“Good God, n-n-no,” Dutton stammered, his eyes clouding with confusion. “Not Lady Kenrick! Fine woman. No dummy. No nodcock neither. Meant the boy, of course.”
“Boy? What boy?” Kenrick demanded. His gaze had not softened appreciably.
“The dummy,” Dutton explained, cocking his head to one side as though waiting for his words to penetrate Kenrick’s limited abilities for comprehension.
Kenrick sighed and turned to Gerald. “What boy?” he asked again, more calmly.
Gerald’s eyes were bright with suppressed mirth. “A little chap Elizabeth picked up off the street and brought home with her in order to save him from Bedlam or drowning. The lad cannot talk, but Elizabeth is convinced he can hear and understand what is being said to him. I see no signs of such capabilities but was careful not to discourage Elizabeth by saying so. She seems determined to help the child.”
Kenrick quickly looked away, having no desire for Gerald to see in his eyes his confusion and apprehension. Unwelcome visions of his wife forced their way into his consciousness—visions of Elizabeth on her hands and knees shouting at her parents, Elizabeth picking children up off the streets, Elizabeth believing herself capable of aiding a feeble-minded boy. “Please excuse me, gentlemen,” he said abruptly, brushing past Gerald and Dutton and bounding up the steps to his front door.
Kenrick found Elizabeth alone in the drawing room with an open copy of The Quarterly Review on her lap. Her obvious surprise when he hurried into the room was quickly supplanted by a warm smile. “Welcome home, my lord. We had not expected you so soon. How is Mr. Smithfield?”
“Recovering,” Kenrick answered tersely. “How are you?”
Elizabeth frowned, as though surprised that his tone was unusually intense, but she answered him with a calm smile. “I am well, thank you. Are you thirsty? Shall I ring for refreshments?”
Ignoring her questions, Kenrick walked immediately to Elizabeth’s side and knelt beside her chair. “Are you really all right?” he asked, looking directly into her eyes.
Elizabeth blinked at him in surprise. “Of course. Why do you ask in that particular tone of voice?”
“Your parents came to see me at Oak Groves.”
“Oh dear,” Elizabeth murmured, her eyes opening wide. “What did they say about me?”
“If you do not mind, I would prefer that you tell me in your own words what happened when your parents visited you here.”
Five minutes later Kenrick had fallen back into a chair and was gasping for breath, so hard had he been laughing. Even Elizabeth was beginning to see the humor in her parents’ misconceptions, and a slight smile touched her face as she neared the end of her story. “Apollo, of course, was frightened and would not come to me when I called him. Mother was standing in a chair screeching, Larkman was dashing about frantically with a glass of brandy in his hand, and I was on my hands and knees groping under the chair while yelling ‘Apollo! Apollo!’ at the top of my lungs. It would have been miraculous had the little fellow not been frightened.”
“Most assuredly,” Kenrick agreed, wiping tears of laughter from his face. “I am sure I would have shared his terror had I been here. But tell me, has your mother always reacted so strangely to cats?”
“Yes, always,” Elizabeth replied. “My father says such irrational fears are not as uncommon as one might think. He also says there is no known treatment or explanation for them.”
“The mind sometimes causes us to behave in peculiar ways,” Kenrick noted, thinking of Elizabeth’s occasional stutter.
“That is true,” Elizabeth agreed, sobering as she considered the little boy she had installed in the schoolroom on the top floor. “Oh!” she said, suddenly recalling that she had not yet informed her husband of her latest addition to the household. “I must tell you about Billy.”
“Yes, please do,” Kenrick said, leaning back in his chair and waiting with a good deal of curiosity for Elizabeth to tell him about the child she’d plucked off the street and brought into their home.
* * *
Elizabeth had not expected to feel so nervous when faced with telling her husband about Billy. After all, she had done only what she was certain anyone else would have done under the circumstances. Still, her mother-in-law had been less than enthusiastic when first introduced to the ragged and filthy little boy Elizabeth had rescued. He was, unfortunately, not a handsome child. Even after Elizabeth had bathed the little fellow and dressed him in some clothing one of the servants had hastily procured, Billy did not project the image of injured innocence that might have endeared him to adult hearts.
As Elizabeth described the events leading up to her meeting with Billy, she watched Kenrick’s face closely. His eyes narrowed when she told him of Gerald’s arrival soon after her parents’ disastrous visit, and a slight frown touched his forehead when she mentioned her insistence upon being driven to view Bedlam. But a pleased smile brightened his expression when she described Billy’s situation and her own insistence upon bringing him home with her.
“You did just as you ought,” he assured her immediately. “What is he like?”
“He reminds me of a hostile alley cat,” Elizabeth said, frowning in concentration as she tried to give her husband an honest description of the boy she was foisting upon his household. “He is a skinny little thing, almost starved in appearance, but he is strong and independent, too. He never speaks, although he can hear, for I have tested him by making unexpected noises behind his back. He always whirls to find the source of those sounds. I think he also understands what is being said to him, although he rarely follows instructions. Frankly, I believe he is merely trying to assert his independence when he ignores others’ wishes.”
Kenrick could not suppress the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. “You do not make the little fellow sound very attractive.”
“Well, he isn’t,” Elizabeth replied with brutal honesty. “He has red hair and lots of freckles, and his ears stick out quite abominably.”
Throwing back his head, Kenrick laughed until moisture dewed his eyes. “Billy’s charms obviously lie beneath the surface. What do you intend to do with the little chap?”
Elizabeth tucked her lower lip between her teeth as she considered the question. Several seconds passed before she spoke. “Frankly, I do not know. When I insisted upon bringing Billy home with me, my only thought was to save his life or prevent his being incarcerated in Bedlam. I also hoped, I think, to be able to help him learn to talk. I realize that such efforts are probably doomed to failure, but I must try nonetheless. After all, I know from my own experiences that the mind can affect one’s ability to speak properly. Perhaps if Billy is shown enough kindness, he will find his voice.”
A wave of tenderness such as Kenrick had not known in many years swept through him. He half rose, so strong was his desire to pull Elizabeth into his arms, to crush her softness against him, to kiss her until she melted into his arms.
Then, as a horrifying thought occurred, he dropped back into his chair. What was wrong with him? Surely he was not allowing himself to fall in love with Elizabeth. He had vowed, after Paulina, never to lay himself open to such hurt again. Yet, here he was, feeling the same yearnings he had once felt for Paulina, except the emotions he felt today were much stronger and—truth to tell—much more frightening.
Dare he entrust his happiness, perhaps even his very sanity, to another woman after what Paulina had done to him? Was Elizabeth really kindhearted and trustworthy, or was she the conniving adventuress he had first believed her to be?
Surely, had she really tried, she could have found a way to tell him prior to their marriage that she was not simpleminded. But, whatever the case, he dare not allow himself to fall into a trap a second time. He must not let himself love Elizabeth when there was even a remote possibility that she was using him for her own purposes the way Paulina had done.
He stood, consciously wiping all traces of emotions from his features. He gazed at Elizabeth, his f
ace a cold and rigid mask, his eyes aloof and remote. “I hope you won’t find that the boy is merely using you for his own selfish purposes, madam,” he said. “These street children can be both manipulative and malicious, but then I am sure you would recognize those qualities. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do before I return to Oak Groves.”
* * *
Elizabeth watched, stunned, as Kenrick stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him. Gripping her lower lip between her teeth, she stared at that door he had closed between them, wondering what had happened. What had she done to upset him? Why had he suddenly become hostile toward her again? Why had he been so quick to warn her against Billy?
Ten minutes later, she realized that the chances for her being able to answer those questions were remote. Her initial sense of numbness was quickly being supplanted by feelings of confusion, hurt, and a desperate fear that she had somehow failed again. And, as always, she did not understand what she should have done differently.
Forcing herself to stand, Elizabeth thrust her quivering chin into the air and hurried into the hall, determined to bring under control her strong desire to escape to her bedchamber for a nice long cry. She would not give in to such weakness. If her husband held her in distaste, well that was nothing new. She had lived with his displeasure for weeks, and she could do so again.
She had not realized she was standing in the hallway and staring into space until Larkman cleared his throat just inches away, causing her to start violently.
“I beg your pardon, my lady. Is there something I can do for you?”
“No,” Elizabeth responded too quickly. “That is, I mean yes. If you s-s-see the dowager marchioness, please t-t-tell her I shall be in the schoolroom.”
She could feel Larkman staring at her back as she hurried up the stairs and could not help wondering if he regretted having to serve a mistress who succumbed to stuttering every time she became upset.
Chapter Fourteen
Elizabeth made no attempt to hide her pleasure when Gerald arrived early one morning the following week to invite her to join him for a ride in the park. After all, she had spent the last hour wandering from window to window, from library to drawing room, trying to find something to occupy her thoughts until time for Mary to get up.
Since Mary rarely awoke before eleven o’clock and Elizabeth could not stay in bed later than eight, she had grown accustomed to entertaining herself for several hours each morning, a circumstance that had presented no hardships for her until this past week. Now even her books could not keep her from dwelling on Kenrick’s strange behavior the day she had told him about Billy.
After hours of wracking her brain for a reasonable motivation behind her husband’s sudden hostility toward her that afternoon, Elizabeth was no closer to understanding his conduct than she had been when he had first stalked out of the drawing room. They had been laughing together one moment, and the next he had turned cold and distant. Had she unwittingly said something wrong? If so, what?
Gerald’s arrival shortly after Elizabeth had finished breakfast seemed a Godsend that morning. The day had dawned sunny, and the temperatures promised to be mild. Perfect weather for riding, as Gerald quickly pointed out.
“I could not agree more,” Elizabeth responded, smiling. “If you will send word to the stables to have my horse saddled, I shall change into my habit and be ready to accompany you in fifteen minutes.”
“I am pleased to be able to bring such a joyous smile to your face, my dear Elizabeth. I just wish— Never mind.”
Elizabeth frowned at the sudden signs of distress she detected in Gerald’s voice. “Is something amiss, Gerald?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he said quickly—too quickly.
“Are you certain?”
“How perceptive you are, dear Cousin. But I fear you will not appreciate my concerns.”
“Concerns?”
“Merely that I cannot like seeing you so sadly neglected. Surely affairs at Oak Groves are not of such a critical nature that they require all of Kenrick’s time.”
Elizabeth agreed with Gerald in principle but found she did not like hearing him criticize her husband’s activities. Amazed by the vehemence of her reaction, she clenched her teeth tightly, fighting an almost overwhelming urge to give Gerald a severe set-down. All of which made no sense, she admitted to herself. Clearly Gerald’s feelings reflected a sincere interest in her comfort, an interest not shared by her husband.
Although she had tried to hide her flare of irritation, Elizabeth feared her feelings had been reflected in her eyes, for Gerald immediately smiled, a bit sadly and certainly with a suggestion of self-deprecation.
“I feared you would not appreciate my cousinly concerns. You are really a very self-sufficient young woman, are you not, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth let her breath out in a quick sigh. “Don’t be silly, Gerald. Of course I appreciate your concern. It is merely misplaced in this instance. I quite approve of my husband’s conscientious care of his bailiff and of his estate.”
Gerald casually shrugged his shoulders, even as a slightly mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “In that case, I must beg you first to pardon me for my misconceptions and then to make haste in changing for our ride. I am most anxious to introduce you to my latest acquisition from Tattersall’s—a handsome fellow named Beau who, considering your love for horses, will likely steal your heart.”
“How exciting,” Elizabeth said, her irritation with Gerald completely gone. “I shall certainly hurry now, in the delightful anticipation of meeting a new Beau.”
Gerald appreciative laughter followed her as she hurried up the stairs toward her bedchamber.
Beau, a chestnut stallion, was indeed handsome, and, if Elizabeth was any judge of horseflesh—which she believed herself to be—the animal had cost Gerald a very handsome sum of money. She also noted that Gerald was sporting a new coat this morning, its exquisite fit proclaiming it to be from no less than the hands of Weston. His boots, too, were new and gleamed so brightly the leaves of the trees lining the park trails were reflected in the highly polished leather. Elizabeth did hope that Gerald was not sinking too deeply into dun territory.
After all, as Mary had once explained, Gerald’s father had gambled away his holdings and bequeathed Gerald nothing but debts. Mary had also mentioned that as Jeremy’s heir presumptive, Gerald drew an allowance from the Kenrick estate, but Elizabeth feared it was not generous enough to satisfy Gerald’s obviously expensive tastes.
Yet, as she was quick to admit to herself, she really had no reason to concern herself with the state of Gerald’s finances. He was a grown man who had been on the town for a number of years, and he was no doubt quite capable of handling his own affairs.
Glancing toward her riding companion, Elizabeth realized Gerald was watching her, an enigmatic smile on his face, as though he had been aware of the direction of her thoughts. Flushing slightly, she rushed into speech. “Billy appreciated the cup and ball you brought him last week.”
“And how is our little friend progressing?” Gerald asked. The park was not at all crowded so early in the morning, and he and Elizabeth were riding side by side down one of the trails.
“Billy is doing very well, thank you,” Elizabeth replied solemnly. “He is not yet talking, but I still have hopes that he will learn someday. I am positive his intellect is not impaired. Just yesterday I found him using some sort of hand motions to communicate with a lad who had come to visit him.”
“Billy had a visitor?” Gerald turned to stare at Elizabeth, a slight frown touching his forehead. “Surely not one of the boys who tried to commit him to Bedlam?”
“No, Johnny is much younger than any of those boys. He appeared at the kitchen door one day asking to see Billy. The cook, not being in the habit of dealing with visitors, sent for Larkman who sent for me. The boy soon convinced me that he was an old friend of Billy’s, and he was determined to assure himself of Billy’s well
-being.”
“But Elizabeth, this makes no sense,” Gerald protested, his frown deepening. “Surely if the lad were indeed Billy’s friend, he would have rescued him from those ruffians who threatened to drown him.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “You need not suppose that the same consideration did not occur to me, Gerald. I questioned Johnny on that very question. He says he was unaware that Billy was being taken away. Later, when he learned what had happened, he set out to find Billy.”
“But how did he locate him at Kenrick House? The boys from whom we rescued Billy could not have divulged your location, for I was careful not to refer to you by name that day in front of Bethlem Hospital.”
“I wonder about that myself,” Elizabeth admitted. “I’ll try to remember to ask Johnny about how he managed to find me. He appears to be coming by the house quite frequently. Or perhaps I can soon ask Billy, for I am teaching him to read and write so we can someday communicate by writing notes to each other.”
A small smile replaced Gerald’s frown. “One must admire you, my dear Elizabeth. Most women in your position would not waste their time teaching a little urchin from the streets. But the boy will not remain young forever, you know. Have you considered what will become of him when he grows up?”
“I am not looking quite so far ahead at the moment, Gerald. Billy’s immediate future is my present concern, and I have decided that since he has learned now to obey orders, he will serve as my page until a better solution presents itself.”
Gerald’s smile broadened, even as a mischievous twinkle danced in his eyes. “I fear I cannot envision you with a page, Elizabeth. That seems a bit out of character for you.”
“I would agree under normal circumstances, Gerald,” Elizabeth responded solemnly. “But I must find something for Billy to do, and other attempts to place him in the household have failed. The little fellow is terrified of horses and so cannot help in the stable. At the moment, Cook is giving him chores to do in the kitchen, but I cannot expect Mrs. Blanchard to keep Billy there indefinitely. She complains that she can never be certain he understands what she says and that it is simply too time-consuming to give an order and then watch to see if it is being carried out.”
A Simple Lady Page 13
