by Tuft, Karen
“I shall do my best,” Dr. Ellis replied.
Dr. Ellis entered Delia’s room. Lucas, his mother, and Artie clustered just inside the doorway to watch. Lavinia stood and moved out of the way, and Hannah moved the chair Lavinia had been sitting in so the doctor could examine Delia.
He felt her forehead, listened to her heart, raised her eyelids one at a time to look at her eyes—all the things physicians always seemed to do when evaluating the health of a patient. He seemed respectful in his approach, for which Lucas was grateful. Lavinia and Artie—and probably Hannah too—would have attacked the man, teeth and claws bared, had he been the least bit severe in his methods.
He listened to her heart again.
“Hmm,” he said.
“What is it?” Lucas’s mother asked.
“I’m not sure,” Dr. Ellis replied. He tapped his chin in speculation. “Her heart is weak, certainly, but not unexpected, considering her age. She has no fever that I can detect. We could try bloodletting and see if she improves—”
“No bloodletting!” Artie cried. “Delia hates blood, even when it isn’t real—” His mouth snapped shut.
Lucas’s mother looked at Artie curiously, but the doctor only shrugged. “I’m not generally an advocate for bloodletting myself. I’ve been exploring the use of herbs in my practice, but that is a discussion for another day.”
“No bloodletting,” Artie said again.
“As you wish,” Dr. Ellis said.
“What has caused her condition?” Lavinia asked.
“I’m not sure. It would help to know how she seemed before the onset of her illness.”
Lavinia looked at Artie before answering the doctor. “She hasn’t been herself lately at all,” she said. “Delia is usually so happy, so engaging. But the past few days, she has seemed a bit . . . off. Irritable. And Delia is never irritable. Quite the contrary.”
“Not like herself at all,” Artie added. “I was beginning to wonder if I could say a word to her without it being the wrong one.”
“Hmm,” Dr. Ellis mused. “Obviously something is amiss for her to be in this unresponsive state.” He thought for a moment, watching Delia closely. “With your permission, I would like to examine the patient more thoroughly. I would ask you to remain with me, Lady Thurlby, for propriety’s sake.”
“Of course, Dr. Ellis,” Lucas’s mother said.
Dr. Ellis nodded.
The others exited the room, and Dr. Ellis quietly shut the door behind them. Lucas led Lavinia to the chair he’d been sitting in earlier and sat in the one next to it, taking her hand in his. It felt cold to the touch.
Artie, not unpredictably, began pacing again. Hannah, to Lucas’s surprise, placed her ear next to the door. “I can’t hear nothing—no rustling of bedclothes, nothing to indicate what that doctor fellow might be doing,” she reported to the others before giving up.
“Oh, Lucas, I can hardly bear it,” Lavinia whispered. “What if we lose her? What will poor Artie do without her? They’ve been friends for decades.”
“We will pray that doesn’t happen, my dear, but if it does, we will honor her life as best we can and we will be there for Artie and share his grief.”
Several minutes passed, and finally, Dr. Ellis again opened the door, and he and Lucas’s mother joined them in the corridor. His mother had her handkerchief pressed to her mouth, and she turned away from the group, which seemed rather alarming to Lucas. He hoped it wasn’t an indication of worse news to come.
“After having thoroughly examined Miss Weston and consulted with Lady Thurlby, I’m afraid I have nothing more to say to you regarding Miss Weston’s medical situation at this time,” Dr. Ellis said. “My suggestion is to be patient and wait. The rest is up to Miss Weston.”
“There’s nothing more you can tell us? Nothing at all?” Lavinia asked, rising to her feet. Lucas rose as well and stood behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders.
“Perhaps a day or two more will provide answers,” Dr. Ellis said. “In the meantime, there is nothing else I can do. You have leave to call upon me at any time, should her condition change.” He nodded to Lucas’s mother. “I can find my way out, Lady Thurlby.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ellis. We are grateful to you for your time,” she said and seemed much more composed now than when she’d exited the room. “But I will accompany you, nonetheless. There are a few questions regarding Miss Weston’s care I wish to discuss with you.”
He nodded to her in acknowledgment, and the two of them proceeded down the corridor to the front of the house.
“I’ll sit with Delia,” Hannah volunteered. “I’ll just go get my sewing basket first.”
“I intend to sit with her,” Artie declared. “I don’t plan to leave her side for a single moment.”
“We shall all take shifts so that someone is with her at all times,” Lavinia stated decisively. “I will not have you wearing yourself out with your vigilance, Arthur Drake. I couldn’t bear it if you were to get ill too.”
“You’ll need food and sleep if you intend to stay strong for Delia’s sake,” Lucas said in the calm, firm tone he’d frequently had to use with Anthony on the worst days. Lucas could see the same type of agitation now in Artie, poor fellow.
“You can stay with her first, then, Artie. I’ll come back later,” Hannah said.
Without further ado, Artie rushed into Delia’s room.
For the rest of the day, someone remained at Delia’s side—mainly Artie, which was no great surprise, although he did allow himself short periods of time away from her, with Hannah or Lavinia keeping vigil in his place. Even his mother sat with Delia a few times during the day and evening, as did Lucas’s sisters when they arrived home.
The meeting Lavinia and Lucas were to have had with his parents didn’t happen, the concern for Delia’s welfare taking precedence.
“I shall sit with her later this evening,” Clara said at supper after she and Isaac and the children had returned to Alderwood. Lavinia was sitting with Delia, and Hannah had asked to take supper in her room so she could eat quickly and keep Lavinia company. “I feel so dreadfully sorry we were not here to help earlier.”
“You must save your strength for your children and the babe you are carrying, Clara. I will go up after supper so Lavinia can rest, and I shall read aloud to Delia this time,” Susan declared. “Perhaps she will hear the words in her sleep, and it will help her awaken.”
“Take care you select something with lively prose, then, not one of James’s stuffy legal texts,” Simon said with a grin.
“A little more tact, if you please, Simon,” Lucas said. He glanced at Artie, but the poor man was lost in his thoughts and hadn’t heard the flippant remark.
“No slight was intended,” Simon said. “My apologies.” He lifted his goblet and drained it, then signaled the footman for more.
“In case you’re wondering, I left my stuffiest texts at my office in Lincoln,” James said. “As I’m sure Isaac left his stuffiest sermons at the vicarage.”
That was James’s subtle way of telling Lucas he was overreacting to Simon’s small jest, but Lucas didn’t care—he could still see the grief etched in Lavinia’s face, to say nothing of the anguish Artie was feeling.
“I shall keep you company, Susan,” Rebecca said. “And you can borrow one of my books, if you like—perhaps one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels?” she added hopefully.
“I would love your company, little sister,” Susan said. “But perhaps we should select something less Gothic than Mrs. Radcliffe for Miss Weston under the circumstances.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. Perhaps some poetry, then,” Rebecca said.
The footman stepped out of the dining hall to answer a subtle knock at the door and then returned and made his way swiftly to their father. “Excuse me, milord, but there’s a gentleman just arrived, wanting to speak to you.” He presented a card on a salver. In a lowered voice, he added, “Despite the lateness of the
hour, he insists he will not leave until he is seen. He’s in the drawing room.”
Lucas’s father picked up the card and read it.
“Who is it, Thurlby? Don’t leave us in suspense,” Mama said.
“We have an illustrious visitor, Alice. The Earl of Cosgrove, of all people. I wonder why he should be calling, especially at this late hour. I’ve never even met the gentleman. I cannot imagine he has urgent business—with me or anyone else in Lincolnshire, for that matter.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and set it on his plate. “John, you may tell the earl I shall be with him presently.”
Simon had gone still at the mention of the earl, and then drained his goblet a second time.
What did Simon know? Lucas wondered. Simon was the only person at the table other than himself who’d spent any time in London, where the Earl of Cosgrove resided most of the year, and Lucas had no connection to the earl, nor did Anthony. Cosgrove, while liked well enough by most of his peers, was also rather notorious for his dalliances with widows and actresses . . .
The food in Lucas’s stomach congealed all at once.
For there was another person here at Alderwood with connections to London. Not to mention her three traveling companions as well.
I have been kissed, Lucas, but I have never kissed.
Oh, Lavinia.
“Come, Alice, let us go welcome our guest and see what he is about.”
Lucas rose so quickly that his chair nearly toppled over behind him. “I would like to go with you, if I may, Father,” he said.
“Very well; I don’t see why not,” his father replied, looking curiously at him as he stood and walked to the other end of the table to assist Mama from her chair. “Anyone else? Perhaps we should set a place for him here in case he’s hasn’t dined yet this evening.” He nodded at the footman, who immediately left the room.
Lucas followed his parents from the dining room, down the corridor that seemed infinitely too short a distance, toward the drawing room, where the Earl of Cosgrove apparently waited impatiently for . . . Lucas didn’t know precisely what. But he knew with horrible certainty that it had to do with Lavinia, so he used this all-too-brief span of time to prepare to face the enemy, as he had done endless times before in Spain.
Whatever Cosgrove intended, Lucas would face it and prevail—no matter what.
* * *
At first glance, the Earl of Cosgrove seemed like many noblemen Lucas had met during his time at university and through his association with Anthony.
Lucas, however, was used to evaluating his enemies more thoroughly—their intellect, their guile, the details of their physical appearance. It may not provide all the information needed when preparing for battle, but it narrowed the chances for failure. And Lucas was quite sure he was facing an enemy.
Lord Cosgrove was nearly as tall as Lucas but more slender and a good decade older than Lucas’s own twenty-six years. The earl’s riding clothes were of the latest style, his blond hair trimmed with precision. His boots fairly shone, even after what would have been a lengthy ride up from London, so fine was the polish on them. He would cut a dashing figure as he made his way on horseback through Hyde Park, Lucas thought.
“Welcome to Alderwood, Lord Cosgrove. Allow me to present myself,” Lucas’s father said. “I am Thomas Jennings, Viscount Thurlby, and this is my wife, Alice, Lady Thurlby. Perhaps you have met my son Lucas.”
“I have not had the pleasure, although I have heard of him as of late,” the earl replied.
Lucas bowed respectfully to the earl’s nod of acknowledgment.
“Please, be seated. Would you care for a drink?” Lucas’s father said as his mother sat on the sofa. “Or perhaps you would like to join us for supper. We would be only too happy—”
“Lord Thurlby,” the earl said. “The reason for my arrival here is best shared only with you and your son, no offense to Lady Thurlby intended. But as she is here and I have no wish to stay any longer than is necessary, I shall get right to the point. It is my understanding that you are in possession of something that belongs to me,” the earl said.
Lucas’s father knitted his brows. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I did travel to Peterborough yesterday about a new venture I’m considering. Are you an investor? I was sure I knew who they all were.”
“I am not an investor,” the earl said impatiently. “Do you think I would travel all day to discuss something as undignified as a business venture? Hardly. I have people who do such things for me. No, this is of a more personal nature.”
Lucas’s mother, who’d seated herself on the settee during this exchange, straightened at the earl’s condescending words.
Lucas’s father simply looked at the earl with benign curiosity. “I’m sure I can’t begin to imagine what you’re talking about, although you seem to presume that I do, for some reason. Please sit, my lord, and we will sort this out.”
Lucas’s pulse had been increasing steadily as he listened to the conversation like he had as an infantryman waiting for the command to fire. There had been something troubling Lavinia; she’d warned him, but he hadn’t understood.
My past will find me no matter where I go.
Lucas wandered over to the side table, poured himself a bracing drink, and downed it in one swallow.
“I received word that you have a young woman staying with you at present,” Cosgrove said.
“That is true. She is betrothed to our son,” Lucas’s father replied.
“My felicitations,” the earl said with no little sarcasm. “However, a young lady happened to slip through my fingers at the same time your son seems to have found himself betrothed, despite her claims to having been betrothed for years.”
“Years?” his mother asked, looking at Lucas.
“Ah, it is as I expected, then. It is my belief that your son has taken what belongs to me.”
“What are you implying, Lord Cosgrove?” his father asked.
“I am not implying anything. I am speaking plainly of my chère amie,” the earl said impatiently. “My mistress, if you wish me to be even more blunt.” He fingered his quizzing glass, its jewels flashing garishly in the candlelight.
“Language, sir,” Lucas’s father warned. “I will not allow a virtual stranger, regardless of rank, to speak in such a manner in my home, or indeed make such accusations. You will choose your words carefully. Alice, I would have you leave the room so we gentlemen can talk.”
“I rather think not,” Mama replied, every inch the viscountess. “Lord Cosgrove, you are entirely mistaken. There is no chère amie of any sort here at Alderwood. The very idea. My son would never bring such a woman as you describe to dwell under our roof.”
“If that is the case,” Cosgrove said, “it should be no hardship for me to see the young woman in question and discern for myself if my assumptions about her identity are correct.” He turned to look straight at Lucas. “A few questions, if you will oblige me, about this betrothed of yours. By any chance, is she excessively beautiful? Does she possess the figure of a goddess?”
Lucas refused to answer, his jaw clamped tightly shut.
“A mouth as red and ripe as cherries? Eyes like silver?”
Lucas only glared at the earl, his hands clenched as though his rifle were in them, loaded and ready for use.
“And is her hair long and luscious and sinfully red? The sort of hair a man dares only dream about?” The earl’s voice rose in crescendo with each question he posed.
“Cosgrove, you will cease speaking about her in this way,” Lucas growled, fairly vibrating with rage.
His mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Lucas, what is going on?” his father asked.
“And would her name be Ruby Chadwick?” Cosgrove boomed.
Wait, what?
Lucas drew back in utter shock. Ruby Chadwick? Who in blazes was that?
His parents, next to him, exhaled loudly in relief. “Well, there you go. There’s no Ruby
Chadwick here, I’m afraid,” Lucas’s father said with an edge to his voice. “It would appear your journey was all for naught. Good evening to you, my lord.”
Cosgrove saying a name other than Lavinia’s had been wholly unexpected. Lucas’s mind, however, was now awhirl with snatches of conversations and observations about Lavinia since he’d met her. Could there be two such extravagantly beautiful redheaded females in England? Of course. But would both of them have left London within the past few days, headed to Lincolnshire?
Not likely.
And then a particular card game he’d joined at the Hissing Goose before leaving London and the discussion regarding Ruby Chadwick that had accompanied it flashed through his mind.
“I have ridden a long way, Lord Thurlby,” Cosgrove said. “I must insist upon remaining until I have seen your son’s betrothed with my own eyes and am satisfied that she is not Ruby Chadwick, The Darling of Drury Lane.”
Lucas was quickly coming to the conclusion that Ruby Chadwick and Lavinia were one and the same—the descriptions were too similar to think otherwise. He needed to warn her. “I’ll go get her,” he said.
“I think not,” Cosgrove snapped. “I won’t have you telling her I’m here and having her run off again. Ring for a servant, if you please.”
Lucas’s father crossed to the bell pull. “Please send for Miss Fernley, John,” he said when the footman arrived.
“Yes, milord.” He left, closing the door behind him.
Cosgrove had called her The Darling of Drury Lane; Lavinia and her friends were all actors. The puzzle pieces were falling swiftly and neatly into place. But was she Ruby or Lavinia? Which was the real woman?
Far too soon, the door reopened and Lavinia entered the room and then stopped short.
“Hello, Ruby,” Lord Cosgrove said.
Chapter 21
The Earl of Cosgrove stood in front of Lavinia in all his resplendent glory. Tall, blond, richly dressed, and with elegant manners—to the uninformed, he appeared the perfect nobleman, the consummate gentleman.
Lavinia saw a toad.
“Let me introduce you, shall I?” he said as he approached her, his voice tinged with smugness. “Lord and Lady Thurlby, Mr. Jennings, allow me to present my chère amie, Miss Ruby Chadwick, The Darling of Drury Lane, known throughout London for her lively onstage performances, frequently while wearing breeches. She’s very popular, as you might expect, especially among the gentlemen.”