The Six Month Marriage

by Amanda Grange

  He set off again, towards the Manor.

  ‘Welcome back, my lord,’ said Crump as Philip strode through the door.

  ‘Thank you, Crump,’ said Philip, pleased to be home ahead of the snow that threatened to fall from the heavy sky overhead. ‘Where is the Countess?’ he asked, as he divested himself of his many-caped greatcoat and his riding gloves.

  ‘She has gone to York, my lord.’

  ‘Good,’ said Philip, thinking she must have gone shopping and pleased that she was enjoying a little relaxation after all her hard work organising the fête. ‘Did she say when she’ll be back?’

  ‘I believe, my lord, that she does not intend to come back. Mr Greer was here,’ explained Crump, ‘and I believe he handed over the keys to the house in York. Her ladyship left a few hours later, my lord.’

  ‘When was this?’ demanded Philip. This was far from the happy homecoming he had expected.

  ‘Two days ago, my lord. Shortly after you left.’

  ‘‘Thank you, Crump,’ said Philip. He was unwilling to display any emotion in front of his trusted butler and retired to the library where he knew he would not be disturbed.

  Why had she gone to York? he asked himself. Had she objected to him helping Jack? No. He didn’t believe it. Had he frightened her by taking her to bed? No. He remembered her response too clearly for that. She had not been frightened but had rejoiced in their union, as he had.

  But why, then, had she sent for the keys to the York house? And why had she left the Manor without any explanation?

  He refused to give way to the sense of loss that threatened to engulf him. There must be a reason for her leaving. Was she still afraid of marriage? Was that why she had left? he wondered. Had she guessed he meant to ask her to make the marriage real? And had she been frightened by the idea? He did not know. But he was determined to find out, because he was too deeply in love with Madeline to draw back now. He must go to York; find her; speak to her. Whatever her fears, he would help her to overcome them.

  Without stopping to rest he called for a fresh horse and as the sky darkened overhead he set out for York.

  To begin with, Madeline had hoped that Philip might follow her to York, but as the days passed the unrealistic dream faded. Finally realising that she must try and let go of the past she turned her energies into making the York house as home-like as she could, whilst Jenny set about buying provisions, and then she devoted her thoughts to the festive season. She had hoped to be spending Christmas at the Manor but as it was not to be, she must make the York house as festive as possible. It would cheer both her and Jenny if the house was decorated. With this end in mind she decided to go out and gather some greenery. She intended to come home with a large basketful to surprise Jenny. It would lift their spirits to tuck holly behind the mirrors and trail ivy round the candlesticks.

  Telling Jenny that she was going out to run some last-minute errands she selected a large basket from the kitchen whilst Jenny fetched her outdoor things. She was just about to don her pelisse when there was a knock at the door and Jenny went to answer it. A minute later the little maid returned.

  ‘Miss Bligh, miss,’ she said woodenly.

  ‘My dear Madeline,’ said Letitia, walking into the room a second later looking every bit as elegant as usual. Her cloak was made of the finest wool and was lavishly trimmed with fur. Beneath it she wore a fashionable pelisse and underneath it a glimpse of her silk walking dress could be seen. On her head was perched an exquisite feathered bonnet.

  Madeline felt herself grow hot and then cold. What was Letitia doing here? ‘Miss Bligh,’ she said with a calmness she was far from feeling.

  Letitia looked round the room. ‘This really is a beautiful house,’ she said. ‘And how well you have settled in.’

  Letitia’s tone was patronising, and Madeline wondered once again how Philip could be so determined to marry her. Letitia would not make him happy . . . Madeline caught herself up for thinking about things that were not her concern.

  ‘But you were about to go out,’ said Letitia, seeing Madeline’s pelisse and cloak.

  ‘Yes.’ Madeline gave an inward sigh of relief that her cloak and pelisse were in the room. A prolonged visit from Letitia would have tried her self-control to the utmost. ‘I was about to go and collect some greenery to decorate the house.’

  ‘What an excellent idea. I know a good spot on the other side of the river. There is a holly bush, and plenty of ivy. There used to be mistletoe as well. In fact, I think I will go with you. I need a little more myself. Besides, it is on the way to my carriage.’

  It was the last thing Madeline wanted, but she could not prevent Letitia from accompanying her. She put on her outdoor clothes, pulling on her gloves and catching up her basket, and then the two women went out into the winter’s day. A soft covering of snow lay on the ground. It was beautiful. If she had been alone Madeline would have been enjoying the scene. As it was, she felt on edge.

  ‘I expect you’re wondering why I have come,’ said Letitia, breaking off a moment later to guide Madeline towards a tributary of the river. ‘But I just had to thank you for all you’ve done for us. Without you, Philip would not have been able to claim his fortune and we would not have been able to marry.’

  Madeline said nothing. Letitia clearly wanted to torment her but she was not prepared to let her unhappiness show.

  The sky darkened, and more snow began to fall. Soft large flakes drifted lazily down from the sky.

  ‘We go across the bridge,’ said Letitia, pointing out the narrow wooden span. It was not designed for horse traffic, and was wide enough for only one person to walk across at once. It was covered with a thick layer of snow, and more flakes were falling all the time. Letitia looked up at the dark sky. ‘Perhaps we had better quicken our pace.’

  They had almost reached the bridge when Letitia gave an impatient exclamation. ‘My boot lace has come undone. No, don’t wait. The weather is growing worse. I will catch you up.’

  Madeline went on ahead, hurrying through the worsening snow to the bridge. She began to cross, meaning to wait for Letitia on the other side. But she had hardly gone halfway when there was an ominous splintering noise and the wood beneath her gave way. She tried to jump to the sound wood beyond but the bridge was slippery and she missed her footing, dropping through the gaping hole that had opened in the middle of the bridge.

  The basket fell out of her hand and plunged into the icy water racing below, but she managed to catch hold of one of the bridge supports with her right hand. For a moment she hardly dare breathe as she hung suspended above the fast-moving waters, but the support was strong and bore her weight. The first shock of the fall over, she swung herself a little, trying to build up enough momentum to carry her other hand close enough to the bridge to gain another handhold.

  She tried and failed, but to her relief she saw that Letitia had tied her lace and had reached the bridge. Even now, Letitia was making her way carefully across, testing her footholds before committing her full weight to a new plank, until she stood almost directly above Madeline.

  ‘Hold onto the handrail,’ called Madeline, ‘and then give me your other hand.’ For the first time in her life she was grateful for Letitia’s presence.

  But instead of making any move to help her, Letitia looked down at her with cold, hard eyes. ‘Give you my hand? Why would I want to do that?’

  Madeline’s face registered her shock, and Letitia gave a cold, mirthless laugh.

  ‘How sad!’ she said. ‘The noble Countess swept away by the current on Christmas Eve! It quite breaks my heart.’

  ‘Help me up,’ cried Madeline in desperation.

  ‘Help you up? So that you can steal from me everything that is rightfully mine? Oh, no, Madeline. I am not going to sink into poverty and obscurity whilst you run the Manor. Stonecrop is mine. I am going to be the Countess of Pemberton and neither you nor anyone else is going to stand in my way.’

  ‘But you already have it,�
�� said Madeline, her arm aching with the strain of hanging beneath the bridge, wondering what Letitia could possibly mean. ‘In a few more days Philip will be able to claim his fortune and then he will have the marriage annulled and you will have everything you want.’

  ‘Everything I want?’ Letitia’s voice was amazed. But then she began to laugh. ‘How rich! You don’t know, do you! Oh! It’s too rich, it really is! You still think Philip means to marry me.’ Her laughter degenerated into giggles. ‘It is too fine a jest! Philip has no intention of marrying me. He is in love with you. He has been in love with you for months. And you haven’t even realised it!’

  ‘In love with me?’ asked Madeline in astonishment. But then her astonishment faded as she realised that what Letitia was saying was true. ‘Philip is in love with me,’ she said. A smile washed over her face. She was hanging from a broken bridge with the icy waters of the river running beneath her and her tormentor above her, and yet life in all its strangeness was giving her the happiest moment she had ever known. Philip was in love with her. For one wonderful moment that thought blotted out everything else.

  ‘Yes.’ Letitia’s ground out word brought her back to the reality of her situation. ‘In love with you.’

  ‘Then . . . he didn’t go to you?’

  Letitia’s smile was malicious. ‘That was a good touch, was it not? It was Danson who thought of it. He kept the note that Philip wrote for you, explaining where he had gone and why. After that, it was a simple matter to make you think he had gone to me. A few choice words to your maid, and the damage was done.’

  ‘But Mr Greer . . . ?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘Ah yes. Mr Greer. Mr Greer has been very useful one way and another. It was an easy matter to persuade him to take you the keys of the York house so that you would think Philip wanted you to move out of the Manor. Mr Greer will do anything for money.’

  ‘But why?’ gasped Madeline.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? I knew you would be much more vulnerable here than you would be at Stonecrop, where you had a house full of servants, to say nothing of the faithful Jenkins, watching over you.’

  Jenkins! If only she had not told him she would no longer be needing him now that she was moving to York, thought Madeline miserably.

  ‘Besides, I knew this bridge was rotten,’ went on Letitia. ‘It was the perfect way to dispose of you.’

  ‘But when Philip returns —’ protested Madeline.

  ‘He will find you are dead. Leaving the way open for him to marry me.’

  ‘No!’ Madeline thought desperately for a way to dissuade Letitia. ‘The marriage hasn’t run its course. Philip won’t be able to claim his inheritance if you let me drown.’

  ‘I’m sure the lawyers won’t quibble over a day or two in the face of your sad demise. But if they do, well, Philip will still be able to make me a countess, if not a fabulously wealthy one. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I can’t stand here all day. Goodbye, Madeline.’

  ‘No!’ called Madeline.

  But Letitia was already making her way back across the bridge, and was soon swallowed up by the whirling snow.

  Alone again, Madeline realised that no one would be coming to help her. Steeling herself for the effort she tried to pull herself up onto the bridge. Once, twice, three times she tried, but her arms were not strong enough, and on the fourth attempt she slipped and fell into the icy waters below.

  But even as the river closed over her head she did not give up. Philip loved her. And she was determined to fight with every last ounce of her strength for life.

  A feeling of foreboding overcame Philip as he strode towards the river. He had ridden to the York house on leaving the Manor but once there he had found that Madeline had just gone out. And worse, he had discovered that she had just gone out with Letitia. His conversation with Jenny had filled him with unease. Why had Letitia visited Madeline? To make mischief? His mouth set in a grim line.

  His strides became longer as he followed the path Letitia and Madeline had taken. Thank goodness he could not be too far behind them. He had learnt from Jenny that Letitia had told Madeline there was a good spot for greenery on the other side of the river, and by dint of questioning the few people who were out on the streets in the snow, finishing their last minute purchases for the festive season, he was able to discover exactly which way they had gone and then to follow.

  He was drawing near a tributary of the river now, and could see the bridge that spanned it. And on it - could that be Letitia? Yes. Despite the swirling snow he recognised her by her height. But she was hurrying back across the bridge and was swallowed up by a sudden flurry. Philip did not give her a second thought. It was not Letitia he wanted to find, it was Madeline. But where was she? He quickened his step, just as he heard a loud splash and looking into the fast-flowing waters saw her surface for a split second before being carried away.

  And then he was flinging off his greatcoat and dragging off his boots and plunging into the water after her. Conditioned as he was he still felt the icy water numbing him and struck out with strong, powerful strokes, knowing that even if she did not drown Madeline could not long survive the cold. He saw her up ahead of him, making a valiant effort to catch at the protruding branch of a tree, but it was rotten and snapped in her hand.

  But it had slowed her enough for Philip, with one strong kick of his legs, to reach her. He caught her arm, pulling her towards him as he trod water until he could get a more secure hold, then, fighting the rushing river, he swam with her to the bank and lifted her out.

  She had just enough strength left to haul herself further up the bank, away from all danger of being dragged into the water again, before she collapsed.

  She had swallowed a lot of water and was numb with cold but she was alive.

  Following her out of the water Philip wrapped her in his coat and then, sweeping her up into his arms, he strode back to the house.

  As Jenny opened the door and saw Madeline lying so still in Philip’s embrace she let out a gasp of horror, but then responded quickly to Philip’s commands.

  ‘Bring me blankets,’ he said as he took her into the parlour, ‘and then fetch Dr Morris.’ Quickly he gave Jenny directions for finding the doctor and Jenny, barely stopping to put on her cloak, ran out into the snow.

  ‘Madeline,’ said Philip, chafing her hands and feet. ‘Madeline. Come back to me.’

  At last the doctor arrived and examined her whilst Philip paced up and down the room.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded as the doctor rose, looking grave.

  ‘It’s difficult to say. Her pulse is steady and with care she should recover but there may be problems to come. Pneumonia, fever - but then we will face that if, and when, it happens.’

  ‘Bring her back to me, Doctor,’ said Philip, his face etched with worry.

  ‘I’ll do all I can. Now this is what I want you to do.’ He spoke to both Philip and Jenny, giving them instructions for Madeline’s care, saying to Philip, ‘And you must get out of those wet things yourself, at once. You may have a strong constitution, but you won’t escape unscathed if you delay.’

  Philip nodded.

  ‘You’ll be needing some help from the Manor, I don’t doubt. I’ll send my lad. You should have someone here before night falls.’

  ‘Thank you. This house isn’t equipped for emergencies.’

  ‘I’ll see myself out,’ said the doctor.

  And then Philip carried Madeline up to her room and left Jenny to undress her whilst he stripped off his wet things, returning wrapped in a blanket to keep a watch over his beloved wife.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Madeline woke to find Philip sitting in a chair beside her bed. As she saw the rhythmic rise and fall of his muscular chest she realised that he was asleep. And no wonder, she thought; he looked tired. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he was unshaven, something she had never known before. But his presence was comforting, and as weakness overtook her she slipped back into sleep, made easy n
ow by the knowledge that he was by her side.

  She woke again sometime later, feeling stronger. She was able to make sense of her surroundings and realised that she was in her bedroom in York.

  The events of the last - day? week? - came flooding back to her: Letitia’s visit, their walk through the snow, and the splintering of the rotten foot bridge. She shivered as she remembered how she had hung helplessly from its support, and her panic as she had finally lost her grip. And then her memory dissolved into a confused jumble of images: the icy water and her desperate struggle to keep afloat; and then her relief as someone had caught hold of her, and her joy as she had realised that that someone was Philip.

  ‘Well, well,’ said Philip, seeing she was awake. Leaving the chair in which, had she but known it, he had kept a constant vigil for the past five nights he went to sit beside her on the bed. He took her hand and then, bending over her, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘It seems I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute! You gave me quite a fright.’

  Madeline sensed that his words were deliberately light. She may have regained consciousness but she could tell she was far from well. She had only a hazy memory of what had happened, but she remembered enough to know that she had been ill following her plunge into the icy river. Seeing how drawn his face was, and realising how worried he had been about her, she wondered whether it was possible, as Letitia had claimed, that he was in love with her? Or had she just imagined it? Had her fevered mind invented that part of the conversation? Until she had heard the words from his own lips she could not be sure.

  ‘I feel a little strange,’ she said, trying to echo his lightness.

  ‘You will do. You’ve been running a fever, but it’s broken now. All you need is plenty of rest. And I mean to make sure you get it,’ he said, tucking her hand back under the covers.

  His touch was strong and comforting. Madeline smiled at him and then drifted back into sleep.

  Madeline’s convalescence was slow. To begin with she was content to lie in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, but by and by she became stronger, and at last was ready to go downstairs.