Miles intervened before his mother could retort to his sister. “She’s right, Mama. Tomorrow morning will be a perfect time to plan. Then you will have all day to see cook and the housekeeper. Off to bed with you now, my lovely,” he said, kissing his mother’s cheek.
Lady Longdon smiled at her son. “You’re right of course. I am feeling a little tired. I shall go straight to bed and start issuing instructions tomorrow. Edith, you will write the invitations under my guidance.”
“Yes, Mama,” came the dutiful response.
Miles and Edith waited until their mother had ascended the stairs, at which point Edith turned to her brother. “I have no idea how you manage to turn her to your will as easily as you do, but I wish I had that talent,” Edith said.
“She expects an argument from you, you should try to be more persuasive than confrontational,” Miles said with a grin as they followed in their mother’s wake.
“Beast!” Edith responded tartly.
“See? I rest my case,” Miles grinned, before becoming serious. “Edith, what are your plans with regards to Ralph?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Edith said, hoping her cheeks weren’t betraying her by flushing guiltily.
“You seemed very keen on him being invited to the party and then almost distraught on hearing he’d left town.”
“Oh, poppycock! You have a vivid imagination, brother! He’s your friend and I like him, nothing else,” Edith said defensively.
“I hope that’s all it is, for I would hate for you to choose Ralph as the one to have affection for. It won’t end happily if that’s the case,” Miles cautioned.
“I’m not going to develop anything for anyone,” Edith lied. “But why would it have such a poor end? What is wrong with him? I thought he was your friend.”
“He is. I like him a lot, but he is troubled and a troubled man doesn’t equate to a happy husband.”
“In that case, it’s a good thing I won’t be setting my cap at him. He told me himself – in a more general conversation before you start to panic – that he wasn’t the marrying kind,” Edith said airily, separating from her brother at the top of the stairs. She turned down the landing towards her own room, leaving Miles to continue to his own room alone.
“You’d best listen to him, Edith,” Miles said quietly, before she was out of earshot. “Damaged men aren’t a good bet.”
Edith flashed Miles a look of concern, but her brother had already turned away from her. Once more she felt that Miles was talking more about himself than anyone else.
Chapter 7
Ralph entered the room, after quietly scratching on the door. The air seemed still it was so quiet inside. The nurse acknowledged his presence with a slight nod of the head and rose to approach him.
“How is she?” Ralph asked, looking at the bundle on the bed.
“She’s been very tired and confused,” came the quiet answer. “The doctor has given her a course of laudanum to keep her quiet, but he’s constantly asking to take her into hospital for tests.”
“He wants to lock her away in the asylum,” Ralph said roughly.
“Yes,” the nurse admitted. “He says all patients with similar symptoms fare better there.”
“My mother isn’t becoming a medical experiment. Not whilst I have breath in my body,” Ralph said.
“I’ve told him your opinion, but I’m sure he’ll want to speak to you again when he calls tomorrow.”
Ralph nodded his head and moved over to the bedside. “I’ll sit with her,” he said, sitting down on the wooden chair.
The nurse left the pair alone. It was a well-practised routine. Ralph would barely leave his mother’s side until she reached some sort of normality, then he would eventually return to London, only to be brought back when needed. The only reason he travelled to London was because the attacks would happen whether or not he was present and he had to maintain his own sanity, if he was to be his mother’s protector. Added to that, it distressed her to think she was holding him back, so in many ways it was easier to go when she begged him to.
Reaching over, he found his mother’s hand in the bundle of blankets which covered her. He took the thin limb and kissed it before placing it once more on the bed, but this time in his gentle hold. They remained like that for hours, until eventually, Lady Pensby stirred.
“Ralph?” she asked croakily.
“I’m here, Mother.”
“I thought they’d send for you. I’m sorry.”
“What for, dearest? You think I’d rather stay in London than be with you when you’re unwell?”
“You have a life to live. You don’t need me holding you back.”
Ralph reached over and kissed his mother’s forehead. “I have all that I need here. You just concentrate on resting. You know it helps.”
“I detest laudanum,” came the drowsy response.
“I know, but it lets your body rest. You’ll soon not need it and be back to normal.”
“I feel so drained, Ralph.”
“I’m sorry you feel so. Close your eyes and sleep, my dearest. I’ll be here when you awake,” Ralph promised. The lump in his throat was hard to swallow, but he remained still until his mother’s breathing was steady and rhythmic.
Ringing the bell, to alert the nurse he was leaving his mother’s bedchamber, Ralph went to freshen up in his own set of rooms. From experience he knew he would have a few hours before there would be any further signs of consciousness and he used the time to meet with his steward and housekeeper.
The old retainer welcomed him as she always did. “It’s good to see you, Master Ralph.”
Ralph wondered what age he would be before his childhood title would be dropped by the woman who’d known him since he was born. “What happened this time?” he asked, knowing he would receive an honest, succinct response.
“The first one seemed to come out of nowhere. She was writing at her desk in her parlour and the next thing she’d collapsed. Luckily there was a housemaid in the room and we could react quickly. I’m afraid the second and third time occurred whilst she was in her bed. That’s something new.”
Ralph frowned. “It is. Had laudanum been given?”
“Yes, but the doctor increased the dose afterwards. You’ll have noticed she seems groggier than normal.”
“She was lucid when she spoke.”
“Good. She hasn’t been until today, but I think that was more the effect of the laudanum, rather than the illness.”
“I hope so,” Ralph admitted.
“The doctor will be here soon,” the housekeeper advised.
“I’ll see him in the study,” Ralph said, standing to leave the room. “He’d better not come out with his usual rot.”
The housekeeper chose not to comment; she knew exactly what the doctor would say. He’d been making the same request for the last couple of years.
Ralph entered his study and went straight to the decanters on the side table. Pouring himself a large measure, he took a substantial mouthful of brandy before looking around the room. This room reminded him of his father and helped to support him in some unknown way. His father had refused to abandon his mother to the doctor’s ministrations and Ralph was determined to do the same.
Within the hour the doctor was ushered into the well-ordered room. Sitting at the chair on the opposite side of the large oak desk at which Ralph was seated, he started to speak.
“It’s been a bad week for Lady Pensby,” the doctor said.
“I believe so. Are there no new treatments?” Ralph asked.
“We have yet to try the treatments available in the asylum. She would be well cared for I can assure you.”
“You want to drill holes into her brain. I will not consent to that, nor will she. Ever,” Ralph ground out.
“But if it relieves the pressure in her brain…”
“You can give me no guarantees that the treatment will work, or that she’ll survive the procedure. I will never give my consent. Tr
y your butchering on some other poor soul, my mother is out of bounds.”
“But, my lord—”
“You can ‘my lord’ as much as you wish. I pay you an exorbitant amount of money to ease her symptoms and keep her comfortable. At the moment all I can see you are doing is increasing the dose of laudanum, which can’t be good for her in the long term,” Ralph said.
“No, it isn’t,” the doctor admitted. “But I have little else to offer.”
“Then perhaps I need to look for someone who has.”
A look of alarm crossed the medical man’s face before he masked his expression. Ralph knew it was because if he lost the patronage of the Pensbys his income would reduce to probably less than half its current amount. “No! I shall seek advice from my peers and explore more medical journals. I will try to find an alternative.”
“Whatever you find, be assured that I will only agree to it, if it can be administered at home,” Ralph said.
“That does limit our options, but I will do what I can,” the doctor said, rising from his chair. “I hope to see you again before you return to London.”
“I shall be here for as long as my mother needs me,” Ralph stated brusquely.
*
Eating alone in the large dining room, Ralph dismissed the staff. He didn’t need the butler and two footmen to attend to his needs when he could reach every dish and had the wine decanter at his elbow.
As the door closed softly behind the banished servants, Ralph gazed around the room. Had it ever enjoyed the number of parties a room of this size would normally, he mused. As far back as he could remember, his family’s life had been quieter than other aristocratic families had. There had been an almost innate understanding that his mother required a quiet, uneventful life.
He didn’t begrudge that his childhood was less frivolous than those of his peers. He was more inclined to be on the fringes of any group. Whether it was because of his upbringing, or purely his own nature, he neither knew nor cared. He was who he was and he had no inclination to change.
He only wished that his mother could find some form of release which didn’t require her to be locked in an asylum. He knew it was her biggest fear and his father had promised his wife and then made his son promise his mother, that she would never be admitted to one of those hellish places.
When Ralph’s father had been alive, they’d gone to visit one of the establishments to see what was on offer. He was told that his mother had suffered nightmares for a month afterwards and her terrors had only ended when she was given assurances time and again, that she wouldn’t be forced to enter any such institution.
He rubbed his fingers across his forehead, as if that could massage away the permanent frown lines which marred his features. It seemed a long time ago that he’d allowed Miles to persuade him to join the trip to Highbury. He should have returned home as he’d planned and he would struggle with the guilt caused by the decision he’d made, but he’d enjoyed himself. A rare day out with good company and pleasant surroundings.
Sighing, he stood and walked out of the dining room, returning to his study. He took out a cigar from a locked box in his desk. Miles had introduced him to the alternative to snuff when he’d returned from the Peninsular, but they were still expensive enough when shipping them from Spain, that they were kept for a special occasion.
Ralph considered the evening to be enough of an excuse to light one.
Using a taper to get a flame from the fire, he puffed until the end of the cigar glowed red. Throwing the taper into the fire, he seated himself in the large brown leather chair and crossing his feet at the ankles he stretched out, gazing into the fire.
One person intruded into his thoughts. He found her exasperating, beautiful and entertaining at the same time. He shouldn’t be thinking of her. She had made no secret of the fact that she wanted to marry and he couldn’t offer that to anyone. How could he allow himself to become close to someone, to plan a future, when he never knew what would happen with his mother? He could never force his mother to live anywhere else, other than in the home she’d known since her marriage at eighteen. Here she was surrounded by staff who cared for her. No new bride would risk having the previous mistress still living under the same roof. That’s what Dower Houses were built for.
No. Considering a future with someone else was selfish on his part. He had to focus on his mother and hope that they found, in time, if not a cure, something to ease her suffering.
Unable to remain seated, he prowled the room. “If I know what I need to do, why is it so blasted hard this time?” he muttered as he walked. “She’s foolish anyway. Who would consider advertising in a newspaper to try and attract a husband? The silly chit.” He would never understand why Miles hadn’t found a way of stopping his sister.
Ralph couldn’t shake the connection they’d shared though. She had been so easy to talk to. He stood near his desk. It would be good to talk over his worries with someone. He’d never done that, not even with Miles and he trusted him implicitly.
He couldn’t talk to Edith though. He had no idea when he was returning to London. She could be married by then for all he knew and then there could definitely be no in-depth chats, for he wasn’t one who coveted another man’s wife. The thought of her being wed depressed him, but he shook it off.
Taking out a piece of parchment, he dipped his quill into his ink stand. There was one way he could speak to her and even if she didn’t reply, he would feel better for expressing the words.
He started to scratch the pen across the paper.
Chapter 8
Edith laughed as the horses pounded over the heathland, hot breath being snorted out as they let their hooves fly. The group moved like a single, disjointed beast, travelling fast over the undulating ground.
Eventually, their speed slowed and the riders congratulated each other on their animals’ prowess. Edith smiled at Miss King, one of the six riders in the group.
“Your horse is fabulous, Susan!” she said, reigning her own beast in to trot alongside the young woman. “I’m quite jealous.”
“My father probably paid too much for him, but I am pleased I have him. He is the best horse I’ve ever ridden,” came the proud response.
“I can believe it,” Edith acknowledged. “It was a good idea of Mr Malone’s to come on the heath. Hyde Park just doesn’t offer the space to really gallop.”
“Oh no! Too many people to go above a gentle trot. I don’t usually take Star out when I’m going to the park. It seems wrong to restrain him so,” Susan admitted.
“You are right. By the way, I meant to ask, have you seen that Mr Chumley is to marry? Miles told me of the announcement in The Times this morning,” Edith said.
“Yes. I feel we both had a lucky escape. I do feel sorry for Miss Williams, but she is of an age to make her own decisions. It was no secret that he’d proposed to all three of us in the same week.”
“It is hard to be harsh on one of our sex, but she must be desperate indeed to have accepted him. She, like us, must be aware of his reputation,” Edith said.
“She is seven and twenty though. It is a good match in many respects I suppose,” Susan reasoned. She had been best friends with Edith for years and very often was the voice of reason to Edith’s more spirited nature. If Edith considered herself handsome, but far from beautiful, Susan was prone to consider herself as plain. An unfortunate step-family had ensured the lack of confidence of a shy young girl was used against the child to boost the family’s feelings of superiority, whilst harming Susan’s impression of herself.
“I hope I’m never in the position that I’m forced to consider a man like Mr Chumley is my best option,” Edith said tartly.
A chuckle behind the pair, made them aware that their comments had been overheard and both looked a little chagrined.
“Lady Edith, I would take out a wager if it was de rigueur to do so, on the fact that you won’t ever be put in such a situation,” Mr Sage said.
Ed
ith blushed. “That is very kind of you to say, but my words were uncouth. Please forget I uttered them; I shouldn’t be so unkind.”
“As you wish, but I stand by what I said. Both of you shall not want for eligible men knocking on your doors.”
“As I’ve reached the ripe old age of three and twenty, I can honestly say I shall turn into an old maid before that happens,” Edith laughed. “But Miss King, I’ve heard, does have a regular posse of beaux desperate to gain her affection.”
This time it was Susan’s turn to laugh. “My dowry is what they covet, not my charms, and before you accuse me of false modesty, my stepmother agrees with me. She has not seen one gentleman who favours me for my personality and not my inheritance.” The peal of her stepmother’s laughter if Susan ever mentioned that a young man had paid her some compliment or other had been enough to convince her of that fact.
“This is when, as a gentleman, I have to object. We cannot win when we try to court a pretty girl who is also blessed with a reasonable fortune. In that situation we are considered fortune hunters, whatever our intent is. Tell me, Miss King, Lady Edith, how are we to overcome this obstacle?” Mr Sage asked. “For I would like to know, truly.”
“I think you need to find a way in which you can show your true character without coming under scrutiny,” Edith said.
“That would hint at secret liaisons, which would only damage the case further,” Mr Sage countered.
“Oh no! It could not be something so inappropriate. Surely there is some way of communicating what you feel without it needing to be clandestine?” Susan asked.
“I hope so,” Mr Sage responded dramatically. “Or, I’m to end a very lonely man.” With his words, he turned his horse and moved towards some of the others in their group.
“I think Mr Sage is smitten with you, Edith,” Susan said at his retreating form. “His words were quite clear in their meaning.”
“He could just have easily been talking about you, Susan,” Edith said with a laugh.
Lady Edith's Lonely Heart: A Regency Romance (Lonely Hearts Series Book 1) Page 6
