by Fanny Walsh
With a huff to shake off yet another horrific dream, she pushed a few rogue strands of her light-brown hair back behind her ears.
She took a few breaths to calm herself and appear composed when the carriage rolled to a stop, which it did moments later. Forcing a smile, she took the hand of the coachman as he opened the door and held it out for her to take as she descended the coach’s steps.
She gingerly eased her lame leg to the ground, using the coachman’s arm and her cane for support. She silently hoped that she looked far more graceful than she felt while doing so. Susan exited the carriage directly behind her.
Mary glanced around at the doors she could see from where she was standing. She spotted her father’s old office building just ahead on her left.
Determined to not appear as nonplussed as she felt, she moved slowly down the sidewalk and surveyed the other businesses nearby, trying not to let on how badly her leg ached or how dependent she was on her cane.
Susan matched her stride, not touching Mary, but close enough to reach for her should she start to tumble.
The meeting went smoothly enough. A few brief, polite pleasantries, a few documents to sign, and she was on her way. She breathed a sigh of relief as she and Susan exited the building.
Pleased that the meeting had been much shorter than she had expected, Mary decided to pay Beatrice a visit.
After her friend’s letter, she was quite worried and wished to speak to her in person. She had already sent her a missive informing her of her intention when she had realized that the meeting wouldn’t last very long.
When they arrived, Beatrice rushed out of her house and threw her arms around her friend. “Oh, Mary, what a wonderful surprise!”
Mary returned her friend’s embrace. “I am sorry I was unable to inform you earlier of this visit. I do hope that is alright,” she said.
“More than alright, darling,” Beatrice said. “How about we go outside for tea? I know a wonderful little parlor.”
“That sounds lovely,” Mary agreed.
***
Arriving at the tea parlor, with Susan following behind them silently, Mary tried to take no notice of all the people who ceased their conversations and were now staring at her. A year of acting as Countess of Linden had not made her any more comfortable with the attention she attracted in public.
Once the women were seated, Beatrice began talking excitedly, her gray eyes sparkling.
“I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you. What brought you to town today?”
“A loathsome meeting with my father’s old business partners,” Mary said.
“Nothing too serious, I hope.”
“No. Just a delay in the process and some documents to sign.” Mary sighed. “I only wish they could have sent the documents by mail, instead of me having to make the trip here.”
“Oh, but then we would not be having tea right now,” Beatrice said, laughing.
“How is everything going with your affairs?” Mary asked.
Beatrice waved her fan, frustrated. “Oh, lovely. I have received more marriage proposals in the last week than most women ever receive in their lifetime, each one from a man more foreboding and cynical than the last.”
Mary nodded, thinking of all the men who perpetually tried to capture her attention for her title.
She sighed. “And to think, we once dreamed of marrying for love,” she mused wistfully.
“I am afraid that men will never be able to love that which they fear,” Beatrice agreed and then her demeanor changed to nervous as she shifted the subject elsewhere. “So, did you read my letter?”
Mary struggled to suppress a grimace.
“Do you really believe that something like this happened?” she asked.
Beatrice nodded firmly. “Yes, I do. With my whole heart.”
“But who would wish to harm your father? Did he have any enemies?”
“Oh, goodness no. He was very kind and gentle, and everyone he knew liked him.” Beatrice sighed. “In truth, I cannot think of anyone who could possibly have done this.”
“If he had no enemies or adversaries, then why would anyone intentionally do such a thing?”
Beatrice sighed again. Mary thought she looked like she herself was beginning to have doubts.
“I do not know. But there is this man who was referred to me. He is a private investigator, and he discussed a plan with me to search for evidence and information related to my father’s death.”
Mary bit her lip, trying to hide an expression of doubt and alarm. What was Beatrice thinking? And why was she so sure that she was right, when she herself had admitted that her father had no enemies?
Mary saw Beatrice watching her expectantly, tears beginning to fill her eyes. “Please, Mary. Tell me that I have your trust in this. Tell me that you believe me,” Beatrice pleaded.
Mary touched her arm. While she did not completely believe Beatrice’s ideas, she did love her friend, and she hated to see her so distraught. “Of course, you always have my trust.”
Beatrice regarded her for a moment, then smiled weakly.
“Thank you, dear,” she said, sounding genuinely grateful. Having found the comfort she sought, Beatrice straightened her posture and gave Mary a radiant smile.
The rest of their conversation remained of a more pleasant nature, and Mary was relieved.
She could not bear the thought of leaving Beatrice in her previous tumultuous state or feeling like her closest friend did not support her.
She would just have to prepare herself to comfort Beatrice whenever she realized that her father’s death was just as Mary had said: a tragic accident.
At last, the women said their goodbyes and parted ways. Mary hugged her friend again, promising to make arrangements for the two of them to get together again very soon. Then, she and Susan set off to board their carriage.
As they walked, Mary thought back to a conversation she had had with her uncle a few months back.
He had suggested that she marry one of her cousins. His reasoning was that her cousin could take over the family business, leaving Mary free from worries after that.
Mary, however, had rejected the idea. She could not make herself comfortable with the notion of marrying either one of her cousins, because they had been so close growing up.
Not at first, that is. Now, she began reconsidering her uncle’s suggestion.
He was right about relieving her from her worries about her father’s business. It would remove that burden from her, and perhaps take some of the questioning and critical eyes off her, also.
Besides, she could not picture anyone wanting her, now that she was all but lame in one leg.
Absorbed in her nervous state, she continued walking. She paid no heed to how far from her carriage she was moving.
So lost in her thoughts was she that she at first did not hear the commotion behind her. She only turned when she heard the sound of quickly approaching horse hooves that sounded strangely like they were clomping down the sidewalk.
She and Susan both turned, curious. To their horror, they saw that the carriage was, indeed, flying down the sidewalk, and closing in on them.
“Milady, look out!” Susan cried.
Panic struck Mary, and she looked around for any sort of salvation. She saw a doorway, just a step further on her right and with all her might, she jumped toward it.
She scrambled inside and shielded herself just as the wayward carriage smashed into the front window of a store.
Her heart pounded in her ears and she braced herself to be trampled by frightened horses or rolled over by a carriage wheel. Her left ankle screamed, but she felt sure this was the last time she would need concern herself with it.
She was so certain in her fear that she screamed when a concerned voice spoke to her. She turned her head so quickly toward the voice that she worried she had given herself a neck injury to complement her new leg issue.
She looked up, wild-eyed, into the kind, worried fa
ce of an attractive, almost beautiful man.
“Are you alright, miss?” he asked, his handsome brow furrowed in deep concern.
She tried to speak, despite quite forgetting where she left her voice. She looked around for Susan who was standing some distance away, shocked, but thankfully unharmed.
“Yes…” she managed. “I… I believe I am alright.”
The man looked down at the leg she was clasping and frowned.
“Here, let me help you inside. You were quite likely injured,” he said, gently offering his hand. “Can you stand?”
“I’m not sure…” Mary began.
Normally, she refused to accept help. Accepting help with her leg pronounced her weakness, and she couldn’t show weakness, not when she was the Countess of Linden.
But something on the gentleman’s kind face chased those concerns away from her mind. Something in his gentle eyes inspired her trust.
“Yes,” she finally said. “Yes, I do believe I am in need of assistance,” she admitted and, at last, she took his hand.
Chapter 4
Duncan’s actions were instinctive as a physician attending an ailing person. However, his mind was reeling beneath his doctor’s instincts.
The woman who had fallen just outside his office was a vision. He admired her dress, noting the fine materials and precise tailor work. There was no doubt that she was of the nobility.
Realizing the lady was watching him carefully, he collected himself. He turned his gaze to examine her for any visible injuries. Besides a few scrapes and her wounded ankle, she seemed alright.
Relieved, he turned his attention to the shattered glass sprinkled all over the sidewalk.
“What happened?” he asked.
He saw the woman regard him fearfully before answering.
“I am not entirely sure. I was walking, and someone lost control of their horses. The carriage crashed into those windows over there. I just found refuge here before the carriage struck me.”
A woman rushed to her. “Milady!” she said in a near panic. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, Susan. I am fine. Oh, no need to cry, I am fine.”
Duncan turned his gaze from the two women and looked out into the street. A small crowd had gathered to witness the spectacle.
The carriage, which had ended up two storefronts down from his office, appeared to have suffered a little damage. It had been carrying no passengers, thankfully. The driver had jumped just in time and had only taken a tumble down the cobblestones.
The poor horses had also avoided most of the glass, but were now spooked and several people were trying to calm them down.
Duncan approached the crowd, glancing around him to ensure that no one else was injured. A few people seemed shaken; others simply curious. Beyond that, no one seemed to have suffered any serious maladies due to the accident.
His own windows had not fully escaped damage, but Duncan decided he could worry about that later.
He walked back to the woman, who had her hands on her cheeks, looking horrified.
“Oh! Look at all this mess!” she said.
“It is a mess, indeed,” Duncan agreed, “but we can hardly fault those poor animals for being spooked sometimes. However, it is far better to have a few windows broken than to see you broken.”
The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. Duncan blinked, telling himself that they were from a physician’s standpoint, not from that of a man flirting with a beautiful woman.
Her cheeks were painted by an unmistakable blush. Duncan averted his gaze and noticed that a cane lay at her feet. He bent down to retrieve it.
“Yours?” he asked, puzzled.
The lady took it from him quickly. “It is, I am afraid. Thank you,” she said, blushing even more.
Duncan wondered what could make her so timid about such a minor thing.
“Please, come inside and let me get those cuts cleaned up,” he said. “I might even be able to offer some relief for that swelling ankle.”
“Surely, that is not proper, good sir,” she said.
Duncan smiled. “It is alright, miss. I am a doctor.”
She gazed around, noticing the setup of his office for the first time. She blushed again.
“Oh, I see now. How silly of me to not have noticed where I landed. Please, forgive me, doctor.”
“Not at all. Now come, let me take a look.”
Duncan escorted the woman inside. She spoke briefly to the still upset maid, Susan, and she took a seat in the waiting room.
He ushered the lady to his examination table and helped her up, ensuring she was comfortable. Then, he began his exam.
“Forgive me for being so curious, miss,” Duncan began as he examined the woman’s leg.
“You wish to know what is wrong with my leg.”
Duncan nodded. “If you do not want to tell me, that is your prerogative. However, I believe it might be helpful in determining how best to treat you.”
She sighed. “A year ago, I fell to the ground from the second story of my home and broke it,” she said, avoiding his gaze.
Duncan was surprised. Such a fall could easily have been fatal. “You are lucky to be alive, miss,” he said.
“Lucky,” she repeated, but it did not sound like agreement.
He sensed there was more to the story but decided against pressing the matter just then. He felt it extremely unlikely that she would divulge much more information to a total stranger, even if he was a doctor.
But he got the impression that they were not exactly strangers, though he could not recall how he knew her.
It was then he realized that they had not exchanged formal introductions.
“It seems that I forgot to ask you your name,” he said, smiling.
The woman looked apprehensive. “And you forgot to give me yours, doctor,” she said, a slight tremble in her voice.
Duncan noticed her nervousness and wondered if he was making her uncomfortable.
She looked at his solemn face and smiled kindly. “I am Lady Mary Hillington, the Countess of Linden,” she said quickly.
Recognition lit up his face. “You mean… daughter to the late Lord Linden?”
“The very same,” she said reluctantly.
Duncan looked at her, surprised. He had heard about her. A woman, with a title of her own. The Countess of Linden was sitting in his doctor’s office, and there he was behaving like a clumsy animal.
“Oh, do forgive me, my lady. I mean…” he floundered and nearly dropped her leg against the hard metal table.
“Now that I have given you my name, it is only right that you give me yours,” she prompted.
Duncan cleared his throat, his charming smile returning. “Yes, of course, my lady. My name is… Doctor Duncan Winstanley.”
Now it was Mary’s turn to pause. “Winstanley. Seems as if I know that name from somewhere…” she trailed off.
Duncan grunted. “I should hope not,” he murmured, remembering his miserable conversation with his father earlier, and changed the subject before more could be said on the matter.
“Now, Lady Linden. Here is what I am going to do. I will clean and bandage these scrapes. Then, we will discuss what to do for that sprained ankle.”
He paused as she sighed with relief. “And after that, I would like to have a deeper discussion with you about your leg.”
Mary’s apprehensive expression returned. “Oh, must we?” she asked.
“I believe you might be interested in what I have to say,” he said, regaining his professional tone.
On the surface, that is. His insides were in utter turmoil. Duncan, a man of science and logic, found that it was his heart that was insistently trying to make its presence known to him.
He was now certain that he had seen her before, but his memory did not offer him more than a vague recollection.
He was aware of the irregularity of her unique situation. A woman of her station was all but unheard of. In fact, she was c
urrently the only suo jure female peer in all of England, which was certainly frowned upon by societal standards.
Yet, he noticed that she carried herself with great dignity and poise, which he found very attractive. He could not imagine what could have happened to this refined woman that caused such a great injury to her leg, but he hoped to find a way to broach the subject and find out.
