The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga) (17 page)

In the dream that day, Rycroft came to her. “My dear Amelia. I love you,
and I am so thankful you have found the earl to be a father to our daughter.
You have my blessing. He loves you very much and will be a good husband and
father. Please do not be saddened by my death anymore. I am with God. ”

Amelia stirred in her sleep, and cried out, “Daniel, don’t go.”

***

“Calling out for someone to help you will not do any good, Countess.”

Amelia heard the deep voice invade her dream. Try as she might, she
could not shake off the deep sleep.

“Come now, Countess, wake up. It is time for you to pay the price for
marrying Bridgeton.”

Amelia shivered as a shadow blocked the warmth from the sun. The sudden
chill had her sitting up abruptly. After rubbing her eyes, she focused on the
gentleman standing in front of her. The murderous look on his face froze her
blood.

“Yes, Countess, you should be frightened,” warned the intruder.

“Why are you here?” Amelia struggled to her feet and smoothed down her
skirts, more to occupy her trembling hands than caring that her skirts were
wrinkled and out of place.

“I just told you. I’m here to make you pay for marrying Bridgeton.”

“My husband is meeting me here; you’d better leave before he finds you
on his estate,” Amelia said with a calmness she did not possess.

Distorted laughter filled the air around her.

Amelia fought to keep control and not give in to the sheer terror that
filled her body and mind. “Please, I only warn you for your own protection. My
husband has a temper.”

More crazed laughter. “It will grieve me to kill you, Countess. You
have courage. But because you had a moment of bad judgment and married
Bridgeton, and he needs to be punished for his previous sins, I must snuff out
your life. And when you are found, poor Bridgeton will look guilty of murder once
again. Only this time I believe, your brother, the duke, will see that
Bridgeton hangs for his sins.”

With her body quaking in terror, she picked up her skirts
and turned to run. The intruder anticipated her actions. He shot out his hands,
gripping both of hers. He wrapped them behind her back, causing her to bend
forward. He gripped her more tightly to free one of his hands. Before she could
scream out he covered her mouth with his hand. She bit down hard on her
attacker and tasted his blood.

Amelia tried to break free of his hold but only made it worse. He
dragged her to the stream. Somehow she found herself kneeling in the cold
water. And it was then she knew what he intended to do. Drown her in the
stream, as Katherine had been. All Amelia could do was scream William’s name
over and over again inside her head. Poor William. He would indeed be suspected
of causing her death.
Please, God, do not let me die. Do not let William be
blamed for something he did not do. Please, God, my daughter needs me.

Everything that happened next happened quickly. Cold, wet darkness
surrounded her. Amelia fought to keep her mouth closed and not take in water.
Her battle was lost. She gulped in water as she attempted to scream. A
beautiful calm overtook her as she saw her family sitting at the dining table,
laughing and eating. The day she gave birth to Olivia flashed before her eyes. William,
on the day he rode up to her at the stream on horseback for the first time,
came into her vision.

Amelia witnessed
her body floating through a white cloud toward Rycroft, who looked horrified,
standing there with tears in his eyes. And then there was nothing––utter
silence and darkness.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Did you hear that?” Emma asked Wentworth, Sebastian, and Bella as the
four rode on horseback across Wentworth land toward Bridgeton’s. After the
wedding ceremony they had decided to take a rest from the London Season and
stay in the country. Today they planned to surprise Amelia and Bridgeton with
an afternoon visit for tea.

“Hear what?” Sebastian asked.

“I heard something. Water splashing,” Wentworth said, wondering what
had upset his wife suddenly.

“It sounded like a struggle. I heard moaning—”

Before his wife could finish, Wentworth had his mare galloping full
force toward the stream. Everything he ever heard about the deaths of
Bridgeton’s brother and his brother’s pregnant wife screamed inside his head.

“No, no, no!” he shouted, jumping down from his horse even while it
still moved. A woman’s body lay, unmoving, in the stream. Wentworth’s heart
stopped. “Please, God… Not Amelia.”

“Oh, dear God,” cried Bella as she dismounted and splashed through the
stream to reach the body.

Wentworth picked up his sister’s lifeless, wet, cold body and placed
her on the ground beside the stream. He ignored the screaming in his head
telling him she was dead.

“What do I do?” he shouted shakily, fighting down the panic trying to
take over his body and mind.

“Move aside,” Sebastian said.

Wentworth’s knees buckled and he collapsed down next to his sister’s
body. Sebastian turned Amelia’s body over onto her back and pushed down on her
chest over and over. Nothing happened. Wentworth could hear his wife and Bella
screaming at Sebastian not to stop. Sebastian continued until Amelia coughed up
water and gasped for air.

“How did you—” Wentworth cried out in relief.

“I saw a man almost drown in America. I did what I saw someone do to
save him.” Sebastian held Amelia’s lifeless body close to his to warm her up.
“Do you suppose she will live?”

“I do not know,” Wentworth mumbled, “but we must get her home and call
for the doctor.”

Wentworth rode home with Amelia’s unconscious body across his lap. His
heart and mind heavy with worry. Tears streamed down his face as he bent
forward and sobbed into his sister’s cold body. He prayed he would not lose her.
How had Wentworth been fooled once again? He’d believed Bridgeton when he swore
he had nothing to do with the deaths of his brother and sister-in-law. What a
deceitful liar. What just happened to his sister could not be a coincidence.

Wentworth would personally see to it that Bridgeton hung for his
crimes. The earl would never kill another soul as long as Wentworth breathed.
Once again Wentworth was bombarded with guilt. How could he have been so wrong?
He would never trust his judgment again, as long as he lived.

***

After the family physician had examined Amelia, the only thing he said
was that time would tell if she’d ever wake up again. Some near-drowning
victims woke up and were fine. Some never did.

“Keep her warm and comfortable. Try to spoon-feed her broth, and pray
for a miracle,” he told them in a sober tone.

That was all the doctor had to say?
Where were his words of
encouragement? Wentworth refused to believe that Amelia might never wake up.
She would. Bloody hell, he would see to it she did.

“Did you send for Scotland Yard and Smythe?” Wentworth asked Sebastian
as the two men shared a brandy in the privacy of Wentworth’s study a short time
later.

“Yes,” Sebastian answered as he downed the contents of his crystal
glass. “Bridgeton, as we speak, is probably being transported to Newgate.”

“Good. May he rot in hell,” Wentworth said as he refilled both
Sebastian’s glass and his own.

“Could you be wrong about this?” Sebastian asked. “I realize he has
been accused of murder in the past, but I can’t see him harming Amelia.”

“No,” Wentworth answered, refusing to doubt Bridgeton’s guilt. “And
don’t question me again about it. The similarities cannot be a coincidence.
Bridgeton is obviously a man with a dark side. One he has managed to hide from
the world. Not anymore. I will see him punished for all his crimes. Tell me, has
Amelia’s maid arrived with Olivia yet? It’s high time they did. I sent for them
over an hour ago.”

“Fear not, brother,” Sebastian reassured him. “They arrived unharmed
and are now safely back in your care.”

“Thank God. If anything happened to my niece…” Wentworth was unable to
finish the dreadful thought. He collapsed in his desk chair and placed his head
in the palms of his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. If Amelia does
not wake up…I don’t think I can—”

“She will wake,” Sebastian insisted. “She has to. Olivia needs her
mother.”

***

William was walking down the hall towards his study, after taking a
brisk walk around the grounds to clear his head before he went back to his
estate accounts, when a commotion in the entry hall distracted him. He hurried
down the stairs and abruptly halted when he came face to face with two
constables.

Fear gripped his chest. All he could think about was Amelia. “Why are
you here? Is Lady—”

“Lord Bridgeton,” the taller of the two constables said, “you are under
arrest for attempting to murder Lady Bridgeton. Do we need to use restraints?
Or will you come willingly?”

“What?” William looked around the entry hall, concerned by the
sympathetic looks his staff gave him. Whatever did the constable mean? Were
they arresting him for Katherine’s murder? But wait. He had said attempting to
murder Lady Bridgeton. Dear God! Did that mean…?

William’s legs buckled and his knees hit the wooden floor with a thud.
“Where is my wife? I must see her now,” William begged.

Feeling like an observer, William watched powerlessly as he was helped
to his feet, seized by both arms, and escorted into a carriage. He was locked
in with one of the constables. The other sat up front with the driver. No
matter how much he asked the man opposite him about Amelia, he received no
answer.

“Please, have mercy on me. I need to know what happened to my wife.”
William’s body trembled and his stomach clenched with fear. “Please, can you at
least tell me if my wife is alive?”

“She lives.”

After taking a deep breath and sighing with relief, William leaned back
against the hard seat and silently prayed to God.
Thank you for letting
Amelia live.
But if she lived, why had she not cleared him of whatever had
befallen her?
Was it possible she could not?
William closed his eyes,
ignoring the tears that slid down his cheeks.

How could he make this right? He needed to speak with Spencer and
Smythe. As his mind cleared, there was no doubt in William’s mind that Trenton
had to be responsible. He must have made a trip to his estate and attempted to
kill his beloved Amelia.

William had to find proof. He would not sit back this time and let
Trenton get away with this. Now that William had a reason to live. Amelia was
his world, beautiful Amelia and their adorable daughter, Olivia. He finally had
his own family. He would not lose them now.

When the carriage arrived at Newgate, William trembled and broke out in
a cold sweat. He could not believe this was happening to him. He needed to get
to Amelia and see for himself that she was unharmed. She meant everything to
him. He needed to hear her voice. He was terrified for her safety.

The warden met them at the gated entrance to hell. “A Mr. Spencer has
paid for a private cell for you.” The warden spat on the dirt floor. “Too bad,
I was looking forward to putting titled gentry in with the commoners.” He spat
again on the floor. “Maybe in a few days’ time.”

William was led down a dark, narrow, curved stone staircase. Voices
came out of the darkness and pummeled his fuzzy brain. As he walked past cell
after cell, arms reached out in the dark and pulled at him, making him cringe.
Putrid smells assaulted his nostrils and he fought hard not to retch.

His wife lived and he wanted to be at her side. Bloody hell, how did
anyone survive this nightmare?

They stopped at the end of the hallway and William was pushed inside a
small cell. When his eyes adjusted to the dark he could make out a cot, a
wooden chair, and chamber pot––nothing else. It made William wonder how much
Spencer had paid the warden. Probably a small fortune.

He sat down on the cot and pulled the thin, scratchy wool blanket
around his chilled body. Since he’d felt relief that his wife lived, all
William could contemplate was what would happen to him. Would he be given a
chance to prove his innocence? Had Wentworth believed he could possibly be
guilty of attempting to murder his beloved wife? Would Wentworth listen to
reason?

William jumped up and paced the room. Six steps in one direction, four
in the other. Why was Amelia not telling them he had not hurt her?
Did she
think he tried to kill her?
William lunged for the chamber pot and vomited.
Or was it worse? Maybe she could not tell anyone what happened because she was
injured so badly she could not speak. William dragged his weary body back to
the cot and curled up on his side, fighting the demons trying to overtake his
mind.

William fought to stay asleep, but a bright light and a clanking noise
made it impossible.

“Wakey, wakey, Looord Bridgeton. You have a visitor.”

William sprang up off of his cot so fast he had to sit back down to
stop his head from spinning. “Who is it?”

“Hell, Cousin, you look like death.” Spencer’s voice echoed off the
stone walls.

After taking a deep, calming breath, William walked toward the bars.
“Thank God you’re here. Have you seen Amelia? Is she well?”

Spencer handed the guard some coins, and the next thing William knew
the two of them stood locked inside his private dungeon. “No. I have not seen
her. There was no time to travel there before I came here.” Spencer paced the
small room. “What the bloody hell happened?”

“How the hell do I know?” William cried out. Then he lowered his voice.
“Sorry. Not in my right mind. I’m going crazy in here. I need to see Amelia.”

“That is not going to happen any time soon,” Spencer warned as he took
a seat on the rickety chair, fished a handkerchief out of his pocket, and
covered his mouth and nose. “It stinks worse than the sewers. How can you stand
it?”

“You get used to it.” He spoke the truth. William hardly noticed the
smells anymore.

“I have sent word to Wentworth,” Spencer continued. “If I do not hear
back from him by this evening, I will travel to his estate first thing
tomorrow.”

“Have you talked to Smythe?  I know he said he could find no
proof, but I should have insisted they continue to tail him,” William said as
he stood in a corner, arms across his chest.

“Seems his services have now been requested by none other than
Wentworth,” Spencer replied.

“What?” William asked. “Since when did Smythe change loyalties? I paid
him well.”

“Fear not, Cousin,” Spencer said as he leaned at a precarious angle.
The chair legs were not all the same length. “Smythe will get to the bottom of
this. Wentworth may have hired him to prove you guilty of attempting to murder
Amelia, but Smythe, during his investigation, will find the true culprit. Which
you and I both know is Trenton.”

“Smythe damn well better get proof of Trenton’s guilt. It is high time
Katherine’s brother paid for his crimes, past and present.” William rubbed his
sore chest with his hand. If his heart did not slow soon, he would certainly
die of heart failure. He changed the subject to ease his pain. “On a happier
note, how are your sisters, your mother, and our grandmother?”

“They’re all worried to death,” Spencer said, and William groaned.
“Sorry. Bad choice of words, but you know what I mean.”

“Thanks. Yes, I do.”

“You do not honestly think Wentworth can have you hung without a trial,
do you?” Spencer asked.

“Why, thanks, Spencer, I was just beginning to feel better,” William
said wryly.

“He is an influential duke after all. Our esteemed Prince Regent thinks
highly of him. Not to mention no matter how much I bribe the warden, Wentworth
pays more to keep you miserable. Too bad dukes rank higher than earls.”

“That may be true,” William agreed. “But our grandmother is quite
influential as well.”

“Time is up.” The guard reappeared and opened the door to let Spencer
out.

“I will either call on you tomorrow or send a message,” Spencer said as
he faded into the darkness of the hallway, the hall that was the only way to
William’s freedom, to his Amelia.

***

For five long days Amelia’s family hovered around her bed. Praying she
awoke. Each day the family doctor came and proclaimed the same thing. “She may
wake or she may not. Only time will tell.” Wentworth’s heart could not take
anymore. At times it beat so fast he thought it would jump right out of his
chest. He wondered if everyone felt the same way he did. A cursory glance at
all his family’s faces and he knew they did. When would this nightmare end?

Wentworth sent and received daily messages from Prince Regent. The
Prince agreed to keep Bridgeton in Newgate until proof of his guilt or
innocence became known. Wentworth didn’t need proof of his guilt, he witnessed
it every time he saw his sister’s unconscious body.

***

“Is anyone there?” Amelia cried out in a weak voice. As she awakened in
her room at her family’s country estate, confusion set in. How did she get
here?
The last thing she remembered was attending a ball in London and dancing with
her betrothed, Captain Rycroft, and dreaming about their wedding night.

“Amelia,” Wentworth, alone in the room, left his chair by the fireplace
and approached his sister’s bedside. “You’re awake,” he said looking pale and
tired.