She stood and
turned to Violet. “If you will sit with her for an hour or two, I will take a
nap, and then I will stay with her tonight,” she said.
“Yes, my lady,”
said Violet.
Letty smiled and
placed the basket of pears by the bed. “If she wakes and wants more, please cut
up another. And have one yourself, Violet. You have been so helpful to me these
past weeks.”
The maid smiled
sympathetically, and Letty went down the hall to her room, where she stretched
out on her bed, hoping to sleep, but finding herself staring at the ceiling
instead. It was very kind of Lord Eynsford to think of her, and of Emily, but
she knew she must not read more into it than mere sympathy and perhaps even, as
Dr. Wolfe had suggested, guilt. He doubtless hoped he could be rid of her
completely, and only his friendship with Isobel and Francis made him think of
her at all. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had no
time to be thinking of herself now. She turned on her side and eventually fell
into a light sleep.
She woke a few
hours later to see that the sun was setting, dropping over the horizon in a
blaze of red and gold. Still exhausted, she rose slowly from her bed and,
stopping only to splash a little water on her face from the bowl on the
dresser, went to Emily’s room. Violet sat attentively at Emily’s side, and
looked up when Letty entered.
“Go to bed, Violet,”
said Letty. “I will spend the night with Emily.”
“But my lady, you
need your rest as well. You should wake me in a few hours and—”
“No Violet, you’ve
done more than enough these past weeks. I can sleep in the chair by her bed. I
won’t be able to rest for more than an hour or two until she is well, so I
might as well be here.”
Violet nodded
reluctantly, and left the room. Letty settled into the overstuffed chair pulled
up by the side of the bed and looked at Emily, who still slept. Slowly the room
grew darker, and eventually Letitia could see only the soft glow of candlelight
from under the door and hear the gentle sound of Emily’s breathing. Eventually
she dozed off.
She woke with a
start, thinking that she had heard someone call her name. She looked around in
the darkness, but the door remained closed and she could see nothing.
“Mama?”
It was Emily’s
voice. Letty jumped out of the chair and rushed across the room, throwing open
the door and grabbing a branch of candles from the table in the hallway. Returning
to Emily’s bedside, she placed the candles on the table and leaned over the bed
anxiously.
“Yes dear, I’m
here,” she said softly.
“Mama, I’m thirsty,”
Emily whimpered.
Letty gently
propped her up on the pillows, and poured a cup of water. She held it to the
child’s lips, and Emily drank eagerly.
Smiling gently,
Letty reached up to smooth the damp curls away from her daughter’s forehead,
and she gave a little gasp of surprise. Emily’s skin was cool to the touch. Taking
care not to drip wax on the bed, she held the branch of candles up, and saw
that Emily’s cheeks were no longer flushed, and that her eyes were clear. The
fever had broken. Putting the candles down again, she sat on the edge of the
bed and gathered the child into her arms, her eyes welling with tears.
“Mama, I’m hungry,”
Emily said.
“Of course, my
dear.” Trying to hold back her tears of joy, she sliced into another pear and
fed it to the eager child. It seemed her prayers had finally been answered.
Lord Bainstall
arrived the next afternoon, not long after receiving Letitia's note notifying
him that Emily had turned the corner and would soon be on the mend. She
received him in the sitting room, and Bainstall was shocked to see how her
looks had suffered from her long nights at Emily's bedside. Her hair was dull
and dragged back severely, her eyes heavy from lack of sleep, her movements
listless.
“Goodness, Letitia,
you look as though you have been ill as well as Emily,” he said frankly.
“Do I?” she asked
unconcernedly. “I have had little time to tend to my appearance. Let me assure
you that Emily looks far worse. She is dreadfully wasted; it quite frightens me
to look at her at times.”
“I am glad that she
will recover. The loss of a child is a terrible thing,” observed Lord
Bainstall. “It is good that you will not suffer it, at least not at this time.”
“Thank you, Cousin,”
said Letitia. She laid a hand on her forehead. “I own that I am exhausted by
anxiety, and nursing Emily through the nights. It will be a relief to sleep
without worry.”
“Some rest will do
you good, and help repair your looks. I hope that you have not allowed Dr.
Wolfe to see you looking so unattractive.”
Letitia gave him a
surprised look. “He calls every day, Cousin,” she said. “Of course he has seen
me.”
“You should not
allow it, Letitia,” said the Baron. “Of course the bishop realizes that the
body is but a shell, but it is not wise to drive away a suitor by appearing at
your worst. If his interest wanes it would be unfortunate.”
“On the contrary,”
said Letitia, “I should be pleased. I do not intend to marry Dr. Wolfe.”
Bainstall sighed. “I
thought we had put this behind us, Letitia. Surely the experience of the past
weeks has taught you that you cannot take care of yourself and your children
alone? If you will not live with me, you must marry again.”
“I know that I owe
you a great deal of thanks, both emotional and financial, for your assistance
these past weeks,” said Letitia. “But I cannot marry Dr. Wolfe simply to make
you happy.”
“I would be very
pleased if you married him, because then your difficulties would no longer be a
burden on my mind,” agreed Bainstall. You must realize, Letitia, that they
frequently occupy my thoughts when I also have other I must address. But I
would not urge you to accept the bishop if I were not sure that he would make
you an exceptional husband.”
“I cannot love him,”
said Letitia.
“What is love in a
marriage?” asked Bainstall. “It is important that you understand one another,
but love is an uncomfortable emotion which only causes problems. As I recall,
your marriage to Lord Morgan was a love match, but that came to naught. Surely
you are now done with such childish notions.”
Letitia closed her
eyes. She was incredibly weary and while Emily had been deathly ill she had
kept herself going by sheer strength of will. Now that she had reason to
believe her daughter would live, she found it difficult to gather the strength
to deal with daily life. She certainly did not feel capable of arguing with
Bainstall about a proposed marriage.
“Please, Cousin, I
do not think this is the time to be discussing this matter,” she said.
“On the contrary,
now, while your recent calamities are fresh in your mind, is the perfect time,”
said Bainstall. “Later you will forget these difficulties, and you will
continue as you have until they strike again. You must be rational and do what
is best for you, for your children, and for your family.”
“I cannot discuss
it now,” said Letitia. “I am too weary to make any sort of decision.”
“Once a decision is
made your mind will be eased,” countered Bainstall.
Letitia sighed. “I
cannot marry the bishop, Cousin. I am very sorry to be disobliging, but I
cannot think he or I will be happy if I do so.”
“He is well-off and
kindly, Letitia, and willing to marry a woman who not only has no fortune, but
two children as well. He will not harm you and he will treat you with
solicitude. What more can you seek in a marriage?”
“I don't know,”
said Letitia wretchedly. “Friendship and humor, perhaps. Dr. Wolfe has neither
of these.”
“You are
ridiculous.” Lord Bainstall bent a severe look on Letitia. “I have suspected
for some time that you have a preference for Lord Eynsford, and now I am sure
of it. You must forget him Letitia; his offer is not likely to be repeated, and
the match, although noble, would most likely have been ill-advised.”
“I do not think of
Lord Eynsford at all,” declared Letitia sharply. “He was kind to me during
Emily's illness, and sent a thoughtful note and some lovely fruit, but I do not
think for a moment that it was anything but mere civility.” Her color rose a
little at the thought of the daydreams she had indulged in, but she pushed the
thought firmly to the back of her mind. It was Mr. Markham she had thought of,
and he did not exist.
“I certainly hope
not,” said Bainstall. “I had not meant to tell you this, but when I was in
London on business before coming to Ramsgate it was all over town that he meant
to offer for the Earl of Ravenscroft's second daughter. He has apparently paid
her quite specific attentions, and of course it would be a very suitable match.
If I were Ravenscroft I would think twice before accepting his offer, however. His
liaison with Lady Mowbry is quite well known and shows no signs of abating.” He
perceived that Letitia was staring at him in amazement. “Now you know why I was
so surprised to hear that he had proposed marriage to you, Letitia, and why I
doubt it will happen again. His sense of decency forced him to make you an
offer, and he must have been very relieved when you turned him down.”
The flush faded
from Letitia's cheeks. “He must indeed,” she said faintly. It had not occurred
to her that the marquess had not been in earnest; she had believed him to be
sincere, if misguided in his means. Now it appeared that the friendship she had
cherished had been a mere dalliance for him.
Lord Bainstall laid
his hand on her shoulder solicitously. “I see that you are much affected by my
words, Letitia,” he said. “I know now that my fears are true; you had hopes of
him returning to you and proving his love. I regret I had to tell you these
things; the truth is a bitter medicine, but now you are free of these foolish
hopes.”
Letitia shook her
head. “I had no hopes of his lordship,” she said firmly. “I will allow that I
made a fool of myself where he is concerned, but I have put him utterly out of
my life.”
“If that is so,
then I hope you will give serious thought to your future, and consider well
before you reject Dr. Wolfe,” said Bainstall. “You must cease to live in this
imaginary world you have created for yourself and face reality. If I were not
at hand when Emily became ill, what would you have done?”
“I don’t know,”
said Letitia. “But Isobel would have helped me.”
Bainstall sighed. “Lady
Exencour, while I am sure she has a fondness for you, will eventually weary of
your difficulties. You have no blood ties to her and she has a husband and
family of her own. Why you would wish to be a burden on her I cannot imagine.”
“Please, Cousin, I
cannot discuss this now,” said Letitia, her voice small and lost.
“I see you are too
emotional to speak of this today. I will return tomorrow and we will make a
decision on this matter. Believe me, Letitia, I think only of your welfare.”
The baron rose,
bowed politely and retired, leaving Letitia to her confused thoughts. She was
aware of an overwhelming sense of misery, which angered her when she considered
that Emily was now out of danger; she should be happy, not on the verge of
tears. Yet she could find no joy in her heart.
A picture of Lord
Eynsford as he proposed to her formed in her mind. He had been so handsome, so
solicitous, so very sincere. She had rejected him because her pride was hurt
and her fears aroused, not because she did not find him attractive. She
realized with a sinking heart that, on the contrary, she found him quite
irresistible, which was why she had forbidden all contact. Only a very little
time in his presence would have served for her to throw caution to the winds
and accept his proposal.
Bainstall was
right. She had continued to pin her hopes on a phantom, on a man she didn't
really know at all. She had hoped he might come to find her and convince her
that he loved her. And now to discover that he not only had a mistress, but was
wooing a young lady as well! She had only herself to blame for her stupid and
childish belief in Mr. Markham's good character.
She wept for a
time, since she was alone and no one would know that she was being such a fool.
Her tears eventually abated, and she realized that she would have to face her
cousin the next day and decide to either accept Dr. Wolfe or engage to take
care of herself from now on. But this recent illness of Emily's had proved to
her that her circumstances made it very difficult to cope if there was an
emergency. On a daily basis she might manage very well, but when difficulties
arose, she needed someone to turn to. It just seemed unutterably hard to her
that that person should be Dr. Wolfe.
Letitia eventually
fell into an uneasy doze, her dreams haunted by the faces of both Mr. Markham
and Dr. Wolfe. She awoke with a start.
“This is
ridiculous,” she said out loud. “I must do better than this.” She rose and went
to her writing desk and began a letter to Isobel.
When Letitia's
letter arrived in Scotland it caused a great deal of excitement. Isobel did not
receive it until some hours after its arrival, for she had been all afternoon
at her excavation. Lord Exencour had accompanied her that morning, amusing
himself by watching his fashionable wife laboring under the hot sun in an old
dress, her hair tied loosely in a scarf. It was part of her immense attraction
for him that she was both a lady of impeccable
ton
and a serious
scholar.
They returned
shortly after noon to find Lord Eynsford awaiting them. As Dargenwater Cottage
was a very small place, purchased by Isobel when she was as yet unwed in order
to pursue her scholarly inclinations, he was staying at the nearby Glencairn
estate with Lord and Lady Glencairn, old and dear friends of the Exencours. Eynsford
and Exencour rode together most every afternoon and he dined with them many an
evening. They all assiduously avoided the topic of Lady Morgan, though Emily's
recent illness was a matter of great concern to them all. Isobel, respecting
Letitia's wishes, had remained in Scotland, but the fate of her friend's child
weighed heavily on her mind, and scarcely less so on her husband's. Lord
Eynsford was deeply concerned, not merely for the child he had grown fond of,
but also for the mother who was constantly in his thoughts.
“Was your work
successful this morning?” he asked after greeting Isobel.
“It is always slow
and tedious,” observed Isobel, “but I venture that soon we will have unearthed
the foundation of another building. I am very curious about its original
purpose.”
“She makes me feel
abominably lazy,” complained Lord Exencour, a teasing look on his face. “I sat
under a tree and read a book all morning, while she labored away.”
“I have told you
many times that you are welcome to help with the digging,” responded his wife.
“A strong fellow such as you would be a great asset to my team.”
“You see, Phillip, how
she would put me to work,” said Lord Exencour to his friend. “She has no
respect for me as a gentleman of leisure.”
“Certainly not,”
agreed Isobel. “It will be good to see those strong shoulders put to use.”
“Alas, she will
doubtless drag me into the pits tomorrow and force me to wield a spade,” said
Lord Exencour. “Phillip, have pity on me and invite me to accompany you
somewhere--anywhere--tomorrow.”
Eynsford favored
the pair with an indulgent smile. “I am sure Glencairn would be glad to have
you to visit. And Lady Glencairn wonders why she has seen so little of you this
summer.”
“Dear Harriet,”
said Isobel. “She always had a soft spot for a handsome gentleman. She was so
happy to see us wed. She was our greatest champion, after Letitia, of course.”
A small silence
fell at the mention of the name and Isobel hastened to cover it by going
through the small pile of letters and cards that lay on a silver tray.
“Oh!” she exclaimed
suddenly. The men turned and looked at her.
“What is it?” asked
Lord Exencour.
Isobel gave
Eynsford a slightly embarrassed glance. “'Tis a letter from Letitia,” she said
quietly.
“Open it by all
means,” urged Lord Eynsford. “I wish very much to know how Emily does.”
Isobel obeyed with
alacrity and soon the letter was opened and the closely-written sheet spread
before her.
“Thank heavens!”
she exclaimed. “Emily, while still very weak, has turned the corner and is
expected to recover. Letitia is most grateful as we all are, I am sure. That is
a great load off my mind.”
While the gentlemen
expressed their whole-hearted agreement with Isobel, she continued to read. Her
eyes widened as she did so, and a hand stole up to her throat.
“Oh no,” she said
suddenly. “This is dreadful!”
“What is the
matter?” asked her husband. “Is there bad news about Emily?”
“No, not at all. Indeed,
the doctors expect a full recovery. But that hateful Bainstall! And that
toad-eating Bishop of Mainwaring! I might have expected something of this
nature! Francis, we must go to Ramsgate immediately!”
“Must we?” asked
Lord Exencour.
“We must,” asserted
Isobel. “You will never guess what has happened. What a fool I was not to go to
Letitia as soon as I heard of Emily's plight. I am the most selfish of beings,
staying here when she needed me.”
“But she asked you
not to come,” Lord Exencour pointed out.
“That was doubtless
Bainstall's influence!” she declared. “Now see the trouble she is in. I blame
myself utterly.” She threw down the letter and rose from the table. “I will
make arrangements to leave immediately.” She rushed out, calling for her
abigail.
Francis and Phillip
exchanged glances and Lord Exencour picked up the abandoned letter. He read it
with a look of concern, and then turned to his friend, who watched him in
silence.
“It seems that Lady
Morgan has been led by her cousin to believe that Emily's illness proves once
and for all that she is incapable of taking care of her children by herself,”
he said calmly. “And she does not wish to become a burden on Isobel by
constantly calling on her when troubles threaten. So she has decided that
Bainstall is correct, and she must remarry. The Bishop of Mainwaring has been
so kind as to offer for her hand and she, though she cannot love him, feels
that he will be kind to her and protect her from such difficulties as a single
woman must encounter.”
Lord Eynsford
looked aghast. “That doesn’t sound like Lady Morgan,” he said grimly.
“No, but Isobel is
right, it does sound uncommonly like her cousin, whom I do not believe you have
met,” said Lord Exencour. An extremely prosy and priggish fellow, I must say. I
am fairly sure he has been working on her all through Emily’s illness to bring
her around to his way of thinking.”
“How despicable,”
snapped Lord Eynsford.
“Bainstall would
tell you that he was merely acting in Lady Morgan's best interests, I am sure,”
said Lord Exencour.
“How can she accept
the offer of that buffoon when she turned me down?” asked Lord Eynsford, a
rough edge to his voice. “I offered her my heart as well as my name, and she
would not take it.”
“She felt you had
betrayed her,” said Lord Exencour. “She says in her letter that although she
does not care for the bishop, she can be certain that he will never damage her
heart the way Lord Morgan and Mr. Markham did.”
Lord Eynsford
looked shamefaced. “I did not mean to deceive her, Francis,” he said.
“I know that. But
it is not me whom you must convince,” said Lord Exencour. “It would seem that
the lady is set on her course.” He gave the marquess' impassive countenance a
sharp look. “Does it matter to you, Phillip?”
“Lady Morgan seems
to have made up her mind,” said Eynsford. “My own feelings hardly matter now.”
“On the contrary,
your feelings matter a great deal. Lady Morgan mentions that since she heard of
your impending marriage to Lady Pamela Ravenscroft and your continuing liaison
with Lady Mowbry, she has put all thoughts of you out of her mind. So it
appears she was thinking of you until recently, at any event.”
“My impending
marriage to whom?” asked Lord Eynsford.
“Lord Ravenscroft's
second daughter, Lady Pamela,” said Lord Exencour. “You have kept me in the
dark, Phillip.”
“I'm not going to
marry Lady Pamela,” objected Lord Eynsford. “I barely know the child. Her
father was a friend of my father's and I danced with her a few times at
Almack’s, as she is shy and wasn't taking. That's hardly enough to hang an
engagement on.”
Lord Exencour
looked at the letter again. “It is clear that someone has, and I can imagine
who the culprit is. Bainstall doubtless turned some foolish gossip to good
advantage; Lady Mowbry is also mentioned here, and I daresay you have been done
with her for months.”
“The woman lives in
Paris. How can I possibly be carrying on an
affaire
with her? I haven't
seen her in this age, and I don't want to either, mind you. I'd like to wring
this Bainstall's neck.”
Isobel burst back
into the room and gave a sigh of exasperation at the sight of her husband still
sitting at the table.
“Francis, whatever
are you doing?” she asked. “I wish to leave as soon as we may.”
“Certainly, my
dear,” said Lord Exencour. “I was merely attempting to ascertain precisely why
it was that Letitia needed our help.”
Isobel took the
letter out of his hand. “Because her cousin is a monster,” she said promptly. “I
will not allow her to be victimized so.”
“And very rightly,”
said Lord Exencour. “I will be delighted to accompany you and ride to her
rescue. Phillip and I were merely discussing whether he had a part to play in
this matter.”
“That is entirely
up to him,” said Isobel. “It is clear that you caused Letitia a great deal of
distress, sir,” she said to Eynsford, “but it is also apparent that she
continues to have some affection for you. How you act on that is up to you, but
I trust you will not be deceitful this time. That is, of course, providing you
are not in fact engaged to Lady Pamela Ravenscroft.”
The marquess
groaned. “Please, spare me any references to Lady Pamela. I will never be kind
to a youngster again.” There was a moment’s pause as both Isobel and Francis
surveyed him.
“I wish her to know
that I still care for her, but she was quite firm in her rejection of me. I do
not want to cause her more pain,” he said.
“Good heavens,”
cried Isobel, “this is no time for pretty speeches and gentle sentiments! Do
you wish to marry her or would you rather see her wed to Mainwaring?”
“I want to marry
her,” responded Phillip promptly.
“Then get moving,”
said Isobel. “Heavens! Go to Glencairn this moment and pack or we shall leave
you behind.”
She watched as
Eynsford hastily removed himself. Whatever would the pair of them do without
me, she wondered. They are quite helpless.