“Tea and toast? Of course!” he replied absently, as digging in his black bag he pulled out a small, corked bottle and a large spoon. “And while you’re at it, I’ll give her a dose of castor oil. Good for the system,” he assured Eden.
“Castor oil?” Eden blurted out.
“Aye, it’s the best medicine there is,” Dr.
Hargrave answered, pouring the oil into the spoon. Betsy bobbed a curtsy and quickly left the room.
Eden turned to Pierce with pleading eyes. “I’m not going to swallow castor oil.”
“Just a wee bit,” Dr. Hargrave promised.
“I don’t—” Eden started to protest but whatever else she was going to say was cut off when the good doctor slipped the spoon in her mouth.
For a second, she sat wide-eyed, her mouth full of castor oil. She looked up at Pierce in distress.
“Best medicine there is,” he reminded her, his tone deliberately light.
She shot him a fierce frown in response.
“Swallow it up,” Mrs. Meeks advised. “It won’t go away any other way.”
With a grimace, Eden did just that. Her expression was almost comical except that Pierce sensed real upset in her. Dr. Hargrave’s castor oil cure was probably the worst way to top her day. “I’ll tell Betsy to add some jam to your order of toast.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.
His mother waited for him in the hallway. “This girl doesn’t remember what happened to her?” she demanded with patent disbelief.
“That’s what Miss Eden said.” Pierce shifted his attention from his mother to study the portrait of one of his ancestors hanging on the wall.
“Perhaps we should send her to the vicar. Let the parish take care of her.”
Her words grabbed his attention. He faced her. “Absolutely not. She stays here.” Where he could protect her.
“I don’t think it is wise. We don’t know who she is. It’s unreasonable for her to stay here.”
“Mother, she’s in need of our charity.”
She drew back, the lines of her face tightening with suspicion. “Is she?”
Pierce made an impatient sound. “You aren’t going to suggest that she shipwrecked herself, are you? I find that idea ludicrous.”
“No! But I am suggesting that perhaps she would be better in the hands of the parish.” She raised a hand to stop him from protesting. “I understand why you brought her here, and I’m glad you did. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t express concern.”
“Concern over what?”
His mother clasped her hands in front of her. “Pierce, you must understand, women are intuitive. We perceive things about each other that men don’t often see. My intuition is telling me that Miss Eden is not what we think she is.”
“And upon what basis do you make such a judgment?”
“Not any one thing in particular. It’s just a feeling I have. For example, she’s too beautiful and too well-spoken to be found adrift alone in a boat.”
And it is obvious that your son is too attracted to her, Pierce thought cynically. His mother was a manipulator. Sometimes he wondered if that wasn’t why his father had left.
“She’s a soul in need of our help,” he said quietly.
“True,” she hurried to agree. “However, what respectable young woman would be walking in our garden with nothing on but her nightdress?”
Pierce clenched his fist. “A disoriented one. A woman who woke without knowing where she was or why.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right, but…” She hesitated dramatically and then shrugged. “I can’t help my worries. I’m your mother after all. I’m just questioning whether we are doing the right thing.”
Pierce stared through her. “She stays.” With those words, he crossed his arms, signaling that their discussion was ended, and waited for Dr. Hargrave to finish his examination.
Around the corner of a hallway leading to the kitchen, Betsy eavesdropped on the exchange between mother and son. When she heard Lord Pierce put his mother in her place, she did a small victory jig and set off to tell the others in the kitchen what she’d just seen and heard.
Chapter 4
Eden heard the sharp voices outside the door but she wasn’t able to make out the muffled words. She knew with certainty the argument between Lord Penhollow and his mother concerned her.
Lady Penhollow didn’t like her. Eden had sensed it immediately… and she knew why. It had to do with the almost magnetic attraction between herself and Lord Penhollow.
Eden had never felt such an awareness for a man before—and that didn’t bode well for her own plans which were to escape this house and be on her way as quickly as possible. Especially if Dr. Hargrave insisted on another dose of castor oil!
The doctor and Mrs. Meeks both pretended they hadn’t heard the arguing although she’d caught them exchanging glances. Eden decided she could pretend too.
“Does this hurt?” Dr. Hargrave asked, interrupting her thoughts. His fingers pressed into her scalp. Eden winced.
“You feel that bump there, don’t you?”
“A bump?” Eden raised her hand up to where his fingers were. She’d cracked her head on the side of the dinghy when it had fallen into the ocean. The bump was the size of a robin’s egg.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
Eden shook her head. “I barely noticed it.”
“Good,” he said in his abrupt way. He sat on the chair in front of her. “Everything seems to be fine, Miss Eden. I can detect no ill effects from your mishap other than a bit of sunburn. Perhaps it was good that Lord Penhollow refused to let me bleed you last night. He sensed you would come around on your own and so you have. But I need to ask you a few questions, if you would be so patient?”
Aware of Mrs. Meeks’s presence, and the woman’s penchant for gossip, Eden forced a smile. “I’ll answer whatever I can.”
“That’s all I ask,” the doctor said. He leaned forward, pushing his spectacles up on his nose. “Lord Penhollow said you don’t remember your last name. Is there anything else you don’t remember?”
“Would I know what to remember if I didn’t remember it?” Eden hedged, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed.
Dr. Hargrave blinked, then gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Very good, yes, very good. Well, we shall see now. Tell me, do you have any family?”
“I don’t know,” Eden answered truthfully.
“Think, Miss Eden. Search your memory for any clue. There must be people who care for you. Someone who would miss your presence?”
Eden pretended to do as he asked, while her mind scrambled frantically, trying to decide what to do. After several minutes, she shook her head. “No, Doctor, I remember nothing.” He was such a kind man, she had trouble meeting his gaze, but better to say nothing than to give herself away.
The corners of Dr. Hargrave’s mouth curved down thoughtfully. “This is not good. Not good at all.” He proceeded to ask her many questions about her past.
To each she answered, “I don’t know.” She felt foolish, sure that at any moment Dr. Hargrave would denounce her as a liar, but it was the course she’d started and the only way to not divulge personal information about herself.
Surprisingly, he grew more excited with each “I don’t know” answer.
A knock on the door interrupted them. Betsy entered with a tray. “Ah, the toast and tea we ordered,” Dr. Hargrave said heartily. “And exactly when we needed it.”
Betsy set the tray upon the bedside table and unfolded a dress she held over one arm. It was a simple dress of plain burgundy cotton. “This is the best I could find,” she told Mrs. Meeks.
“It’s last year’s uniforms for the staff,” Mrs. Meeks said apologetically to Eden. “The dress is a bit worn, but it is clean and serviceable.”
“It will be fine,” Eden assured her, taking the dress from Betsy. In fact, it would be a better disguise for hiding from Nasim than the rich dresses she’d brought with her.
As Betsy poured out a cup of tea, Eden’s stomach growled loudly at the smell of fresh bread. She wished she’d thought to ask for an egg too.
“Ah, she’s hungry,” Mrs. Meeks said with a motherly smile.
“And it is a good sign too,” Dr. Hargrave said, rising. “I shall leave you to your breakfast, my dear, while I consult a moment with Lord Penhollow and Lady Penhollow.” He motioned for the servants to leave with him, shutting the door behind them.
At last, Eden was alone.
Taking a huge bite of buttered toast, she counted to twenty-five before she put the bread back on the tray. Tiptoeing to the door, she cracked it open. She could see the back of the doctor’s head and a portion of Lady Penhollow’s face. Lord Penhollow was out of her view. She slid down to the floor to listen, praying that Dr. Hargrave wasn’t suspicious.
Dr. Hargrave was having an earnest discussion with Lady Penhollow and her son.
“… suffered a bump on the head which has led to a loss of memory.”
Lady Penhollow’s eyes narrowed. “Did you feel a bump on her head when you examined her?”
“I did, my lady. It’s located on the right side, twenty centimeters above the ear. Furthermore, a trauma of some sort can cause memory loss. It’s rare, but there are recorded cases of such a thing happening.”
“Humph,” Lady Penhollow said, her lips pinched together in disbelief.
Eden leaned her head against the door frame in surprise. Who would have thought there was such a thing as memory loss? And how fortunate the doctor believed she suffered from it.
“I know it sounds freakish,” Dr. Hargrave quickly averred. “But it can happen. There are documented cases of people forgetting who they are even down to their very own names.”
“But our patient has some memory. Are there recorded cases of such a thing as that?” Lady Penhollow asked, arching one eyebrow.
“Yes,” he said, removing his spectacles from his nose and polishing the lenses with a kerchief.
“Will her memory ever return?” Lord Penhollow asked.
“I don’t know,” the doctor answered. “She may recover her memory in an hour or two or perhaps not for years.”
“Years!” Lady Penhollow interjected. She turned to her son. “She can’t stay here for years!”
Lord Penhollow ignored her. “Is there a name for this condition?”
“They call it amnesia. When I return home, I intend to consult my medical journals for as much information as I can read on the subject. Until then, I presume she is under your care.”
“Yes,” Lord Penhollow said.
“But she can remember her first name,” Lady Penhollow protested.
“Amnesia appears to have that effect on some victims/‘ Dr. Hargrave answered. ”I remember reading a particularly interesting treatise on a patient who could remember everything that had happened five years earlier in detail, but could not remember her husband, whom she’d married during that missing five-year period of time, or the children they’d had together.“
Eden listened carefully, so that she could convincingly pretend to have this amnesia.
“Do you believe she is married?” Lord Penhollow asked. “With a husband and children?”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Hargrave said. “She doesn’t wear a ring but you said yourself there wasn’t a sign of money or identification with her other than the religious medallion around her neck. Because of her youth, I only made a cursory exam, but from my initial observations, I doubt if she has had children. I could be wrong.”
“The medallion and her clothing are our only clues to her identity,” Lord Penhollow said thoughtfully. “Her wardrobe could belong to a princess.”
“A princess! Now, Pierce, you are being fanciful,” his mother said.
Eden rather liked the comparison.
“Am I, Mother? Yes, I do suppose her story sounds a bit like a fairy tale.”
“Or a Banbury tale,” she shot back.
“Either way, we will know the truth soon,” Lord Penhollow said. “The riders I sent out last night are all back. There is no word of a shipwreck or of anyone missing a wife, sister, or daughter in the ports of Plymouth, Weymouth, or Touquay.”
“Are you not surprised?” Lady Penhollow said, her voice laced with sarcasm. She leaned toward her son. “Turn her over to the parish. You’ve done what you can for her.”
He sliced his hand through the air, a warning to his mother. “It has already been settled. She will stay with us until we can locate her family.”
The hem of Lady Penhollow’s skirts swayed as she bristled with irritation, but she didn’t argue with him. Instead, she said in a long-suffering voice, “Very well. I cannot prevent you from being a fool. Come, Doctor, let me see you to the door.” She turned on her heel and without waiting, marched away.
The good doctor looked from Lord Penhollow to the retreating figure of Lady Penhollow and back. He shifted, closer to the door, blocking Eden’s line of sight. “I’m sorry if my diagnosis has created some problems for you.”
Lord Penhollow shook his head. “It isn’t your fault, Horace. You know how she is.”
“Yes.” Dr. Hargrave paused thoughtfully. “Still, I’m sorry.”
Lord Penhollow made no response.
Having nothing further to say, the doctor hurried after Lady Penhollow.
Eden sat back, turning over in her mind everything she’d just witnessed. Absently, she pressed on the door to close it and was surprised when it didn’t shut.
She glanced up. Shining black topboots stood in the doorway… Her gaze traveled upward. Lord Penhollow leaned against the door frame, the tips of his fingers pressing the door open.
Eden rose to her feet. She’d been caught. Her flesh heated with embarrassment, but she brazened it out. “I needed a fresh pot of tea.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement. He knew exactly what she’d been doing. “I’ll see that one is sent to you.”
“Thank you.” She started to close the door but he reached out and held it open with the flat of his palm.
“I don’t blame you for being anxious, or curious, Miss Eden… but I hope you don’t take anything my mother says seriously. She has the alarming habit of jumping to conclusions and overstating her mind. She means nothing by it.”
“I doubt that.”
He pushed the door open further and slipped inside. The force of his presence filled the room. Her heart beat heavily as she looked up at him. They stood only a hand’s width apart and yet she couldn’t move, even to take one step back.
He closed the door but left his hand on the handle. “I don’t want you to worry. However long it takes, you’re safe here… and if you recover your memory and discover there are desperate circumstances that led you to risk your life in that small boat, you have only to turn to me. I will see that no harm comes to you.”
Eden stared up into his eyes. She could see tiny reflections of herself in them. “And what do you expect me to do in return?”
Her words caught him off guard. She could tell by the sharp intake of breath and the way his eyes darkened as the meaning of her words struck home. He shifted away, his manner suddenly formal and correct. “Miss Eden, if I’ve given you the impression that you are expected to repay me in any fashion, I am sorry. My offer was made without conditions attached.”
The spell between them had been broken and Eden quickly moved back. She groped for words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound churlish.”
He didn’t answer immediately but studied her a moment. Eden feared he could almost see down into her soul. She crossed her arms protectively against her chest.
“I also thank you for saving my life,” she said stiffly. “You are an extraordinary man to go so far for a stranger.”
“I didn’t do anything that another Cornishman wouldn’t have done. We take care of our own here.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion, especially after you warned me about your mother’s alarming
tendency to do so.”
For a second, their eyes met… and then he did something completely unexpected—he smiled. His smile was slightly crooked, not perfect or polished. Eden stood rooted to the floor, charmed.
“I’d wager, Miss Eden, that your wariness comes from experience. Men must often make fools of themselves in the face of beauty such as yours.”
She’d been paid compliments before, but none as openly. If he’d opened his arms at that moment, she would have stepped into them.
Instead, he changed the subject. “I shall see that another pot of tea is sent to you and perhaps, when you are dressed, you will allow me to give you a short tour of Penhollow Hall. Dr. Hargrave warned us not to let you overexert yourself but he did say a touch of exercise is permissible.”
“Perhaps we may take a turn in the garden?”
That smile sprang to his lips again. “It would be a pleasure to show you my garden— after you’ve had a chance to rest. I’ll knock on your door in say an hour or so? Will that be fine?”
Eden nodded her head, all power of speech robbed from her by his lazy smile.
“Very well.” He opened the door. “I will see you later.” He left.
She sank down onto the chair by the bed, her legs no longer able to hold her. Her pulse raced as if she’d run a long distance. What was it about Lord Penhollow that made her mind turn inside out with little more than a smile?
Oh, but it was something more and she knew it. He offered a gallantry she’d only read about. He was like Lancelot and Gawain rolled into one. A hero, a champion… a knight in shining armor when she needed one so desperately. And yet she didn’t dare embroil these kind people in her problems.
Nassim and Gadi would search for her. They might even return to Madame Indrani for assistance—and Eden feared Madame’s anger. What she needed was to keep her wits about her and find a safe haven where no one would look for her.
She washed down the toast with the last of the tea and dressed. Betsy brought her the promised new pot of tea and something she deeply appreciated, a pair of shoes.
WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE Page 6
