by Tessa Candle
He made contact with his secretaries, that they might direct important correspondence to him at the inn, or pressing business matters to his solicitor. He knew not how long he would be there.
He had also attained a special license. The moment she awoke, before she had a chance to remember how he had ruined everything, he was going to ask her, implore her, to relieve his misery and become his wife.
He hoped to enlist the influence of her father, who, though he could only be incensed at the turn of events, would doubtless come to see the necessity of their wedding expeditiously.
If Aldley had his way, they would marry immediately. He knew she might have apprehensions, but at this point he was willing to use whatever means were legal to prevail upon her to marry him—as he should have done already.
But for now Aldley had run out of things to do and people to correspond with. So he paced and fretted and stared out the window.
He cursed himself for becoming a creature of regret and retrospection, always realizing each new installation of his idiocy after the fact, and remaining blind to the fresh foolhardiness of the path he was treading.
But this time he was making plans. She would wake up. She had to wake up. And she would forgive him and marry him. It was the only outcome he could bear to contemplate.
Aldley's rumination was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Norwood and Rutherford. Rutherford greeted him warmly. Mr. Norwood bowed, but did not smile.
“Take me to her. I shall talk to you later, Aldley.”
Mr. Norwood had never referred to the earl as Aldley before. Aldley did not mind the familiarity, but it was an ominous sign. When the worried father was in Lydia's chamber, safely out of hearing, Aldley collapsed in a wooden chair with his head in his hands.
Rutherford sat down beside him. “There has been no improvement?”
“No, but also no worsening of her symptoms. Her heart is regular and her breathing is normal. There is no sign of a fever.”
Rutherford stood up again and paced a bit. “What the ruddy hell were you thinking, Aldley? After everything she has already been through, making off with her in a carriage?”
“Do not berate me, Rutherford. I cannot forgive myself for putting her in harm's way, but events of the evening had been so peculiar. I simply could not let her out of my sight. I wanted to propose immediately, but my mother had been abducted. I had to chase after them.”
“This abduction is very strange timing, may I just say. Did Miss Norwood accept your proposal?”
“I… we did not get a chance to directly discuss it.” Aldley looked sheepishly away.
Rutherford threw his head back and shook it in disbelief as he stared at the heavens. “Oh. Yes. I understand completely. I mean, you had been so determined to propose that very evening that you absconded with her in your carriage rather than let her out of your sight. But once you were on your way, what was the hurry, really?”
Aldley cleared his throat. “I did not abscond with her. She consented to come with me.”
“Well, I am glad you got around to asking that much. No, really, you have done very well, for she will be obliged to marry you now. You might get a wife without taking the trouble of asking at all.”
“I shall ask her father as soon as may be.” Aldley stood again to pace with Rutherford.
“You may ask me now, if you like. But I should warn you, I am not inclined to encourage my daughter to marry a man who would take such risks with her well-being and reputation.” Mr. Norwood looked weary and extremely unhappy as he stepped out of his daughter's room.
“Forgive me, Mr. Norwood. This whole mess is my own doing, I know it. True, I am in misery, which is just what I deserve. But I want nothing more than to marry your daughter—well, what I want most is to see her well again. But then I hope she will consent to be my wife, though I do not deserve her. Will you forbid it?” Aldley looked hopefully at Lydia's father.
Mr. Norwood seemed slightly mollified.
He sat down heavily. “I suppose not. It is entirely up to Lydia. If she does not choose to marry you, I shall not impose my will upon her—nor will I let you do so, and make no mistake. I shall expect you to hush this matter up entirely, whether she consents to marry you or not.”
“Of course.” Aldley walked a few paces.
He turned again to Mr. Norwood. “I hope you realize I never intended to put her in a position where she would be forced to accept me. My actions were selfish, impulsive and ill-conceived. My only defence is that I was acting with my heart, and in great haste, and I truly believed no harm would come of it.”
Mr. Norwood's bushy brows knit together. “I should also tell you that my intention is to make her settlements entirely her own—a trust to her exclusive benefit, to which you will have no claim.”
“I understand. I should not have it any other way.”
“And when she inherits, it shall also go into a trust for her. You may challenge that all you wish, but I assure you my lawyers are very adept.”
“I do not doubt it. And I should not dream of challenging your testamentary arrangements. Mr. Norwood, I assure you my interest is entirely in your daughter. True, I care nothing about settlements, or family fortunes. I love her, that is all.”
Aldley was overcome by emotion and had to fight to regain his composure. They were all still for a while.
“Is there nothing to drink, man?” Rutherford broke the silence. “My shoulder still hurts from being stabbed, you know—and thank you for asking.”
“Of course.” Aldley's laugh was a little forced. “Look at us, two peacocks with wounded wings, eh?”
He was so thankful that Rutherford was here to support him, even if he was harder on Aldley than Mr. Norwood was.
He walked to the door and hailed the servant outside. Perhaps brandy would help.
Chapter 46
Tilly sat contentedly drinking tea and eating biscuits in a quiet parlour at Dunston Hall. She was very well pleased with herself.
It had been a busy few days, but her work was done. She had unfortunately missed Rutherford, who had left Nesterling for London with Mr. Norwood just hours before she called there.
That was unlucky, for she enjoyed looking at him in his loose-fitting night shirt. Occasionally catching sight of a nipple gave her pleasant thoughts, and she enjoyed flirting with him mercilessly. He was not at all a prude and was a great deal of fun to tease.
She wondered if perhaps he might be interested in a little discreet affair. She would be certain to catch up with him later.
She smiled to herself and dusted biscuit crumbs off her frock. All in all, things had turned out pretty well.
She had begun making arrangements which she thought would prevent Lord Essington from spreading any gossip. Hopefully she would have time to finalize them in the afternoon before heading back to London.
She took another sip of tea and wondered whether Lydia might by now be well on her way to the altar. She doubted that the earl would delay long, considering the unchaperoned carriage ride.
Still, Tilly had received the day-old London papers. She had been scanning them for days looking for an announcement, but nothing appeared.
A servant entered with a letter. It was addressed from Lydia's father to her home in London, but a rider had delivered it to Dunston.
Dear Miss Ravelsham,
I am sorry to write of this so abruptly, but I need to inform you that my daughter has been in a carriage accident and has been gravely injured.
I know how close you two have grown. I hope that gathering as many familiar and beloved voices around as possible might help wake her from her deep sleep.
Moreover, I know she will want to see you when she awakes from this slumber. I believe your company will cheer her and speed her recovery.
I am only just arrived, myself, but already I can see it has become a bit gloomy with just three men loitering about and waiting. Mr. Rutherford and Lord Aldley are also here. I fear it is an imposition, but I im
plore you to come as soon as you can.
I leave the direction below. Lord Aldley has taken all the rooms in the inn, so there will be comfortable chambers for you and any companions.
I hope we shall have the pleasure of your company soon.
Sincerely yours,
Charles Norwood
P.S. If you can lay your hands on any books that might interest Lydia, please bring them, as there is no library here and reading will be a pleasurable way to pass the time while she heals.
Tilly's thoughts raced. Injured in a carriage accident. Deep sleep. This was all her fault.
She should have gone after her friend instead of concocting plans and making bargains with Miss Delacroix—who had her fair share in the blame for the way things went the evening of the ball.
But there was no point in trying to redirect the guilt. Miss Delacroix was much more interesting than Tilly had originally thought and had some natural talents, but a strong conscience was not among them.
No, she must not try to slough off her own blame in the affair by pointing fingers. Then again, how could she have prevented the accident?
At least she could have been there to assist, instead of leaving them stranded in—she looked at the directions in the letter again—the middle of God knows where. She might have to find a Delacroix servant who knew how to get there.
No. She would go to London first, for it was almost on the way—she looked at the envelope again—probably almost on the way. And she still had business with Mary Wheeler in the evening. She could travel to be with Lydia after that, though it would be slow going at night.
She hailed her servant, scrawled off a quick note, and then went to take her leave. Her tea and biscuits sat abandoned on the table.
Chapter 47
When Lydia opened her eyes, she was confused. It seemed to be night, for the curtains were drawn and a candle was lit, but the room was not her own. There was a strange woman sitting on a chair in the corner. Lydia could hear the rasp and whistle of her breath as she slept.
Lydia's mouth was dry. There was a cup and a pitcher on a table beside the bed. She reached for the vessel. A pain shot through her right arm, and she cried out involuntarily.
The woman in the chair stirred sightly, but did not wake. Should she awaken her? She had no idea where she was, or whether this woman was one of her captors. She could not remember much, only that she had been arguing with Lord Aldley in a carriage.
Had he tried to abduct her? Surely not. But why did she have recollections of being pawed and molested. Why did she remember the glint of a knife blade and a leering smile, and being told not to struggle? Had she been compromised?
She reached out with her other arm to pour a drink clumsily. She took a long quaff. Barley water. She refilled her cup with a more steady hand. She was monstrously hungry, so she picked some bread from the loaf beside the water pitcher and stuffed it in her mouth.
She sensed that she was in danger, but could feel that her body was in no condition to flee, and her head ached. She thought it better to go back to sleep. Yes, she would sleep now, and then feign being senseless until she sorted out exactly how much danger she was in.
Chapter 48
“The barley water was spilled!? Oh thank God!” Lord Aldley rushed to the door of Lydia's chamber. He would see for himself.
In the gloomy light of the curtained off windows, he could see the water pooling on the rough wooden surface of the bedside table. The chipped clay pitcher stood beside the spillage, half full. She must have drank in the night. He was overjoyed.
He could hear her steady breathing. Her eyes were closed as he leaned over to look at her. Her long, thick lashes rested serenely just above her fine cheek bones. He had to restrain himself from reaching out to stroke the tiny mole beside her eye.
How he longed to call out to her, see her open her eyes and look up at him. But the doctor insisted that no one try to wake her.
Still, she had awakened in the night. There was hope. He suppressed his wrathful thoughts about the nurse who had slept through her awakening and spilling water trying to serve herself. There was no point in taking out his anxiety on the servants.
He kissed her hand and turned to leave the room. The doctor should be summoned and Mr. Norwood must be informed of the good news.
He stepped out of the room just in time to catch Rutherford entangled in an embrace and deep kiss with Miss Ravelsham. He quietly returned to the sickroom and opened the door very noisily before stepping out again. When he emerged they were innocently greeting one another.
“Miss Ravelsham. How good to see you.” Aldley was sincerely pleased.
“My Lord.” Miss Ravelsham beamed at him. “I am also glad to see you, though I suppose we could both wish for better circumstances.”
“Very true, but I am so relieved that you are come.” Aldley ran a hand over his neck.
“May I see her?”
“Yes, of course. She is still sleeping and we are not to wake her. However we have had good news.” Aldley grinned like a madman. “She apparently awoke in the night and drank some water, for the servant found spillage and the pitcher is half empty.”
Miss Ravelsham sighed in relief and smiled. “That is good news. I have been so anxious about her.”
“As have we all. But I am so grateful that you are here now. I know it will be cheering for us to have some female company.” Aldley's eyes flicked briefly to Rutherford. “And what could be a better tonic to Lydia than to have her good friend with her?”
“What, indeed, except perhaps a small collection of books.” Tilly held up the large bag she was carrying to show her literary bounty. “Only the most licentious and high flung novels would do. Nothing serious at all, for we do not wish to injure her head further.”
“No, indeed.” Aldley smiled.
“Surely those are too heavy, Miss Ravelsham.” Rutherford took the bag from her. “Where is Mr. DeGroen? He should be carrying these for you.”
“He is delayed and will join us later. If Lydia does not regain her health soon enough to remove back to London, we shall see him within the sennight.”
Aldley could plainly see that the delay did not bother Rutherford, who did not even try to conceal his grin. He hoped his friend would not make the situation with Mr. Norwood even worse by carrying on scandalously with an engaged woman. He would have to have a word with him.
“Why do you not go see Lydia, Miss Ravelsham?” Aldley suggested. “Rutherford can see to the books. She will not be needing them quite yet.”
“Thank you, my lord. I believe I shall.” She disappeared into Lydia's room.
Aldley crossed his arms and looked at his friend. “Out with it, Rutherford.”
“What?” Rutherford shrugged slightly.
“I saw you two kissing before. Do not bother to deny it.”
“I have no reason to deny it.” Rutherford grinned. “The woman drives me mad. I know she likes me, too. But she insists on going through with the wedding—though it is to be a long engagement.”
“You have proposed marriage?” Aldley was taken aback by how far things had progressed.
“Of course. Not everyone is as beef-witted as you.”
“I shall not dispute it.” Aldley pursed his lips. “But it is not quite the thing to propose to another man's fiancée.”
Rutherford waved the comment aside, as though swatting a fly. “It is her prerogative to change her mind. I cannot stop thinking of her, and now she is within my reach for several days with nothing but a rather inattentive duenna to interfere. I have no intention of letting Miss Ravelsham marry that DeGroen fellow, who could not even be bothered to escort her here, as you heard. I shall take her away from him and make her mine.”
Aldley scoffed at his friend. “She is not a horse, Rutherford. You cannot just steal her.”
“Call it whatever you like. I care not what means I must use.” Rutherford waved his hands about a bit madly. “I shall woo her, I shall turn her head
, I shall even seduce her if needs be. I shall do whatever it takes to make her break off this ill-conceived engagement and marry me instead.”
“Normally I should not care about your seductions, Rutherford, truly. But at least try to be discreet. I do not need anything else to make Mr. Norwood think the better of permitting the marriage.”
“I do not mean to sound stone-hearted, my friend, but your failure to be engaged to Miss Norwood is entirely your own fault.” Rutherford inspected a finger nail. “You have neglected to seize your chances.”
“I cannot deny that you are right, but you need not throw it in my face.”
“But what else should your best friend do?” Rutherford sat down again, sprawling his long legs out and slouching until Aldley feared for the life of the wooden chair.
“In any case,” he continued, “I am now presented with this fantastic opportunity, and unlike you, I shall not let it slip through my fingers. However, I shall try to be discreet before Mr. Norwood. He is a decent chap, whom I like a great deal, and he has enough on his mind at the moment.”
“Thank you, best friend. You are most obliging. However, I shall not let you darken my mood. I am so elated at this improvement. Oh, but I almost forgot. The doctor must be fetched.” Aldley dashed for the door. “And I must call for some more barley water—and gruel, in case she awakens hungry.”
Chapter 49
Lydia was aware of being carefully examined. Her bandage was unravelled and replaced. Someone bent close to hear her breathing.
She surmised that it was a doctor, but she kept her eyes closed. She was not yet certain of her surroundings, of her situation, and in any case she did not feel so very far from sleep. She allowed herself to doze.
It was night again when she next awoke. The servant was gone. Lydia reached out, this time using her left arm, and carefully poured herself some barley water. She drank greedily, then tested her limbs.
