He nodded to the housekeeper, and strode from the room.
7
The gentlemen greeted the news that their hostess had taken to her sickbed with expressions of polite concern in the majority of cases. Lord Inglesham’s regret was genuine, and Lord Poole was horrified, dreading the contagion reaching himself. He suggested, in a wavering voice, that his presence would be an encumbrance with his host concerned over his bride, and offered to depart on the morrow. In the face of such lily-livered behaviour the earl was happy to see him go, and revised his opinion of the man. When Poole was in discussion with Lord Chertsey, Lord Inglesham took his friend aside.
‘Poole is an old woman, but are you sure it would not be far better if we all departed in the morning?’
‘No, no my dear fellow. My wife has the influenza, not the plague. I will not be sat at her bedside hour upon hour, but I fear I will miss the hunting on Saturday. You and Jasper Cowleigh and Chertsey all brought your own mounts to enjoy some sport. I would not wish you to miss it, and besides, I will need some company. I fear the household has swiftly become my wife’s loyal band, and I might well find myself ignored by my own staff were I here alone.’ Ledbury smiled.
‘Do you object?’ Henry Inglesham posed the question.
‘No, I do not think so. It just takes a bit of getting used to, like being married, I suppose. It is a damnable inconvenience though, having illness in the house, and just when I…’ The earl paused. Confessing he was actually wooing his wife, however cautiously, and from motives merely of achieving some peace and harmony, seemed too awkward to admit even to his best friend. ‘…just when I thought we were getting to know one another.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, or there is anything I can do…’
‘Thank you. I know I can rely upon you to stand bluff.’
*
Kitty felt too ill to care what was going on, or measure the passage of time. She recognised Mrs Gowthorpe but made no connection as to why she was in the room. She was hot and cold by turns, and ached all over. Then Mrs Gowthorpe was replaced. She did not want to drink the bitter liquid her husband held to her lips. She would not drink it; but then she had to do so. The command had to be obeyed; the voice would brook no refusal. She spluttered a little, and cried, and then for all that things felt so bad, there was reassurance, and the arms that held her would not let the bad things win. She slept a little, and did not know that only after her breathing became regular in slumber did those arms let her go.
The earl heaved a sigh, and stretched arms that felt a dead weight. He looked down at his wife, his responsibility. He did not much care for responsibility, it tended to bore him, but this one… She was not beautiful, especially lying there with her face flushed, and that smell of illness that came so fast and clung so long, but she was his, not by conquest, and not for a while only; his for life and by right of the ring upon her finger. He was conscious of a strong sense of possessiveness, and some confusion.
‘My lord, if you would let me assist you, once you have retired I shall watch for any change.’ Whicham had come soft-footed into the room and his voice was a low whisper.
‘Thank you, I can put myself to bed, Whicham. Look after her ladyship, and if there is cause for concern in the night, you wake me, understood?’
‘Of course, my lord.’
*
He was not woken until after daylight next morning, when Whicham reported her ladyship ‘rather fractious’.
‘I debated whether to waken you, my lord, but did not feel it my place to remonstrate with her ladyship, even in her state. She seemed to attend to you last evening, so…’
‘Yes, of course. Is she worse, do you think?’
‘I am not qualified to judge, my lord, but she appears a little confused, if you understand me. I was trying to get her to take a little cordial, as the doctor said she ought, but she was most vehement in her refusal, and rambling. Some people become so more easily than others if feverish, I believe.’
‘Yes. I will go to her now. Send down for hot water. Once she is settled I will shave.’
‘Of course, my lord.’
It was an unshaven and dressing gown-clad earl who, still yawning, entered his wife’s room. She was tossing and turning, her face flushed. He saw the glass of cordial by the bed, and went to sit where he could hold her about the shoulders and put it to her lips. When he did so, she pursed them, and shook her head.
‘You will drink.’
She shook her head.
‘You will drink.’
He pressed the glass more firmly to her lips. His voice was insistent but very calm. She opened her mouth, and swallowed, choking slightly.
‘There, that was not so bad. How do you feel? Kitty?’
She stared at him, owlishly. If one of his friends had looked at him that way he would have said they were foxed.
‘I am not well.’
‘No, you have the influenza, but the doctor says you will do very well. You have but to rest, and to do as you are told.’
‘Only influenza,’ she murmured, and then her eyes seemed to focus on him, and her voice was perfectly clear. ‘Did you hope it was worse? Best outcome… money but no encumb… encumbr… encumbr… wife.’
He felt as if she had hit him, hard. His hold tightened.
‘No.’ It was simple, and it was accurate. Kitty sighed, and closed her eyes. ‘Listen to me, Kitty. You will get well. That is my hope and it shall be so. Rest, and recover.’
He laid her back against the pillows, and rose, frowning. Whicham tapped the door, and announced that the hot water had arrived.
*
The earl was still frowning when he went down to breakfast. Lord Inglesham, seeing it, asked if Lady Ledbury was worse.
‘Not worse, but her mind wanders a little. She would not drink when Whicham requested her to do so, but she obeys my voice it seems.’
‘Of course, she does. You speak expecting to be obeyed. A servant requests.’
‘I suppose that is true.’
‘Why the frown, George?’
‘I told her she had the influenza and she asked if I had not wished it something worse. She thought I wanted her death, Henry.’
Lord Inglesham laid a hand on his friend’s arm.
‘I am sure that was the twisting of thought that comes with illness. You must not attend to it.’
Lord Ledbury shook his head, as if to clear it.
‘Yes, but it was the deuce of a thing to hear one’s wife say.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘You will go out with Chertsey and Cowleigh. I will not leave the house. Should be a good run tomorrow, and they meet again Tuesday, from here. If nothing else, stay that long.’
‘If that is what you wish, my friend.’
‘It is.’
*
It could not be said that the earl watched his friends depart without a pang on the Saturday morning, but he accepted that in the greater scheme of things, missing a day’s hunting was a very small loss. He quashed the small angry voice in his head that blamed his wife for ruining yet another pleasure, and went up to find Mrs Gowthorpe bathing her ladyship’s forehead with lavender water. Lord Ledbury turned up his nose, for he could not abide the stuff. The housekeeper turned at his entrance.
‘Now, my lady, here’s your lord come to see you, so I will away and get Cook to make you some nice, thin broth to keep your strength up.’
‘I do not care for food, truly.’ Kitty looked at the earl. ‘I will drink a little more of the cordial if you wish.’ There was a slight nervousness to her voice.
‘So you think I come merely to bully you, madam?’ He tried to sound light-hearted, and nodded a dismissal to Mrs Gowthorpe. As the door closed behind her he took one of Kitty’s hands and held the wrist. The pulse was tumultuous, and her cheeks still flushed. ‘You look a little more “aware” than before. I think fevers are often worse at night.’
‘Have I been rambling? I hope I did not say anything untoward.’
�
�No, but you were not cooperative.’
‘I am sorry, my lord.’ She closed her eyes.
‘Whatever for? Being ill? I have yet to hear of anyone contracting an illness, a real illness, mark you, just to be awkward. I know you to be a sensible woman, so dismiss guilt immediately.’
‘It was not something to prevent…’
His hold on her wrist altered to take her hand.
‘I know that.’
‘I wish I did not feel so…’ Kitty trembled and sniffed. ‘This is such foolishness. I have no reason to weep and yet…’
She wept. It was, he thought as he held her, an odd feeling. He felt genuinely sorry that she was so unwell, but at the same time peculiarly detached. He was also aware that the rather timorous sick Kitty was less interesting than the one he railed against for standing up to him. He did prefer the shrew to the mouse.
*
If Sir Jasper Cowleigh thought that waxing lyrical about the day’s sport would cheer his host, he was sadly mistaken. With the exception of a couple of half-hour visits, Lord Ledbury had not been offering succour to the afflicted, and had instead been sat in his library turning the pages of a book and not reading a word. He had looked outside. The weather was cold but bright, and he could just imagine the thrill of the chase, the chase he had been anticipating all week. That he would in all probability be able to ride out with his friends on Tuesday was not, at this moment, any solace. It was therefore a grumpy earl who forced a smile to his lips when Sir Jasper described the run in detail. Lord Inglesham, with greater insight into his friend’s mind, refrained from adding his own description, and Lord Chertsey, whose horse had stumbled upon landing, late in the day, and deposited him in mud, went straight up to his room with a surprisingly cheery demand for a bathtub and cans of hot water.
‘Not a bad toss, I take it, from Chertsey’s attitude.’ Ledbury watched his lordship ascend the stairs in the manner of a man who has discovered the discomfort of chafing.
‘Not at all, his beast simply pecked on landing in some heavy ground. Only the pride of horse and rider were damaged. He did slide in a very entertaining way through the mud.’ Sir Jasper stretched. ‘Not but that we all need to clean up. My boots will make my man shake his head and “tut tut”, but dash it, you cannot ride to hounds and not get the odd splash of mud on one’s person.’
He headed upstairs and left lords Ledbury and Inglesham in possession of the hall.
‘If you are going to tell me what a grand day you have had, Henry…’
‘I am not, I promise. Or rather I will say I have enjoyed it but not give you a fence-by-fence account of it. I would rather ask how your day has been?’
‘Excessively boring.’ Ledbury grimaced.
‘I am glad.’
‘What? And you say you are my friend?’
‘Yes, because a “boring” day, when your wife is confined to her bed, means one in which her condition has not given cause for concern.’
‘Ah.’ The earl looked at his friend. ‘I am sorry, Henry, if this makes you think of…’
Lord Inglesham brushed the suggestion away with a move of his hand, but his expression was a little sad. ‘Just tell me your cook has a dinner as good as last night’s in preparation,’ he said, changing the subject very obviously, ‘and I will whisk myself away to change with very happy thoughts.’
Upon this assurance, Inglesham went to change.
*
The night passed in a similar fashion to the previous two, with Kitty unsettled at the hour when she would normally retire, but Whicham reported in the morning that he had not had to get up from his bed once between midnight and six.
‘However, my lord, I think the fever itself has, like a gale, blown itself out. Her ladyship awoke a normal temperature, but with damp sheets. I have sent down for fresh linen.’
‘Is she fully awake now?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Then I will see for myself.’ He got up and went into his wife’s bedchamber. She was pale now, rather than flushed.
‘Whicham says the fever broke in the night. I am glad.’
‘Indeed, I feel better for that, but oh, so very… watery. It is as if all my limbs lacked bones.’
‘A revolting concept, but I understand what you mean. Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘Nothing except ask Mrs Gowthorpe if she would be so kind as to assist me with my ablutions, once she is risen, and the house set about its routine. My nightgown clings to me and I feel very “tarnished”.’
‘Of course.’
‘And thank you, my lord, for your attention these last few days. I am conscious of having been a burden.’
‘No such thing.’
‘What of your guests?’
‘Poole turned tail as soon as it was known there was influenza in the house, but the others hunted yesterday and I have asked them to stay at least until after Tuesday, when the meet is here.’
‘Oh dear, and I kept you from the hunt yesterday!’
‘It was but one day. It counts for nothing. Now, I will return after you have had Mrs Gowthorpe’s aid, and today, madam wife, I expect you to take proper nourishment.’
‘Yes, my lord, as you decree.’ She managed a wan smile.
He went to shave and dress in good humour, and with less reason to be involved in her care he slipped unconsciously into bachelor mode with his friends. Kitty slept most of the first day, and was unaware of the change.
*
Monday brought the earl a letter, scented, and crossed both sides. His first instinct was simply to burn it, but then curiosity got the better of him. He recognised Louisa Yarningale’s hand, and the perfume. Odd that it had not previously revolted him. He read the letter at arm’s length, and with an increasing look of distaste.
How could you?
I had thought you funning when you announced The Awful News, but it was all TOO true. I declare my poor heart is quite broke, and I have not eaten properly for days. When you were so much to me, and I to you, George, how could you do this thing?
‘Doing it much too brown, Louisa,’ thought the earl. ‘You are as heartless as I am, a beautiful, empty-headed baggage, but nothing more. I was already tiring of you when I decided to marry. This just advanced the inevitable, and you know it.’
Of course She is to be pitied, for She will have no idea how cruel you can be. Poor Thing must be in your thrall already as I have no doubt you ensnared her with your wicked magic at first sight. Does She think you adore her as I believed you adored me, perfidious Wretch? How She will come to regret giving you her heart, as I regret it.
His lordship snorted with laughter at how wide of the mark she was on that one.
I have no recollection of Bidford’s sister. She does not stand out in memory. How ironic if you have allied yourself with a dab of a thing just to fund your wretched horses. Almost I could laugh at that, were it not so Tragic, and at such a cost to Our Happiness. You will rue the day, my lord, and wish you had kept to our “arrangement”. I might even have found ways to get Yarningale to make you a loan, without the need for this Ghastly Step.
‘Good God, as if I would accept his money!’
Of course, being married need not mean the end of us, need it? When you have done your duty, and she hers, remember the fun we have had together, for we have dealt together very well, you and I. A “dutiful” wife is the least likely to provide entertainment, as you may have already discovered. She will bore you, George, before the Season is out, and you will wish for what Was. We could forget this “inconvenience” you know, but do not wait too long, my dear, lest my “doors” be open to another.
Your Loulou.
He pulled a face at the letter as if it were rank, screwed it into a ball, and then cast it into the fire, where he watched it consumed by the hungry flames. Part of him considered how much better off he was with his ‘dab of a thing’, whom he was certain would never write anything so cloyingly revolting and false. Honest little woman, his w
ife, however much of a ‘dab’ she was. When he visited her before retiring, it was with a feeling of kindness towards her. She was already asleep, one hand beneath her cheek. However, the letter also reminded him of what he was missing, and the pale creature with the plaited hair and nightcap tied primly beneath her chin could offer nothing that might satisfy his restless loins. For all her stupidity, Louisa had been tremendous fun in that department. He went to bed torn between contentment that he had picked a very suitable wife, and dissatisfaction that in one very important aspect his life was now depressingly unfulfilled.
8
It could not, of course, be expected that Lady Ledbury would make an instant recovery. She remained confined to bed for some days, and thereafter was lacklustre and tired very easily, and it was then that the earl began to wish for liveliness and company. He had done his duty, he told himself, pushing aside the feeling of worth at being truly of use. Until her maid was fit for work she was being pampered by Mrs Gowthorpe and, to his chagrin, Whicham, but as a pale convalescent, Kitty was rather distant towards her lord. The newly forged and tentative bond between them seemed to grow thin by stretching. His temper grew shorter as it did so, and after a week he could face it no longer. The flashpoint was when his lordship had to wait a considerable time after he had rung before his valet appeared, and the ‘dereliction of duty’ was explained as being because ‘her ladyship had no knowledge where Mrs Gowthorpe had placed her slippers’.
‘Her slippers. I was left waiting whilst you hunted for her slippers? Remind me, Whicham, are you my valet, or a lady’s maid?’
‘I am sorry, my lord. It will not happen again,’ Whicham tried to placate his tetchy employer. This mood, one with which Whicham was familiar, had been deepening, despite his lordship’s being free to go hunting with Lord Inglesham on the previous day.
‘Good.’
‘Yes, for Miss Wootton is herself much improved, and keen to resume her duties.’
The Devil You Know Page 8
