by Darcy Burke
“I am not,” he said. Changing the subject to something far less obtrusive, he leaned back in his chair. “I plan to leave early tomorrow so that I may obtain the marriage license.” They’d agreed to a date the following week—Wednesday, which was in just ten days. “You’re welcome to accompany me, or you can leave later, if you prefer.”
“I may as well go with you since we have the dinner party tomorrow night. I’m glad you both decided to hasten the wedding. I admit I don’t trust her father given that he was willing to sell her off to the highest bidder.”
Ned wouldn’t characterize it in quite that way, but Sir Chester Knox had agreed to trade her for a tract of land. Ned suspected he wouldn’t care for the man. He had the sense Aquilla didn’t either, so he looked forward to rarely seeing him.
“I am curious what his reply will be to my letter.” He’d written to Sir Chester Knox as soon as he’d returned from the hospital, but wouldn’t expect a reply until tomorrow.
They had, however, received confirmation from Lady Satterfield regarding tomorrow night’s celebratory dinner. She’d insisted on hosting a small party as soon as she’d heard of their engagement yesterday.
Had he really asked Aquilla to marry him in the entrance hall of Bethlehem Hospital?
Ned cringed inwardly. It was a rather indecorous location for a marriage proposal. He had an idea of how to make it up to Aquilla and was eager to do so.
Finished with her biscuit, Aunt Susannah took her teacup from the tray. “His reply ought to be one of happiness. Lady Satterfield told me a bit about Lady Knox. She doesn’t sound as if she’s the warmest person.”
Ned recalled his brief interaction with her in the park as well as Aquilla’s reaction to her. “I would agree that she is a bit unpleasant.” Which he found puzzling given Aquilla’s nature—she was kindhearted, witty, and quite pleasant. Hell, those were adjectives he’d use to describe any of the women he’d considered marrying over the years. Aquilla was much more than that. She was honest and alluring and real.
“Oh yes, you met her,” Aunt Susannah said. She sipped her tea, then set her cup back on the tray. “I thought Dr. Paget would be joining us.”
“He will when he’s finished with George.” Ned eyed the third teacup and wondered what was delaying the man.
Aunt Susannah plucked a napkin from the table and dabbed at her mouth. “You saw George earlier?” At Ned’s nod, she continued. “And how is he?”
“A bit erratic,” Ned said.
“It seems as though he’s been worse of late,” she observed.
It did seem that way, but then Ned hadn’t been spending as much time here. That would change after he married Aquilla. He would still need to go to London to fulfill his obligations, but he wouldn’t be looking for a wife any longer, which had taken a considerable amount of time and effort.
“He settles down when I am here, and I’ll be here more.”
Aunt Susannah’s brow furrowed, and he knew what was coming. “How do you plan to tell Miss Knox about him?”
He’d thought of this, of course, but he didn’t have an answer. How did one tell one’s new bride that she would need to share her home with a lunatic? And when could he trust her with the truth—a truth that very few knew? Could he trust her with it? He’d always expected he would, but now, faced with the prospect of disclosing his secret, doubt unfurled in his mind.
Dr. Paget took that moment to enter the drawing room. He glanced toward the window and frowned. “Raining again, I see.”
“Yes, the weather is atrocious this spring,” Aunt Susannah said. “May I pour you some tea?”
The doctor took an empty chair near the table. “Yes, please. I’d hoped to take George for a walk this afternoon, but I see I shall have to settle for the gallery.”
“How is he?” Ned asked. After demonstrating initial excitement upon seeing Ned, George had grown angry. He’d thrown things at Ned and railed against him for being gone so long. That Ned had just been here five days ago didn’t matter to George. Dr. Paget had explained that the passage of time felt different to George—days could feel like months, or they could feel like hours.
“He’s resting now,” Dr. Paget said, taking his teacup from Aunt Susannah.
Ned was surprised. George had been so agitated. “How did you get him settled?”
Dr. Paget lifted a shoulder. “We’ve been working on various techniques. That’s why you hired me, isn’t it?” He gave a small, encouraging smile.
“Yes.” Ned had hired others, but none had been as successful with George as Dr. Paget. “I’m quite grateful that I found you.” Over the past several years, since his father’s death and he’d assumed George’s care, Ned had sought new information and treatments about George’s illness. He’d found a pamphlet written by Dr. Paget and had contacted the man to discuss George. That had—happily—turned into the doctor accepting a position of employment.
Dr. Paget sipped his tea and looked at Ned over the edge of his cup before lowering it. “I understand congratulations are in order—how wonderful that you are to be married.”
Ned sensed a caveat was coming. He hadn’t shared his news directly with Dr. Paget but wasn’t surprised he’d heard, likely from the butler or housekeeper. “Thank you. We’re to be married the week after next.”
Dr. Paget’s eyes reflected his surprise. “So soon? And do you plan to bring the countess here immediately?”
“Soon after, yes.” Again, Ned perceived a concern. “Is there a problem?”
His brow settling into deep furrows, Dr. Paget set his cup down on the table. “It is my opinion that you should refrain from introducing your new countess to George at this time. In fact, I would recommend she not come here at all. Not until we’ve had a chance to prepare George. He’s quite attached to you, my lord, and I fear having to share you with your wife will cause a significant…setback.”
Ned scooted forward in his chair, leaning toward the doctor. “What do you mean?”
When Dr. Paget had first come, George had been in his worst state yet, spending days at a time in a sort of fog where he spoke little and when he did, it was to people who weren’t there, people who didn’t even exist. He’d lost all cognition, or so it had seemed, for long periods. It had been frightening.
“I can’t be certain. But he could return to the way he was before. Or worse.”
Aunt Susannah frowned. “I know you don’t wish to hear this, Ned, but it may be time to consider sending George away. Not to Bethlehem. I would never suggest sending George back there.” Her gaze was full of admiration but held a parent-like edge of steel. For a woman who’d never had children of her own, she’d done an excellent job taking over for Ned’s parents when they’d focused all their energies on George. “Perhaps now is the time for us to visit York again. The Quakers there are doing some marvelous things.”
Ned couldn’t argue with her about that, but he still didn’t trust anyone to care for George. After what had happened to him at Bethlehem… “No.”
“I must agree,” Dr. Paget said, filling Ned with relief. “The lasting effects from George’s experience in the hospital could very well be what is causing this ongoing difficulty. It’s impossible to know, of course. But I do think you’re doing the very best by him, my lord.”
Ned nodded as he settled back in his chair. He looked at Aunt Susannah, who was now folding her napkin and setting it on the table. He knew she meant well, and he loved her dearly.
He turned to Dr. Paget. “What do you suggest regarding my marriage?”
“Allow us time to prepare George. First, I’ll talk to him about families and how important they are and how they can make us happy. Then we can introduce the possibility of you taking a wife—and the positive impact that could have on you. It’s a shame he doesn’t remember much of his own parents.”
George’s initial bout of insanity when he was sixteen had been terrifying. He hadn’t recognized any of them, had become belligerent and terrified, and
then he’d set the house on fire. Their father had immediately taken him to the hospital, where—unbeknownst to them—they’d done unspeakable things. When he’d come home years later, the only things he’d remembered were his love for Ned and lemon cakes. It was perhaps for that reason that Ned felt so responsible, so…beholden. He was George’s connection to reality, and he couldn’t let him lose it.
“If he did,” Dr. Paget continued, “we could present you and your countess as surrogates, if you will.”
“That is an interesting idea,” Ned said. He wasn’t at all certain that Aquilla would want to mother him. However, when he thought of how she’d behaved with Mary in the hospital, he had to allow that it could happen. The prospect filled him with hope. “I haven’t yet told her of George. It seems a period of adjustment would be good for all parties. I’ll plan to keep my wife in London until we decide it’s safe to introduce her to George.”
Dr. Paget smiled as he picked up his teacup once more. “An excellent plan.”
“How long will this take?” Aunt Susannah asked.
Dr. Paget shrugged again. “It’s hard to say. We’ll just have to see what progress we make. I’ll begin laying the groundwork tomorrow.”
It occurred to Ned that he should have discussed his marriage plans with Dr. Paget before now, but he simply hadn’t thought to do so. Likely because Paget was busy getting to know George and establishing the routines that kept George somewhat calm. “I wonder that I should’ve told you about this sooner.”
“Perhaps, but my presence has been a significant change for him too, and I feel as though we’re just now at a point that we could introduce another. So while it may have been a good idea in theory, I don’t think I would’ve wanted to begin this discussion with George until now.”
Paget pursed his lips a moment and seemed to weigh something before continuing. “How you conduct your marriage is none of my affair, of course, but I would take special care with explaining George to your new countess. Insanity is deeply misunderstood. People are often frightened and don’t know how to behave with a patient. It’s critical that anyone who interacts with George is calm and well versed in how to care for him. I’d be happy to talk with her if you think it would help.” He smiled encouragingly at Ned, who was feeling more anxious by the second.
“I am confident Aquilla will treat George with kindness and understanding.” She’d demonstrated a depth of concern and compassion at Bethlehem, but was that the same as accepting a lunatic into your home?
After another drink of tea, Dr. Paget deposited his cup back on the table. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some writing I need to do.”
Ned knew he kept detailed journals of his work with George so that he could share it with others who helped in similar cases. “Of course. Thank you, Dr. Paget.”
The doctor inclined his head as he stood. “Please keep me abreast of your plans regarding George and the new countess. I can’t stress enough the importance of caution and care in all matters concerning this.”
After he’d departed, Aunt Susannah looked to Ned. “Well, that sounded a bit dire. Should you tell Miss Knox about George prior to the wedding?”
Should he? A horrid thought stole into his mind—what if she changed her mind? No, she wouldn’t do that. He was confident that he’d chosen a bride who would accept George. Which meant he should tell her…but why did that fill him with fear?
Ned peered at his aunt, recalling a conversation they’d had not long ago. “Weren’t you the one who recommended I not tell my bride about George right away, that we should grow accustomed to our marriage—to each other—first?”
She inclined her head. “Indeed I did. Will you continue your semiweekly visits to Sutton Park?”
He had to or George might suffer a setback, as Dr. Paget had said. But that meant leaving his new wife twice a week. He wiped a hand over his forehead. “Yes.”
“She’ll expect to come to Sutton Park given its proximity to London,” Aunt Susannah said. “What will you tell her since you can’t bring her with you?”
He didn’t have an answer for that just yet. “I’ll think of something.”
He stood, weary of this conversation and a bit apprehensive about the entire mess. “This will be a temporary situation. And it’s necessary. You heard Dr. Paget.”
“I did. Forgive me for sticking my nose in.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. Your nose has kept me from going the way of George all these years.”
A flash of distress crossed her features. “You don’t mean that.”
He cringed inwardly. “A poor turn of phrase. My apologies. No, I am as sane as anyone.”
Aunt Susannah stood and came to buss his cheek. “I’m not sure any of us are really sane. I’m going upstairs for a bit. I’ll see you at dinner.”
He watched her leave and thought of tomorrow’s dinner. He could hardly wait to see Aquilla again. They had things to discuss about the wedding, and he had his surprise for her. But mostly, he just wanted to touch her, to feel her presence. When he was with her, something felt right. He hoped George would feel that way too.
Bailey finished adjusting the bodice of Aquilla’s gown. “There you are. I think you’re all together now.” The maid turned to fetch the pearl necklace from the dresser. She’d been delighted to accept the position of permanent lady’s maid and was eager to be serving a countess.
Aquilla wasn’t entirely certain she shared Bailey’s excitement for the future. In fact, she’d wondered many times over the past two days if she’d made an impulsive mistake.
A soft rap on the door was followed by Aquilla’s dear friend Lucy peeking around the wood. “Are you decent?” she asked.
“Yes.” Aquilla wanted to leap up and hug her friend but had to wait until Bailey finished tying her necklace at the back of her neck.
Lucy, her hazel eyes gleaming and her dark hair shining amidst the red ribbon woven through it, stepped inside and was quickly followed by Ivy.
Bailey finished and stepped back. “Will there be anything else, my lady?”
Aquilla turned on the seat and looked up at the maid. “I’m not a countess yet.”
“Just practicing, my lady.” Bailey grinned and offered a wink—she was a bit cheeky for a girl of nineteen, but Aquilla liked her spirit. Bailey dipped a curtsey and left.
Aquilla jumped from the stool that sat before her dressing table and rushed to her friends. She hugged Lucy first and then Ivy.
Aquilla took in Lucy’s ruby-red gown with its stunning ivory embroidery on the sleeves. “You look so elegant.”
Ivy reached to close the door before turning back toward Lucy. “Indeed. That gown is magnificent.”
“It helps that you are simply glowing with happiness,” Aquilla said, glad to see her friend so content.
“Oh, I am,” Lucy said. “I could never have imagined things as they’ve turned out.”
Ivy tossed her a skeptical look. “You’ve scarcely been married a month. Give it time to sour.”
Lucy gasped but then laughed. “You’re being horrid. On purpose.” She rolled her eyes. “Always the pessimist when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“Good God, you sound like Aquilla,” Ivy said, laughing too. “Where is the Lucy who vowed never to marry?”
Lucy looked down at the floor, a blush rising in her cheeks though she was still chuckling. “She was swept quite off her feet by the most extraordinary gentleman who’s made her happier than she’s ever been in her life.” She looked up at first Ivy and then Aquilla. The intensity of the love in her gaze nearly swept Aquilla off her feet. She supposed she knew love like that existed, but she’d never seen it. On second thought, she didn’t know love like that existed.
“You’re truly that happy?” Aquilla asked softly.
Lucy nodded. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?” She waved a gloved hand. “But this should come as no surprise to you. Of all of us, you’ve always been the most optimistic, the most convinced that
true love awaited us all, if we were just patient. And now look at you.” She beamed at her.
Aquilla darted a glance at Ivy, who was looking at her with an arched brow. Her unspoken question hung in the air—are you going to tell her?
Of course she was. It wasn’t a secret. At least not anymore, not with her best friends.
Aquilla smoothed her hands over the sides of her gown, an ivory silk with pale blue ribbons worked through the sleeves and bodice. “I actually didn’t believe that. In fact, I didn’t really wish to marry at all.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped as she stared at Aquilla. After a moment, she looked at Ivy and gaped again. “Did you know this? Clearly, you knew this.”
“I only learned of it recently,” Ivy said. “And I was as shocked as you. Our friend is a good actress.”
Lucy’s gaze traveled slowly back to Aquilla. “Why on earth would you lie, especially to us?”
The word “lie” made Aquilla wince. It reminded her of the nickname they’d given her future husband. Perhaps Aquilla was the perfect wife for him—she’d already demonstrated a keen ability for deception. “I didn’t really mean to. I did want to marry. At first. And when my failure became evident, I think I convinced myself that I was better off unmarried.” Because she didn’t want to end up in a marriage like that of her parents.
“That’s when you made sure no man would ever be interested,” Ivy said.
Aquilla blushed. “Yes. I’m afraid my reputation is nearly entirely of my own doing.”
Lucy shook her head. “I’m aghast. All that time, Ivy and I were denigrating marriage and you cheerfully argued that it mightn’t be so awful, you were secretly ensuring no one would want you. Why would you do that?”
