Priscilla shook her head toward against Gwen’s anger. “No. We just spoke, I embarrassed myself. His Grace had nothing to do with it.”
Gwen came to sit beside her. “And is that why you are up here?”
“Partly,” Priscilla admitted. “Bridgitte overheard me make a fool of myself and took great pleasure in pointing out my flaws.”
Gwen nodded slowly.” Fine one to talk that one,” Gwen grumbled. “She is just jealous of you.”
“I do not wish her to be. Who would be jealous of me? I am a disaster.” Priscilla hit the mattress, even though it was not the one deserving punishment.
Gwen sighed and put her sturdy arm around Priscilla’s shoulders. “You cannot let her get under your skin. She simply saw an opportunity to ruffle your feathers.”
“I had thought that perhaps after I talked with her about the accident that things would be better between us. Perhaps the accident would lead to a new beginning for my sister and me.” Priscilla felt all the more foolish for believing that Bridgitte actually wanted to start over and have a friendship. Perhaps her sister was correct. They were very singular people. Priscilla had said as much to Doctor Rowley.
The thought of the doctor brought a flurry of emotions from shame to excitement, and then straight back to shame. She looked at Gwen and asked, “Perhaps it would be better if I relinquished my bond with the duke, and he married Bridgitte? That way everyone would not be waiting on me.”
“Do you really think that anyone other than you is going to think that is acceptable?” Gwen shook her head at Priscilla.
Priscilla had to admit that it was a far-fetched idea. Then again, it did happen. “Just last year, the Rose sisters did something similar.”
“Yes, but that was a bit different,” Gwen reminded her. “I think everyone knows that they really did that to avoid scandal.”
Priscilla thought about that. “Fine. I just wish that I did not have all this pressure upon me. It is as if everyone’s lives are on hold while I muddle through this.”
“That is a bit dramatic,” Gwen said with a smile. “I think you only feel that way because you are stuck at home recuperating.”
Gwen had a point. For the foreseeable future, this house was Priscilla’s world. The gardens and such were her only escape, aside from music. It was important for her to do things that she loved, that might trigger her memories… and honestly, she could do all of those right here.
She sighed. “I am quite boring…”
“A young lady who landed herself a duke thinks she is boring?” Gwen tutted and gave Priscilla’s shoulders a squeeze.
Priscilla laughed. “You know as well as I do that Father and Mother had this all planned out long before I even thought of marriage.”
“Parents do think ahead.” Gwen stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve got an eye on a young man who lives near us for my oldest girl. Parents think of these things.”
Priscilla shook her head. “I will let my children choose their spouses. I want them to marry for love.”
“That is a lofty idea, but practicality is better at times,” Gwen said with a shrug. “I hope my children find people they love, but I shall also look out for their interests.”
Priscilla smiled at her friend. “You are a good mother.”
“And I wager that you will be a good one as well,” Gwen assured her. “Now put your sister and her foolishness out of your mind.”
Priscilla laughed and nodded her head. “I shall try.”
“That is all I ask,” Gwen told her with a wink. It reminded Priscilla of Doctor Rowley. He seemed quite a different person from one moment to the next.
Gwen went to the door. “Are you going to rest here?”
“For now,” Priscilla told her as she eased back on the bed. “I think a little rest would do me a world of good.”
Gwen gave her a smile. “Try not to have any nightmares.”
“It is top on my list of priorities,” Priscilla told her. Gwen left the room with a little wave. Once she was alone, Priscilla sighed.
Having a nightmare had not been a thought in her head. She had been thinking more about the dream of Doctor Rowley. Whatever fascination she had formed for the man really could not be healthy.
She had heard of such things, mind you. Patients often formed attachments to their doctors, but Priscilla felt ashamed that she had allowed herself to do so. She was set to be married, albeit not in the immediate future. How could she have allowed herself to develop affection toward anyone other than her betrothed?
Why was it so difficult for her to conjure up the feelings for her fiancé that seemed to flow freely for the doctor? “I am a horrible person,” Priscilla told no one in particular. No one was a good person to tell. They never looked poorly upon her and they always listened until she was done.
Priscilla sank into her pillows and hugged them to her. They did not feel as comforting as Doctor Rowley’s arms had. She shoved the thought away. Would her mind simply not behave?
She wallowed in her misery until finally, sleep overtook her. She slept in a blissfully dreamless state and knew nothing of the world until Gwen awoke her for tea. “My, you did take a nap,” Gwen said with a smile.
Priscilla rubbed her eyes and sat up, even if her muscles did protest her doing so. She was stiff from the awkward position she had fallen to sleep in. Priscilla rubbed her shoulders and groaned. “I feel as if I have slept over a log.”
“Do that often, do ya?” Gwen teased her. She brought a tray in and set it on the nightstand. “Drink ya tea and I shall be back shortly. Mrs. Lennox is warring with kitchen staff and I need to help with some of the guest rooms.”
Priscilla nodded. “I do hope that Mrs. Lennox calms down soon. She shall drive all the help off.”
“Oh, I am sure it will all work out. She’s still just wound up from your mother making a remark on the state of luncheon the other day.” Gwen shrugged and seemed to accept it as just one of those things.
Priscilla laughed and said, “My mother has a knack for saying just the right thing.”
“Too true,” Gwen agreed. “Enjoy your tea.” And Gwen was gone once again, leaving Priscilla to her own thoughts.
She had been thankful that her dreams had not brought her any more thoughts of the handsome doctor, and yet she also felt disappointed. She laughed at herself as she made herself a cup of tea. Priscilla sipped the warm liquid and sighed in contentment.
The nap had left her feeling much more herself. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was not hollow. Crisp, crumbly ginger cookies were piled up next to the teapot on a little decorative plate that showed yellow and red flowers on a vine that wound around the plate’s edge. She ran her finger over the flowers.
It was so rare that she stopped to admire the plates. She recalled her grandmother telling her of them, but it was a distant memory. Priscilla frowned at the thought of memories.
Her memories had caused her such vexation, and yet perhaps Doctor Rowley was right. Her memories did make her who she was. Only, what did the memories she could not remember change about her?
***
George set out on foot from his house. It seemed so bizarre to be back in London. It felt as if it had been months and not a week’s time. George took in the sounds of the city.
He had missed this. He had missed being out among London’s people. The way the sun made odd shapes and warped the shadows of the light posts on the sidewalk drew his eyes. George headed to the tavern where he always met his brother.
George took out his pocket watch. “Right on time,” he told himself. He entered the building and quickly picked out his brother who lifted a hand in greeting to him. “Nathaniel,” George said with a smile as he clasped his brother’s hand in greeting across the table.
Nathaniel’s grip was as firm as ever and he gave George a grin. “George, you are a hard man to see.”
“Hardly, I have been at the estate of Lord and Lady Chaplin. Surely tha
t would make me easier to find,” George said with amusement.
Nathaniel shrugged. “I did not want to disturb you while you were working, but I am glad that you could make time to see me.”
“I can always find time to meet with you,” George assured his brother. “I am sorry that I missed my visit with you and father.”
Nathaniel waved off his words. “Think nothing of it, Old Boy. We are quite well and not going anywhere any time soon.”
“You said that you had something you wished to discuss with me?” George was exceedingly curious about what his brother could want. Nathaniel rarely wanted to talk about anything other than business and George really hoped this was not another ploy to get George interested in a business venture.
Nathaniel tapped the table. George saw the expression on his face but could not reconcile it with his brother. Nathaniel looked for all the world as if he were nervous.
“I had hoped to discuss this with you at the house when you visited.” Nathaniel’s voice had a quiet quality to it that spoke of him not wanting to be overheard.
George suggested, “We could talk at my home if you would rather?”
Nathaniel seemed to give that some thought. “It might be a better conversation for there. That is, if you have time?”
“Of course I do,” George assured him. “I always have time for you, Brother.”
Nathaniel’s lips quirked up into a smile. “First, we eat.”
George was not at all surprised when the barmaid brought two of the flaky pies and plopped them down on the table. Nathaniel was a creature of habit. George shook his head and broke open the crust of his pie with his fork.
Always too impatient to wait, Nathaniel forked out a piece of the meat and attempted to cool it, but as usual, failed to do so before trying to eat it. George chuckled at his brother which earned him a shake of Nathaniel’s head. “It was a long ride from the estate,” Nathaniel said to defend himself.
“It is always a long ride from the estate.” George shook his head. “You think that you might learn to pack some provisions.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “You have no sense of adventure.”
“Even the mightiest adventurer packs food for their journey,” George reminded Nathaniel.
The two of them gave up their griping and ate in amicable silence. When they had finished and paid their tab, they ambled out onto the streets, far too full to argue. George breathed in the air and patted his stomach. “I do like that pie.”
“It is good, but not as good as the soup that cook makes in the autumn after the harvest,” Nathaniel said with a smile.
George could not deny that. “I have not had that soup for a long, long time. I fear that I may have forgotten how it tastes.”
“Say that it is not the case, Old Boy,” Nathaniel said in mock horror. “You know that anytime the doors to the estate are open to you.”
George nodded. He did know that. He let Nathaniel lead him to the carriage he had waiting. He was not above a ride, even if a walk would probably do his overstuffed belly more good.
They rode in silence and it was not until George had welcomed Nathaniel into his home that the nervousness reappeared in his brother. Nathaniel pulled off his well-worn favourite hat. It was one their father had given Nathaniel so many years ago that George could not even recall how many it had been exactly.
“I know that this may come as surprise to you, Georgie, but I am sometimes lonely.” Nathaniel paced across the room, eyeing a painting that one of George’s patients had given to him as payment for his services.
George frowned. “I can well see how you might be. You spend most of your time with functions of the estate and business meetings.”
“Do you recall when we went to that ball?” Nathaniel eyed George, and there was that nervousness.
George leaned his head to the side. “I do declare, Nathaniel. Are you trying to say that you have found yourself a young lady who can stand the sight of you?”
“That is about what I thought you would say,” Nathaniel said, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “And yes, that is what I am saying. She is the daughter of a merchant that I do business with. I had not known her personally until that ball.”
George clapped his hand against his breeches. “Why, Nathaniel that is wonderful news! I do not know why you acted so nervously.”
“I was not nervous!” Nathaniel folded his arms defensively. “Perhaps I was a bit nervous,” he groused. “But you have an odd manner about you when it comes to women and the family estate. I thought perhaps you would take offense to there being a lady of the house again.”
George came over to his brother and clasped his hands on his shoulders. “I am sorry that you felt I might react that way. Brother, it does my heart wonders to think of you happy.”
“Really?” Nathaniel seemed to be searching George’s face for something.
George nodded. “Why, that estate was made for the sounds of families and children. Mind you, that is if you get her to the altar.”
“Oh, that’s right nice of you,” Nathaniel groused, but George saw the grin.
George gave his brother a wink. Then it struck him that he wanted that as well. He wanted a family.
“Ah, what is that face for?” Nathaniel eyed him with worry. “Come now, do not try to mask it. Tell me what is bothering your heart?”
George sighed heavily. “I have a worry in me that I cannot seem to shake, Nathaniel.” He looked at Nathaniel’s face, so patiently waiting for George’s revelation. “You mentioned the ball we attended together. Well, I saw a young lady there as well. I did not meet her, mind you. I just saw her. I thought nothing else of it.”
Nathaniel frowned. “You know not her name?”
“I know her name now,” George said with a shake of his head. “Unfortunately, she is my patient, the daughter of Lord and Lady Chaplin.”
Nathaniel’s brow was furrowed fiercely. “I cannot think why this vexes you so. You should be rejoicing.”
“Oh, I might,” George agreed. “That is if she was not already betrothed to the Duke of Ridlington.”
Nathaniel cursed under his breath. “You have the luck of the star-crossed, Brother.”
“She is perfect,” George whispered. “I fear sometimes that I might forget myself and tell her how lovely she is.”
Nathaniel came over and put his arm across George’s shoulders. “You shall find a woman deserving of you. A man as good as you cannot possibly be punished with loneliness.”
George nodded. He wanted to believe that. He knew that he had to believe that everything happened for a reason, but he could find no logic in having everything he wanted just out of his reach. She was perfect, so perfect, and she might never know.
***
Priscilla had waited anxiously for Doctor Rowley to arrive. When he had come to escort her on her walk, she had been disappointed that he had only given her the most cursory of examinations. She felt silly for that.
She walked along beside him, her hand lightly on his arm to steady herself. Yes, that was why she had it there. Priscilla smiled at the trees swaying in the breeze.
“I was talking to Gwen about her children,” Priscilla said as they walked under the oaks.
Doctor Rowley looked over at her. She liked it very much when he looked at her. It was as if she were the only person in the world. She wondered if all his patients felt like that.
The Awakening 0f A Forbidden Passion (Historical Regency Romance) Page 19