A Perilous Marriage (7 page)

Richard frowned, hardly knowing what to make of the suggestion. “With so much else to think of, I’ve scarcely given the matter a thought, let alone how long it would take.”

Yet, despite all, he was beginning to trust his lawyer. Even if he felt the particular circumstance of a marriage to be doubtful at this present time, he always liked to be prepared for eventualities. “I’m not a staunch church man, though I hold a respect for various religions I’ve come across in my travels. But I keep my own council, and if getting married, would want it within my control. Your advice is sensible. It will do no harm to follow it, though I foretell it will never be used in haste. At this point, I am a long way from meeting a suitable person whom I would wish to wed. However, I will not disdain your advice.” With tongue in cheek and almost a flash of humour that he was contemplating the idea of marriage after being perfectly happy with his bachelor existence, he paid a visit to Lambeth House to collect the item just in case he had need of it one day.

Chapter Five

After Richard left, the house returned to its serene habits and life went on as usual, though Lucie, for the first time since she had come to live with her grandmother, felt rather bored. She acknowledged their guest had brought variety into their lives. She had particularly enjoyed the interesting travel tales he was good at relating, and though she had been furious with him, she regretted her appalling sarcasm. She couldn’t remember being so rude to anyone before. Was it because he’d thought her merely a maid and it was pure retaliation? No—in any case, she had contributed to the faux pas by not owning up in the first place. Finally, she accepted the real reason. It was that kiss. He was right, it
had
been her first kiss, and he was experienced enough to recognise the naivety of it. No wonder he had not wanted to prolong the occasion, but she hated him for making it so obvious.

Grandmama had told her Richard would not be staying long when he returned from London. His affairs were evidently too important to linger. Just as well. He might be a dear godson to her grandmother, but he certainly wasn’t dear to her. She judged their relationship would clearly be cool when he returned, for no man could forgive her nasty jibe at his prowess. Yet, unexpectedly, when he had followed her into the drawing room for tea, he had never displayed a moment of censure. She was the one who had flounced off sulkily when she took exception to a remark her grandmother had made. This did not bode well for her visit to London. She was nearing her majority, and being disgracefully rude and sulking like a badly behaved child did not auger well if she wanted to become truly adult and marry. It was time she grew up and accepted her responsibilities.

She had tossed and turned the night before he left, wondering if she should apologise, only to find he had left long before she had risen. She would see how things lay on his return and perhaps say sorry after that. Meanwhile, her chores beckoned, and fortunately, she managed to forget the ordeal of going to the city for several hours. It was only when Eleanor remarked that evening that Rowten was arranging for the trunks to be brought down from the attics and packing would commence the next day that her heart thumped yet again with anxiety. As most of the house staff would be going too, a week was the bare minimum to organise everything. If only they did not have to go. She groaned inwardly.

* * * *

Two days later, she came across her grandmother adjusting her bonnet in the hall mirror.

“I’m off to the village with Ruth,” she said. “I need some things to take with me next week, so I might as well use my regular shops rather than spend foolishly in London. Besides, shops will have changed since I was last there, and I prefer the preparations I am used to rather than the latest fads. Of course, it won’t stop you from shopping, and fortunately, I have been in touch with a cousin of mine who has younger relatives of your age to show you around. Henrietta St James has always been bird-witted, but she has a generosity of spirit and has agreed to help me out and introduce you to those that matter. Whereas I once was able to plunge into the thick of things and not care a button, I know my weaknesses these days and am not too proud to take help. I would have liked Richard to play a part, but I realise he is far too busy to pander to our requirements, so the next best thing is Henrietta. There now, I’m set.” She tugged on her gloves and turned to Rowten who was waiting patiently behind her.

“Is Ruth waiting in the carriage, and is John is ready?”

“Yes, your Grace.” He nodded to a footman to open the main door. “Enjoy your outing. It is a fine day to take the air.”

“Yes, I will, thank you, Rowten. I might ask Reverend Buckthorn and his wife to dinner this evening, Lucie. I’m sure you don’t mind. It might be the only time we are free before we leave. I will be back in good time to tell cook if they are able to come.”

Lucie nodded her agreement and escorted Eleanor down to the carriage and watched while the footman helped her in. “You are sure you don’t want me to come and help?”

“No, dear child, I am merely going for a little air and a change of scenery. Ruth will do any running about that is needed. I will see you later.”

Lucie watched the carriage drive away and went off to chat with Butters in the garden.

It was well past the luncheon hour, and Lucie decided to start her meal, thinking that her grandmother had either stayed to lunch at the vicarage or perhaps gone to the Black Swan Inn with a friend when she heard the sound of galloping hooves and moved swiftly to the front hall where Rowten was opening the door. They both recognised the lad slinging himself off his pony and racing up the front steps. It was Tommy Hargreaves, son of the landlord of the Falcon, the local farmer’s pub at the end of the High Street.

He thrust a note into Lucie’s hand and gasped out, “Me dad said not to worry. Doctor’s with her, and he’s making arrangements to get her back here!” He took a deep breath and began again. “Sorry miss, I mean her Grace. There’s been an accident, see! Note will tell you. Mrs Buckthorn wrote it. She’s with her Grace.” He stopped speaking to get some more air into his lungs and began again. “Dad’s sorting out a cart to carry your grandma home.”

Lucie tore open the note which Rowten also read over her shoulder. It was brief.

Please, Lucie, expect us shortly with Eleanor. The carriage went over and she is hurt.

Dr Makepeace is with her now and we are arranging a stretcher. Ruth has a broken arm but is otherwise not so badly hurt. See you shortly. Molly Buckthorn.

Lucie and Rowten stared at each other, both taking in the significance of the note.
Not so badly hurt, for heaven’s sake,
thought Lucie. How badly hurt was her grandmama?

Recovering, she turned to Tommy. “Get back to Mrs Buckthorn, thank her for the note, and say we will get things ready to receive—oh…” She paused, confused. Patients? Injuries?

Rowten solved the dilemma. Thrusting a hand into his pocket for a coin, he tossed it to the lad. “Thanks, Tommy, for your speed. Tell Mrs Buckthorn we have her news and will be prepared. If they need more help in the village, we shall be ready to give that too.”

Tommy shot back to his horse, leapt on, and was off down the drive before Lucie could even begin to think what to do next. Quickly, Rowten placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her frightened thoughts.

“We’ll not think the worst, Lady Lucie, until we know it. Try not to be concerned. Dr Makepeace is a good man. He’ll see her right,”

But things were not right when at last, accompanied by Makepeace, Eleanor was finally brought home and carried carefully up to her bedroom. Her injuries were so severe, they were life-threatening. In the space of a day, all the inhabitants of Ashbury Mead were totally in turmoil with the dreadful happening.

* * * *

Richard had spent a long and tiring four days in the city and was exhausted from the trip so did not urge his horse to any speed. Thus, it was afternoon before he approached the gates of Ashbury House. Riding up the drive, he was barely conscious of the silence of the park that lay below the house, and even reaching the edge of the gardens where not a soul was seen working the flower beds only stirred a mild curiosity. It wasn’t until he reached the front of the house and saw that the lower windows still had their shutters closed that it struck him that the household might have already moved to London.

Yet surely he knew the date of their departure, and it wasn’t until next week. As he dismounted, a groom came out from the stables and took the reins from him and unbuckled the saddlebags. It was then he got the first intimation that something was wrong. The groom had no smile on his face and only nodded when Richard said, “Make sure you give Jamal an extra bag of oats. He has surely earned it today with the long ride. Where is everybody? The place seems very quiet.”

“I dunno, milord. You’ll have to ask Mr Rowten.”

“I shall.” He stood for a moment, watching the groom lead his horse away, then turned to the steps. He was halfway up when the door opened, and he stared at Rowten in surprise. The man looked as though he had aged ten years overnight, and his face was grey and lined. He was equally lacking his normal friendly welcome, though he bowed as usual and, taking the saddlebags, said, “Good afternoon milord. Your room is ready, and these will be dealt with.” He held the door wide for Richard to enter.

“Come on, out with it, Rowten! What’s happened?” His voice was a low growl.

Rowten’s face crumpled. “It’s her Grace, milord. She’s had an accident and is very ill.”

“Hellfire, Rowten! Why didn’t you send for me?”

“We did, though not until yesterday. The house has been in confusion since it happened, and it’s likely the groom we sent couldn’t find you.”

Richard nodded. “Yes, I’ve been on the move. Let’s have the news now, but I must speak with Lady Lucie as soon as possible and see how she is.”

Rowten, carrying a decanter and glass on a small tray, led Richard into the small parlour and, pouring out a brandy, handed him the glass. “You will need this, I reckon, milord.”

“Jesus! Is it that dire? Well, get on with it.” His stomach churned with a bad feeling.

“Her Grace went with Ruth to the village in the morning two days ago. After doing some shopping, she was leaving to return here just before lunch when her carriage rolled onto its side. The women were flung about, and Ruth suffered a broken arm. Her Grace came off far worse. Her back is badly injured, and the doctor has grave doubts she will live. He is waiting for pneumonia to develop. If it does, we cannot hope she will survive.”

Richard stared at the butler in shock. This was far worse than he could have imagined. He’d accepted that Eleanor had had a bad accident, but not that she was so near death. No wonder everyone was looking so tragic. He knew one and all adored her.

“You say the carriage rolled over on its side. Was it going too fast, hit a pothole? What caused it to roll over?”

Rowten frowned trying to think. “I believe the wheels came off.”

“Wheels? Not just one wheel? How many wheels?”

“Two. Both of them on the same side.”

“When was the carriage last checked?”

“Jacobs said he checked all the wheels as usual before he had the brougham brought round that morning, and John is a most careful driver.”

“Was he hurt?”

“Luckily, he was flung free when the carriage tipped, though he has a cut forehead and is bruised. Those inside had no warning or means of helping themselves. A bad business by all accounts, and we haven’t yet come to the real disaster.” Rowten shook his head sadly.

“Where is Lady Lucie?”

“Resting, I believe. She has been constantly by her Grace’s bedside and was finally persuaded to take a rest. She agreed only after the doctor brought in a nurse to help. Dr Makepeace is coming back this evening to check on her grandmother. Otherwise, we can only wait. Oh, one thing—her Grace wanted to see you as soon as you got here.”

“Damnation, why the hell didn’t you say so before?” Richard bellowed then, realising he was out of order, tempered his next remark. “Jesus, Rowten, I’m sorry to yell at you, but I’ve had a long ride and to be met with this—well...” He tried to apologise.

“Quite all right, milord. I should have told you at once but...” He was lost for words.

“Don’t concern yourself, Rowten. I can see how fraught you have been. Will you show me up to my aunt’s bedroom so I can attend her?”

“Yes, milord, but we will have to be mindful of the nurse.” He wrinkled his nose. “She is apt to be somewhat jealous of any interference. I believe she and Lady Lucie are a bit at odds with one another.”

Richard smiled. He could well imagine Lucie holding firm. Her pride would not have allowed her to knuckle under to a mere nurse. Nevertheless, in view of her understandable distress, it was not something she should have to contend with as well.

* * * *

Rowten was quite right about the nurse, for when he knocked on the door and asked if Lord Martell could see the duchess, her stiff reply as she stood staring at them was, “Out of the question! Her Grace is too ill to see anyone!”

At that moment, a quavering voice reached them. “Is that you, Richard? Come in. I have been waiting for you.”

“I believe that’s my cue, thank you, nurse. I’ll call you at once if necessary. Meanwhile, I suggest you take a well earned rest.” Entering the room, Richard turned and, urging the nurse outside, shut the door on her.

The woman stood in the passage with her mouth open in startled shock, unable to comprehend why she was on the other side of a closed door and away from her patient.

Inside, the bedroom was gloomy. The curtains were drawn across the windows, making the air seem oppressive. He caught the odour of a sickroom and immediately said, “Would it disturb you if I opened a window?”

“Go ahead. I need some air myself,” she responded, but she coughed as she spoke.

He tugged a stool over beside the bed, sat, and reached out and took her hand. “We will wait, I think. Perhaps in a moment, my dear lady, you must not get cold.”