.’

  ‘That does not explain why I married her,’ Will announced. ‘Nor does it explain why you were willing to take her into the house with such a sham story as the one she brought. Sudden elopements? Riding accidents? That does not sound at all plausible. Have you ever known me to make major decisions on a whim? Do I drink to excess, bet foolishly, race my horses, or take up with strange women?’

  ‘You are the most sensible of men,’ Adam agreed. ‘Almost too sensible to be a younger brother. It is I who should be lecturing you. I remember the way you scolded me, when I brought Penny to London...’

  ‘Let us not speak of it,’ Will said, holding up a hand. ‘I was wrong. But as you say, I am almost too cautious. That is why I doubt the events as they have been presented to me. It is totally out of character for me to behave in such a way as Justine de Bryun ascribes to me. And you have only her word for the truth of it.’

  Adam frowned and then admitted, ‘We did doubt, at first. But once we knew her, all doubts were gone.’

  ‘For what reason?’ Will said, frustrated almost to anger.

  ‘Because once we had spoken to her, it was clear she was exactly the sort of woman you’d have chosen for yourself. She is level-headed, wise, calm in adversity and has a quick wit. Her tastes and opinions, her sense of humour, and the hours she keeps? All are a perfect match to yours.’ Adam shook his head in amazement. ‘She is obviously your soul’s mate, Will. How could you have married anyone else?’

  ‘You cannot be serious,’ he said. He thought back to his interactions with the girl, who would barely look him in the eye, much less speak aloud, and wondered if that was truly what others saw in him.

  Adam smiled. ‘I know it is difficult, at the moment, But you must have seen these qualities yourself, when you met her. It was clearly a matter of like attracting like. Trust me, Will. More accurately, the two of you are like iron and a lodestone. She has been nearly inseparable from you since the first moment she arrived. She allows herself a brief walk each morning, but other than that, she was never far from your side.’

  ‘Except at night,’ Will added. The thought of such constant scrutiny felt almost oppressive.

  ‘Most nights, she slept on a cot in your dressing room,’ Adam said. ‘She wanted to be near if you awakened. There was no part of your care too lowly that she would not at least attempt it.’

  There was that thrill of f
ear again, that he had felt as he’d thought of her holding a razor. She was certainly as lovely as Delilah. Could she not be as dangerous as well?

  But it seemed that Adam had no such worries. ‘She has worked, from the first, as though she already possessed your love and admiration. I am sure you will find it again, once you are fully recovered. In the mean time, if you cannot trust your own heart, trust your family. All will be well. Now finish your drink and let me help you to your room. No doubt you will feel differently in the morning.’

  And when had he ever trusted his heart when making such a momentous decision? As Adam shepherded him up the stairs, there was no point in telling him the futility of that advice. The heart was a capricious organ, likely to say the opposite of his poor dented skull. As his valet helped him prepare for bed, he still felt headachy and weak, and utterly confused. He did not dare tell Stewart, or even his brother, that, now that it was dark, he dreaded returning to the bed he had lain in for so long. Suppose he closed his eyes and opened them to discover that he had lost another half a year?

  Surely that would not happen. He had improved since the afternoon. While the pain and confusion remained, the blank slate of his memory had begun to fill again, even if the scrawls he imagined on it were written in someone else’s hand. Now, he must sleep, even though he did not feel tired. In the morning, he would walk, though he had no real desire to move. Little by little he would fight off the stupor and force body and mind to function at his command.

  Stewart departed and there was the softest of knocks on the door. Without waiting for his answer, Justine entered, silent as a ghost in her plain linen nightdress.

  And here was another appetite that had nothing to do with the condition of heart or mind. When he looked at Justine, desire did not need memory, just the evidence of his eyes. Her body would be soft and warm under the fall of thin white cloth and she would press it to his, should he demand it of her. They could dispense with the gown entirely and the ridiculous nightcap she wore with it. And for a time, he would forget any fears of past or future and revel in a glorious present. Perhaps a repeat of what they had already done would jar some knowledge in him.