by RITA GERLACH
“Lanley is at his manor house. Word has it he will only be there one more day.”
Rebecah bit her lower lip. She hadn’t much time to speak to him on Dorene’s behalf. “I wonder why he’s leaving.”
“Perhaps he is bored with the solitude of the country. But there is more news.”
Deberton appeared in the doorway. David turned. “Ah, here is Edward. I was giving the ladies the word on Lanley.”
“It’s the least important thing I’ve to tell.” Deberton drew off his hat and set it on the side table. He was dressed in drab brown from his waistcoat to his wool leggings. His hair hung slightly loose from its brown satin ribbon. No doubt, Rebecah imagined, his untidy appearance was due to the windy day.
Lady Margaret put her hand in Rebecah’s and leaned forward on the couch. The mere grip showed how anxious she was to hear the news. Rebecah’s fingers could feel the rapid pulse on her ladyship’s wrist, and hoped the news would comfort her somehow. The blockades preventing her from seeing Sir Rodney had grown unbearable.
Deberton lowered into the chair across from the ladies. “Be at ease, my lady. Tomorrow you will see your husband.”
Lady Margaret, overjoyed by the news, turned to stifle her tears.
“His sentence will be lenient according to the judge. The Court promises to be merciful.”
“What might his sentence be, Mr. Deberton?” she asked.
“It’s hard to say with any real certainty, my lady. He may remain in prison a good many years. But at least he will live.”
Margaret Nash could not help but begin to cry. Rebecah drew her in her arms. She thought of the heartbreak love brings when the ones you’re devoted to suffer. How hard, how frustrating it is to lack the ability to remove misery. At least Lady Margaret had her faith to lean upon, and so Rebecah prayed not only for mercy for Sir Rodney, but for Lady Margaret to bear her burden through the strength of her Savior.
“Thank you, Mr. Deberton, for all your efforts.” Rebecah gave him a grateful smile.
“It does not end here, Miss Rebecah. We will defend him with all our strength.”
Lady Margaret wiped her eyes. “I do not know how to thank you—and you as well, David. What my husband did is considered treason by some. Most would not dare to defend him.”
“The way I see it, what father would not send support to his son when so far away? We shall use that as our platform.”
Deberton stood and lifted his hat from the table. “Miss Rebecah.” She looked up at him. “I insist you allow me to escort you to Rosewood. David tells me it is urgent you see Sir Cecil. My carriage is outside.”
Rebecah looked over at Lady Margaret, worried to leave her.
“Go on, Rebecah. I shall be fine with David and Lavinia to look after me.”
She stood and kissed Lady Margaret’s cheek. Then she fetched her cloak and left out the front door with Mr. Deberton keeping step behind her.
* * *
A meticulous boxwood garden lined the front drive at Rosewood. Rebecah explained the urgency of this meeting to Mr. Deberton. He explained, “By law, Lanley is not obligated to the lady. But if he is an honorable person, he will own up to his actions and do right by her.”
“I think he is, Mr. Deberton.”
“Well, that’s yet to be seen. You do realize you are treading in deep waters confronting a man like Lanley, who you spurned, who is now enriching his career in politics. A bastard child could ruin it for him.”
“Nevertheless, I am confident he will hear me out.” Yet she was unsure of his feelings toward her. Was he bitter and angry still? Uncertainty had to be ignored.
Amber flames flickered in the streetlamps, spread over the sidewalks and white stone facades of the manor houses. People were in the street, some hurrying, others strolling at leisure. A rider steadied his horse as Deberton’s coach passed by.
The coach slowed and halted. He knew then they had arrived. The moments he shared with Rebecah were about to be interrupted. He stepped out and held his hand out to her. Then he guided her onto the sidewalk.
“We will not be long,” Mr. Deberton said to the driver. “Keep the horses steady, and do not go off anywhere. I know you’ve a liking for that public house we passed.”
The driver shrugged his shoulders with disappointment and eased back in his seat.
Rebecah, dressed in a lilac-blue gown, looked more beautiful to him than ever before. Her hair hung free down her back in lengthy waves and curls, and he wished he could run his fingers through it. Her hat, trimmed in blue ribbon, shadowed her eyes, and the sight of her cheek caused his heart to grip. He knew she would never have him. He knew she loved another. Yet, here she was with him, under the streetlights and climbing moon.
He drew his eyes away from her, and pulled the bell hanging outside beside the large oak door.
Rebecah drew in a breath. “I’ve been calm up until this moment. I worry what Lanley will say to me after all this time. Do you think he will refuse to see me?”
Mr. Deberton touched her elbow. “Do not worry. I’ll see to it that doesn’t happen.”
The door creaked open and a servant appeared. “We wish to see Sir Cecil Lanley,” Mr. Deberton said, taking the lead. “Is he at home?”
The well-dressed servant in a white wig and scarlet coat placed his hand on the door ready to close it. “He is engaged with dinner guests.”
Rebecah stepped forward. “May we wait, please? It is urgent I speak with him. He and I are acquainted.”
The servant looked into her face. His expression told Rebecah he fancied she was another of Lanley’s ladies. Not wanting to anger his master, he said, “Yes, madam. You may wait. Who may I say is calling?”
“Tell him a friend he has not seen in a long while.”
* * *
Lanley’s butler showed them to a sitting room lit with candles. Rebecah looked up at its high ornate ceiling, remembering how her father hoped this would have been her house. Unimpressed by its lavish rosewood richness, she was glad it was not hers. Indications were Lanley had gained the whole world. But his mortal life, like all men, was fleeting, passing like the chaff in the fields. Here one moment, gone the next, and the corruptible riches left behind to decay and rust.
The door closed and she was left alone with Mr. Deberton. Together they listened to the servant’s self-important footsteps go down a lengthy hallway. Rebecah removed her gloves and looked over at a portrait of Lanley’s father. He stared at her with what she thought was anger. A flow-blue vase graced the table where she laid her hat aside. There were no flowers in the room, no books.
A moment later, they heard voices. Laughter followed and voices again. By the sound of Lanley’s footsteps, she could tell he was irritated, having been torn away from his guests.
There was no turning back. The servant opened the door for his master and stood aside for him to enter. There stood Lanley, his head high with one hand poised on his hip. His hair was powdered, like she had last seen him. His eyes enlarged when he met her eyes. He glanced but a moment at Deberton.
Who the devil is he? The question shown in Lanley’s eyes and did not escape Rebecah. Lanley had grown older, but none the wiser. A few wrinkles creased near his eyes and he had put on flesh. He took in a breath and stepped over to her. She smiled and held out her hand.
“Please tell me I am welcomed, Cecil.”
He bent forward and kissed her hand. “I thought I had forgotten your hands, madam. But here you are in all your softness and rose scent, your memory rushing upon me like an angry storm.”
She drew her hand out of his. A sincere smile played on her lips. “I hope you’ve forgiven me for the pain I caused you.”
He stood straight. “Oh. Well, I have, my dear. But seeing you again, brings back bittersweet memories.”
“Be happy I was not a dishonest woman. For if I had been, I would have married you without loving you and spent all your money.”
This made him laugh. “You have a point there, Re
becah. We are still friends at least. But that Nash fellow. How I loathed him.”
She lowered her eyes. How she missed the only man that meant what he said when he told her he loved her. It was her fault to have lost him.
“Yes, I know. But that too is over, as you probably heard.” She returned her gaze. “I’m glad you are no longer hurt by me, Cecil.”
“Hurt? Gads, my dear, I’m too much a man for that.” He laughed again.
“What arrogance,” Deberton said beneath his breath.
“Who is this gentleman?” Lanley asked with a swift turn. “An uncle perhaps?” The comment made Deberton set his lips. He bowed just the same to Lanley.
Rebecah took his arm and moved him forward. “May I present Edward Deberton? He is David’s partner in the law.”
“I don’t understand. Why have you come with Rebecah? If it’s a legal matter, I cannot imagine what. My servant said your business was urgent.”
“Frankly it does not concern me, sir. I should take my leave to my coach outside and wait for Miss Brent. I accompanied her to ensure her safety.”
“Hmm.” Lanley sucked in his cheeks and sat in a chair.
Deberton excused himself, put on his hat, and walked out. Lanley looked over at Rebecah.
“You’re more ravishing than ever. What have you been doing to yourself? How your hair catches the light.”
She sat opposite him. “I’m still the same.”
“No, you’ve changed. I can see it in your eyes.” He leaned forward toward her.
“I’m at peace. I found redemption.”
“You found religion?”
She shook her head. “No, Cecil. I found the faith I needed to carry on—and to forgive.”
“Have you come to tell me you’ve changed your mind? If you have, I would take you back in an instant.” He leaned back into the cushions. “Even though you are too strong-willed for me.”
“Cecil, there is no need to flatter.”
“But it’s true. You’re more beautiful, more enticing…”
Rebecah wished he would stop complimenting her. “I must talk to you. It’s important. My visit here is serious.”
“I promise to listen if you kiss me.”
She moved away from Lanley and stood in front of the mullioned window. The golden light fell upon her and edged her hair. Outside the door, a wave of laughter came from the guests.
Lanley smoothed the cuffs on his sleeve. “They wait for me. Join us.”
“I’ve interrupted. Thank you, but I cannot stay.”
“Your diversion is welcomed, my dear. It has dawned on me you’ve never been inside my house. Do you like it?”
She picked up her gloves. “It is a fine house, indeed. But I see by the clock on the mantle I have taken too much of your time. I must talk to you, Cecil, seriously.”
“I’m listening, my dear.”
She looked straight into his eyes. “It concerns Dorene. I am here on her behalf, for she is afraid to speak to you.”
He gave a short laugh. “Why on earth would she be afraid of me? I’ve done nothing to merit that. So be quick to tell me all, dear lady, else I’ll lose the willingness to listen.”
“She is not well, Cecil, and needs you.”
“Me? Not well you say? Why the last time I saw her she was in perfect health, the picture of it.”
“That was before she returned to Endfield.”
“Does she need a physician? I shall send mine to Endfield at my own expense.”
Rebecah sensed he suspected more.
“Cecil, listen to me.” She touched his hand. “It concerns you. You must promise to do right by her before I say anything more. You will not deny the truth, nor shirk your duty.”
He frowned, looked worried. “I’m a man of my word, Rebecah. Give me my medicine. I can take it.”
“Dorene is carrying your child,” she said.
He blinked his eyes. “She is what?”
“She is with child—your child. You understand?”
He raised his hand to his forehead and looked as though he would faint. “What a mess I’ve made—all for one night of pleasure.”
“Tell me you will not reject her or abandon this child. You know what her father will do, and the rest of society.”
He babbled on about his position, his fortune, and his reputation. Rebecah had the urge to shake him and make him see what he must do. Why did he have to whimper?
“Is this not what you’ve wanted all along—have a son, an heir? Now it has happened.”
He looked at her, his eyes red along the rims. “You’re right, Rebecah. I must do my duty. I’ll go to her, take her to my country house until the child is born.”
“You might consider marrying her.”
“Marriage? Ah, Rebecah, I’m not yet over you, I think.” He looked with longing into her face.
“You will never have me, Cecil. We will always be friends though. Here is your chance for a wife and family. It would be the right thing to do.”
The door swung open and one of Lanley’s guests peeked inside. “Come, Lanley. Time slips away.” The gentleman hesitated when his eyes rested upon the woman who had drawn his host away. He bowed with a smile. “Forgive me. I see I’ve interrupted.” He turned to go.
Lanley pulled his friend inside. “Dr. Tulane, may I present Miss Rebecah Brent?”
“Ah, I recognize the name.”
A weak smile tugged at Lanley’s mouth. “Alec attended me while I was ailing over you, Rebecah.”
“I see,” she said.
“After a week of bleeding and dozes of tonics, I was back on my feet.”
“No offense,” Dr. Turlane said, “but I was incredulous as to why a man would throw himself into a sickbed over a woman, at least until now. You’re as fair as he described.”
Turlane was a short man, no more than an inch taller than Rebecah. His boyish face was flushed, and he had a strong jaw and wide shoulders. His hazel eyes sparkled, yet the lines beside them hinted as to his age.
“I met the gentleman you came with outside in the hall. Deberton, I know slightly. If you should ever need a physician, Miss Brent, don’t hesitate to send for me.”
For a moment, Rebecah paused. Then she said, “Dr. Turlane, would you be willing to visit a prisoner?”
“If it is of some importance to you, certainly. Who is it you wish me to see?”
“Sir Rodney Nash. He is there unjustly, sir. His wife, Lady Margaret, is so distressed. I worry for her too. We plan to visit him tomorrow.”
“I shall be happy to attend with you,” Turlane said.
Lanley pulled the cork from the blue bottle of smelling salts and waved it in front of his nose. “I heard of Sir Rodney’s misfortune, Rebecah. I’ll see what can be done. And Turlane, I’ll pay all expenses for Sir Rodney’s care.”
Rebecah smiled at Lanley. “That is kind of you, Cecil.”
He took hold of her hands and held her fingers firmly. “And I will do the right thing by Dorene too. I do have feelings for her. Turlane here has no idea what we are talking about.” Lanley turned to the good doctor. “I’m to have an heir, Turlane. You will attend my forthcoming wife?”
“I promised I would always be the physician to the Lanleys,” he said, bowing his head.
Rebecah put on her hat and gloves to leave. “I may not ever see you again, Cecil. I will write and see how Dorene and the baby are. You will let me know about Sir Rodney too, won’t you?”
Lanley looked shocked. His mouth fell open. This was too much news for one day. “Of course, Rebecah.”
“Goodbye, Cecil.” She held his hands tighter. He raised hers to his lips with forlorn eyes and kissed them.
Then, lifting her skirts, she headed for the door. “Good day, Dr. Turlane. Until tomorrow.”
She found Mr. Deberton leaning against the coach waiting for her. Glancing back at the manor, she saw Lanley standing at the window. He raised his hand, and she threw him a smile. And when the coach rolled aw
ay, she told Deberton of Lanley’s promise, how she hoped he would keep it.
CHAPTER 34
On a gray and stormy morn, Rebecah sat beside Lady Margaret in Dr. Turlane’s carriage. It swayed over the road, and in the distance, Rebecah saw the gloomy walls of the prison. She looked at Dr. Turlane. The bumpy ride had not kept him from falling asleep. Lady Margaret held her prayer book open on her lap.
Turning her eyes back to the scene outside, Rebecah thought about the year that had transpired. She thought of the man she loved. Had he not been the center of those days, the object of first love and heartbreak? She pictured his face, and wondered what he was doing at this exact moment. How long would it take him to receive the letter Lady Margaret sent? Word was correspondence was becoming impossible.
When she stepped from the carriage and looked at the prison walls a shiver ran up her spine. She drew Lady Margaret’s arm through hers and followed Dr. Turlane through the gate. Ahead of them, the jailer thrust a key from a ring of many into the door’s keyhole. His fingers in the dim light were black with soot and his hands calloused.
He pushed the door in. Stepping through it, a terrible stench hit them. The jailer stopped and let out a string of coughs.
“Are you ill, man?” Dr. Turlane held the ladies back. “Have you seen a doctor about that cough?”
“No, sir,” the man replied with a slur. “It’s the air in here. Bad air, ya see. Bad, bad air.” He shrugged and moved on. “This way. Watch ya step.”
With sorrowful eyes, Rebecah looked at the faces of the prisoners behind bars. They sat in the gloom, heads low— broken, bent people, some repentant of their deeds, some not. Dirty hands reached between the bars. Some asked for money and bread. It had been a long time since they had seen a clean face or heard the rustle of silk.
Rebecah leaned closer to Dr. Turlane and whispered, “So many are sick. Can nothing be done to ease their suffering?”
“You needn’t look at them.” Turlane pulled her ladyship away with Rebecah.
“I wonder what King George would think if he visited this place?”
