Undressed by the Earl (33 page)

“I do pray that she’ll get well,” Amelia said, pulling back, “but I’m more worried about David.”

“Grace has gone with her nurse for a while, so you can tell me everything.” Juliette locked the door and went to sit down.

Amelia couldn’t stop herself from spilling it all out and having a good cry. “I used to think my life was going to end like a fairy tale. That I would marry the viscount, reform him, and we’d be wealthy beyond our dreams.” She accepted the handkerchief Juliette offered her. “But then I saw the villain he was. Lord Castledon saved me from Viscount Lisford and married me, but I was so naïve to think that there could be more between us. He only married me out of kindness. Not love.”

“Are you unhappy being married to him?” Juliette asked in a low voice.

“I thought I was happy,” Amelia hedged. “But he’s never made a secret of the fact that he only remarried to provide a mother for Christine.” She dried her tears and eyed Juliette. “I’m not much of a mother, am I?”

“I’d say you’re doing quite well,” Juliette corrected. “Christine seems to like you very much.”

“I think Lord Castledon blames me for her illness,” Amelia confessed. “He was so angry when I told him I sent the first doctor away. But all the man wanted to do was bleed Christine. He would have made her worse.” A dull ache caught her heart. “And now, if she dies, my husband will never forgive me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Juliette insisted.

“I know it. But our marriage is already fragile enough. She has to live, or everything will end.” Amelia swallowed hard, trying to gather up her courage. “I might remain married to David, but he’ll reside on one of the other estates. He’ll avoid me, and I can’t live like that.”

“Then don’t,” Juliette said. “Paul will do everything possible for Christine. We won’t leave until she’s well again. And perhaps you should come to Edinburgh with us for a visit.”

“But what good would that do?”

“It may bring the earl to his senses, so that he’ll see what’s before him.”

Amelia understood what Juliette was saying, but she didn’t want to go. Not now, when her household was in disarray and her stepdaughter was fighting for her life. “I can’t leave him, Juliette. He may not realize he needs me, but he does.”

Her sister squeezed her hand. “Then I’ll be here for
you
, when you need me.”

“What have you learned?” David asked the doctor.

Dr. Fraser sat beside Christine, who was sleeping lightly. “It’s no’ a common disease,” he began, keeping his voice low. “I’ve read of only a few accounts. One from Germany, and another from France.” The physician handed him a few letters that had been tucked into a medical book. “Due to the war, it’s been hard for any correspondence to reach us.”

It wasn’t encouraging, for David suspected the doctor didn’t have a diagnosis yet. “What do you think it is?”

“She had a cough and a sore throat before this, aye?”

David nodded. “But she improved. That was weeks ago.”

“Some of the physicians think it’s a form of Boulogne sore throat.” His eyes met David’s, and the graveness of the man’s expression spoke the worst.

He’d heard of that illness, and many children had died from it. Still, he didn’t want to alarm Christine. “
Is
that what it is?”

“I’m no’ certain. She doesna have the swelling or the fever I’d expect to see.” He began listing the symptoms he’d noted, the paralysis being the worst of them. David listened to the physician, but he felt a cold fear take command of his courage.

Christine’s going to die
, his mind insisted.
Everyone you love dies.

The thought was a jagged blade into his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to think of losing her, though he knew it was likely going to happen. “What can we do?”

“We have to stop the paralysis from spreading to her lungs.” Again, the doctor sent him a hard look, making it clear that Christine would suffocate if it got that far.

“And you have medicine that can do this?”

The doctor paused. “Some say strychnine is a common treatment. But I say ’twould more likely poison her than be of help. I think we should keep exercising her arms and legs tae keep the blood flowing. There was one account I read where the condition reversed itself after a week. We’ll pray for that.”

In other words, this was an ailment with no cure. David lowered his head, holding back the frustration building inside. His daughter was fighting for her life, and there was nothing he could do to help.

Amelia came inside the room, and an invisible tension caught him in the shoulders. Never before had he lost control in front of a woman, and it bothered him that she’d seen him resort to violence, when he’d destroyed the cottage.

She took a seat on the opposite side of the bed while Dr. Fraser repeated his suggestions for treatment.

“It sounds reasonable,” Amelia pronounced, and then asked, “Has she eaten anything for supper yet?”

The doctor shook his head. “When she awakens, she can have some broth. I’m certain Mrs. Larson has prepared a feast to help her.”

“I thought she had already returned to Ballaloch,” David said, meeting Amelia’s gaze.

His wife ventured a slight smile. “No one could stop her from remaining here while her ‘wee lamb’ is ill. It would be like trying to stop a thunderstorm.”

“And what of Mrs. Menford? Have you dismissed her?”

“No. Mrs. Larson is helping her get accustomed to my methods, and I have every faith that she’ll come around.” Amelia softened a moment. “She even made a pot of chocolate for Christine when I asked her to.”

It sounded as if the housekeeper was starting to accept Amelia, but David hardly cared what happened with the staff anymore. His mind was entirely focused upon his daughter, praying she could survive this illness.

When she opened her eyes, Christine seemed relieved to find both of them at her bedside. “Papa, can you help me to sit up?”

He leaned over, and Amelia helped him to lift her into a seated position. She arranged the pillows around Christine and asked, “How are you feeling, now?”

His daughter let out a sigh. “The same. I can’t move my arms or legs.” Her face colored, and she admitted, “I feel rather like a baby again.”

“It will get better,” she reassured the girl. “And I’ve asked Mrs. Larson to come and bring you a good supper to help you get your strength back.”

David said nothing while Amelia chattered at Christine, realizing that she was trying to bring back his daughter’s good spirits. Once or twice, he saw his little girl smile, and it struck him in the heart with fear of never seeing her smile again.

But when Mrs. Larson arrived at last, Mrs. Menford was with her. The housekeeper carried a tray of food, while Mrs. Larson held a bucket of water in one hand. The Scotswoman gestured for Mrs. Menford to put the food down upon a table before she strode forward. “Now then, my lamb, I ken the good doctor will do all he can for ye, but I’ve come to help in my own way.”

David wasn’t exactly sure this was a good idea. “What you do mean, you plan to ‘help?’”

The housekeeper brightened. “Oh, ’tis just a prayer that will help keep the evil spirits away. It’s naught but a wee bit of water.”

Before he could protest, the housekeeper barreled her way to the bedside and handed him the bucket. She scooped up some water and let it drip over Christine’s head. Then she poured two more handfuls of water as she quoted:

“Tri baslaichean na Trianaid Naoimh,

Ga d’dhion ’s ga d’shabhaladh

Bho bheum sul.”

His wife murmured, “Amen,” while Christine blinked at both of them. “What was that for?” she asked the housekeeper.

“’Tis a prayer for you, dear one.” She took a towel and dried off the girl’s brow. “When a new bairn is washed by her nurse, we give this blessing against the evil eye. ’Twill keep death away.”

“Superstitious rot,” Mrs. Menford muttered. “You’ve done nothing but get the girl wet.”

“Is that like a baptism?” Amelia countered. “I say, there’s no harm in prayer, no matter how it’s done.” To Mrs. Larson, she said, “Thank you for bringing Christine her supper. You and Mrs. Menford may go now.”

But before either of them did, Mrs. Menford stopped a moment. “Lady Castledon, I
am
sorry for the way we started out. You can be certain that I’ll do all I can to help you.”

Amelia saw that the woman’s contrition was genuine, and she nodded. “Thank you.”

Once the servants had gone, she turned back to Christine. “Mrs. Larson is most definitely a superstitious woman, but she means well.”

A bead of water dripped down the girl’s cheek, and a smirk crossed her face. “I’m soaked, and I can’t even dry myself off.”

Amelia answered the smile, and Christine began to laugh. It was the first time David had heard her laugh in a long time.

He glanced over at his wife, who was biting her lip. “I don’t think it was Mrs. Larson’s intention to drown you, Christine.”

His daughter began to giggle, and a moment later, Amelia joined her in laughing. “She is a strange housekeeper, but I do love her. She used to put nails in my toast to keep the fairies away.”

Christine was laughing so hard now, tears were escaping her eyes. “Did you ever eat one by mistake?”

“No, but her toast was as hard as a nail, sometimes. She didn’t like waste, and we had to finish the loaf of bread, whether it was stale or not.” Amelia pushed back on Christine’s arms, trying to move them. “David, why don’t you help me with her other arm?”

He complied, but it bothered him to see his daughter’s limbs so frail and useless. Amelia continued talking and manipulating her arms, and he caught himself staring at them.

“You look tired,” she said. “Why don’t you go and have something to eat, and I’ll look after Christine. The food may make you feel better.”

“I’ll bring it back here,” David said. He didn’t recall seeing Amelia eat, either.

She shrugged and pulled back the coverlet, reaching for Christine’s feet. “We’ll be just fine, won’t we?”

His daughter’s laughter had abated, and she lifted her gray eyes to his. “I’m glad Papa married you, Amelia. You’re much more interesting than Miss Grant.”

“I’ve an idea,” she said. “Since none of us has had our supper, why don’t we have a picnic in the gardens before it gets dark?”

Christine’s expression turned hopeful, and though he was tempted to refuse, David realized that she’d been confined in this room for nearly a week. For all he knew, these could be her last moments outside.

“Your mother has a moonlight garden, doesn’t she?” Amelia said, pulling the covers all the way down. “It’s full of white flowers. She has hydrangeas, lilies, and roses, from what I’ve seen. Have you ever been there at night?”

Christine shook her head. “No.”

“Then we’ll have to go, won’t we?” Amelia glanced at him, and in her green eyes, he saw that she was clinging to hope as hard as he was. “Your father and I will form a chair with our arms and bring you downstairs and outside.”

She reached under Christine’s knees and behind her shoulders. “David, will you help me?”

He shook his head. “I’ll carry her myself.” When he lifted Christine into his arms, he realized how very long her legs and arms had grown in the past year. She was nearing the end of childhood, and if she lived, she would be as tall as Amelia one day.

His wife appeared slightly disappointed that he hadn’t allowed her to help, but she opened the door and picked up the supper tray Mrs. Larson had left. “I’ll tell Mrs. Menford that we’ll want our supper in the moonlight garden. Then I’ll join the two of you there.”

Chapter Four
t
een

T
he sky was clear and held a golden haze as sunset approached. Amelia walked down the stone steps leading to the gardens. The moonlight garden was one she’d discovered a few nights ago. At first, she hadn’t realized what it was and had dismissed it as a colorless collection of flowers. Then, one night, she’d stood outside while the moon cast its rays upon the earth. The blossoms had turned into silver, and she now believed that if any garden held a piece of Katherine’s spirit, it was this one.

She found David seated beside a low wall. Mrs. Menford followed them with a tray, while Mrs. Larson carried a tureen of soup. Surprisingly, the two housekeepers appeared almost amiable toward each other.

The footmen had brought a table and chairs for the three of them, while the housekeepers laid out the food. Mrs. Larson lit two tapers, and the candlelight added an aura of magic. There was chicken soup, roasted pheasant, sugared peas, fresh bread and butter, and even a small lemon cake.

“It’s beautiful here,” Christine said. “I’ve been to this garden before, but never at night. I didn’t realize how different it would look.”

Amelia fixed a plate for her stepdaughter and set it before the girl. She smoothed Christine’s damp hair back and then raised a forkful of cake to her mouth.

The girl frowned a moment. “Shouldn’t I eat my vegetables and pheasant first? Miss Grant says dessert must always come last.”

“But then you might not be hungry for it,” Amelia said. “Sometimes my sisters and I would eat our cake first and then the rest. Not often, but it made our dinner more fun. Don’t you agree, my lord?”

David ignored his cake and took a bite of roasted pheasant. He might as well have been eating dirt, and Amelia suspected his worry over Christine superseded any ability to take joy in food.

“Papa doesn’t eat cake or sweets,” Christine said. “He never does.”

Amelia set down her own fork. Though she’d heard it before, she questioned the reason. “Why is that?”

He cut another bite of the pheasant and shrugged. “I don’t like the taste.”

“Has it always been that way?” she prompted, raising another bite of lemon cake for Christine to eat.

He stared at her as if to demand,
Stop asking questions
. “No.”

His daughter glanced at him. “This is about Mother, isn’t it?” Her expression turned serious. “She loved cakes and biscuits, didn’t she?”

“She did.”

From his clipped tone and the way he kept his attention firmly fixed upon his plate, Amelia guessed that he didn’t want to talk about it further. “How do you like the flowers?” she asked Christine.

The girl turned to look at the wild profusion of Queen Anne’s lace. “I used to think this garden wasn’t much to look at. But it’s beautiful at night.” Her gray eyes held wonder, and as twilight descended, the candlelight cast a soft glow over her face.

Amelia helped her to finish eating, but Christine had little appetite. Her mood mirrored her father’s, and both of them looked as if they were facing an executioner. She’d brought them here to cheer them up, and it wasn’t working at all.

“You’re going to get well,” she told Christine. “You need to believe that.”

“It’s hard, when I can’t move my arms or legs,” the girl admitted.

“We should take you back to your room,” David interjected. “You must be tired.”

“No. Wait a moment.” Amelia went over to one of the rosebushes and snapped off a small bud. She tucked it behind Christine’s ear and said, “I want you to think of your mother when you smell this. She’ll watch over you.”

“I’m afraid to die,” her stepdaughter admitted. Her voice was thick, as if she were holding back tears.

“Listen to me.” Amelia took the girl’s limp hands in hers, then touched one cheek. “We are going to listen to Dr. Fraser and keep the blood flowing through your limbs. We’ll move your arms and legs for you, until you can move them yourself.”

The fear in her stepdaughter’s eyes was mirrored by David. “I keep waking up at night, dreaming that I can’t breathe.”

“Have you lost the ability to move anything else? Your shoulders?”

Christine paused a moment and turned her shoulders one way and then the other. “No. I can still move them.”

“And you haven’t lost the feeling in anything else?”

The girl shook her head. “Not yet.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper, but she seemed to take comfort from Amelia’s observation.

“If it isn’t spreading, then that’s a good sign,” David said. He reached down to lift Christine back into his arms. “Come now, and I’ll take you back so you can rest.”

His gaze turned back to Amelia for a moment, and in his eyes, she saw the weariness. Like his daughter, he was afraid to hope. And he’d been alone for so long, he refused to rely on anyone but himself.

He was trying to shoulder a burden alone that no father should have to face. “It was a nice picnic,” he said to Amelia. “Thank you.”

She remained seated there after they’d gone, wondering what to do now. David seemed determined to separate her out of his life. He was hurting deeply and kept up the mask of indifference. Only during his violent outburst had she caught a glimpse of the pain he was hiding.

Slowly, she rose from her chair in the garden. When she reached the door to the house, she overheard low voices speaking in the parlor. Amelia tiptoed nearer and spied her sister Juliette talking with her husband.

“Will she live?” her sister was asking.

“I canna say,” Dr. Fraser answered. “If the paralysis doesna spread further, it should recede in the next few days.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then she’ll die tonight or tomorrow. She willna be able to move her lungs.”

Amelia leaned back against the wall, feeling as if her knees were about to buckle beneath her. Inwardly, she felt sick to her stomach, and a rise of nausea caught in her throat.

She didn’t want to believe it could be true, and before she could hear another word, she began running up the stairs.

Tonight or tomorrow
, he’d said. She prayed that it wouldn’t happen, that the girl would survive it. But Christine’s premonition about being unable to breathe was a tangible threat.

And if the worst happened, she needed to be at David’s side.

The night was long, the hours creeping by, one by one. David’s shoulders ached, and he’d been unable to leave Christine for even a moment. It was as if he could fight the invisible hand of Death by shielding her.

He’d give up his life for hers, if it were possible. Watching her struggle to breathe, seeing her fight to live, was something he’d never imagined would happen.

Dr. Fraser had come in several times, but there was no change in Christine’s condition. David sent the physician away for a few hours, needing the time to be with his daughter. He promised to alert him if she took a turn for the worse.

Amelia, however, had refused to leave. She sat across from him, keeping her own vigil. Her green eyes held exhaustion, and her blond hair tangled against her throat. For a moment, she met his gaze, and he couldn’t help but remember what she’d said before, that she loved him.

How could she? She’d seen him lose control of his temper, destroying most of the gamekeeper’s cottage. He was hardly her ideal husband, and he’d brought her to this miserable marriage where she wasn’t even mistress of her own household.

He’d never seen her look this fragile before. Amelia should have so much more than this bleak existence.

She stood from her place and moved to stand behind him. “If you want to rest for an hour, I’ll keep watch over her.”

Her hands rested upon his shoulders, but he shook his head. “I’ll be fine. But you should go to sleep. There’s nothing either of us can do right now.”

“I won’t leave,” she whispered, and her hands pressed against his shoulders, massaging away the stiffness.

Her hands felt so good, and he closed his eyes for the slightest moment, enjoying her touch. David leaned back his head, taking the comfort she offered.

A fleeting second later, he felt her mouth come down on his in a light kiss. There was hesitancy in her lips, as if she were afraid to show any affection to him. But before he could kiss her back, she pulled away.

He said nothing, and her hands moved away from his shoulders. She was waiting for him to say something, he knew. But the silence hung between them, deepening the rift.

Then, out of nowhere, he confessed the truth. “Katherine was going to have another baby when she died.”

When he turned to her, Amelia’s face held shock. Though she appeared as if she wanted to say something, she waited for him to go on. David didn’t know why he’d said it, but once he’d begun telling her, it became impossible to stop. “She had a…wasting sickness. A cancer, they told me. One moment she was fine, and then it struck her so fast. She was in such pain, but she tried to hide it from me.”

“You were there for her.” She took his hand, as if to reassure him. “And I imagine that brought her comfort.”

“I never knew she was expecting a child when the sickness hit her. She…kept her body under the covers for many months. Even the doctor didn’t know. Katherine fought so hard to live, and it was only in her last hour that she told me.”

His eyes burned, and it felt like acid was burning the back of his throat. “She—she thought they could cut the baby from her and save it. But I knew she would die if they did. The child couldn’t have lived anyway, since she was only a few months into the pregnancy.”

Tears were rolling down Amelia’s cheeks, and she squeezed his hand tightly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I let both of them die,” he said. “She took her last breath in my arms, and when the doctors tried to save the child, in case there was a chance, my son was already dead.”

He wanted to grieve, to release the harsh pain that he’d buried deep. But he didn’t want Amelia to see the weakness. It had been six years—far too long to think of it now. But his son would have been running around, perhaps learning to ride his own horse.

Amelia drew her arms around him, and she whispered, “You mustn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could do.”

He knew it, but it didn’t assuage the raw emptiness. It was easier to embrace the silence, to lock away any emotions.

“Sometimes I wish I could have given myself in their place,” he said. “If I hadn’t given her another child, she might have been strong enough to overcome the sickness.”

“You couldn’t have known it would happen.”

“No. But I blame myself, nonetheless.” When Amelia moved back, he admitted, “I never wanted you to endure something like this.”

Her face held sorrow, and she added, “Do you regret this marriage?”

He did. But not because he hadn’t wanted her to share in his life. It was because he’d reached the end of his strength. He had no love left to give, and if anyone deserved to be loved, it was Amelia.

“I wish I could be a better man for you,” was all he could say.

His answer brought a flush to her cheeks, and she looked down at her hands.

Christine began to toss her head in her sleep, and her breathing suddenly turned into gasps. He didn’t know what was happening, but he ordered Amelia, “Go and fetch Dr. Fraser. Now!” He shoved her out the door, praying to God that his daughter would live.