The Awakening 0f A Forbidden Passion (Historical Regency Romance)

by Emily Honeyfield

  Priscilla frowned. “I did not mean it as such. You know that I did not.”

  “I wonder if ya hair and wardrobe know,” Gwen replied as she tidied up after Priscilla’s breakfast.

  Priscilla sighed. “You are very grumpy. I dare say if your husband has upset you that I shall have him imprisoned.”

  “It is not that, I have errands to run for the housekeeper today,” Gwen said with a frown, “At least you will get to enjoy a lovely walk with your handsome doctor.”

  Priscilla waved off Gwen’s words. “You shall not start that again, I hope.”

  “Oh ya know ya fancy him about,” Gwen teased. “You have eyes and he is a fine specimen to look upon.”

  Gwen had a point, but Priscilla was a lady and that was wholly not appropriate. So, of course, Priscilla smiled. “Wary saying that too loudly with Doctor Rowley about somewhere.” She smoothed her dress. “What errands do you have to do for Mrs. Lennox?”

  “She’s sending me to do shopping,” Gwen said as if the words tasted sour in her mouth.

  Priscilla shook her head. “Shopping is not so bad.”

  “Not for you, perhaps. But she’ll have me loaded up like a mule,” Gwen spat. “I might as well grow hooves and fur.”

  Priscilla giggled at the thought of it. “Do try to make the best of it. Mother has all the staff on edge right now. I heard her shouting in the hallway this morning about the carving on the molding being dusty.”

  “Ah, she’s been a right terror, but I suppose she is just worried about you, and also worried about all the guests of late. A dirty house is a horrible reflection of the household that’n keeps it.” Gwen said with a shake of her head.

  There was a knock at the door, and Priscilla drew herself up straight. Unfortunately, her mother came through the door. “You are looking well this morning,” her mother noted, a smile faintly upon her lips. “Just as well that you are, for Doctor Rowley has been called away this morning. He shall return this afternoon.”

  Priscilla’s heart plummeted. “Oh,” she intoned dully. “Right,” she put on a brighter tone. “Well, he is a busy man.”

  “That he is, and we have been hoarding him to ourselves since your accident,” Lady Chaplin said with a smile. “I shall arrange for someone to aid you in your constitutional, just in case of your failing strength.”

  Priscilla could do little but nod along with her mother. She probably should have someone there. Who knows if she would grow dizzy or faint? She certainly did not know herself.

  Gwen waited until Lady Chaplin had breezed back out of the room to say, “Looks like the good doctor has flown away.”

  “He shall return,” Priscilla said with confidence. She thought of their conversation yesterday. She had hoped to talk to him more, if not about his family, then about other things.

  Gwen sighed, drawing Priscilla’s eyes back to her. “I suppose I have tarried as long as I can.” Gwen dropped into a curtsey, with her face a sad and despondent mask.

  Priscilla giggled. “Do not be too dramatic. The theatrical crowd may take you to be in their plays and sordid affairs.”

  “Oh, she’s so funny, so she thinks,” Gwen threw over her shoulder as she left the room in a huff.

  Priscilla giggled all the more for her maid’s dramatic exit. She had no doubt Gwen would be just fine running errands. Priscilla thought that shopping might be quite the break, not that she would get to do so any time soon.

  Soon enough one of the other maids came up to walk with her on her constitutional. The maid was newer and seemed to prefer to walk behind Priscilla, so it felt as if she were walking alone.

  Priscilla tried to enjoy the assumed solitude. She let her mind wander as she walked around the gardens. Without her permission, her mind went to the conversation with Philip the day before.

  They had been walking along, having a nice enough time when he had decided to try and remind her of the things she had forgotten. Only it was as if he were talking of someone else. Balls and dancing, he had mentioned. Her memories were perhaps not firmly grounded, but she knew what she liked and did not like.

  What was more was the way he had contorted his face, embarrassed almost, and had just stopped talking. She had tried to tell him that everything was fine. It had been a rough time since the accident, and they were all allowed some missteps, Philip probably more than most.

  She could not even begin to imagine how horrible this must all be for him, but the way he had clammed up had confused Priscilla. She was trying so hard to understand the man, to remember how they had fallen in love. How had they done so?

  Philip talked of balls, he talked of walks they had taken. Yet Priscilla could not feel the flutterings of love within her. He put her nerves on end, and she never knew what to do or say around him.

  Priscilla heaved a sigh. “Are ye well, Miss?” It was the maid, her voice full of worry.

  “Yes, I was just thinking of a vexing problem,” Priscilla told the young maid. A most vexing problem.

  The maid seemed to accept the reasoning and went back to her silence. Priscilla wished she were with Gwen. Oh, what sights she must be seeing. Were there vendors selling apples or that warm spiced drink that started appearing with the apples being harvested?

  Priscilla turned toward the house and informed the maid, “I find I am tiring. I shall go to the library.”

  It felt good to not have someone lingering over her, Priscilla decided. She had not felt dizzy at all. She felt fine. She assumed the maid was following her, but she paid her no heed.

  She took her time and made her way to the library. Upon entering, the maid reminded Priscilla of her presence by asking, “Do you wish for some refreshments, Miss?”

  Priscilla thought of that. “Yes, that would be nice,” she told the maid. She heard her leave, rather than saw her. Priscilla made her way over to the piano where she settled herself on the bench.

  She played the first song that came to mind and smiled at the jaunty tune. Too bad that Doctor Rowley was not here to listen in. He would no doubt have appreciated the old tune.

  The maid returned with a tray, which she sat on the low table near the chairs. “Would you like me to bring you a cup, Miss?”

  “No. I shall get some tea shortly,” Priscilla replied as her fingers continued the song. The maid had broken her concentration a bit, but it was not too bad. The song still sounded decent.

  The maid looked unsure of whether she should go or stay. Priscilla sighed and stopped playing. “Are you to be my warden today?”

  “I rightly don’t know, Miss,” the maid said with honesty. “Her Ladyship told me to be at your call while Gwen was gone today.”

  Priscilla nodded and went over to the table. She was feeling a bit weak, and the warm tea would no doubt do her constitution good. The maid poured some tea for her, and Priscilla sweetened it with honey.

  The maid stayed a bit longer, loitering around the room. “I can call for you by the bell,” Priscilla reminded her. “I know that the household is busy cleaning and I would not want you to get in trouble for not aiding them.”

  The maid, to Priscilla’s surprise, looked relieved. “Mrs. Lennox’ll have my skin if I don’t get the linen put up this morning.”

  “Off with you then,” Priscilla said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I am sure that Gwen or the doctor will be in soon enough. I have no intention of doing anything foolish and shall remain here reading.”

  The maid dipped into a curtsey; it was a hurried thing. She was then out of the room, all aprons and bonnets in a flurry. Priscilla shook her head after the maid. She suddenly remembered the maid from the dinner where she had thanked her. Priscilla thought she had been new. Surely whichever household the girl had come from was not prone to treating their maids kindly.

  She yawned and stretched. Priscilla sipped her tea until her eyelids began to close, then she set the cup aside on the tray and curled up on the sofa beside the coffee table. She did not resist the pull of sleep and she w
as soon in her dreams.

  Priscilla knew she was dreaming, but she did not know where she was. In the back of her mind, she thought of her nightmare… that vague unremembered thing that haunted her. She sat up.

  She was in bed. Priscilla looked around at the window. The curtains were drawn but she could see through the slits where the curtains came together that it was dark outside. She slid her feet out of bed.

  There was a sound. What was it? She followed it towards the hallway. Her nightgown fluttered around her body with her movements.

  The hallway beyond her door was empty aside from a lone figure. “Hello?”

  The form turned toward her and fear leaped up in her chest. What had she done? It was coming for her. Her thoughts were a jumble of panic as she turned and fled towards the stairs.

  Too late did she realise what was happening. Too late did she try to catch herself. She was falling. Priscilla screamed, but then she was being carried.

  She blinked her eyes open. It was Doctor Rowley. “Doctor Rowley,” she whispered.

  “I told you to call me George,” his smooth, deep voice told her and she had no choice but to agree. His warm golden-brown eyes coaxed her to simply succumb to every demand he made.

  She nodded, her voice abandoning her. His arms around her made her feel so safe, and yet at the same time set her heart beating against her ribcage. She was at his mercy, but he had boundless mercy. He was such a kind man.

  Where he was carrying her, she did not know. Nor really did she care where he was taking her. It was not until he came to a stop in the library that she looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  She had no time to ponder over what he was doing, for his lips were on her lips. He pressed her close to him, his arms like iron and his strength unfailing. She gave into him. When his kiss became more demanding, she relented and opened to him. She was his, he could have all of her.

  Priscilla’s eyes jolted open and she sat up. She was still in the library where she had laid down to take a nap. “Oh,” Priscilla breathed out and put a hand on her forehead.

  “You did not have another nightmare, did you?” It was Gwen. Priscilla turned to see her worried expression. It looked as if she had just walked into the room, her good bonnet still in place from her adventure shopping.

  Priscilla frowned. What time was it? Surely it had not been long enough for Gwen to return. “Yes,” she lied.

  “Did you remember any of it this time?” Gwen asked as she came over to her. “Who left the tea tray here? That is how a house gets mice.”

  Priscilla laughed at Gwen’s words. “I told the maid to leave it. She must have gotten busy with Mrs. Lennox’s chores.” Priscilla shook her head. “No. I do not remember what it was that I saw in my dream.”

  Her mind went back to the dream. Had that form in the hallway been Doctor Rowley? Was that dream her nightmare or her fantasy? She put her hand to her head. “It gives me a headache to think too much on it.”

  “You’ll remember it one day,” Gwen said firmly. It was nice to have someone believe that, but Priscilla was not at all sure she even wanted to remember the dream fully. “I have some gossip if you are feeling up to it?”

  Priscilla leaned forward, her elbows on her lap. “Is it about Mrs. Lennox?”

  “Even better, it is about your doctor,” Gwen said with a wink.

  Priscilla waved off the woman. “Do not call him that.”

  “Do ya want to hear or not?” Gwen asked as she folded her arms. Priscilla nodded and Gwen gave her a grin. “Well, while I was out, I saw Doctor Rowley. He did not see me, mind you.”

  Priscilla eyed Gwen curiously. “And what did you see?”

  “I saw him with a rather pretty young damsel,” Gwen informed her. “Seems the doctor is keeping a little secret from us.”

  Priscilla shook her head. “He is under no obligation to tell us anything, Gwen.” Despite her words, Priscilla felt struck. She had thought that they had truly bonded, and yet he had not mentioned any lady.

  In fact, he had said quite the opposite. Priscilla frowned. “Perhaps she was a patient.”

  “She looked very healthy,” Gwen replied.

  It should not matter to her. It should not sting. Her dream tugged at her thoughts and reminded her of jealousy that she did not want to think of. No, Doctor Rowley was under no obligation to her. He could do as he pleased.

  Gwen said, “I shall clear away this mess. Can I bring ya anything?”

  Priscilla shook her head. “What time is it anyway?”

  “Time for mid-afternoon tea, near about,” Gwen informed her. “I shall be back in a jiffy.”

  Priscilla watched Gwen leave with the tray balanced in front of her. Had she really slept that long? Her walk must have worn her out more than she had thought.

  She made her way over to the piano and had just settled herself on the bench when Doctor Rowley knocked upon the open door. “How is my patient?”

  “Just fine,” she replied while trying not to look at the man. Her dream felt too fresh.

  Doctor Rowley came over to her, and his stethoscope was around his neck. Priscilla looked up at him finally. “I trust you have not overdone it,” he said, his voice drawing her in.

  “I only took a short walk. I came back here and played for a bit. Then I took a nap. I daresay that I am the most adventurous person that I know,” Priscilla drawled.

  Doctor Rowley chuckled and pressed the stethoscope against her back. “Breathe normally,” he said, entirely too close to her ear.

  Priscilla could have scoffed at the command. Breathe normally with him so close that she could feel his breath on her neck? Or was she imagining that?

  The touch of his hands, even through her dress, made her pulse quicken. She closed her eyes and willed her body not to give away her distress. His hands left her and she looked up at him.

  He gave her a smile. “Your heart is a bit fast, as is your breathing.”

  “That happens on occasion,” Priscilla snapped. She had not meant to snap at him, but how dare he look at her with that smug expression? Could he tell how she felt about him by listening to her body?

  How did she feel about him? She shoved the thought aside. Her fingers lingered over the keys and she played a little tune she had learned as a child to distract herself.

  He watched her, a look of puzzlement on his face. Priscilla staunchly ignored him. Giving up, she decided that if he was going to stand there and just stare at her, then she would leave.

  Priscilla got up quickly, too quickly. Her head span, and the room shifted. Was she falling?

  No. She was safe. She looked up into Doctor Rowley’s eyes. He had caught her in his arms. They were just as strong as her mind had thought.

  He seemed hung up as to how to proceed and they both stayed still as statues, then all at once he helped her sit down. He was away from her the next moment as if he wanted to put distance between them. The distance hurt Priscilla’s heart.

  What was this feeling? Was this passion forming for Doctor Rowley, what people call love? Had she felt this for Philip?

  “Thank you,” she said, perhaps too softly for him to even hear.

  However, he nodded his head. “Just be careful when you stand.”

  “I have done so well today,” she said, her frustration showing through. “I had not been dizzy at all.”