What the Earl Needs Now (The Earls Next Door Book 2)

by Michelle Willingham

  “How long did it take you to learn all of this?” she asked Dr. Fraser.

  “Years of study, lass. I went to medical school in Edinburgh, and I’ve been practicing medicine all my life. Even though I inherited my uncle’s title afterward, I still prefer to be known as Dr. Fraser, rather than Lord Falsham.”

  Lily was intrigued by how much he’d had to learn in school, and yet, she imagined how fulfilling it must be to heal others. She had never known any woman to study medicine, and undoubtedly it would not be allowed. The musings helped to distract her from her injured arm.

  “Do you have any books I might borrow?” she asked. “I would like to know more about healing. That is, perhaps cures for household ailments or injuries.”

  He exchanged a glance with his wife. “If you want to read about it, I’ve no objection.” Then his expression turned serious. “But the cure for Lord Arnsbury is no’ one you’ll find in books. You canna splint his broken mind or wrap it in bandages.”

  “This is not for Matthew. This is for me, so that I can find something to occupy my time. I’ve spent far too much of my life pining away.”

  Juliette sent a silent message toward her husband and then interjected, “Why don’t you come and pay a call again when you’re feeling better? Perhaps Paul could show you some poultices and medicines that might interest you.” She smiled and then ran her fingers along a row of books resting on a shelf on the side wall of the room. “Or this might also occupy your time.” She handed Lily a green leather book titled The Pharmacopoeia of the Royal College of Physicians of London. “It may not be very interesting.”

  But Lily found herself intrigued by the challenge. “Thank you, Lord and Lady Falsham.”

  More than anything, she needed a distraction from Matthew. Though she knew he had not intended to hurt her, it broke her heart to think of how much he’d suffered. Deep inside, she was grieving for the husband she had loved and lost.

  If losing herself in books would ease the gaping emptiness, she would read the dictionary itself. But perhaps the medical book might offer an escape, a chance to learn about something else that could help others.

  She held the book in her lap while Lord Falsham fashioned a sling for her arm. “It will take a few weeks for this to heal properly,” he told her. “Come back to me after you’ve returned from Ireland, and I’ll see how it’s healing.”

  She thanked him again for his help, and he gave her a packet of powdered medicine to take with a cup of tea at night to help her sleep.

  “Lady Lily,” he said, as she stood to leave. “I will look in on Lord Arnsbury and find out what’s happened to him. Some medicines have a verra powerful effect upon the mind.”

  She nodded, holding on to the book. But as she departed the house, she promised herself that she would no longer hold on to the past—instead, she would look toward a different future.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The darkness closed over him, drowning Matthew in a sea of hopelessness. God above, how could he have hurt Lily? She had done nothing wrong, and she had only come to say goodbye. Because of his drugged state, he had thrown her to the ground like an animal and hurt her arm. He despised himself for what he had done.

  Matthew stood at the window of his room, staring out into the London streets. The dim flare of the gas lamps illuminated the night, and below him were men and women returning from the workhouses, along with other strangers.

  He remembered the face of his torturer. Nisha Amat was her name. With black hair and deep brown eyes, she had smiled at him on the first day he’d been taken prisoner. She was beautiful in the way that a poisonous snake held one mesmerized. Her voice was soft and soothing, even as she had ordered her men to break his bones or burn his flesh.

  But it was his mind that bore the greatest scars. The memories of guilt and horror washed over him, and he sat down in a chair, wondering why God had let him live. He was nothing and no one.

  And now he had hurt Lily.

  If he could go back and undo the mistakes he had made, if he could stop himself from drinking the sleeping potion, he would do it.

  The insidious voices rose up within him, tempting him. He could take a blade and slash his wrists until he bled to death. Or he could throw himself from a balcony, smashing his skull against the pavement. His hands shook as the effects of the sleeping draught made him hallucinate all the different ways to die.

  He wanted to forget the years of the past and present. When he tried to imagine a better future, he could not grasp any release from this prison.

  A sudden blur of motion dove at him, and Matthew nearly lashed out at his attacker. . .only to realize it was his kitten, Beast.

  “Damn you,” he muttered. His heart was pounding wildly, and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. The kitten crawled up the leg of his trousers, sinking its claws into the fabric. The animal had no idea how close it had come to being thrown across the room. Matthew picked it up and set it down in his lap, but the kitten only stretched and attempted to swat at his cravat.

  Were he an ordinary man, he’d have found the animal’s antics amusing. Instead, a bone-deep weariness settled over him. He didn’t know a way out of this nightmare. He couldn’t be trusted with anyone or anything.

  Matthew held the kitten with one hand and rose from his chair. He went to pour himself a glass of brandy, but his hands shook upon the decanter, sloshing the alcohol onto the tray. He took a slow, deep breath, and then drank the entire glass. The brandy burned his throat, but it did nothing to calm him.

  The kitten gave a weak meow and sank its claws into his shirt. He kept a close hold on the feline, as if it were the single thread keeping his wits together. A part of him longed to surrender to the dark place within him, the one that tempted him to take his own life.

  His guilt at harming Lily weighed upon him like a mountain of stones. There were no words to apologize for what he had done. Whether she knew it was a moment of madness didn’t matter. He had hurt the woman who had tried to heal his broken spirit.

  With trembling fingers, he sat down and stared at the hearth, not knowing what to do. His mind was not whole, and he dared not trust himself anymore. His fingers curled into the warmth of the sleeping kitten. The animal offered a quiet, unconditional love that he didn’t deserve.

  On the edge of the desk rested the bottle his footman had purchased. If he drank the remainder of the draught, he might fall into a sleep from which he would never awaken. The temptation increased, though he knew it was a coward’s path.

  But never would he forget Lily’s terror or the horrifying visions that plagued him. He dared not see her again for fear of doing irreparable harm.

  His fingers closed around the bottle.

  “Paul, we must hurry,” Lady Falsham insisted. After they had set Lily’s arm, her instincts warned that Matthew was in grave danger. To the outside world, the earl was only her cousin and godson. But she had been close to him his entire life, and she could not stand by and let him suffer. Her husband knew the true reason why. “Please. If he was aware of what he did, I fear the worst.”

  Paul rapped on the carriage ceiling and ordered the driver to go faster. “He was no’ himself, Juliette. I’m sure of it.”

  “I agree. But after what happened to Lily, he may be a danger to himself. Aunt Charlotte needs to keep a close watch over him.” She gripped her hands together, and her husband moved to sit beside her.

  “I won’t be letting anything happen,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. She squeezed his palm, her heart racing. Although she trusted her husband, Juliette could not let go of her instincts that all was not well. Her heart bled at the thought of what Matthew had endured in India and the pain he must be facing now.

  When they arrived at the house, Paul helped her from the carriage and a footman greeted them at the door. The man’s face appeared concerned at the sight of Paul. “Is aught amiss, Dr. Fraser? Did Lady Arnsbury send for you?”

  “I came of my own accord to see t
he earl. He’s no’ feeling verra well, so I was told.” Paul stepped into the house without awaiting permission. “Show me to his room.”

  The footman obeyed and closed the door behind them, before leading them to the main staircase. “Lady Falsham, would you care to take tea while your husband tends to Lord Arnsbury?”

  “No, thank you. You may let my aunt know we have come, but I intend to see Matthew myself.” She was impatient and started climbing the stairs.

  When she reached the first landing, her aunt emerged from her room wearing a dressing gown. Her face transformed with fear, and she demanded, “What has happened? Is it Matthew?”

  Juliette hesitated and told her husband, “Go and find Matthew while I speak with Aunt Charlotte.”

  Paul followed the footman up the stairs, and she went to stand beside her aunt. “I know you were not at home when Lady Lily came to see Matthew earlier. She came to bid him farewell, and in the middle of their conversation, he had a spell of madness come upon him. Lily believes it was some medicine that he drank.” She met her aunt’s stricken face with a steady gaze. “He dislocated her arm, believing she was trying to torture him.”

  Charlotte blanched and covered her mouth. A moment later, she murmured, “Dear God, how could this have happened?”

  “I’m afraid for him, and I fear what he will do now.” The very thought of Matthew’s pain echoed her own. Juliette had no qualms about raising heaven and earth to help.

  “You’re right,” her aunt agreed. “We must go to him.”

  “I am prepared to pray all night, if necessary,” Juliette said. “In my heart, I fear the worst.”

  When the pair of them reached his room, Charlotte didn’t bother knocking but opened it instead. Matthew was lying prone near the hearth, while Paul was trying to force a liquid down him.

  Oh God. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of him.

  “Is he alive?” Juliette asked. Terror slid through her veins at the thought of him dying. She could not imagine anything worse.

  “He drank brandy with whatever was in that bottle,” Paul snapped. “If we canna purge him, he willna live to see the dawn.”

  Juliette began to pray as she fetched a basin for her husband. “Was it laudanum?”

  “Opium and alcohol,” Paul said. “Hardly better than poison. It would stop the heart of most men.” He turned Matthew over. “Bring the basin. This willna be pleasant, but it’s all we can do.”

  The fear within her turned to an iron resolve. She would not let him die. If she had to force him to retch for hours, they would do whatever was necessary to save his life. And she thanked God that her husband had the medical knowledge to do so.

  “Tell me what we must do.”

  The bleakness on Paul’s face was numbing. “You must pray. Both of you.”

  Juliette kept up her vigil for the rest of the night, until it seemed that Matthew had nothing left in his stomach. It was ghastly, seeing him so broken. Even the kitten Lily had given him was meowing weakly.

  But after a few hours, Paul nodded. “I think that’s everything. We’ll get him to bed. And he is no’ to have laudanum, alcohol, or anything else for a long while. His body must heal itself.”

  And his mind, Juliette thought. She didn’t want to believe that he had done this to himself on purpose, but he needed help to get through these next few weeks.

  Her husband lifted Matthew back to the bed, and Charlotte sat beside him. “I knew he wasn’t sleeping.” Her voice held heartbreak and devastation. “But I never realized he had lost himself so deeply.”

  “He was far worse than we realized.” Juliette took the opposite side so that Matthew was surrounded by those who cared about him. Her husband rested his hand upon her shoulder, but she was weeping openly. There was no point in trying to hold back her emotions when they filled her with such fear. They could have lost him this night.

  “He may live,” Paul said. “But he’ll be needing a reason to pull himself out of the hell he’s living in.”

  Juliette lifted up the kitten, nestling the animal closer to Matthew. The animal snuggled against his side, taking comfort from the warmth.

  “We will all help him,” she swore. “But I think the person he needs the most is Lily. She still loves him, and I believe he needs her.”

  “Do you think she can bring him out of this melancholy?” Charlotte ventured.

  Juliette touched Matthew’s hand and stroked it. “I don’t know. But she is the best hope for him now.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lily had not expected the journey to Ireland to be so disheartening. The voyage across the Irish Sea wasn’t so terrible, but she had been shocked by so many faces of starving men, women, and children. Her sister had warned her about the conditions after the potato famine, but she had vastly underestimated the devastating effects.

  James had arranged for a coach to bring them across Ireland into County Mayo, where the Ashton estate lay. The railway did not yet extend westward, so they had little choice but to travel along the roads. It would take at least a week to reach Ashton, after they had already traveled across England during the past fortnight.

  Lily’s arm was healing, but she tried not to think of Matthew. In her heart, she had known he was not himself—but his actions had terrified her.

  This morning, since the skies were sunny, her brother, James, had decided to ride with the driver. It gave Lily the chance to be alone with her mother inside the coach. Iris sat across from her and smiled warmly. “You miss him, don’t you?”

  It was as if her mother had read her mind. Lily tried to feign ignorance. “Of whom do you speak?”

  “Why, Matthew, of course. I can tell that you’re thinking of him.”

  Although Lily wanted to believe that Iris was imagining things, it was quite clear that this was one of her better days. “Why do you say that?”

  Her mother smiled. “Because I know you, Lily dear. And you mustn’t blame him for what happened.” Her gaze drifted down to her healing arm.

  “Matthew was not to blame,” she lied. “I fell, and that’s how I hurt my arm.”

  Iris’s expression didn’t change. “A person’s mind is a powerful thing. And when you become lost in your thoughts, the ordinary world doesn’t exist. Dreams become real, and what is real becomes a dream.” She reached out to squeeze her daughter’s hand. “I know what it is to be imprisoned by the visions of your mind. It’s more frightening than anyone could know.”

  The clarity of Iris’s words made Lily’s heart ache. “Are you. . .aware of the moments when you’ve lost what is real?”

  Her mother released her hand and stared out the window. “Sometimes I have no memory of what I’ve said or done. Other times, I dream of what happened, and it embarrasses me. I only know if it was real after I’ve spoken to someone who was there.”

  Iris’s eyes gleamed with tears. “You cannot imagine the guilt or humiliation you feel. But I do believe that Matthew needs you. And if he was. . .somehow responsible for hurting you, you must know that he did not mean it.” Her voice lowered in volume. “The voices catch hold of you and whisper. And it’s hard not to listen when you believe what they say.”

  Her words sent a chill over Lily’s spine. On the night Matthew had hurt her, she’d been so terrified, she didn’t want to see him ever again. But her mother was right—he had not been himself.

  “He drank medicine that night,” Lily heard herself confess. “And I could tell from his expression that it affected him. His eyes were not right, and he appeared to be caught in a haze.”

  Her mother nodded. “He lost himself, didn’t he?”

  “He believed I was one of his torturers. He was trying to push me away, to free himself from the madness.” She let out a sigh. “Do not tell James,” she warned. “He would kill Matthew for this.”

  “I will not.” Her mother gave a wry smile. “James believes I’m half-potted, and I’m not certain he’s wrong.”

  “You have good days a
nd bad days,” Lily admitted. “And I do not blame you for it. We manage as best we can.”

  “I do miss your father,” Iris admitted. “It’s an empty hole inside of me. Without him, I feel like only a piece of myself.”

  Her mother’s word resonated, mirroring the way Lily had felt when Matthew was away in India. And now that he had returned, she still didn’t know how to fill the emptiness.

  “I miss him, too,” she admitted.

  “And Matthew?” her mother prompted. “Do you miss him?”

  Lily leaned back against the seat, lowering her shoulders. She didn’t want to think of Matthew anymore. Her heart was too broken, her spirits too confused. “I don’t know.”

  She had tried to put it all behind her, but she could not stop her mind from wondering about him. It had not ended well between them.

  As the coach passed through the town, the stench of rotting potatoes in the fields was unmistakable. She raised a handkerchief to her nose and realized that everything could be far worse than it was.

  She had come to Ireland to celebrate the wedding of her sister to the man she loved. It was meant to be a time of joy, not sorrow. And for now, she would look to the future and put the past behind her.

  Two weeks later

  “Rose, you look beautiful,” Lily proclaimed. She hadn’t expected to feel this emotional at the sight of her sister wearing a wedding gown, but her eyes welled up at seeing Rose so happy. This was the sort of wedding she had wanted for herself and Matthew before the illusion had shattered.

  Her arm had been healing, and now it felt only tender. She’d claimed it was an accident from falling down the stairs. Everyone believed her, except for a small few who knew the truth.

  Lily bent down and smoothed an invisible wrinkle from the ivory gown, hiding her tears. Her mother wore a bright purple gown, and a dreamy smile covered her face. It seemed that today she was lost in visions that made her happy. Perhaps she was remembering her own wedding day. As long as her mother did not become agitated with moments of madness, Lily believed all would be well.